“Isabella,” a voice rang out into the damp air. Uncle Malcolm. “Come back here.”
She didn’t look back nor did she answer as the carriage picked up speed. She’d never look at or talk to that man again.
Another shot rang out and Isabella looked back then to see the man covering her sister with his body. Were they both all right? Had he been shot?
But he didn’t let go as the horses sped away.
The rain fell harder, the streets nearly clear as Isabella pushed the horses at a breakneck pace. She needed to get her sisters to safety.
And she needed to see Bash again.
Tears streamed down her face, hidden by the rain. She could have died, and she’d never even told him that she loved him.
Chapter Eighteen
Bash stared at his butler, sick dread weighing down his stomach. “What do you mean, they’re not here?”
“You sent a missive, Your Grace. For them to join you.”
Several words of profanity rose to his lips. “Where did I tell them to join me?” He looked over at Infamy, his face mirroring his own feelings of horror.
“Their home.”
“Fuck,” Infamy whispered. “This is bad.”
“How long ago did they leave?” he barked out.
“Twenty minutes ago, Your Grace.”
“Let’s go,” Bash said, turning on his heel. “With the rain, we might be able to catch them.”
He began racing toward the barn where his horse was still saddled. It didn’t take him but a minute to climb up and start the journey toward Isabella’s home. Would he reach her in time?
But as he made the first turn, a carriage careened toward him. His carriage.
“Is that…” Infamy asked behind him.
“Isabella.” She was driving the horses like a woman possessed.
Her wet hair was plastered to her face as she cracked the reins again. A woman had never looked more beautiful than she did in this moment. “Your driver was shot,” she called out as she approached at full speed.
“Slow down,” he yelled back, and she pulled up the reins. In an instant, he was off his horse again. “Infamy, can you get my driver?”
“Of course.” The other man nudged his horse and was off without another word.
The carriage hadn’t stopped but Bash swung himself up into the seat next Isabella. “What happened?”
“Isabella,” Emily yelled from the back. “Can we explain later? Our other rescuer has been shot.”
Bash looked back to see the man who’d been at the club holding onto the back where the footman might rest, Emily tucked into his embrace. His eyebrows rose to see the protective stance of the other man, his body wrapped securely around the youngest Carrington sister.
“I’m fine,” the man called back. “But let’s get to safety.”
Bash nodded and took the reins from Isabella, starting the horses once again.
It only took them a few minutes to return to his house.
Jumping down from the seat, he flew to the back of the carriage. Knowing that Isabella was safe, this was his chance to get answers. How had that man come to their rescue, who was he, and what did he want from Emily?