Page 139 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

Captured by the ongoing melee, Samuel watched with interest, and Hester stood, frozen in horror.

Useless nodcocks!

Simon managed to grasp Albie’s hand holding the knife, then pulled his arm back and planted a facer.

Albie stumbled backward, releasing the knife.

Charlotte raced behind Albie and, wielding the cane like a cricket bat, whacked him on the back of the head.

The man staggered, then crumpled to the ground.

For a moment, with only Albie lying at their feet between them, Charlotte and Simon stared at each other.

Even Hester’s whispered question couldn’t break their connection. “Did you kill him?”

In answer, Albie groaned.

The ridiculous grin broke across Simon’s face. “Well done, Wife. Although, I had matters in hand.”

Charlotte dropped the cane and thrust herself into Simon’s arms. “Shut up and kiss me, you buffoon.”

“Bossy. Is that the thanks I get for saving your life?”

“Savingmylife? I savedyourlife.”

As she slid her hands around Simon’s arms and shoulders, a sticky wetness coated her fingers, and she pulled back.

“Tease! Where’s my kiss?” Simon reached for her, but when she lifted her hand to show him the dark substance, his eyes widened, and he grabbed at her hand. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not my blood.” Other than a tiny knife prick on her throat and being manhandled by Samuel, Charlotte survived the ordeal unscathed. She touched Simon’s left arm again. “Your coat is torn here.”

With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned his coat and shoved it off his shoulders. Blood oozed beneath the slash in the white linen shirt.

“No wonder my arm hurts like bloody hell.”

Voices and footsteps grew louder as the constable and other men raced forward.

Mr. Cooper’s gaze bounced between Simon, Samuel, Charlotte, and Hester. “What happened here?”

Albie groaned again and pushed against the ground in an effort to rise.

Roland stepped forward, as if he’d had control over the whole situation from the beginning. “These men”—he pointed at Samuel and Albie—“attacked Lady Charlotte.”

Simon leaned in and whispered, “Do you want Samuel punished?”

Did she? “I do enjoy his plum tarts.”

Simon laughed then, grabbing his injured arm, winced.

Charlotte faced the constable. “Samuel seemed to be under the misguided notion that my husband was responsible for his daughter’s death. But I believe we’ve resolved that misunderstanding”—she turned toward Samuel—“haven’t we, Mr. Waters?”

Samuel’s gaze darted to Simon, who wrapped his hand around his throat and mimicked choking. “Yes?” the baker answered.

“And Samuel has agreed not only to drop this vendettaagainst my husband, but in retribution, he will make me a dozen plum tarts every week. Free of charge.”

Simon chortled.

“What about him?” Mr. Cooper pointed at Albie, who sat cross-legged on the ground and rubbed his head.

---