“I shall give you an advance on the reward my family is willing to offer for her capture.” Darcy added an additional incentive. He was brilliant, too.
Wickham scrambled closer to Connell. “I can be of invaluable assistance—”
Connell cut him off. “If I ever see your face again once we leave this cursed place, I will draw your cork so thoroughly, your poor wife will not recognize you.”
Wickham covered his nose and cowered in a corner.
Motioning for the door, Nick urged, “Come, gents! We’ve a riot to halt.”
Alex pouted. “I fight as good as those men.”
“Nobody said ye don’t, but I need ye to stay here to protect Elizabeth … and the other ladies.” He looked past her to Wickham.
She kicked Wickham’s foot. “He’s useless, isn’t he?”
Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Alex’s shoulders. “Not completely. You could show me more tricks with your knife.” She flicked the blade over in her free hand, her smile growing as the blood drained from Wickham’s face. “If he holds himself very still, I think I can manage well enough,” she added with an impish gleam.
Darcy shoved Nick forward. “Come on. He is in good hands. Jaffa will make sure he does not give the ladies any trouble.”
Jaffa nodded, scimitar drawn and ready, and stepped into the doorway of the cell.
Nick traded his sword with another, better balanced blade, then grabbed another from a fallen guard for good measure.
Poking and shoving their way to the front, Nick, Darcy, and Connell joined the guard at the gate.
“Nick! Darcy! I have never been so happy to see you two rascals,” shouted Richard. He disarmed the prisoner he fought, turning to the next in a fluid motion.
Nick fell in beside him, Darcy on his other side. Twirling the blades through the air, Nick forced the prisoners back without shedding a drop of blood. When a few intrepid souls braved the sharp edges, he warded them off until they were too exhausted to try anymore. He used every trick he had ever learned or created, glorying in the fire burning in his muscles andthe sweat stinging his eyes as, one by one, the enemy tired and retreated.
With a wide grin, Nick fought side-by-side with his cousin and his brother to the cheers of the men behind them. He was a part of something bigger, something that made him whole. They were his friends. His family. He loved them.
CHAPTER 49
Richard tilted his chin upward, giving his batman easier access to his cravat, and counted as he took a deep breath. The ceremony was not his, but he was as nervous as a groom at the prospect of seeing Miss Rothschild after weeks of absence. Four weeks and four days to be precise.
Every day, he schemed excuses to call. And every day, he reminded himself that the timing was wrong, that he would be an imposition to her, that he did not deserve the attention of such a fine lady … no matter how badly his heart protested.
Had she hoped he would call? Had he disappointed her? Or had she forgotten him already? He had tried to forget her—a pointless enterprise which he had failed fabulously.
A knock sounded at his door, and Richard heard the heavy footfall of his father enter the room. Twisting hisneck as much as he dared without undermining the exertions of his batman, Richard saw Father set a wooden box down on the nearest table with a loud thud.
Mother followed behind, glanced at Father flexing and rubbing his hands together, and made her way over to Richard’s side. “You look very handsome.” She brushed her fingers over Richard’s cheeks and smoothed an imaginary stray hair.
Richard was accustomed to her motherly attentions, but her comment brought a heated blush to his entire person. He had taken a little extra care, knowing he would stand beside Darcy and Nick as their witness that morning. Knowing that Miss Rothschild would see him.
Father tapped the top of the box. “Whatever is inside is remarkably heavy.”
Richard nodded at the box. “What is that?”
“In Nick’s words, it is ‘just a triflin’ gift.’ He apologized that he could not stay to give it to you himself.”
“At this hour? On his wedding day?” Alex would string him by his thumbs from the yardarm if he was late to their wedding.
Father rubbed his whiskers. “Makes a man wonder what could be so important to Nick that he could not entrust it to a servant to deliver. He would not hand it to the butler.”
Richard stood helpless, motionless while the batman put the finishing touches on hiscravat. He had asked for him to take special care and could not rightly growl at him to hurry now that he was curious to see what the box contained.
Finally, the folds perfected, the batman declared Richard ready and discreetly departed.
