Page 147 of A Portrait of Love

Mr. Heyworth squinted at the road ahead. “He said it was just past a big chestn—oh—” he pointed, “I think that must be it, on the right.”

The unmistakable sound of gunfire came from the direction where Heyworth had just pointed.

Honey urged her horse into a gallop.

“My lady! Wait, you don’t know what you’re riding into. You could get shot—you might get your husband shot—”

His last words made her abruptly rein in and slow to a canter.

When Mr. Heyworth rode up beside her, she turned to him. “My husband might be the one getting shot right now,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Let’s get off the driveway and go in through there.” He pointed toward the thicket that ran beside the driveway. “It will give us a bit of cover.”

Honey nodded and headed in that direction. Once she was concealed from the drive, she swung off her horse without waiting for help.

“I’m going on foot,” she said in a low voice, quickly fastening the skirt of her habit, which made it far easier to walk. She held out a hand. “Give me a gun.”

He hesitated. “But—”

Another shot rang out and he swiftly handed her a pistol, butt first. “Let’s stay in the trees and—”

But Honey was already moving. She kept walking until she could see the roof of the house ahead.

“The pistol is loaded and ready to fire,” he whispered as they both made their way toward the left, to get around the hedge that cut off most of their view of the house.

Honey nodded; she knew the rest: aim and pull the trigger.

A third shot came from the direction of the house, which they could now see.

It was a moderately sized three-story structure. More trees and shrubs grew along the front and the side that faced them. It looked like a park bordered the back of the building.

Heyworth grabbed her arm and pulled her down into a crouch just as a man emerged from behind a tree near the house: it was Raymond.

His back was to where they were hiding and he was staring at something that was blocked from their view by a tree.

Whatever Raymond was looking at, it was agitating him and he paced back and forth, clutching something in his hands. He was gesticulating, as if he were talking to himself.

“If we could get to that tree, we could get a better look,” Heyworth whispered, pointing to a big oak about twenty feet beyond the hedge. “But we’d need to expose ourselves to get there. We can’t squeeze through this hedge because it’s just too thick. That means going out in the open.”

Honey was only listening with part of her brain. The other part was watching Raymond and trying to see how much time she might have to reach the tree that Heyworth had just pointed out.

“I’m going to follow the hedge in the other direction for a bit and see if there is a spot we might push through. You should wait here.”

“We’ve got two guns and there is only one of him,” she said. “Couldn’t we rush him and—”

“Lady MacLeish said she saw his man Taft last night, didn’t she? What if he’s over there somewhere, too?”

Honey grimaced; he was right.

“Just give me a moment to go see.” He cut her a pleading look. “If I can’t find a way, we’ll try our luck getting to that tree.”

Honey nodded and Heyworth trotted off to the right.

The moment he was out of sight, Honey crept to the left, away from the protection of the hedge.

Right now, Raymond’s side was to her; if he turned, he would see her.

He dropped into a crouch, doing something she couldn’t see. In that position, his back was mostly facing her. If she made a run for the house she’d only be out in the open for a few seconds before she reached—