To the boys, Smiggs said, “Keep those poles handy. Whack him if he gives me any trouble.”
The boys shuffled and circled as, none too gently, Smiggs rolled Nunsworth over, hauled his hands behind his back, and secured them with the rope. Then Smiggs reached down and bent Nunsworth’s legs at the knees, looping the rope around his ankles and cinching it tight. “See?” Smiggs said to the boys. “This is how you hog-tie a man. It’ll keep him right where he is until we decide different.”
While the boys, curious, inspected Smiggs’s handiwork, Kit rose, crouched by Sylvia’s feet, and untied the hobble Nunsworth had fashioned. Then Kit straightened, reached down and gave her his hand and, when she put her fingers in his, drew her upright.
She swayed, and he caught her around the waist. She leaned into his support as the boys turned their way. “Thank you, boys, for coming to save me. I don’t know how you realized that I was in danger before I did, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
All three boys blushed and looked bashful.
“Tweren’t nothing but what you deserve, miss,” Ollie said, “for all your hard work at the school an’ all.”
The other two nodded earnestly. Then Jack’s eyes lit, and he added, “And it was fun!”
Kit chuckled, and she smiled. Then he urged her to the door.
They left Nunsworth, trussed and mumbling curses muted by the metal pail, on the mill floor and walked out into the gathering dusk. Kit led her to the bench against the wall and gently—as if she was porcelain—eased her down to sit.
She shot him a grateful smile; she could do with a moment to gather her wits and simply breathe.
With a last glance to reassure himself that she was as well as she could be, Kit walked to the other end of the bench to speak with the watchman.
Smiggs headed for the lane, calling, “I’ll fetch the curricle.”
The boys, Sylvia was touched to note, hovered protectively beside her; if she wasn’t much mistaken, the Cavanaugh effect was rubbing off on them. She summoned a smile and focused it on Jack. “Jack, isn’t it?”
He blushed and essayed an awkward bow. “Pleased to meet you, miss.”
She smiled more broadly. “Not half as pleased as I am to meet you.” She included Ollie and Ned with a glance. “All I know is that Jack somehow ended up in the boot of Nunsworth’s gig.” She arched her brows at the three. “How did that happen? How is it that all three of you are here?”
They told her, with a great deal of color and explanation thrown in.
By the time they’d finished recounting it all, and she’d commented appropriately along the way, they were quite puffed up with pride—in her opinion, entirely justifiably—and, with the usual resilience of youth, had already forgotten the tenser moments of the drama and were inclined to cast the whole as a magnificent adventure.
She envied them that ability. It would be a long time before she forgot Nunsworth and his terrible plan.
Smiggs drove Kit’s curricle into the clearing and drew up before the open mill door.
Along with Smiggs, the three boys, and even the watchman, Sylvia looked at Kit.
Kit read the question writ large in all the faces turned his way. What now?
He glanced through the open mill door, beyond which Nunsworth remained securely hog-tied, then looked at Sylvia. “I believe it’s time we called on your father.”
CHAPTER 17
The watchman—Gibson—agreed to remain at the mill and watch over their captive; Sylvia assured him they would send relief as soon as they could, then Kit handed her up into the curricle, climbed up, and accepted the reins from Smiggs. Kit waited while Smiggs and the boys crammed in behind, then, with a flick of the reins, sent the bays in a wide turn and set them pacing back toward the lane.
Sylvia pointed to their right. “It’s faster to continue along the river.”
Kit turned the horses that way. Once they were bowling along, he glanced at Sylvia, his gaze lingering for a long moment on her face before he was forced to look to his horses. Under the cover of the noise of the rattling wheels, he murmured, “Are you truly all right?”
He felt her gaze, soft and warm, trace his cheek. “Yes, I am.” After a second, she went on, “We reached the mill before I had the slightest inkling that I had anything to fear. Prior to that, I was consumed by anxiety over my father.” She lightly touched his thigh. “Did you hear about that—the story Nunsworth used to get me to go with him?”
He nodded. “The boys overheard and told me.”
From the corner of his eye, he caught her swift smile. “They really are amazing. I had no idea they’d got so close.”
“Apparently, they’ve been following you on and off for days, seeking to keep you safe from whoever was watching you. It was Ned who got close enough to you and Nunsworth to hear what was said. Evidently, Ned is the sneakiest of the three—or so I’ve been told.”