Nick stood beside Alexandra, his fists raised and ready. The colonel, too. Miss Rothschild had no dagger, nor did she raise her clenched fists, but the imperious glare she cast at Wickham would have melted a better man.
Wickham’s friends were quiet now.
He turned to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I would never harm you. You know that. I am your brother now.”
His familiarity put Elizabeth’s teeth on edge. “Kindly remove your hand, sir,” she warned.
“Ye know what to do,” Alexandra said with a double wink.
Darcy stepped in and would have made short work of Wickham, but Elizabeth shook her head. She wanted to discourage Wickham from ever discounting the admonition of one he considered weaker than himself.
She knew precisely how to handle this rascal.
Grabbing his hand, she spun around and wedged her shoulder under his.
CHAPTER 37
Darcy dove out of the trajectory of Wickham’s boots just in time. Had he looked as ridiculous as Wickham did, flying through the air, limp and stunned?
With a loud huff, Wickham landed on his back on the grass.
Elizabeth looked every bit as triumphant—more so—and charming as she had their last night on theFancy. Darcy’s chest inflated. She did not suffer fools. Wickham would never place his hand on her again. In fact, he would likely think twice before approaching her at all. Nowthatwas a pleasant thought.
The group of drunken soldiers watched nearby, cackling and hooting. “Overthrown by a miss!” “Toppled by a lady!” “Hefted over like a sack of rubbish!” They smacked their thighs and guffawed.
Wickham sputtered and tried to stand, but Elizabethhad knocked the wind out of his sails thoroughly, and Darcy knew from experience that it would take a moment to gain his breath. So, Wickham squirmed and stammered, his face as red as his coat, providing a ridiculous spectacle at which his so-called friends laughed freely.
Darcy leaned over him and Nick followed suit, both of them watching over his prostrate figure and neither of them offering a hand up. “Who’s this ninnyhammer?” Nick asked.
Wickham blinked several times, gasping, “My eyes! Something’s wrong with my eyes.” He tried to crawl back, and Darcy pitied the batman who would have to scrub the grass stains out of the posterior of Wickham’s breeches.
Alex wedged herself between Darcy and Nick. “Who’s this dunderhead who’d lay a hand on me best friend?” Quicker than a flash, she flicked her hand up to her hair, removing a thin dagger.
Nick grabbed her hand. Darcy saw her flinch with her other hand, and he clasped it before she could reach for another hidden weapon. There were too many folds and creases of lace in her gown to trust. “Not here,” Darcy warned in a low tone. “There are too many witnesses.”
Wickham’s eyes doubled in size and, had Richard and Miss Rothschild not been blocking his way, he might have continued crawling away on hiselbows and heels.
Alex pouted. “I saw an alley over yonder that’ll do.” Her hands restrained, she jutted her chin in the direction from which they had come. “Ye three strong men could drag him over there, and I’ll guarantee he never lays a hand on anyone ever again.”
“Alex,” Nick warned.
“Come on, Nick! It’s only a hand.”
Wickham tucked his hands under his back.
Deepening her pout and blinking up at Nick, Alex pleaded, “Please, Nick? He’ll be perfectly fine without one.”
Darcy hoped she was teasing or merely trying to scare Wickham with fright. But Nick’s grip around her hand showed no sign of loosening, so Darcy followed his lead and tightened his hold on Alex’s other wrist.
Wickham’s friends were no longer laughing. They watched from a safer distance, too cowardly to assist their brother-in-arms but too curious to leave.
Elizabeth plucked the knife from Alex’s hand and flipped it over in her palm to grip the handle. What other tricks had she learned from Alex? He watched the woman he loved flip the blade in her palm, then from one hand to the other like an expert. He was mesmerized, as was Wickham, who stared at the blade with his jaw open and a drained complexion.
“I would love nothing more than to practice my new skills on a man whose welfare means nothing to me.”Toss-toss-flick.“However, he is my sister’s husband,and for that reason—and that reason alone—we must spare him.”
Alex made to argue, but Elizabeth cut her off. “If he has any regard for his own self, he shall remember this moment. Every time he throws the dice or holds his cards or grips a tankard or pinches a barmaid … he shall recall how my sister—his wife—is the reason why he yet possesses his hand. And he shall behave more decently toward her out of sheer gratitude for what she spared him, for it is certainly not due to any goodwill or mercy on my part.”
Wickham sat stupidly, wordlessly, at their feet. Darcy waited for the moment when Wickham’s senses would catch up with his breath and he would try to wiggle his way out of the predicament he was in.
