Page 31 of The Viscount's Seduction
“There are lasses down on the next corner who will gladly take your coin,” Walter said in his most pleasant brogue.
The bigger man, the one who had spoken first stepped up. “Go on with you boys, if that’s what you want. I had my heart set on a real lady.”
He lurched again, knocking into Walter. Sirena stumbled out of the way and her head covering slipped bringing her bonnet down with it.
“A yellow-haired lass,” a man shouted in a heavy foreign accent.
Someone pawed at her, and Walter’s fist lashed out.
“Behind you,” she shouted, trying to move out of the way. She heard a whistle. The river police would come in time, she hoped.
Fists flew, and there were strange oaths and the sound of cracked jaws andoofs. Walter and Josh were taking a beating for her. She must stop this. A crowd had started to form, ringing them, shouting out odds and wagers.
In front of her, the tall man pushed Josh to the ground and bent over him, pounding. His cap had flown off, and a greasy black queue slid over his back.
Bam. Crack. Oof.
She mustdosomething.
She threw off her shawl, jerked him back by his queue, and dug the point of her dagger into his neck.
“Leave off,” she shouted. “Or I will slice this devil. Leave off.”
He squirmed and the point pricked him. The crowd quietened. The men hitting Walter looked up.
Josh crawled onto his knees. Whistles and pounding footsteps approached and the watchers started to slip away, including some of the men who had started the melee.
“Get him up.” She made eyes at Walter, jerking her head.
He gripped his assailant and one other by their necks, and let Josh help himself up.
Her heart twisted. The O’Brian boys might have a price on their heads from the new Lord of Glenmorrow. They had risked everything to help her. If they swung from the gallows it would be her fault.
Two respectably clad men ran up, the river policemen, she guessed, by their dress, and in the distance behind them she saw the blur of two other dark-clad men.
The policemen stopped short in front of her. “Put down the knife, lass, there’s a good girl.”
She summoned the English again. “I am not your lass or your good girl, sir. I am a lady, and these men beat up my servants and threatened to violate me.”
“She’s lying,” the man in her grip said. “She wanted more money.”
Josh was up by now, fist raised, but a look from Sirena stopped him.
The policemen exchanged glances. "Yes, yes, well, we’ll take all of you in and sort it out."
“Lady Sirena.” A deep voice boomed through the crowd, as if the man who owned it was taking charge of everyone from the East End to Mayfair and every street in between.
Her heart jangled and she sucked in deep breaths to quell the dark spots that appeared. She would not faint. She would not.
A dark handsome head bobbed high over all the others, a ginger one following, shoving the curious out of the way.
Relief flooded into her, followed by dismay. She had no right to warm feelings. Lord Bakeley was not her friend. His brother, she wasn’t sure about, but he was Shaldon’s spawn too, and that made him also suspect.
“Lord B-Bakeley.” Drat, her voice shook. Moisture flooded her eyes and she blinked hard.
He nudged a policeman aside and covered her knife hand with his. “My dear.” He spoke with such tenderness, she blinked hard. He eased the knife from her hand, while Mr. Gibson fell upon the villain.
Lord Bakeley drew out a handkerchief, wiped off the blade, and let the cloth fall to the ground like the tainted object it was. “There. I’ve cleaned off that scurvy rat’s blood. Sheath this, will you, my lady?”
