Jaffa grinned. “Where there is trouble, I find my cap’n.”
“How’d ye get in here?”
“The gates were open.”
Darcy’s gut plummeted to the floor. It was the Gordon Riots all over again. Murderersand thieves running rampant, plaguing the innocent. So many lives lost senselessly.
Grabbing Alex’s hand, Jaffa led them down the dark corridors, down the grimy stairs, jumping over dead guards stripped of their weapons. Alex paused at each one, collecting what she could.
Darcy urged her on, more concerned that they depart from that evil place.
“Ye should arm yerself, Darcy. We don’t know what’s on the other side of these walls.”
He grabbed a sword, praying he would not have to put it to use.
Finally, they reached the courtyard, and Darcy went numb. It was a gauntlet of starved, diseased prisoners made desperate from the whiff of freedom the open gate advertised. Impassioned protesters fueled the chaos with their clamors of injustice as rioters fed the flames surrounding the gates. Soldiers and officers gathered, protecting the entrance, but there were too few of them presently to control the riled mob. Clinging to the wall, Darcy pulled Alex close and surged forward.
He sensed Elizabeth the second before she nearly tumbled him over. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his middle, and Darcy had never known such horror and pleasure.
“You are alive!” She kissed his chin. “We got pushed in by the rioters. Please do not be cross with Nick. I made him agree to let me come. I could not staybehind. Surely, you had to know I must come. I had to see you.”
Between her kisses and her plea, Darcy had difficulty remaining cross. Now was not the time for explanations. Pulling Elizabeth closer, he placed her between the thick, stone wall and himself.
Alex exclaimed behind him.
Over Elizabeth’s head, Darcy saw Nick, sword drawn, standing off the rabid prisoners alongside the soldiers.
“Outta me way, ye scurvy knaves!” Alex cried, pushing against them as a skirmish broke out behind them.
Darcy turned to see Wickham scramble away from a prisoner in fetters. Even with chains on his wrists and ankles, the criminal fared better than Wickham. The man raised his hands to tighten the chain and ran toward Wickham, who tripped over his own feet in his haste to escape.
“Go, Mr. Darcy! I will protect Miss Elizabeth,” Jaffa said, spinning his scimitar and whipping it through the air, effectively discouraging their nearest attackers. Elizabeth deftly tossed a dagger between her hands, proving herself far better at defending herself than Wickham was.
With a groan, Darcy let go of Elizabeth to stop the chained man before he strangled his brother-in-law with his shackles.
With a mighty shove, Darcy pushedthe man aside. “Get up,” he growled to Wickham. “If you cannot help your brothers in arms, then get out.”
Over Wickham’s shoulder Connell stood, defending himself against two men intent on vengeance. Out of the corner of his eye, a third rushed toward Connell, a knife in his hand and murder in his bloodshot eyes.
Nick roared, “Darcy, duck!”
Grabbing Wickham, Darcy dropped.
CHAPTER 48
Nick had fended off at least a dozen men with his blade, leaving a trail of injured men gripping their arms for the soldiers swarming through the melted gate to deal with. Those people held nothing against him other than his unfortunate position between them and their freedom. The man rushing at Connell with a dagger in his hand was different. There was hatred in his eye. He would rather murder Connell than seize his own liberty, and he would callously run through anyone who got in his way.
Connell had been a bur in Nick’s side, but it wasn’t right to watch him die. Not when Nick could prevent it.
Quick to react, Darcy tackled Wickham to the ground, leaving a clear path to the degenerate aiming his dagger at Connell.
Reaching into his boot, Nick flipped the dagger in his hand and sent it sailing, handle first, over Darcy’s head.
The man dropped like a stone, his knife clattering to the ground beside Darcy.
Jumping to his feet, Darcy grabbed Nick’s shoulder. “It is safer inside.”
It was the last place Nick wished to go, but his brother was right. If anything happened to Alex, Elizabeth, or Darcy, Nick would rather rot inside a prison, for he would have no one for which to live.
