Ben grunted. At Hammersmith they slowed the horses to a walk, and he fought a rising sense of frustration. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, every mile a chore. He fought off a superstitious feeling of dread as a single magpie landed on the road in front of him and he recalled the old children’s rhyme: One for sorrow, two for joy. He prayed it wasn’t an omen—and felt immeasurably reassured when a second bird joined its mate, cawing loudly before they both flew off in a flutter of black-and-white wings.

Two for joy. He would not fail Georgie.

Finally they came to the village of Hounslow, just before the infamous heath, the setting for many an audacious robbery. It was no great work to locate the Dog and Duck public house.

Ben glanced at his companions as they headed out of town. “Stay out of sight. I’ll go in alone.”

They nodded in unison, not needing further instruction, and he appreciated the certain knowledge that they had his back.

Hold on, Georgie girl. I’m coming.

Chapter 35.

The sound of hooves on the gravel drive made Georgie glance toward the grimy window in sudden panic. Relief and terror swirled in her chest. Only one rider—Benedict had come alone. And he was walking into a trap. She tried to warn him, but the only sound she could make was a muffled grunt; Josiah had stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied it with the same handkerchief he’d used to overpower her.

He sat in a spindle-backed chair he’d brought in from the kitchen, facing the door, a loaded pistol resting on his knee. His fingers twitched on the wooden stock, and he bounced the heel of one foot compulsively against the chair leg. She’d never seen him with any sort of weapon before. Did he even know how to use the thing? She prayed not. Benedict had been in the army—the Rifles, for goodness sake. Surely his greater experience with firearms would give him the advantage here?

Boots crunched, and she heard Benedict’s achingly familiar voice shout, “Caversteed? Show yourself.”

“In here, Wylde,” Josiah called.

Her eyes teared with fright. She thumped her bound feet down on the wooden floor as loudly as she could, trying to alert him, and Josiah sent her a mocking glance for the futile gesture. Benedict appeared in the doorway, and her heart stopped at the sight of him, tall and strong and windblown. His gaze swept the room, taking in Josiah and his gun in one glance, then fixing on her. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and she nodded emphatically, trying to explain that she was unharmed; Josiah hadn’t yet made good on his threats to molest her.

He turned his attention back to Josiah, apparently unfazed by the muzzle pointing directly at him.

“Did you bring the jewels?” Josiah demanded, his voice high-pitched with strain.