Silence filled the carriage, if one did not count the little snores coming from Flora and the occasional sneeze from their escort. Dickens had commandeered everyone's handkerchief, except for Falcon's, and had tied up the cut in Anne's arm. The cats had finally settled in Anne's and Flora's laps and Anne was mechanically petting Bastet, her mind trying to make sense out of the last few hours.

What was she to make of Cecily's behavior? The woman had drugged her friends, but she could as easily have poisoned them. She had threatened Anne herself with a sword, but hadn't killed her when she'd had the opportunity. And yet she was involved in a treasonous plot to kill the king and blackmail his heir. And she was Anne's sister.

A bastard-child whose relatives were deeply involved in a plot against the king could never marry anyone... much less a Marquis who was fighting so gallantly against that very plot. Anne blinked against the tears that threatened. She had felt so secure, so cared for, when James had burst into the room and held her. He didn't seem to hold her in abhorrence. But perhaps that was merely the effect of the excitement. Now that he was gone again her fears and horrors were returning.

And her arm ached. How much worse James' wound must be! He should be convalescing, not galloping about England just because her relatives were caper-witted enough to want that much blasted power.

"Halt!" Mr. Falcon was pounding on the carriage ceiling. "Stop the carriage!"

"Mr Falcon! What are you doing?" Anne threw her arm across Flora to keep the girl from sliding onto the floor.

"We just passed Jacob Holt."

"We just... Now what?" As the carriage pulled to a halt, Anne shifted the cats out of her lap, and settled Flora across the seat. Mr. Falcon, Dickens, and Anne descended from the carriage and headed back along the road.

As they approached the copse of trees Mr. Falcon was apparently seeking, he called out, "Holt, it's Falcon. Pray don't shoot."

Anne caught the sound of what might be a pistol being uncocked.

"Seaforth's horse tripped over who knows what and has gone lame. And *he's* jarred his arm *again*..."

Anne stumbled to a halt, the cold weight of fear robbing her of movement.

"...and isn't good for anything but propping up trees and complaining."

"I am *not* complaining." But James' voice was much fainter than his usual robust tones. "I am merely, for my own edification, enumerating all the things that have gone wrong of late. Falcon, I must beg to commandeer your horse."

"Then I must agree with our military friend here. You are not fit for anything. Did you not hear my carriage as it went by? My carriage horses are not suitable for riding."

"James!" Anne scarcely noticed that she'd moved forward, that she'd thrown herself down next to James, that she'd somehow taken hold of his good hand. All that mattered was that he was still alive and gazing at her with an intensity that must match her own.

"Oh, James, my dear one." Somehow she found herself cradled against his chest. She couldn't imagine ever moving again.

"Anne, dear girl. Do you know how dreadfully hard it was to walk out of there without you? To leave you with those wicked people, alone without my protection?" Anne vaguely noted a snort from behind her. "To leave you wounded... Your arm! Cecily might have poisoned..."

Anne daringly stroked his cheek, to comfort him. "I cut it on a vase shard. She couldn't have done anything to it. But your arm? You jarred it, did it open again? You *must* give it a chance to heal!"

James chose to demonstrate that his arm was unimpaired by wrapping both arms tightly around her, and kissing her. She could not find it in herself to scold, even if she'd found the breath to do so.

"Oh James. You don't despise me!" Anne could feel the warmth of this certainty filling the cold spaces in her soul.

"Despise you? Beloved, I could never..." The honest disbelief in his voice soothed Anne's fears even more than the actual words. "I thought you must despise me, a self-righteous, cranky, would-be nobleman. When I sent you away in London, I meant to keep you safe from all this. And instead, I let you plunge into such danger." This kiss was even more fervent than the last.

"This is impossible, you know it." Anne did not think she'd managed the proper, governessy tone in that, especially since she was stroking his hair at the moment.

"Then we will make it possible. Somewhere in England is the proof that my brother did indeed marry the twins' mother. When I am no longer the marquis, no one can censure us..."

"James, even if you find a dozen heirs to stand between you and the title, I am still a bas..."

James cut off her unhappy utterance by kissing her again. But this time she managed to get her wits about her, and pulled back. James did not allow her to leave his embrace, but he did give her room to think, and to speak.

"Both... both Sir Paul and Cecily have stated that I am, indeed, Sir Paul's daughter. You know that either of them is willing to cause a scandal. I cannot bring such a heritage to you."

"Anne, your uncle and cousin are willing to say *anything* to achieve their goals. Or even out of mere malice. Did your parents ever give you any reason to think that they held you in less esteem than your little sister? Did your uncle treat you as he did Cecily? He couldn't have, or you would not be fighting me on this... you'd be grabbing the chance to become a marchioness. I will not accept that our happiness is doomed on the mere word of known scoundrels."

"But, but why else did he insist I live with them? And why would my father agree to it, if he didn't think Sir Paul had a claim on me?"

