“I am too old for him to take a switch to my legs,” Thompson retorted with a silly grin.
“Lady Elsbeth’s silence when she disapproved,” Aaran said softly in remembrance, “was always worse than any punishment Duncan could conceive.”
Ahead of them, the others were talking over each other as they crossed the open space before the gaming hell. Benjamin hurried to catch up when the group paused, and Aaran had to hustle with his uneven lope rather than to be left behind.
Thompson asked as they all drew together again, “Would it not be something if some woman wanted an arranged marriage with Duncan?”
“Soften all his hard lines,” Aaran suggested as he came to a standstill with the others.
Beaufort teased, “Would he discipline her as he did us?”
They all had had enough drinks to be a bit foolish, laughing when things were not truly so amusing, finally pausing when they came alongside where the walkway and bricked entrance to the Lyon’s Den met so they might say their final farewells before crossing to their waiting carriages. It was then that a tall boxy-built man stepped up on the curb and strode purposely through the middle of their loosely formed circle. Not around them, but directly between Beaufort and Hartley, and the stranger even bumped Marksman’s shoulder as he walked steadily towards the Lyon’s Den’s entrance, ignoring where Thompson and Aaran had come to stand together.
Marksman growled in protest. “What the devil!”
While Thompson declared, “Who the hell does he think he is? A bloody duke or a prince?”
Incensed by the stranger’s audacity, Beaufort’s shoulders shifted as if preparing for battle, and he declared, “Needs his arse kicked, and I may be the man to do it.”
He started off after the rude man, but Thompson caught Beaufort’s arm to reason with him. “Just drunk. You know how a man deep in his cups attempts to walk straight. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s man Titan will settle what is what.”
They all turned for a second look at the man who had dared to offend them. At that very moment, Duncan stepped from the gaming hell and raised his hand to catch their attention. “Wa…!”
Before any of them could call back or even raise their own hands to signal they had heard their adoptive father, a man who had skillfully guided each of them into manhood, thestranger’s hand jerked upward, his finger already tugging the gun’s mechanism before any of them recognized the fellow’s intentions. The stranger’s aim was well taken—too well taken. When the smoke cleared, they all looked on in horror as Lord Duncan’s form pitched forward to lie prostrate upon the bricked entranceway.
For a matter of several critical seconds, Aaran and his brothers were held in place in disbelief. In horror, they all looked on as Duncan slammed into the ground and did not stir. However, the gunman had not tarried. He was a good thirty feet ahead of them before Hartley and Beaufort thought to give chase. Their movement sent Marksman circling the Lyon’s Den on the side of the house where the female entrance was located.
Aaran started off to where Duncan still had not moved, but much to his frustration, Thompson and Orson overtook him and had begun gingerly to roll Duncan over, as Aaran took up sentry duty to keep the onlookers pouring out of the Den from moving too close. He was as capable as the others in assisting Duncan, but he had not responded quickly enough.If a one-handed soldier can assist in tending to Duncan, my two hands would be twice as useful,he thought, but they all knew what was expected of them before they reacted.
“Is he dead?” more than one of those exiting the gaming hell asked.
“Duncan cannot be killed by a mere man,” Aaran growled, though he knew his words were foolish beyond willing Duncan to live. His retort was ridiculous, but he believed the words. “Only God can claim him!” God had decided upon the day of reckoning for each of His creatures.
Behind Aaran, Benjamin Thompson was reassuring Duncan. “I am here, sir. Do not bite your tongue as I turn you over.”
Titan was assisting Benjamin. “Never seen anything like it!” he declared.
“We’ll require Rheem’s expertise,” Thompson barked.
Aaran thought to volunteer to fetch the surgeon, but Orson responded quicker and raced away. In Aaran’s opinion, Orson should have stayed, for he was more agile and possessed a more commanding voice than did Aaran.
“Keep everyone away, Graham!” Benjamin barked.
“Theseus! Egeus! Assist Lord Graham!” Titan ordered, and the Lyon’s Den’s bouncers began directing everyone away from the scene.
“We must slow the bleeding,” Benjamin growled.
Aaran glanced to where Benjamin held his cravat over Duncan’s wound, but the cloth was red with Duncan’s blood. Aaran began to loosen his own neck cloth, while Benjamin asked someone to fetch his medical bag from his coach, and Titan sent Puck to locate Benjamin’s coach.
Almost immediately Mrs. Dove-Lyon appeared with two men carrying a door. “I have a door. We should move him inside. You sent for a surgeon?” the lady asked as she assisted Benjamin in switching out his own cravat for Aaran’s before ordering, “Titan, have Lysander and Philostrate, as well as Demetrius, carry Lord Duncan into the ladies’ parlor, and send Hermia for my medical bag.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Titan turned away to do his mistress’s bidding.
Aaran heard the woman say, “My mother and I followed the drum,” she explained as she knelt beside Benjamin.
He did not hear a reply from his brother, so Aaran offered his gratitude. “We appreciate everything you are doing, ma’am.”
Benjamin gave orders to the Den’s bouncers on how they were to lift Duncan onto the door. His brother spoke softly to Duncan, “You had no idea when you paid for my Edinburgh education that you would one day require my assistance.” Then Benjamin presented his own orders. “We will lift him on thecount of one and bring him towards me on two. Set him down again on three.”
