Removing the handkerchief, Mr. Spencer inspected the gash, then shook his head. “I’ve seen worse. Thankfully, you landed in the snow.”
He helped Levi to his feet, turned toward the coach, and issued a low curse. Lodged in a gap between the cobblestones, the front carriage wheel tilted outward at an unnatural angle.
“The axel’s broken.” Mr. Spencer pointed at a metal rod sticking through the wheel’s spokes.
“Can you repair it?” Levi asked, wincing as he pushed the handkerchief against the laceration.
“Not without assistance.”
Grabbing onto the harness, Mr. Spencer yanked the reins toward his chest, causing the horse to step backward. Then he unfastened the first strap, his fingers slipping on the buckle.
Levi’s eyes shifted to the road leading toward Miss Braddock’s house. “You’ll forgive me for not waiting with you while you detach the team.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.” He paused as though contemplating a weighty decision.
Then, Mr. Spencer leaned across the driver’s bench, shoved his hand beneath a folded wool blanket, and extracted a double-barrel pistol, which he passed to Levi.
“Concerned for my well-being?” Levi asked, inspecting the muzzle.
“I never transport you without a weapon,” Mr. Spencer replied with a shrug. “As I won’t be with you for the remainder of your journey, that gun will provide the necessary protection.”
Mr. Spencer deserved a raise in his pay.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Spencer said, his eyes returning to the harness, “every moment you delay with me increases your chances of missing Miss Braddock at her residence.”
“Tomorrow afternoon, come speak with me in my study,” Levi said, clapping Mr. Spencer on his back.
He strode around the horses as they impatiently pawed the snow, then hurried across the lane, heading for Miss Braddock’s street. As he turned the corner, a horrific scream rippled through the frigid night air, stopping his heart.
Eveline!
Clutching the pistol, Levi ran down the pavement, praying he didn’t arrive too late. The iron fence surrounding Miss Braddock’s property appeared but seemed to move farther and farther away with each step he took.
His lungs shrieked in protest, but he forced his body forward, ignoring the pain radiating from his forehead and his side, and dragged his sleeve across his face, stopping blood from dripping into his eyes.
When he—finally—reached the first spire of the iron fence, his gaze slid over the darkened house. However, it didn’t appear as though anyone was at the residence. Frowning, he slowed his pace.
A scuffle in the garden drew his attention. Dropping his eyes, Levi swallowed a curse.
Miss Braddock, immobile and halfway buried in the snow, lay beneath Mr. Drummond, whose hands tore at her dress, ripping the bodice in a frantic effort to remove the garment.
Snarling, Levi lowered his shoulder and charged through the opening, striking Mr. Drummond in the chest and sending him flying backward. Mr. Drummond smashed into the hard ground, his head lolling to the side.
“Miss Braddock?” Levi dropped beside her and lifted her torso, brushing the snow from her hair.
She didn’t open her eyes.
He ripped his jacket from his shoulders, covered Miss Braddock’s torso, and lifted her, pressing his lips to the dark purple bruise highlighting her cheek.
Mr. Drummond groaned.
Eyes narrowing, Levi gently placed Miss Braddock on a stone bench, folding her arms over her chest, and turned, pointing the pistol at Mr. Drummond’s heart—or where it would be if the man possessed one.
“We have a grievance to settle,” Levi said, striding toward him.
“I didn’t touch her.” Mr. Drummond scuttled backward until a thorny bush stopped his progress.
Levi raised his eyebrows. “The bruising suggests otherwise.”
