Dillan shook his head. “Shipley attempted to keep Rebecca from leaving.”
Bennet nearly roared in disbelief and fear. “How?”
Dillan jerked his thumb toward the street. “My carriage waits. Why don’t I explain on the way?”
He gave a stiff nod and Dillan fell in step next to him. “Rebecca told me everything.”
Bennet grimaced. “I see.” What did the man think of him leaving Rebecca all this time?
Dillan gave him a sidelong glance. “She might be angry at you still, but for whatever it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. You haven’t been back a week and she’s already in trouble.”
He pressed his lips together, hating the fact that he’d brought trouble. “I’ve got enough evidence now, so I can end this.”
Dillan gave him a sidelong glance. “Good. Durham will keep the women safe.”
Bennet’s brows rose. “And you?”
“I’m going to help you,” Dillan said as the carriage came into view.
Bennet’s chest tightened in gratitude. It had been so long since he’d been able to rely on anyone. “I can’t endanger you too.”
“We’re both keeping Rebecca safe.” Dillan clapped him on the back. “She’s done more for me.”
Had she? “What did Rebecca do for you?” But he held up a finger before the other man could answer. Something shifted in the shadows. “We’ve got to go,” he whispered.
Dillan didn’t hesitate, drawing out two pistols as they began sprinting for the carriage. Bennet followed just behind, shifting the weight of the crate to both hands as he ducked lower. Instinct. But one that served him well as a bullet whizzed past his left ear.
The two footmen on the back of Dillan’s carriage jumped down, rushing past of them just as Dillan turned to fire a return shot.
But Bennet knew better.
It was better to escape with their evidence than to stand and fight. “No,” he barked. “Everyone to the carriage. Let’s go!”
Dillan instantly turned, his footman following. Two more steps and he dove into the carriage, the driver snapping the reins.
Dillan grabbed the door, swinging himself in as the carriage began to roll, picking up speed in the dark night.
“It will be harder to lose them with the streets so quiet,” Dillan yelled over din of the wheels clattering on the cobblestone streets.
“We can’t lead them to Durham’s,” he said as he turned to lean out the window. As he did, he could see three horseman gaining ground. “Head to the palace!” he shouted as he fired.
The carriage veered, making its way toward the gates of the palace, shots ringing out in the night.
Even if the guard refused to open the gate, the proximity to their ruler should send the attackers in another direction—hopefully. At least long enough to make their way undetected to the duke’s. But that was the next problem to solve.
They barreled toward the gates, guards materializing in the night, and Bennet gave a quick sigh of relief.
Granted, they might very well be arrested, but again, he’d worry about that after.
“Halt,” a guard’s voice rang through the night as the carriage pulled to a stop. At the same time, the horsemen veered right, disappearing from view.
The driver pulled the carriage to a stop. “I carry a lord of the realm attacked by thieves. We come to beg assistance.”
“Who do you carry?”
“Baron Brightmore,” the driver answered.
Bennet leaned out the window, the next decision made. If Shipley knew that Rebecca was involved, there was little point in hiding his identity. “And the Marquess of Northampton.”