Page 66 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“He’s just a person,” Darius replied. “Quitehuman. Don’t forget, you are now a titled lady within his social circle. Lady Kentwell... wear the title with pride.”
“Still, he is the king, and up until a short time ago, I was just a poor painter,” Suzannah almost moaned. “What would I even say to the king? What does one talk about with royalty?”
He chuckled. “With royalty? You simply sit back and allow them to do the talking. In my experience, they don’t need anyone to add a thing to their conversations.”
Darius suddenly sat up and peered through the curtains of the coach.
“What is it?” she asked.
“We didn’t take the left turn we should have—”
The coach jolted to a stop, and their driver shouted at someone. A pistol fired, someone cried out, and through the small window Suzannah saw a body fall from the top of the coach to the ground.
“Get down!” Darius gripped her arm and pulled her to the floor of the coach. “Don’t do anything unless I tell you.” He pulled out a pistol that he had hidden under his coat. “Take this.” He pressed it into her palm. “Do you know how to use it?”
She nodded numbly. Kit had taught her how to fire one while they were at the country estate. But shooting at bits of chopped logs was very different than shooting at a person.
Darius pulled out a thin rapier from underneath the seat of the coach. How many weapons did he have stashed nearby?
The coach door was thrown open and Darius flew out, sword ready as he stabbed the man who’d wrenched open the door. She could hear the blade sink into flesh, and she covered her mouth, swallowing down a wave of nausea.
Focus!she silently yelled at herself as she held the pistol ready and stayed crouched on the floor. The clang of steel and the grunts of men fighting echoed all around her.
“Find the woman and kill the spare!” a hard voice yelled.
Darius suddenly appeared inside the coach and grabbed Suzannah, hauling her out the other door. For a moment she stood there, frozen with terror.
“Run,run!” he bellowed and shoved her ahead of him.
If there was one thing she could do, it was run. She dared look back only once. Darius was silhouetted against the moonlight as he stood his ground, blocking the men from getting to her. His rapier gleamed dangerously in the moonlight. She felt like a coward for leaving him like this, but she would only endanger them both if she stayed. She had no way of defending herself against these men with only one gun.
Men converged on Darius, and the sounds of a struggle followed by a single gunshot echoed all around her, making her gasp.
“Find her!” The voices were like the howling of wolves as the men hunted her. She took a blind turn and found herself at a dead end. Trapped. She spun around, raising the pistol at the men who now advanced on her.
“Come here, pretty bird,” one man crooned as they fanned out around her, closing in. “Put away the pistol—you’ll only make it worse for yourself. We were told to bring you in alive, but no one said anything about not breaking a few bones.” The man cracked his knuckles as he stretched his hands, as though eager to curl his fingers around her neck and squeeze.
He was right, she knew logically that one bullet would not save her, but knowing she could at least reduce their numbers by one... That was something, wasn’t it? One less man out there to hurt other women.
Suzannah waited until the biggest man was close enough to touch her, then fired. The light in the man’s eyes flickered and then died. He fell to his knees and then toppled over. She stared at him and then back at the other men.
“Little bitch!” one of the men shouted and hit her hard in the cheek with a meaty fist. She crumpled from the blow but didn’t pass out. She was lifted up over a man’s shoulder, who carried her down the street past a field of bodies, some writhing in pain, others unmoving. One body she recognized with terror and heartbreak.
“Darius...,” she wheezed through the pain in her skull. He couldn’t be dead... He couldn’t.Oh God, please no...
* * *
Jude sawthe horrifying last moments of the fight in the alley near the theater. Suzannah fell when one of the men hit her. Jude’s fists clenched, and he nearly stepped out of the shadows to intervene. But four-to-one odds were beyond what he could win, at least without a weapon. Where the devil was Lord Tiverton? The man should be here—
Jude’s stomach dropped when he noticed a finely dressed body among the carnage by the coach. Tiverton had fallen defending Suzannah...
The men who carried Suzannah passed by the bodies and climbed into another carriage, which soon vanished into the darkness. The wounded hobbled away as Jude rushed over to the fallen duke, turning the man’s body over. He had taken a bullet to his shoulder and a knife to the stomach. The blade was still partially buried in him.
“Christ...,” Jude muttered.
Tiverton’s lips parted and he gave a barely audible whisper. “Suzannah...”
“Christ!” Jude said again with a frightened shout. The man was still alive!
