Saving Persephone (The Haberdashers Book 4) by Sue London Page A

affectation himself, but it didn’t require a genius to know that he would recognize the nickname. Although tempted to pore back over the notes for more clues, he knew he needed to secure his sister first.
     
    * * *
     
    Imogen didn’t know when she had laughed so much. The girls were trying to top each other with stories about Robert, and although an alarming number of them centered around him training the girls in weaponry and warfare, the way in which they were told, and the absolute joy the women had in the memories, was quite affecting.
    George was holding her sides from laughing so hard. “And Jack, the look on your face was priceless! You thought he’d asked you to the assembly!”
    The merriment was cut short by a loud popping sound outside. It took Imogen a moment to realize what it was, but the other women reacted immediately. George looked out the windows and then drew the curtains tight, while Sabre dropped to the floor and opened a compartment below her seat. To Imogen’s horror, the carriage was slowing.
    The duchess handed up guns. “George. Jack. Imogen.”
    Imogen gingerly took the pistol. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
    George absently patted her on the shoulder, peeking out the window again. “Wave it around and look menacing.”
    “Are we beset by brigands?” Imogen asked.
    “So it would seem,” George confirmed.
    “Number?” Sabre asked.
    “I’ve only seen four so far, but with John slowing the carriage I assume they came from all sides.”
    The duchess pulled out two long, wrapped bundles from under the seat. They proved to be sheathed swords and she used the butt of one to rap on the ceiling of the carriage.
    George looked at her. “You want him to stop?”
    “We need to bring this to a conclusion.”
    Jack reached out. “Give me one of the swords.”
    “I think not. Gideon would have my head.”
    “Sabre, you may need me to fight.”
    “Absolutely not, not in your condition.”
    Imogen took the countess's hand. “She’s right. You’re too far along in your pregnancy to do anything strenuous.”
    They could hear hoofbeats and men shouting as the carriage rattled to a stop. In the ensuing silence, the creak of saddle leather from the shifting horses was clear. George cocked her head to the side, listening, then held up nine fingers to Sabre. The duchess nodded.
    A loud knock on the door made Imogen jump and gasp.
    “Are you in there, your grace?” It sounded to be an educated man with a French accent.
    Sabre primed her pistol. “Who wants to know?”
    Imogen could feel her heart galloping in her chest, but the three women around her were calm, and the duchess was shrouded in that gray light again. Wanting to help, Imogen closed her eyes and tried to sense something of the intentions of the man on the other side of the door. What she felt made her recoil.
    The voice called out again. “Please, your grace, let’s make this easy. Show yourself through the window so I know it is you and we can proceed.”
    Before the duchess could raise her gun to the window, Imogen grasped her arm. “Don’t. These men would kill the rest of us to take you.”
    Sabre narrowed her eyes. “How would you know that?”
    Imogen realized how her statement must have sounded. “I… Please, just trust me. Too much is at stake.”
    Sabre scowled but kept her pistol lowered as she twitched back the curtain slightly. “Who are you, sir?”
    Imogen couldn’t see through the sliver of open curtain, but the man’s voice was very close, and silky with disingenuous respect. ”My employer wishes to speak with you. Your driver is a smart man, yes? He will not make us shoot him?”
    “He will do as I instruct him. So long as we remain unharmed, we will come with you willingly.” 
    “Then we have found an accord. La rapidité!”
    Sabre tapped on the ceiling again, and the carriage rocked into motion. With the sound of the wheels and horse hooves, they could be assured of some