Page 144

“Robin Hood and Maid Marian,” the doorman announced.

Many eyes turned in their direction. They weren’t the only Robin and Marian, but Thorne was confident the other couples hadn’t taken the same risks with their costumes as Birdie had.

She’d not wanted to be encumbered by yards of fabric.

He’d initially balked at the idea of her borrowing her brother’s clothes, but she explained the pantaloons offered more freedom than a lady’s gown.

If she had to run or fight, she wanted to be prepared.

Instead of wearing men’s pantaloons, she made an overskirt that hid the wide-legged trousers she’d created.

Her father gave her a pocket pistol, which she carried in the pocket of the hidden trousers.

Slits in the skirt gave her access. The form-fitted empire waist lifted her bosom to eye-catching levels, and a heavy gold chain with a cross pendant reminiscent of the crusades hung between her breasts.

Her long, dark hair was plaited with leather and flowers.

The mask, a cluster of painted silk leaves adorned with tiny flowers and glass gemstones, concealed half her face.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave your side, Maid Marian. You look much too delectable in that costume,” Thorne teased, his husky baritone revealing his simmering desire.

Birdie blushed at the compliment. “I was thinking the same of you, dear Robin. You cut a charming figure in your brown Lindsey wooly breeches and forest green tunic.”

Like her, Thorne had chosen an outfit that would allow him to fight if necessary.

The boots were finer than any thief or woodsman would have owned, but he drew the line at uncomfortable footwear.

Army life had taught him the importance of good boots and clean, dry socks.

His ornamental weaponry was real, but it would fit the illusion.

Birdie had sewn pockets into his tunic to allow him to hide more weapons.

He wore a silk scarf with the eyeholes cut out.

“Shall we mingle, my dear Marian?”

Birdie followed him through the crush of dancers.

“I’ve spotted your brother and mine. Have you seen Lord Vernon and your father?”

Birdie leaned close to be heard over the crowd. “Papa is in the supper room and Lord Vernon is in the card room.”

“Let us take a turn about the floor.” They moved around the room trying to see who was attending, but with everyone in costume, it was difficult to tell who was present and who was unaccounted for.Thorne observed Peel and the Prime Minister gathered with other government officials.

Caleb moved through the servers, trying to see if anyone had noticed anything unusual, but they were busy, and most didn’t take time to notice anything but their next assignment.

Vernon had a little more luck in the card room. He could account for several peers who were on their watch list.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Birdie whispered. “What if they plan to take us all out?”

“A bomb would be messy but effective,” Caleb agreed, “but I’ve seen no sign of anything unusual.”

“They could have hired an assassin but in this crush how would they ever get close enough to kill the Prime Minister, much less Mr. Peel, and then be able to get away?” Thorne hissed as they regrouped out in the garden.

Her father rushed out to the garden, breathless. “They’ve poisoned the wine.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” he gasped. “One of the serving boys started throwing up and foaming at the mouth.”

Thorne looked inside as the waiters began distributing the wine. “We need to hurry.”

They ran inside, bumping into waiters, pushing wine glasses away from thirsty dancers, and causing a scene.

Amid the chaos, one debutant ignored their warnings and consumed her glass of wine, convulsing on the floor in a dramatic heap.

The surrounding ladies screamed, some fainted.

They were too late to stop some from putting the wine to their lips, but as the chaos ensued, others realized that there was something wrong with the wine.

“Has anyone seen Mr. Peele or Lord Liverpool?” Vernon demanded.

Thorne and Birdie rushed to where they’d last seen the Prime Minister and Home Secretary, but they were gone.

“Lord Liverpool?” Birdie asked the hostess.

The older woman fanned herself. “Someone poisoned my wine?” she wailed.

“Madam, please, they were after Lord Liverpool and Mr. Peel. Have you seen them?” Thorne demanded.

She waved her hand. “An attaché came and whisked them both away. He said something about having a carriage waiting in the mews.”

They ran for the mews as a carriage careened around a corner. The congestion around Lady Jillian’s home prevented them from reaching their carriage on time.

“Horses!” Birdie ripped off her mask as Thorne argued with the stable lads to saddle two horses.

“Here,” Birdie unfastened her necklace. “It is solid gold with a ruby there. If we do not bring the horses back, that should be more than enough to pay for them. My father is Lord Hartley, and his is the Duke of Briaridge.”

The boys quickly did their bidding.

Birdie tied up her dress and leapt on the horse.

“Stay back until I see what we are up against,” Thorne ordered.

“I will do no such thing, Thorne Blackwood. You are my partner in this and in life. We do this together.”

They caught up with the carriage thanks to the traffic of the many evening frivolities occurring. Everyone was out enjoying the spring evening as they prepared for war. Thorne loaded one of his pistols as they cantered closer.

Up ahead, they could see Mr. Peel fighting with their captors.

“Mr. Peel,” Thorne shouted and tried to hand him one of his pistols. The distraction cost the man a punch in the gut.

Thorne took aim and prayed Mr. Peel would stay out of his shot. He fired. Peel shoved the injured man out the back window and gave him a nod.

Birdie rode up beside the carriage and leapt onboard. She crawled over to the driver’s seat and shoved her gun into his side. “Jump,” she hissed.

“Now see here, girlie. I’m not going to…”

She shot.

“Blime me!” The man dropped the reins and staggered off the side of the perch.

Birdie grabbed the reins and attempted to stop the horses.

There was still fighting going on inside when she finally got the horses under control.

Thorne opened the door with his pistols at the ready. The Prime Minister was out cold, but so was their abductor. Peel, battered and bruised, was no worse for wear.

“Well done, Thorne and Lady Hartley, is it not?”

Birdie shook her head. “No sir, it’s Mrs. Blackwood now.”

“Ah, is it now? Well, looks like you have thwarted the anarchists attempts to do away with Lord Liverpool and myself. Well done, both of you.”

Birdie leaned against Thorne. “We had a lot of help.”

Thorne frowned, recognizing the abductor as his father’s secretary. Just what his family needed, to be linked to treason.