A muted shout rang through the roar of the rain, and Audrey was startled to witness two figures struggling on the roadway. One bore a cane, which he brought down on his opponent’soutstretched arm as he leapt back to avoid the slash of a shiny knife blade. He slipped in a deep puddle, landing on his buttocks before scrambling back to his feet. Audrey’s jaw dropped as she watched the two men battling, wondering if she should summon the manservant back to break up the fight.
The opponent with the cane swung out to defend himself from a lunge, losing his hat to reveal a mop of wheat-colored curls with distinctive brown back and sides.
“Lord Trafford!” Audrey gasped, realizing that Lord Stirling’s heir was fighting for his life. The cloaked figure lunged forward, thrusting the knife toward Lord Trafford’s torso, and Audrey bit back a scream of fright as he twisted away in the nick of time.
Tossing her head around, Audrey sought some method to assist the young lord armed with only a walking stick against a lethal blade. Catching sight of an elaborate display of antique rapiers on the opposite wall, Audrey dashed across the hall to lift one off, praying she would be in time to help her guardian’s son.
Racing back to fling the front door open, she burst out into the street toward the men and held the sword between her clasped hands. She was not sure how to wield it, but it was long and appeared to be sharp, so she lunged at his torso as her father had taught her to do with a stick.
“Get back, you blackguard!” she yelled, bearing toward the assailant who had drawn his elbow back, ready to stab at Lord Trafford. Both men swung their heads in surprise, and she caught sight of a flash of green and blue beneath the attacker’s overcoat, perhaps a scarf or the coat’s lining. Discarding the distraction, she returned to the danger of the moment. This was an important time to pay mind to what she was about.
The unknown assailant blinked, his features obscured by his brimmed hat, before spinning away to run off into the downpour. To Audrey’s dismay, Lord Trafford set off in pursuit—what the blazes was he about? The other scoundrel had a lethal knife!
To Audrey’s great relief, the figure had disappeared like a flash of lightning in his haste to get away, and Lord Trafford gave up the chase by the time he reached the corner.
Lord Trafford stopped to scrape back his drenched locks, gazing for several moments in the direction that the villain had run before returning to where Audrey stood. She was still holding the sword at half-mast and barely registered that her gown was soaked from the downpour.
He reached out his hand to cover hers, coaxing her to lower the weapon down before holding out his arm. She took hold of him and allowed him to lead her back inside. She appreciated the support, considering her knees had gone quite weak now that the imminent threat was over.
Realizing she was still holding the sword, she dropped it on the marble tiles with a loud clatter while Julius leaned his walking stick against the wall. Audrey perceived she was panting from the shock of the moment, her chest rising and falling in agitation as she attempted to restore her equilibrium. She was thankful she had reached the fighting men in time. The assailant had wielded his wicked blade with a sincere intent to find purchase in Lord Trafford’s abdomen.
The earl’s heir could have been killed!
Lord Julius Trafford,the heir to the Earl of Stirling, and the honorary Viscount of Trafford, encountered few calls to apply himself. A lamentable character flaw which he now regretted as he assessed the situation he found himself in.
Miss Gideon stood shivering in the entry, her gray mourning gown sopping wet. A fact that Julius enjoyed for a brief moment. The dress was one that did not require stays, and she was too distracted to notice that the wet fabric outlined her chilled nipples as her bosom heaved. Blinking to curtail his sinful lusting, Julius lifted his gaze away with regret.
Instead, he stared at the trunk in the middle of the hall upon which a birdcage rested. A tiny starling with a bandaged wing cocked its head about, chirruping as it fluttered the wing that was free.
Was he dreaming? Had the bloodthirsty attack merely been a nightmare? The oddity of the birdcage suggested that this might be the case.
Julius pulled off his gloves, then shoved them into his pocket and pinched himself with deliberation. It hurt as it ought to, so he supposed he was awake despite the fantastic nature of his morning activities. His heart was pounding hard enough to attest he was not in a slumber.
By Jingo, he had not even had breakfast yet!
“That dirty-dish tried to kill me,” he declared in dismay.
“Was he trying to rob you?” Miss Gideon asked, still panting from her exertions and, most likely, the shock of it.
She just saved my life.
Julius frowned, trying to think through what had just occurred. He shook his head with reluctance. “No, his intent was to kill me.”
“Killyou?” Miss Gideon’s silver eyes were enormous with shock and fear. “Why would he do that?”
Julius twisted his lips, noting the rising tide of embarrassment now that he was no longer in mortal danger. His plan had been far more foolish than he had allowed himself to consider.
“I … may have done something stupid.”
Miss Gideon nodded, but her expression was bemused, as if she had not truly heard what he said. “Will he try again?”
That was a sobering thought. One of the suspects on his list must have ordered him followed. It had been dark outside, with thick black clouds obscuring the morning light, and the attacker had had a hat pulled low over his face that had concealed much of his features. Nonetheless, Julius thought he had been the wrong shape and size to be one of the men he had been investigating. Therefore, he must be a retainer or hired thug.
He had to presume the scoundrel had followed him home to discover Julius’s identity. Once he had been identified, the next command must have been?—
“They know where I live. It is only a matter of time before they ascertain who I am, and then … Yes, they will try to kill me again.”
Miss Gideon raised her hands to rub her bared upper arms, her teeth chattering as she responded. “They?”
