“Nigel,” the countess said, “how do you know George? Is he a criminal?”
Sir Nigel showed a fleeting smile. “Darling?—”
“How dare you call my wife darling?” In a surprisingly quick recovery, the count snatched his sword from the ground and aimed it at Sir Nigel.
Violante exhaled. What a drama.
“Answer the question.” With quick footwork and astonishing precision, the count forced Sir Nigel against the wall surrounding the estate. “Is your associate, George, a criminal?”
One thing had to be said about Sir Nigel. While he might be clever, he didn’t shine for his courage. Faced with a sharp blade, he sweated and paled. “Lord Bassini-Verdelli, you’re losing the focus of the conversation. It’s Keith and Violante?—”
The count pressed the tip of the blade against Sir Nigel’s throat. A single drop of blood trickled down Sir Nigel’s neck.
“Oh no.” Violante covered her eyes for a moment.
“Yes, yes.” Sir Nigel held up his hands. “George is a mobster. I called him here to discredit Violante.”
“Idiot,” George hissed.
“What kind of business do you do with him?” the count pressed on.
“Don’t say a word, you bloody coward.” George slid a hand inside his jacket.
“Money lending.” Sir Nigel stared at the blade at his neck. “Usury.”
The countess gasped. “Shame on you.”
George unsheathed a gun and pointed it at the count. “Drop that sword, and I?—”
The rest of his demands was cut off by Keith. He tackled George to the ground and wrestled with him. Violante cried out in surprise. The countess shouted as well. Chaos ensued again. Sir Nigel took advantage of it to flee. He must have beaten a world record because he dashed to the front gate faster than Violante could blink.
A loud smack rose as Keith hit George’s head hard. Then the thug remained still on the ground with his arms spread wide as if about to hug someone.
“Are you hurt?” Violante ran to Keith and helped him up. A cut in his arm bled.
“Just a scratch.” He stashed the gun in his trousers. “Nigel escaped.”
“Good riddance,” the countess said as the count said, “I’ll send for the police.” They both strode towards the manor, still arguing about their marital problems.
“And you two”—Keith pointed at Mrs. Collins and Murray—“are sacked. Pack up your things and leave.”
They had the audacity to grumble before striding towards the manor.
“Let’s make sure George doesn’t go anywhere.” Paul used his leather belt to tie George’s wrists. “What a mess. It was like watching one of those plays full of melodrama.”
Violante hugged Keith and kissed him. “But with a happy ending.”
