Peter flew backward, hitting the far wall of the corridor before sliding to the ground with a wet moan that Letitia enjoyed hearing immensely. Ezra wasn’t done, however. He stalked forward—Xander stepped nearly out of the way—grabbed Peter by the collar, and hit him again. And again.
“Miss Knightley?” The Duke of Godwin sounded as though they were meeting over tea, not an increasingly one-sided brawl. “Do you have any possessions you need to gather?”
God, she never wanted to see anything in this room ever again. She shook her head.
He held out a polite hand. “Might I suggest we take our leave, then?”
Feeling very numb, she accepted the offered hand. The duke led her toward the door, where Ezra was clearly considering another punch to Peter’s bloody face.
“Ez?” the Duke of Godwin said quietly. “If you kill him, it will be a lot of fuss. I assume that you would rather escort Miss Knightley home than find yourself in a Belgian gaol trying to explain why you have murdered a peer?”
Ezra paused, his fist still cocked, then let his arm drop.
“You are right. He is not worth it.” He stood, then turned to Letty. His hand was already going purple, but otherwise, he looked entirely unscathed. Peter, meanwhile, looked as though he might never enjoy solid foods again.
“Thank you,” the viscount croaked to Xander, sounding utterly piteous.
Xander’s lip curled, and he no longer looked as though he was meeting anyone over tea. He looked as though he were a general on the battlefield.
“Oh, it was no mercy,” he said with soft, deadly precision. “By the time the Lightholders are done with you, you will wish most ardently that I let him kill you here. You will be seeing us, Dugley. Start dreading it now.”
This was a very impressive speech, and Xander swept off having made it, as though he could not be bothered to sully his hands on such filth. Letty, however, was no aristocrat. So, as she passed Peter, Ezra’s arm steady at her side, she paused to lift her foot and stomp down on his bollocks as hard as she could.
The sound Peter let out made Letty think he might never be able to use that part of himself properly again. Ezra laughed, shocked and a bit delighted, and hugged her tighter. Xander looked impressed.
“I have always liked you, Miss Knightley,” he said approvingly. “By the way, I also wanted to say—welcome to the family.”
* * *
The bravado that had held Letty through her ordeal began to fade only minutes after they reached the carriage. Ezra felt it when she started to tremble as though she was freezing, even though he had given her his cloak to cover up the ruined mess of that ball gown she still wore. She shrank subtly away from him, pressing herself against the far side of the carriage, and even though it stung, he understood.
He kept his hand on the seat beside her, not touching her or overwhelming her, but making it easy for her to reach out for him if she wanted to.
He was never going to let her feel alone again.
The ride back to Helen and Xander’s neat Brussels townhouse both took an age and seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Ezra’s hand throbbed unmercifully, but he took a sort of grim satisfaction in the pain. Less comfortable than the physical injury was the way he could see Xander carefully tryingnotto peer curiously at either Ezra or Letitia.
There would be questions, he knew—annoying ones.
As soon as they reached the townhouse, however, Letty was swept off into Helen’s doting embrace, and Ezra was turned overto Xander’s valet, who seemed extraordinarily put out by the bloodstains on Ezra’s sleeves.
“These areruined,” he said mournfully, his words heavily accented by the local dialect.
After a bath and a visit from the physician who wrapped up his hand and ordered him not to use it for at least a fortnight, Ezra felt better, if still exhausted. However, he made his way dutifully back downstairs to join his family for supper, though he was really most interested in seeing Letitia. The past hour or so away from her had been too long. He needed to set his own eyes on her again to make certain that she was really, truly unharmed.
Unfortunately, as Helen reported, Letty had already gone to bed.
“Not that I can blame her,” Helen said, bright blooms of anger on her cheeks. “Can you imagine? Xander, I hope you have plans to utterly destroy that weasel of a man.”
Xander gave a particularly nasty smile. Ezra suddenly thought of Grandfather Cornelius.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I am sure Ezra and I will come up with something that befits Lord Dugley’s crimes.”
There it was again—Xander’s determination toincludeEzra in things. Ezra did not hate it.
“There’s nothing short of burning in eternal hellfire that fits Dugley’s crimes,” Ezra declared flatly while Helen nodded in vehement agreement. “But he will end up there eventually, so, for now, I am happy to help you design some earthly torments.”
Xander raised his glass in salute.