"Much as it grieves me that I must interrupt such an earnest discussion, we need to be on our way." Mr. Falcon's voice sounded from above them. "James, if you will be so sensible as to hand over the gem..."

"No!"

"...so that Holt can continue to ride ventre-a-terre to London, we can proceed at a more decent pace in the same direction."

"Holt can ride with you. I'll take his horse..."

"James, no!"

"I think not, my dear James. The sapphire needs to be secured immediately against further attempts on it. You, on the other hand, are needed to see this rigamarole to a finish. There are, one gathers, other gems? And other conspirators? Even if Sir Paul, Cecily and Daventry can be convinced to confess all, you are still needed to follow through on the information. So, for the sake of the kingdom, I must insist that you follow my suggestions."

"James, please. You know Mr. Falcon is right." Anne tried to pitch her voice to project heartbreak and overwhelming worry - easy enough because she was, after all, feeling something of each. "And, and, I'd worry so, if you insisted on riding again just now." Anne fiddled with a coat button, peeping up at him to see if this tactic was working.

"Very well. Help me up here, and I'll hand the blasted thing over." Anne was certain she heard relief in his voice, as Mr. Falcon helped her off James' lap and then pulled the marquis to his feet. James pulled the sapphire out of his pocket and handed it over without comment to Mr. Falcon, who discretely vanished into the darkness.

"As for you, Miss Meek, if you try that trick again..."

"Now, James, I didn't know it would work! I've never had any gentleman to try my, my feminine wiles on." Anne backed away from his menacing approach. "And if you *knew* it was a trick, and still fell for it, you deserve..."

Anne was forced to admit, to herself at least, that James was surely not that badly injured, because he had no trouble at all catching her and punishing her - in the most delightful way.

At Mathieson's shouted warning, Theo wrenched himself around in the saddle and peered into the darkness. "Who is after us? We've got all the fiends trussed and senseless in this carriage!"

"Listen!" hissed Matheson. "Someone is coming up behind us in a great hurry. Whoever it is seems to have no care to hide their approach!"

Theo strained to listen for noises other than the pounding of their own horses' hooves. Finally, he discerned a faint sound like far away thunder, as well as a shout or two. The distant sound of a shot also rang through the darkness.

"Someone's in a bleeding hurry to catch up with us."

"Watch your mouth, infant. We need to find someplace to move off the road to hide. It's entirely possible this has nothing to do with us. Then again, with our luck it has everything to do with your blasted uncle and his rubbishing sapphire. Ride ahead quickly and see if you can find us somewhere to take cover for the time being."

Theo snapped his crop in the air above his horse's head, urging the animal to move forward at a furious gallop. Matheson also whipped up his own horses. However, with the added weight of the carriage and its nefarious contents he soon fell behind Theo. Thanks to the full moon, which was currently playing hide and seek with the ever darkening clouds, he could still see the road. But just barely. He could feel the wind picking up at the same time it moved from the south to a northwesterly direction. Turning his head a bit, he sniffed the air. Not liking what his instincts were telling him, he urged his team to an even faster pace.

Five minutes passed. He heard no more sounds of pursuit, but quickly decided that whoever was behind them had probably not disappeared, but rather decided discretion was the better part of valor, and had thus become quiet. He feverishly hoped that Theo could find them somewhere to conceal the coach. Too late did Roly realize that Tilbury and his daughter would never leave themselves without reinforcements to fall back on. With the smugglers so deeply involved in the plot, there was no shortage of shady cutthroats that could be deeply in their pay. Men who thought nothing of plunging a knife in the back of an unsuspecting individual. There were too many other people at the house to hope no one missed their erstwhile host and hostess. Servants of questionable history could easily be gathered and sent in pursuit. Tilbury was too smart to leave no one to guard his back.

It was just too bad they hadn't foreseen this possibility and come up with a plan. Too late now.

The horses were starting to show signs of tiring, as they'd kept this pace for several miles. Roly could only hope that around the next bend would be Theo, and a spot for concealment. There was still no sound or movement from the cur slumped on the seat beside him. Likewise, the trio inside the coach were silent. As Roly pushed on, large drops of rain began to fall. Cursing, he looked up to find that the last traces of the moon had disappeared.

Glancing back Roly saw the road swallowed up in the same darkness. A flash of light winked briefly and was gone. The sharp report of a gun being fired sounded in his ears. Wanting to spring the horses, but not daring it on the curve Roly gently pulled the reins and slowed the team. Looking up at the cloud covering the moon he breathed softly, "St. Thomas, lend a hand, will you?"

Rounding the curve he saw a shape step out of the shadows directly in his path. Pulling hard now on the reins he brought the heaving horses to a stop.

"Mon Dieu!" he whispered sharply, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Theo, a shade whiter than usual, didn't speak, but pointed towards a stand of trees on the side of the road.

Roly quickly turned the team and moved behind the cover of the trees. Theo's mount was already tied there. Jumping down from the seat Roly moved to the horses placing a hand on each muzzle. He saw Theo do the same to his horse. Within a heartbeat they heard hoofbeats echo past the trees at a thunderous pace.

