Page 63 of The Duke's Carriage Window
Darius banged his fist on the coach roof, a sign for his driver to halt immediately.
“Let’s see what’s causing all the fuss.” Darius opened the coach door and hopped out, glad he didn’t need his cane for once. Warren followed. As they reached the confectioner’s door, he saw a sight that chilled his blood.
Meredith and Frances Petersham were clutching an injured waiter by the arms, looking on in terror as two men pummeled a third. Felix.
His friend’s face was bruised and bloodied, but he looked like the very devil as he grinned while he fought on. But Felix wasn’t winning the fight. Not without help.
Warren cursed under his breath and looked at Darius. “What the devil’s gotten into him?”
“We’ll deal with that later,” said Darius. “Ready?”
Warren nodded. “Ready.”
As they rushed inside, Meredith left the safety of the corner and moved towards the fray, intending to help Felix.
If she got hurt…he’d kill those men. But first he was going to do his damnest to stop her from reaching Felix and the other men.
He ran up behind her and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back and setting her close to the wall, keeping himself between her and danger.
“Stay here!” he barked before joining Warren’s charge into battle.
Darius landed a blow on one of the men’s kidneys, but he lost his balance a second later and fell. Broken glass and pastries now littered the floor, and a shard cut into his forearm as he landed, but he did not let the pain stop him. Darius got up and struck his staggered opponent hard in the jaw.
The man swayed on his feet briefly, then collapsed on top of his friend, who Warren had knocked out a moment earlier.
Felix struggled to sit up, spitting blood but still smiling. “Pleasant of you to join in,” he said with a laugh, then winced and put a hand to his ribs.
“What the bloody hell happened?” Darius asked between hard breaths.
Felix glanced at the two unconscious men. “These chaps publicly propositioned Miss Montague. They did not take her rejection kindly.”
“I see.” Darius looked toward Meredith, who stared at him wide-eyed, her hands clasped over her mouth. He felt like a villain at that moment. She’d seen the worst of him, brawling like a dockworker in a tavern. She must be terrified of him. No woman should have to see a man be so brutish.
“Come on, on your feet.” He and Warren helped Felix to his feet. Felix still held a hand to his ribs and walked with a limp. Darius turned his attention to the ladies. “Meredith, Frances, wait for me in my coach outside.”
“We have a coach ready—” Frances began.
“Warren shall take Felix home in your coach, but Meredith shall accompany me in mine.” He growled the command lest anyone thought to argue with him.
“Yes, Your Grace. Let me help you, Mr. Burville.” Frances assisted Warren in walking Felix out to the other coach.
But Meredith remained where was, staring at him, her bottom lip trembling.
Blast and Damn!
“Your Grace—” she began, “It was all my fault. I?—”
“It absolutely was not,” Darius snapped. “Now wait for me in my coach, Meredith.” With tears in her eyes, Meredith rushed out of the confectioner’s shop.
Darius approached the injured waiter. He removed his card and presented it to the man.
“Tell Mr. Gunter I shall pay for the damages and any lost business. After you see a physician or surgeon, you are to have them send your bill to me.”
The young man’s hand shook as he took Darius’s card. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Will you be all right to get yourself to a physician? I can take you in my coach if you wish me to.”
The young man shook his head. “Thank you, but it’s not that bad. I believe I am more shaken than anything.”
