“True,” Heath responded. “So we will go in armed. I will approach the front and my two footmen will cover the other exits to cut off any escape routes.”
Basil still looked skeptical. “I cannot believe you will just waltz up to the house as if you are paying an afternoon call.”
Heath raised a quelling eyebrow. “Would you prefer that we burst in shooting? That could lead to hurting innocent bystanders, perhaps Fanny herself.”
The wisdom of his argument prevailed with Lily, and even Basil eventually nodded his head slowly.
“As you wish, my lord, but I mean to help,” he insisted.
“So do I,” Lily seconded.
Heath gave a grimace as he regarded her for a long moment. “I have no doubt that you are daring and fearless, sweetheart, but I would rather you remain in the carriage. You could put yourself in danger-”
Her scoffing sound cut him off. “It is all very well for you to play the hero, but I cannot because I am a woman?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt. The thought makes my blood run cold.”
At his admission, Lily felt her defenses soften. Yet she wasn’t swayed from her determination. “Heath, Fanny is my friend, and if she is in trouble, I mean to save her. I am not remaining behind like a useless ornament. Besides, you may need more than your two footmen to rescue her.”
Raising his eyes briefly to the carriage ceiling, Heath gave a sigh of resignation. “Very well, but you will do exactly as I say, both of you.”
“Yes, of course,” Lily said quickly, fearing he would change his mind. “And Basil will also.” When Basil kept his lips shut, Lily prodded him with her elbow. “Say you will do as Lord Claybourne tells us.”
“All right, I will!” Basil agreed under duress.
He lapsed into morose silence as Heath explained his plan, but Lily listened carefully to his every word, determined not to put Fanny in any more danger than she might already be in.
Lily’s stomach was curled into knots by the time the carriage began to slow. They were traveling along a wide avenue, in a stylish and obviously wealthy neighborhood. Most of the houses were opulent mansions and had the look of newness about them.
When the hack halted, the driver jumped down to open the door and let his passengers out. “Number Twelve is just up ahead, yer lordship.”
Lily’s glance followed the coachman’s pointing finger. The elegant terrace house he’d indicated was built of gleaming white stucco. The classical decoration and Corinthian columns proclaimed it to be a creation by John Nash, the architect who frequently designed houses and parks for the Prince Regent and other wealthy aristocrats.
Acknowledging the driver’s information with a brusque nod, Heath handed loaded pistols to his two footmen and another to Basil, keeping the last for himself. Lily was armed with a gleaming rapier. When earlier she’d tried to protest Heath’s choice, he had threatened to leave her with the carriage, saying she could defend herself better with a rapier than with a single shot pistol, and he didn’t want to have to worry about protecting her if they encountered resistance.
Lily had had no choice but to promise to remain behind him at all times, where it was safer.
She waited as his servants and Basil moved off quietly, intent on sneaking around to the sides and rear of the house. Then stealthily she followed Heath to the front entrance.
To her great surprise, the front door proved to be unlocked. O’Rourke evidently was not expecting company so soon, if at all, Lily surmised.
She obeyed when Heath silently motioned for her to stay back and then slowly swung the door open. The entrance hall was deserted, she saw as she craned to see over his shoulder.
But no sooner had Heath stepped inside when a shout sounded from his left. Their intrusion had been spotted, Lily realized, for O’Rourke had indeed posted guards.
A muscular hulk of a man came charging down the corridor at Heath, his fists swinging, but Lily’s attention was drawn upward, to the head of the staircase.
“Heath, up there!” she exclaimed an instant before a second brute aimed a pistol directly at Heath and fired.
Fear for him crowded in her throat, but Heath managed to leap back just in time to avoid being shot. The bullet whizzed past him to lodge harmlessly in the wall beside his head, to Lily’s vast relief.
Heath’s own aim was much more accurate. Discharging his pistol, he hit the bruiser who stood on the upper landing. The man gave a cry of pain and clutched his shoulder before sinking to his knees and tumbling down the stairs.
The blasts reverberating in her ears, Lily tightened her grip on her rapier and pushed her way inside the entrance hall after Heath. By that time the brute on her left had nearly reached him. Heath braced for the impact, but the guard barreled into him.
Lily flinched as both men went crashing to the floor, Heath’s empty pistol skittering across the parquet. When the brawny man rose to his knees, his powerful fists swinging at Heath’s face, Heath rolled to one side and leapt to his feet. The guard did the same and charged full force-although this time his blows were countered as Heath met the assault with blows of his own in an effort to defend himself.
Gunpowder smoke stinging her eyes, Lily raised her rapier and surged forward, desperately wanting to help Heath if she could. But there was no opportunity to strike without endangering him; they were moving too fast.