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“If I don’t come back in fifteen minutes, come look for me.”
“But my Lord—” the footman protested.
Edward held up a hand to stop him. He would see his cousin tomorrow and for that, he needed to have to keep his arguments ready. He would show him that he wasn’t just some spoiled brat hiding behind his title. He was ready to fight for people, and if that meant getting down to the dirt, so be it.
He left his carriage behind him as he walked ahead, careful not to ruin his expensive breeches in the water that sloshed the streets. When he noticed a small alley leading away from the main street, he followed the trail of the flickering lights from the streetlamps above him.
The neighborhood began to change the further he walked in. There was a stink in the air, smoke coming out of several chimneys atop the rickety houses that lined the alley which seemed to get narrower and narrower by the second. Rats scurried in and out of sight and there was a nasty stench of rotting garbage in the air. It was so overwhelming that Edward had to take his handkerchief out and press his mouth into it for some relief. The road was worse here, missing entirely in several places.
Edward cursed under his breath as his gait began to slip. Some women called out to him, even daring enough to sidle up. They wore cheap perfumes and their lips were blood red. Edward knew what they were—night women.
He swallowed his disgust but paid them no heed and carried on. He had seen enough. Now there had to be a way out of there without stepping back through the same path he had come through. As he tried looking for someone for directions, Edward spotted three men some distance away. They clung to the wall, sharing a smoke and their laughter carried over to him.
Before Edward could walk up to them, however, two men closed in on him. “What do we ‘ave ‘ere?” one of them asked. He had a Cockney accent.
“Gentlemen.” Edward greeted them. His breeding dictated him to be polite to people, circumstances withstanding. The two men were eyeing him up and down with some interest.
“Lost yo’ way now, ‘ave you?”
The back of his neck pricked. “If you’ll kindly allow me to pass—”
“Kindly?” one of the men asked. They looked at each and started laughing. They eyed his clothes with interest, an almost maniacal glint in their eyes.
“I don’t mean any trouble here,” Edward said quietly.
“Ya don’, but we do.” The Irish man turned around and called out to the three men behind him. “Oi, look who we ‘ave here.”
Immediately they stamped out the cigarette and approached. By then, all of Edward’s instincts were on high alert. Even though he had an experience of wrestling in Eton, it had been ages since he had folded up his sleeves and got down to fight. Besides, there were too many of them.
“Gentlemen, we can settle this like civilized people.” No sooner had he said it, that one of them took out a knife and brandished it at him.
Edward took a single step back and raised his arm.
The man continued to brandish his knife. “How much ackers do yer have?”
“I have my wallet in my pocket,” Edward said calmly. The money didn’t matter to him at the moment, his life did.
“His kit ‘ave a look expensive,” one of them said. “I cop cold in me own jacket. What do yer say, fellas? Should I take this one?”
The other egged him on as he drew close, a knife held out to him.
Edward pulled himself to his height and said, “I’m a member of Parliament. You should think twice before trying to hurt me.”
“Do yer think we care who yer are ‘ere?” He spat at Edward’s feet. “This isn’t your world to dictate as you please, dukey. The streets are ours.”
“I can help you. You don’t have to be a criminal,” Edward said. “I can show you a better path.” Edward was convinced that they would listen to his voice of reason, and not the retaliation of senseless violence.
“Yer think yer better than me?” The man charged, his hands outstretched as if to throttle him. Edward dodged him easily and landed a strong punch to his ribs. The man landed a few feet away. But Edward wasn’t fast enough for his next attacker.
The blows and punches came fast and steady. The knife drove into his side and he keeled over at the pain, clutching at the wound which spurted fresh blood.
“Did we kill ‘im?” one of the men asked.
“The coat is soaked with blood.”
“Just take the chuffin’ brass and let’s cop the hell out of ‘ere.”
Edward had the faint feeling of being turned on his side which made his pain worse. The last thing he remembered seeing was the men running away into the night before his eyes grew heavy. He tried to hold on but dark thoughts began to crowd his mind. He would die here on the streets tonight, cold and forgotten.
