The Highland Earl by Amy Jarecki

Author:Amy Jarecki
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2019-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Swenson!” John bellowed as he raced for the stairs. “Where are my sons?”

The door to the butler’s rooms opened and the man stepped out. “They’re in the nursery with Mrs. Kerr.”

“Shutter the house. Ready the servants.” John ascended two steps at a time while Swenson followed. “Take everyone to Alloa via merchant ship. I’ll meet you there.”

“What the devil has happened?”

“There’s no time to explain. Gather our cloaks and meet me at the mews.”

“Straightaway, m’lord.”

It took less than a minute to race to the nursery.

“Da!” the boys shouted in unison, running for him.

“Quickly fetch your traveling gear.” John looked to the governess. “Mrs. Kerr, I entrust you with packing my sons’ effects. Swenson will be taking the serving staff to Alloa forthwith.”

“My heavens,” she said, drawing her palm to her chest. “This is abrupt. Has something happened?”

“It will if I do not spirit my family out of London directly.” As the lads returned, he took them by the hands and continued, “Do not worry. Swenson kens what needs to be done.”

“Where are we going, Da?” asked Oliver.

“Home.” To the tune of their shouts of joy, John lifted the youngest onto his hip and hastened back to the mews. “Climb into the coach with your stepmother.”

“Countess,” Thomas corrected.

John ignored the lad as Evelyn approached. “Everything is ready,” she said.

A tic twitched at the corner of his eye. The woman had no idea as to the extent of his anger. “You’d best alight.”

She took Oliver by the hand. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Do as I say.” John didn’t offer assistance. If the lady was capable of taking herself to a dingy coffeehouse in a London alley, she could bloody well climb inside a coach without his help.

“The team is ready, m’lord. Where to?” asked the driver.

John ushered the man aside. “Take us to the Pool of London. Use the byways. Keep an eye out for redcoats.”

“The queen’s dragoons?”

“Aye.”

Huffing, one of the housemaids dashed up. “M’lord—Redcoats are pounding on the door! Swenson said he’d stall as long as possible, but you must go.”

“Thank you.” John motioned to the coachman to alight. “Quickly now…turn left in the close instead of right.”

John followed his damned wife into the coach. God save her when he finally got an opportunity to speak to the woman alone. What had she been thinking? How long had she been meeting with Dubois? And who else knew the Frenchman was part of a plot for King Louis to invade Britain, assume the throne, and make the kingdom a French colony?

John sat across from Evelyn and the boys and glared.

She fixated on her hands. Aye, the woman knew she had crossed the line.

“What is wrong?” Thomas asked while the coach rattled along at a steady trot.

John shifted his gaze to his eldest. “Nothing.”

Oliver peeked from beneath his woolen cap, the band almost covering his eyes. “Then why do I feel like I’m in trouble?”

“You’re not in trouble,” John barked.

Evelyn pulled the youngest onto her lap. “I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“What did you do?” asked Thomas.

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