And would have again, were it not for the pile of bodies rushing into the room, and the arms that pinned Thomas’s to his side. Robert pulled him close, holding Thomas as he struggled, whispering over and over, “He’s down. Don’t kill him.”
Gradually, the red veil lifted, the rage subsided, and Thomas slumped in his brother’s arms. The pain hit then, roiling through his right shoulder and into his chest. He groaned, and Robert released him. A dozen or more people had filled the room, more pressing in at the door, voices clamoring. Some were kneeling by Northey and Bentley, both men still unconscious.
Thomas pressed a hand to his shoulder and turned, searching for Rose. Beth and Cecily had gotten to her first, urging her to come from beneath the table, attempting to hold her dress together, pressing part of it against the wound on her hip, and covering her with their own bodies. Rose’s eyes were wide, bright, and filled with fear. Thomas slipped off his coat and handed it to his sister. “Put this on her, back to front. Put pressure on the cut.”
Beside him, Robert called out, “Can someone bring Lady Rose’s cloak?”
Thomas squatted down next to the women as they helped Rose into his coat. He held out a hand to her, but she jerked back, shaking her head frantically.
A firm but feminine voice at his back said, “Thomas. Let me.”
He looked around at his mother, who held out her own velvet cloak. He stood and stepped back, and Emalyn knelt before Rose, spreading her cloak wide. As Thomas watched, the fear seemed to seep away from Rose as she focused on Emalyn, who had begun to whisper to her. Thomas could not hear the words, but Rose calmed, the tension leaving her muscles. Slowly the three women wrapped her in the red velvet and eased her from beneath the table.
A booming male voice pushed through the crowd and Lord Blackmore, all six-foot-five of him, demanded, “What in the name of God is going on in here?”
Robert, of course, was the first to answer, pointing at the slumped forms of Northey and Bentley. “Two of your guests, Lord Blackmore, assaulted a young woman! They need to be hauled away in chains.”
Silence covered the room.
Blackmore looked at Northey, who began to groan and come around. Then at Bentley, who remained unconscious. “Is he dead?” he asked one of the men closest. The man shook his head. “Then fasten his trousers, man. No one needs to see that.”
Finally, Blackmore looked at Rose, who had slowly stood, although she leaned heavily against the table, still supported by the other three women. For the first time, Thomas noticed that both sides of her face had been battered. Her left eye had almost swollen shut, and red and blue marks covered both cheeks. The rage pulsed within him again and he stirred, only to feel Robert’s hand on his forearm.
“Easy. It’s over,” his brother whispered.
“You should have let me kill him.”
“He is not worth it.”
Lord Blackmore gestured toward Rose’s face. “They did this?”
She nodded, and her entire body quivered.
“And the rest,” Emalyn murmured, where only Blackmore and those closest could hear.
“What do you mean?” Blackmore asked, stepping closer.
Emalyn bent, peeled back the cloak, and showed where Rose’s hem had been split. She stood. “It goes all the way to her neckline.”
Blackmore paled. “Dear God.” He looked at Thomas. “And you stopped it. You did this.”
Thomas nodded, ignoring the ache starting to build in the back of his head.
“Why you?”
“Faster than pistols at dawn,” Robert said, earning a bullish scowl from Blackmore.
“Because Lady Rose is his betrothed.”
They all turned as Edmund Timmons pushed his way through the press of bodies, limping into the room. He nodded at Thomas, who returned it, then addressed Blackmore. “Lord Newbury and Lady Rose are betrothed. It has not been announced yet, but would have been as soon as all the family was informed.”
Blackmore took them all in, then turned to the onlookers. “Everyone go back to the ballroom. Now.” He turned to his butler, who had appeared in the doorway. “Bring four footmen and get these two”—he gestured to Bentley and Northey—“into the game larder and lock them in. Send to Bow Street for a constable. And a doctor.”
The butler nodded, but returned within seconds with four strapping young men who half carried, half dragged the two men out of the room.
As the crowd began to mill out of the room, Blackmore stepped closer to the ladies. “Lady Rose,” he said gently, “can you walk?”
She hesitated, then as they watched, that sense of determination Thomas recognized so well seemed to settle over her. His heart swelled as her shoulders rolled back, she swallowed, and stood straight. “Yes, my lord.” A look of pure will filled her eyes.
