They found the first small skiff full of black powder right away. It was tied up next to the support under the South Gate. It was just covered with a tarp, no guard or anything else to draw attention to it. Simon simply waded out to it and hauled it ashore. Robert looked around and couldn’t see anyone suspicious. Not Fat Linnie’s assassins or Van de Berg’s bodyguard or the Russians.

“There weren’t none on the other side,” Essie said when she ran back after checking the support on the opposite side of the bridge.

“We each need to find a boat and locate as many of these as we can,” Robert told Simon and Essie. “We need to haul them away from the bridge.”

“But where to?” Simon asked in consternation. “We can’t group them together. That creates a hazard of another kind. And we can’t simply leave them floating out there.”

“One of us needs to stay here and take them,” Robert said. “They’ll be together, but harmless. We can get the other agents when they arrive to dispose if it quickly, so that danger is minimal.” He looked down the waterway, away from the bridge. He pointed. “Down there. See that small dock? We’ll bring them there. Even if they were to ignite, at that distance they couldn’t do any harm.”

“I don’t like the idea of splitting up,” Simon said. “I have a bad feeling about it. Not my special sort of feeling kind of feeling, but all the same I’d rather keep you in my sights.” Essie was looking at Simon as if he was crazy.

“Simon, it is the most efficient way to gather as much powder in as short a time as possible,” Robert said, impatience creeping into his voice. “We are very close to finishing this. The other agents will be here shortly.” He took Simon’s shoulders in his hands and looked him in the eye. “I’m going to be fine, Simon. I promise.”

“God, don’t do that,” Simon said. “That’s the one thing that will bring disaster down on our heads.”

“I’ve got to agree with ’im,” Essie said. “Promises are made to be broken, my mum always said.” She nodded and tapped her hat into place on her head. “I don’t make ’em meself.”

“You are a very interesting person,” Robert told her, almost as fascinated with the creature as Hastings had been. He was meeting all sorts of people he hadn’t even known existed before on this mission. He thought as a constable he’d seen and heard it all. He was only realizing he’d barely scratched the surface. He supposed that could apply to himself as well, he’d changed so much in the last week.

“Fine,” Simon agreed. “I don’t like it, and I’m reserving the right to say I told you so to one and all.”

“Agreed. Come on.” Robert led the way to a small dock where there were several small skiffs tied up. “Each of you take one. We will compensate the owners later.”

“Hey, you!” There were shouts from people nearby as they each set out in a borrowed skiff. It was soon painfully obvious that Essie had never steered a craft before in her life as she struggled with the oars and uselessly rowed in circles.

“Essie!” Robert shouted. “Return to shore and wait for us to return with the other skiffs.”

“Thank God,” Essie called back. She inexpertly turned the skiff around and began a meandering, jagged course back to shore.

Simon made it to the next support first and waved that he’d found the skiff. He turned and headed for shore. They continued in this vein for some time, and it wasn’t long before Robert noticed that there seemed to be agents doing the same from the opposite shore.

As he headed toward one of the middle supports, he could see that an agent had gotten there before him. “Ahoy!” he yelled, not sure what the protocol was in this particular situation. “Is this the last one then?”

The agent didn’t answer and Robert pulled alongside him. When the agent turned, Robert realized his mistake. It was Van de Berg.

Simon watched with horror, his shouted warning too late, as Van de Berg pulled a gun and shot Robert.

Robert tumbled backward out of the boat into the water. Simon was too far away to do anything. He rowed as fast as could, and he could see several small boats doing the same from every direction. But they were all too late. Robert was dead.

Simon could hardly think as those words repeated themselves in his head over and over. Robert was dead. Robert was dead. His heart had stopped at the gunshot and now raced so fast he was lightheaded as he rowed and rowed, his vision blurry as tears streamed down his face.

All he knew was he had to get to Robert. And he had to make Van de Berg pay.

He watched as Van de Berg grabbed Robert’s boat and climbed into it. Then, looking away, he pointed his gun at the little skiff loaded with powder and prepared to shoot. Simon felt helpless. After everything, all they’d done, all they’d accomplished, to get this close and fail? To lose Robert? For nothing? How was he to tell Christy? How were they to go on?

He bellowed in impotent fury and pulled his knife out of his boot, prepared to throw it at Van de Berg. His shout drew the Dutchman’s attention, and the villain had the stones to smile at him.

Just as Simon was about to let his knife fly—and he was sure that Van de Berg was going to pull the trigger—a figure surged out of the water and grabbed Van de Berg’s arm, yanking him out of the boat. The gun flew out of his hand into the water as Van de Berg fell. Robert clung to the side of Van de Berg’s boat as the Dutchman tried to swim away.

Simon dropped his knife and began rowing again as fast as he could. By now several other agents were closing in on the Dutchman. Robert simply clung to the edge of the little boat and did not join the chase. That alone told Simon he was injured. He let the other agents worry about Van de Berg. He could do no harm now. He headed straight for Robert.

“How bad is it?” he asked grimly as he pulled up alongside him.

“It hurts like the very devil,” Robert said. “But I don’t believe it’s going to kill me.” Then he let go of the boat and slid, unconscious, into the water.

Christy heard a commotion at the front door and rose from the table carrying Christian. He had been in her lap while she was feeding him.

“I can get that, missus,” the girl said.

She was washing dishes because Christy wasn’t willing to let her out of her sight. She had quite a few things to say to Robert and Simon about her. The very idea, sending a complete stranger, and one with a very questionable background to say the least, as the new nanny. She’d been prattling on all morning about her work with the madam who ran a gang of assassins, and her “lady friend” Essie, who was apparently one of those assassins but had been enlisted to protect Christy and the baby rather than kill them.

