Chapter One
“Do youwantthe Bow Street Runners to catch us!” Winston Montclair, Duke of Thornfield, called over his shoulder to his friend, Leonard, Lord Kingsley. Leo was loafing down the alleyway behind him at a far too moderate pace for Winston’s liking.
“I’m going—”pant“—as fast—”pant“—as I possibly can!” Leo snapped back, his words interjected by his labored breathing “If they do catch us—”pant“—it’s going to be because of you—”pant“—making so much noise! You’ve been shouting at me to hurry up for at least three blocks!”
Winston smiled even as he kept running at the steady pace he had maintained for half a mile now.
“Well, that’s because you’ve been dawdling. Look at me, I’m injured—” he gestured at his right arm which Lord Tallow had managed to graze with a bullet before Winston had knocked him out “—and I am still moving faster than you.”
“I’m hardly dawdling.”
Leo, to his credit, put on a burst of speed, and came level with Winston, who was running as fast as he possibly could down the darkened alleyway. Soon, the sun would be up. Already, it was beginning to grow light on the horizon. They had to hurry.
“I’m just—” pant “—a little bit—” pant “—out of shape these days.”
“Out of shape?” Winston gave his friend a skeptical look. “Do the ladies not keep you in very good shape?”
“They do,” Leo said, a smile creasing his exhausted face as memories of his most recent conquests assuredly flooded his memory. “But my most recent mistress—”pant“—is very fond—”pant“—of cake.” He grabbed Winston’s arm as he skidded to a stop, bending over to catch his breath as he clutched at what Winston assumed was a stitch in his side. “Her fondness for cake has made me sluggish,” Leo finished, looking up at Winston apologetically.
Winston looked around. Unlike his friend, he had hardly broken a sweat, and while he was breathing heavily, he was nowhere near panting like a dog like Leo, even with an injured arm.
“We may have lost them,” he murmured, glancing back behind them again. “I do not hear anything.”
They both waited for a moment, looking around, their eyes peering into the dark corners around them as if they thought the Bow Street Runners might be lurking there in the shadows.
“We must be close to Mayfair by now,” Leo said after a moment.
“Just a few streets,” Winston agreed, nodding. “Once we make it there, we can stop running. No one there will believe that a duke and the heir of another duke are the ones who left Lord Tallow bleeding and unconscious outside of a tavern along the Thames.”
“I’m not sure you are right about that,” Leo argued, raising an eyebrow. He seemed to have caught his breath because he stood up straight, his hands on his waist. “They are not going to believe it was the usual brigands or thieves once they read the letter you wrote.”
“Fine, they will believe it is some kind of vigilante,” Winston said dismissively. “But they will not suspect the Duke of Thornfield.”
“Mostly because the Duke of Thornfield has never been known to care about anything,” Leo said with a half-smile, “least of all if some minor lord was a lecherous and cruel man toward the women in his life.”
Winston shrugged. “Let them think I care for nothing and no one but myself. If it keeps me from arousing suspicion, I am happy to be known as a cold and unfeeling man.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Leo assured him with a mischievous smile.
“But we cannot keep targeting the men of the ton who mistreat their wives forever,” Leo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We are bound to get caught one of these days.”
“So what if we do?” Winston snapped. “We are titled, wealthy men. We will pay whatever fines we have to.”
“It will also cause a great scandal,” Leo pointed out, but Winston shrugged again to indicate how little he cared about that. Leo frowned at him. “You might not care about courting scandal, my friend, but?—”
“Shh!” Winston held out his hand to cover his friend’s mouth, his body stiffening and all of the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at once.
Behind him, he had heard something like the sound of footsteps hurrying along the road that led to the alleyway.
“What is it?” Leo whispered from behind Winston’s hand, his eyes wide with sudden fear.
“I heard something,” Winston muttered. He removed his hand from Leo’s mouth and then motioned for him to follow him along as he crept forward along the alleyway.
Behind them the sounds of several people running were growing louder. From the look on Leo’s face, he could hear them now as well.
Then a voice shouted out in the dark behind them: “There! At the end of the alley! I see ‘em, Cap’n!”
“Run!” Winston breathed, and he and Leo leapt forward, dashing out of the alleyway and across the road to the next alley which Winston knew would take them straight into Mayfair.