Counting silently to ten, Roly looked at Theo and nodded. Both men made to move when the sound of hoofbeats echoed again. They froze. At that same moment the moon came out from behind the cloud.

Theo gasped as he saw the first rider come into view.

"Martin!"

Stepping out from the copse Roly yelled at the backs of the military men riding behind Martin.

"Hold up!"

The last rider, glancing back and seeing a tall man standing where a moment ago there had been no one, nearly lost his seat. He let out a faint scream which was heard by the rider in front of him who alerted those in the front.

The troop stopped and Martin and an officer turned around and came towards Theo and Roly.

"Master Theo! You are safe! 'is Lordship, the Marguis, sent me to get help. This is Capt. Rhinefort. Where is Miss Flora? Is everyone..."

Capt. Rhinefort, a small beady eyed individual interrupted. "Enough of this chatter! Who's in charge here? It is my understanding from the Marquis' note that you have captured people plotting against the crown. Produce them immediately!"

With one eyebrow raising slightly Roly stepped forward slowly until he was directly in front of the Captain. The Captain became aware that his head barely reached the one-eyed man's chin. The look from that one eye sliding down that nose over that stern mouth set his knees to quaking. Hating not to be in control but recognizing a more powerful persona when he saw one, the Captain said, "I take it you are in charge. Where are the prisoners... if you please... sir? And what exactly is this plot against the crown?"

The ominous eyebrow descended. Roly suddenly felt bored with it all.

"Yes, well, you'll have to get all the details from our prisoners."

The Captain, sensing an opening to take control again, stepped forward eagerly. "Where are these prisoners?"

"Havershaw, be so good as to show this... fellow... where our prisoners are." And turning his back on the Captain he walked over to Martin.

"Martin, Seaforth sent you for help? Where is he now?"

Before Martin could reply a shout from the copse sent both men running.

"What is it now?" Roly growled looking from Theo to the Captain.

Theo pointed to the open carriage door. Roly walked briskly to it and peered inside. Taking in the curtain cords lying on the seat and the prostrate form on the floor he muttered an oath, leaned in and placed a hand against Sir Paul Tilbury's neck.

"By God! He's dead!"

Turning to face Theo he barked, "And where, may I ask, is Lady Cecily and Daventry?"

Theo shook his head. Roly thought for such a talkative boy he had been extremely silent this trip.

Glancing at the Captain he said, "Well? Why aren't you ordering your men to search for them? A young popinjay and a beautiful blonde murderess!"

Dawn rose with a red glow that bespoke of storms to follow. Roly watched it with a grim face knowing the storms today would be nothing compared to what was brewing in The Guardians' minds. And Cecily was probably with them now. Only how had she managed to escape?

Captain Rhinefort's men had searched thoroughly but Roly suspected that once she had escaped she had met up with the first band of men who had ridden by the copse. And Daventry had gone with her. This surprised Roly somewhat. He hadn't believed Daventry to be so base. Maybe...

A door opening captured his attention. Not moving from the window he watched the tall, angular man walk over to the desk behind which the magistrate sat. Theo, Martin, Captain Rhinefort, and a thoroughly befuddled Foster were all sitting in chairs along the far wall. At the man's entrance three of them stood and moved toward the desk leaving Foster sitting with his hands between his knees.

The magistrate, raising his eyes rather than his head, said to the man, "What did you conclude?"

"Poison, your honor, plain and simple. Poison. It was administered through a tiny pin or needle hole. I found the mark under the deceased's right ear." And having said this much, he turned on his heel and left.

The magistrate raised his head. Addressing Roly he said, "This bears out what you told me about Lady Cecily. I find it hard to believe that a refined you lady would do such a thing, let alone know how to do it, and to her own father, well... hrmph, I'll write up a report and send it along to Whitehall. They can sort this mess out." Bending his head to the desk again, he waved a shooing hand.

"That will be all... you may go, except the Captain, he can wait and deliver the report for me."

Roly, Theo, and Martin headed for the door, Roly grabbing Foster by his high collar and nearly dragging him along. Once outside in the the courtyard Theo said, "Mr. Mathieson, what do we do now?"

Roly paused in the act of mounting the step of the carriage. "We go find Seaforth. After we eat." Looking down at the bedraggled Foster he added, "You can go home, Foster." And so saying he sprang the team and headed out of the yard.

The Marquis of S______ and Miss A___ T_____, late of India, were married Tuesday in a quiet ceremony at the Church of St. James in Truro. The wedding party included F___ and T___ H_____, the children of the Marquis' brother, the Duke of M______ and his infamous grandson, and Miss G___ R_____. Officiating at the ceremony was the Rev. C____ A______. Many of London's elite were present including the Earl of A____ and his wife L____, Lieutenant J____ M_____ and Captain J____ H____. Also attending were the notorious Mandarin of Mayfair, Mrs. R____ M________, and Lord and Lady G_______. The bridal couple have retired to their country estate by the sea.