again, you evil filth, and I shall have the skin flayed from your bones!"
"Unhand me, sir!" Felicity Mumford shrieked. The crowd echoed her anguish.
"I'm afraid you're a tad late for that, Sir Freddy," Lyle grinned, and he kissed her again, more softly this time, before spinning her about, pinning her against him with one arm, and lifting the gun to her throat with the other. She twisted as if to resist, but it was not a concerted effort. "Now, if you'd be so gracious, please remove those ghastly muzzles from such a well-appointed room."
"Sir John," Mason bleated at the renewed threat, his bluster punctured.
"You'll die a criminal's death!" Sir John Hippisley bellowed, but he waved the musketeers away. They melted back into the crowd.
Lyle put his lips to his captive's ear. "Well? What is it?"
"A traitor's death!" Colonel Maddocks, sword still in hand, snarled over the thrum of the guests who were in equal parts appalled and enthralled.
Lyle dragged Felicity away from her uncle, and from Hippisley and Walmsley and Maddocks. Her heels scraped as she lost her footing on the tiles, but he took her weight easily. The crowd shifted to let them through, Grumm holding the doorway, Bella swinging her pistol in warning against any who might think themselves courageous.
Felicity tilted back her head as they moved. Her breath was warm as she whispered. "Three days, Major. At dawn."
"I would kiss you again," Lyle hissed.
"Please do not. I fear it would rather compromise my position."
"Thank you. I will come for you, Miss Mumford. I swear it."
"Do not bother, sir. The life of a brigand is hardly something to which I aspire."
“In time, they will know you’ve told me,” Lyle said as they reached the doorway. “What will happen to…?”
“Me?” she cut in. “I can deal with Uncle Frederick, do not worry.”
Lyle stared at their pursuers. "Have the dowdy wench, Sir Freddy!" He released her, slapping her rump hard as she bolted back into the room. She yelped in exaggerated outrage. He laughed. "I grow tired of her already!"
Lyle, Bella and Grumm raced along the passageway through which they had earlier been conveyed, the small flames of candles guttering madly as they rushed past. There were a couple of footmen in their way, shimmering in their red and blue suits, but they did nothing in the face of the armed fugitives, instead pressing themselves tight against the timber clad walls to allow the trio through. Bella was laughing, high-pitched and giddy with excitement. Grumm was cursing their collective stupidity, though Lyle wagered he would be grinning behind his mask. They knew a pursuit would already be underway, Maddocks and his men charging out of the mirrored chamber like a herd of stampeding heifers, but they were already at the large porch, the door open, stars pricking the black sky beyond.
"Took your time," Lyle called as they burst out into the fresh night.
Grumm ripped off his mask, tossing it into one of the shrubs that lined the path along which they ran. "There were eight, Major. Eight o' the buggers to gather. Not easy, I can tell you."
"But you succeeded?"
"I'd have told you by now if I hadn't, you beef-witted lump."
Lyle eased his pistol's pan cover closed, thrust it into his belt, and clapped Grumm between the shoulders. "You're a grand fellow, Eustace!"
Shouts rang out behind. Lyle glanced back to see a score of men pour out from the manor house. "How far?"
"See for yourself," Grumm rasped.
Sure enough, as they passed a stand of ancient elms, the three came to a small clearing. The main high road lay just beyond, but before that, tethered loosely beneath the branches of a soaring ash, were Star, Tyrannous and Newt. The horses looked up from their grazing, whickering gently as they recognised their respective keepers.
Star snorted irritably when Lyle untied the reins and leapt into the saddle. The big grey evidently sensed the urgency in his master's actions, and Lyle stroked the beast's
"Unhand me, sir!" Felicity Mumford shrieked. The crowd echoed her anguish.
"I'm afraid you're a tad late for that, Sir Freddy," Lyle grinned, and he kissed her again, more softly this time, before spinning her about, pinning her against him with one arm, and lifting the gun to her throat with the other. She twisted as if to resist, but it was not a concerted effort. "Now, if you'd be so gracious, please remove those ghastly muzzles from such a well-appointed room."
"Sir John," Mason bleated at the renewed threat, his bluster punctured.
"You'll die a criminal's death!" Sir John Hippisley bellowed, but he waved the musketeers away. They melted back into the crowd.
Lyle put his lips to his captive's ear. "Well? What is it?"
"A traitor's death!" Colonel Maddocks, sword still in hand, snarled over the thrum of the guests who were in equal parts appalled and enthralled.
Lyle dragged Felicity away from her uncle, and from Hippisley and Walmsley and Maddocks. Her heels scraped as she lost her footing on the tiles, but he took her weight easily. The crowd shifted to let them through, Grumm holding the doorway, Bella swinging her pistol in warning against any who might think themselves courageous.
Felicity tilted back her head as they moved. Her breath was warm as she whispered. "Three days, Major. At dawn."
"I would kiss you again," Lyle hissed.
"Please do not. I fear it would rather compromise my position."
"Thank you. I will come for you, Miss Mumford. I swear it."
"Do not bother, sir. The life of a brigand is hardly something to which I aspire."
“In time, they will know you’ve told me,” Lyle said as they reached the doorway. “What will happen to…?”
“Me?” she cut in. “I can deal with Uncle Frederick, do not worry.”
Lyle stared at their pursuers. "Have the dowdy wench, Sir Freddy!" He released her, slapping her rump hard as she bolted back into the room. She yelped in exaggerated outrage. He laughed. "I grow tired of her already!"
Lyle, Bella and Grumm raced along the passageway through which they had earlier been conveyed, the small flames of candles guttering madly as they rushed past. There were a couple of footmen in their way, shimmering in their red and blue suits, but they did nothing in the face of the armed fugitives, instead pressing themselves tight against the timber clad walls to allow the trio through. Bella was laughing, high-pitched and giddy with excitement. Grumm was cursing their collective stupidity, though Lyle wagered he would be grinning behind his mask. They knew a pursuit would already be underway, Maddocks and his men charging out of the mirrored chamber like a herd of stampeding heifers, but they were already at the large porch, the door open, stars pricking the black sky beyond.
"Took your time," Lyle called as they burst out into the fresh night.
Grumm ripped off his mask, tossing it into one of the shrubs that lined the path along which they ran. "There were eight, Major. Eight o' the buggers to gather. Not easy, I can tell you."
"But you succeeded?"
"I'd have told you by now if I hadn't, you beef-witted lump."
Lyle eased his pistol's pan cover closed, thrust it into his belt, and clapped Grumm between the shoulders. "You're a grand fellow, Eustace!"
Shouts rang out behind. Lyle glanced back to see a score of men pour out from the manor house. "How far?"
"See for yourself," Grumm rasped.
Sure enough, as they passed a stand of ancient elms, the three came to a small clearing. The main high road lay just beyond, but before that, tethered loosely beneath the branches of a soaring ash, were Star, Tyrannous and Newt. The horses looked up from their grazing, whickering gently as they recognised their respective keepers.
Star snorted irritably when Lyle untied the reins and leapt into the saddle. The big grey evidently sensed the urgency in his master's actions, and Lyle stroked the beast's
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