Christy had thanked her accordingly.

She knew she could hardly cast the first stone as far as an unblemished past went, and she knew they might be a little desperate when it came to finding a new nanny, but if Very Tarrant could find Mrs. Goose, then surely Christy could find someone a bit more suitable than Mary Peppers. Poor Cook had taken to her room again as soon as the girl had arrived.

“Ma’am,” Nell called. “Can you come?”

“Christy!” Simon yelled. “Hurry!”

Christy forgot her concerns about Mary. “Here,” she said, shoving Christian at her. The girl hurried over and took him, and Christy picked up her skirts and ran to the front of the house. She saw Simon half carrying Robert up the stairs, and her hand flew up to cover her gasp of shock.

“What happened?” she asked when she got her voice back. She hurried up the stairs behind them.

“He’s been shot,” Simon said.

“And I think he was stabbed this morning,” Mary Peppers called up from the bottom of the stairs.

“What?” Christy asked in dismay.

“We’ve had a rough day of it,” Simon said. They got Robert into the bedroom and stopped.

“Well, put him on the bed,” Christy said.

“I’ve been in the river, Christy,” Robert said weakly. “Pull off the blankets.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Christy said. She yanked the covers off the bed. “There. Put him down.”

They gingerly set Robert down on the edge of the bed. Christy could see now that he was wet. “Where have you been shot?” she asked, not sure where to begin. His hand looked bloody, and she reached for it.

“My arm,” he corrected her.

“We’ve got to get his clothes off,” Simon said.

“Not this again,” Robert complained.

Christy smiled weakly at his attempt at humor. “This is not going to end the same way, I don’t think.”

“Well, that puts a damper on things, madam. Thank you, very much.” Robert’s voice was strained with the pain.

Christy turned to Simon and was struck by how ill he looked. “Simon, darling, have you been hurt as well?” she asked in concern.

He shook his head. “No. I’m just concerned for Robert.”

“He has some damn fool notion that this is his fault,” Robert said. Christy tried to take his jacket off, and he gasped.

“Wait a moment,” she said, looking at the jacket. “This isn’t yours. Whose jacket is this?”

“I borrowed it, after I got stabbed,” Robert said. “Just cut it off.”

“Lordy,” Mary Peppers said from the door, holding Christian on her hip. The baby seemed content for now. “He sounds like Essie. If it’s not one thing with her, it’s another. Where is she?”

“We sent her to Daniel’s,” Simon said. “He’s a friend who lives nearby.” He looked at Christy. “I know Very’s there, and she’ll get us a competent doctor.”

“I’m going to get my scissors to cut this jacket off,” Christy said. “I’ll be right back.”

She stepped around Mary Peppers and hurried down the stairs to her sewing room. She closed the door behind her and slid to the floor. Then she bit the palm of her hand in order to keep from crying or screaming. She didn’t want them to hear her doing either one upstairs. But she needed a minute, just a minute, to herself.

If Robert died…she couldn’t even finish the thought. Yes, he was sitting up and talking, but she knew wounds got infected and could take even a man as strong and healthy as Robert.

She loved him so much. She loved Simon, too, but even so she couldn’t imagine her life without Robert now, their life without Robert. And Simon was suffering, too. What would happen to him if Robert died, if he lost another person he loved?

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and held her hands out. They were shaking. She stood up and shook her hands out at her sides, hard. Then she held them up again. Better. She went to the table and grabbed her sewing shears and opened the door. Simon was standing there waiting for her. He looked like a lost little boy.

“He’s going to be all right,” she told him before he could speak. “You don’t know him like I do. He won’t let this take him from us.”

“Sometimes they don’t have a choice,” he said.

“Robert Manderley makes his own choices,” she said firmly. “Now get yourself together and let’s get back upstairs. Mary Peppers is probably stealing my linen.”

“Her name is Mary Peppers?” Simon asked, his brow wrinkling.

“You sent me a girl off the streets and you didn’t even know her name?” Christy said. “I ought to…well, I don’t know what I ought to do, but of all the nerve.” She marched past him to the stairs. “She could have murdered us in our beds.”

“The point was that they were supposed to murder you but didn’t, you see, that’s why we sent her,” Simon said as if it all made sense. “And actually, Barnabas sent her. I don’t think he knew what else to do with her, to be honest. Essie came with us, so he just sent the girl here.”

“Well, then I’ll have a few words for Sir Barnabas James,” Christy told him.

“You know, I don’t think Barnabas knew what he was getting into when he got himself involved with you and Robert,” Simon said.

“I daresay he didn’t,” Christy told him. “The rest of the world may dance to his tune, but I most definitely do not.” She stopped suddenly, and Simon had to grab her to keep from knocking her down. She turned in his arms and put her hand on his cheek. “But he did help us get you back from Africa, didn’t he? So I do owe him that, I must remember.”

“He did?” Simon asked. “But I thought that was Daniel and Harry.”

“We went to Sir Barnabas for help,” Christy said. “He gave us the papers we needed and some extra men. And he told me that it was my fault.”

“What?” Simon held her back when she tried to go to Robert. “How?”

“He told me I ruined you when I chose Robert instead of you,” she confessed. “That I’d driven you into a decline and that had led to your capture.” Simon didn’t say anything. “He was right, wasn’t he?” she asked softly.

“You said it yourself, there was no choice,” Simon said. “I didn’t give you one. There was only Robert. He is twice the man I am.”

“And he is bleeding in the next room, so I haven’t got time to tell you all the ways that you are wrong about that. But I most definitely will revisit this conversation later,” she promised. “Now, come on.”