Benjamin jovially said, “Perhaps a lady of thetonwishes a proposal from your lips.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon appeared to ignore Benjamin’s jest. Meanwhile, as he always did on such a subject, Duncan said in empathic tones, “Not likely. I have known my one great love.” Duncan nodded to them. “Claim your coaches. I will be close behind.”
Orson and Marksman walked off together, chatting about the weather in the northern shires and how their crops were doing. Beaufort offered to see Hartley home safely. Therefore, Benjamin performed in the most logical manner. “As my coach is smaller than Graham’s, I will leave mine for you, Duncan. Do you mind seeing me to Cheapside, Aaran?”
“Not at all,” Graham assured.
As they left the gaming hell, they were still talking over each other. “Good evening, Titan,” Benjamin had said as they walked out into the chilly night air.
“Good evening, my lords,” the former soldier responded.
“I am leaving my carriage for Lord Duncan, who is speaking with your mistress. It is further along Cleveland Row. Might you have someone see his lordship safely to the coach?”
“Absolutely, my lord. We often perform such services,” Titan assured.
“Duncan will not approve of your caution,” Graham warned Benjamin.
“I am too old for him to take a switch to my legs,” Benjamin said with a chuckle.
“Lady Elsbeth’s silence when she disapproved of our actions,” Graham said softly, “was worse than any punishment Duncan could conceive.”
Ahead of them, the others were talking louder than usual and speaking over each other as they crossed the open area before the gaming hell. Benjamin and Graham hustled to catch up with them. Benjamin said when they came closer, “Would it not be something if some woman wanted an arranged marriage with Duncan?”
“Soften all his hard edges,” Graham suggested with a bit of mirth in his tone.
Beaufort teased, “Would he discipline her as he did us?”
They had all had enough drinks to be a bit foolish and giddy, laughing when things were not truly amusing. When they paused along the walkway to cross to their waiting carriages, a large solidly built man stepped up on the curb and strode purposely through the middle of their loosely-formed circle. Benjamin had not seen the fellow until the last minute. Instantly, the tenor of their companionship changed.
Marksman growled in displeasure. “What the devil!” The stranger had bumped Alexander’s shoulder as he walked towards the Lyon’sDen’s entrance.
Equally incensed, Beaufort growled, “Who the hell does he think he is? A bloody duke or a prince?”
Beaufort thought to confront the man, but, though Benjamin was as irritated as the others, he had realized the foolishness of starting a confrontation before the Lyon’s Den, or anywhere else, for that matter. Their training was meant to finish a fight, not start one. In Benjamin’s opinion, England had become a very violent country, especially with all the poverty and unrest and the constant war. He caught Beaufort’s arm. “You know how a man deep in his cups attempts to walk straight. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s man Titan will settle what is what with the fellow.”
They had all turned for a second look at the man who had dared to offend them. As if the scene that followed had been orchestrated for a farce, at that very moment, Duncan stepped from the gaming hell and raised his hand to catch their attention. “Wa…!”
Designed to be a poorly performed Act Four of a five act play, Duncan did not finish his request, for a gunshot rang out in the night’s stillness. A flock of ravens took to the air and the sound of the discharge ricocheted within the spaces between the buildings along the somewhat busy street. Two carriages raced away from the sound of gunfire.
For a matter of several critical seconds, they were all held in place in disbelief. The strange man recovered faster; he suddenly sobered and raced away. In horror, they all watched as Lord Macdonald Duncan’s knees buckled, and he pitched forward to slam into the bricks.
“Hartley, with me!” Beaufort called as he darted away after the shooter, chasing the man along the left side of the building. Marksman raced away towards the right to corner Duncan’s attacker.
Orson and Graham were already hustling to where Duncan lay groaning upon the pavement, when, at last, Benjamin’s heart demandedthat he, too, move. As if he had been shot from a cannon, he overtook both his friends to drop to his knees beside Duncan’s body. “I am here, sir,” he said. “Do not bite your tongue as I turn you over.”
“My chest,” Duncan groaned.
“It was the man who purposely bumped into us,” Thompson declared.
Titan was quickly beside him. “Never seen anything like it,” he declared. Although Titan had only one good hand, he somehow managed to loosen Duncan’s cravat as Benjamin ripped open his lordship’s waist coat, sending buttons flying. “We should move his lordship inside,” Titan ordered. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon is quite knowledgeable in such matters, but someone should fetch a surgeon.”
“Yes, we’ll require Rheem’s expertise,” Benjamin called over the chaos.
“I will go,” Richard declared. “Rheem is likely with his mistress.” Richard did not wait for their agreement. He was at a run.
“Keep everyone away, Graham,” Benjamin ordered as people began to stream from all the doors of the gaming hell to take up a position to watch Duncan groan in agony.
“Theseus! Egeus! Assist Lord Graham!” Titan barked, and the Lyon’s Den’s bouncers began directing everyone away from the scene.
