“Is that how you silence critics?” she asked, backing toward the door. “Through violence?”
“When necessary.” He advanced with predatory grace. “Your husband has been inconvenient, acquiring interests in operations I’ve controlled for years. Perhaps your tragic accident will distract him sufficiently.”
Amelia’s wooden leg caught on a chair, sending her stumbling backward with a clatter. Norwich lunged forward, his hands seizing what he thought was her injured limb and her left arm.
Shock registered in his eyes as his grip met wood instead of flesh. The prosthetic detached, sending him staggering backward still clutching the wooden leg, his face a mask of horror and confusion.
Taking advantage of his shock, Amelia struck. She drove the sword downward through his polished boot with savage satisfaction.
Blood welled through the fine leather as Norwich collapsed with a howl. Amelia gripped her sword firmly, struggling to maintain balance on her remaining leg.
“You vicious little cripple!” he screamed, clutching his impaled foot.
Before she could respond, the door crashed open. Hereford’s strong hands caught her, pulling her against his chest as Patrick Adams and Steven Thornton moved to flank the wounded Norwich.
“You’re trespassing!” Norwich snarled, trying to rise but falling back. “This is assault!”
“With what witnesses?” Adams asked mildly.
“I witnessed you attacking the marchioness, Norwich,” came a deep voice from the side door.
The Duke of Lancaster straightened from where he’d been leaning against the desk, his expression coldly aristocratic.
Color drained from Norwich’s face as he took in the four men surrounding him, then looked at Amelia standing defiant despite her ordeal.
“I need a doctor…” he said through gritted teeth, still clutching his bleeding foot.
Hereford’s smile was cold. “Indeed. A surgeon has been summoned and shall arrive presently to relieve you of your limb, Norwich. More expedient, would you not agree?”
Norwich’s face went pale, but his eyes blazed with impotent fury. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m a peer of the realm.”
“And you tried to harm a marchioness. My wife!” Hereford closed his eyes briefly and gathered his composure. “Though I suspect public opinion will find poetic justice rather satisfying.”
Norwich looked around at the four men, then at Amelia, his expression shifting from rage to calculating assessment. Even wounded and trapped, he was already planning his next move.
“Impeccable timing,” Amelia said, looking up at her husband fondly.
“Indeed,” Hereford replied, his eyes crinkling. “Though it appears you were managing quite admirably on your own, my sweet.”
