Smiling, he stepped into the booth, sliding one hand about her waist to draw her to him.
In the aftermath of that scene, in light of the thanks Francesca spent the night bestowing on him, Gyles found it impossible to deny her her wish to visit her old governess in Muswell Hill. She left immediately after luncheon. He retired to the library, confident that with two extra grooms riding with John Coachman, he had no need to fret.
Three hours later, a commotion erupted in the hall. He rose-before he could take a step, Wallace threw open the door. “There’s been an incident, my lord.”
Before his heart could plummet, Francesca swept in. “No one was hurt.”
Tugging off her gloves, she crossed toward him. Gyles took in her frown, took in the fact she was clearly unharmed. “What happened?”
A cough drew his attention. John Coachman stood on the threshold beside Wallace. “Highwaymen, m’lord. But what with the lads on top-they were carrying their pistols like you ordered-we came to no harm.”
Gyles waved him in and beckoned Wallace as well. “Sit down. I want to hear exactly what happened.”
Francesca subsided into the armchair beside his desk, the armchair that had become hers. Gyles sat as Wallace and John drew up straight-backed chairs.
John sat. “It was on our way home, m’lord, as we were coming down the hill to Highgate. They was lying in wait in Highgate Wood-three of ’em. Two burly louts and one skinny one. They’d mufflers ’bout their faces and the usual sort o’coats. Run-of-the-mill highwaymen.”
“Shots were fired?”
“By our lot, yes. They turned tail and ran.”
“Were they armed?”
“I ‘spect so, m’lord, but I didn’t see any pistols.”
Gyles frowned. “Check with the grooms. If they were highwaymen, they would have been armed.”
“Aye.” John eased to his feet. “If you’ve finished with me, m’lord, I need to check the horses.”
“Yes, and well done, John. Please convey my thanks”-Gyles glanced at Francesca and saw her summon a smile for the coachman-“our thanks to both grooms.”
John bobbed to Gyles, then Francesca. “I’ll tell ’em, you may be sure.”
Wallace rose and repositioned the chairs. Gyles flicked him a glance: Find out what you can and tell me later. Wallace bowed and followed John out, shutting the door.
Gyles considered Francesca. Her frown, more in her eyes than her expression, had returned. She glanced at him. He raised a brow.
“I just never imagined being set upon by highwaymen so close to town. It was not pleasant.”
Gyles rose, crossed to her chair, drew her to her feet, then closed his arms around her. “Were you frightened?”
She clung. “No-well, a little. I didn’t know what was going on-I didn’t know our grooms were armed or that it was they who had shot. I thought we were being shot at!”
Gyles tightened his hold, rocked her slightly, laid his cheek against her hair. “It’s all right. Nothing came of it.” Thank God. “I’m afraid such occurrences are not unheard of, which is why I ordered John to take two grooms. At this time of year with the wealthy leaving London, the outskirts of the capital provide the richest pickings.”
But highwaymen usually waylaid travelers at night, or at least in the evening. Broad daylight was too risky.
Francesca eased back. “I must go and change. I think I’ll take a long bath.”
Her liking for relaxing baths had not escaped Gyles. He released her. “We’re dining in tonight, aren’t we?”
“Yes. The roundabout is slowing, so it’ll just be the two of us.” She opened her eyes at him. “Will you be bored?”
Gyles raised a brow. “You’ll have to see to it I’m not.”
“Ah-the duties of your countess.” With a die-away air, she curtsied and turned to the door. “I’ll go and fortify myself.”
Gyles laughed. The door closed behind her; his laughter faded. He returned to his desk.