“Odd,” she said, emitting a shaky breath. “All morning long, I’ve had this feeling we were overlooking something. I thought it was just my foolish imagination, but apparently not. I’m glad you are all looking out for me.”
“Perhaps it is nothing,” Octavian sought to assure her. “We could all be wrong about this.”
“Doubtful. You Thornes have excellent instincts when it comes to danger. If only I could remember…”
“Don’t, love.” Julius did not want her dredging up that fateful night, and he certainly did not want her to have any sudden revelations here and now in front of all these strangers who did not care for her.
Most were here in the hope of seeing a lurid spectacle.
He did not want Gory providing it.
However, he noticed the furrow of her brow and knew she was now trying to break through to those bad memories.
Blast.
He turned his attention to those seated in the pews and noticed Harold Mayfield several rows back, his head bowed as though in prayer. Why was he here and not in front of the magistrate trying to talk him into freeing his weasel of a brother?
Of the two, Harold was the more respected, and actually had a decent reputation. However, Julius had never thought much of either Mayfield. Was he here in an attempt to salvage some of his reputation?
The man suddenly glance up and stared at Gory with a look of such pure hatred, it momentarily stunned Julius. But he quickly recovered his senses and nudged Gory behind Octavian, knowing an ox team could not drive through his brother. “Keep her behind you.”
He then tossed off his sling and leaped across the first few pews just as that villainous solicitor noticed him and withdrew something gleaming from the pocket of his jacket. Ignoring the gasps and cries of those he had shoved aside, Julius landed atop the heavyset man quite clumsily, but with sufficient force to momentarily knock the breath out of him.
Julius gasped in pain as his freshly stitched arm struck the man squarely in the chest.
Ow.
That hurt like a bloody demon.
Ignoring those agonizing jolts shooting up his arm, he grabbed the man’s hand and forced it back almost to the point of breaking. “Drop it,” he growled.
“Do as he says, Mayfield,” Havers commanded, pulling a metallic object out of the man’s stubborn grip. “It is over.”
He then turned to Julius and cast him a look of surprise. “When did you figure out both Mayfields were involved?”
Julius let out a pained laugh. “I didn’t. I saw him look upon Gory with hatred in his eyes, and then he reached into his pocket as I approached. He may have been pulling out his fob or a pair of spectacles, for all I know. What was it?”
“A pistol.”
“Bastard,” Julius muttered, still wincing in pain as he clambered to his feet.
Havers regarded him with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Your theatrics weren’t necessary, Thorne. I was about to grab him when you suddenly pounced on him and squashed him like a bug. Your arm must be giving you agony right now.”
“It is fine,” Julius grumbled.
Havers arched his eyebrow. “I would argue the point, but there’s a little more work to be done.”
“Here? Now? What else–”
“Got ’im,” Mr. Barrow’s most experienced Bow Street runner called out, dragging a young fellow toward them. Julius recognized him as Harold Mayfield’s son who was a junior solicitor in the family firm, the son in Mayfield & Sons. “Caught the little whelp about to set a blaze in the clerestory, no doubt to create a distraction while his father made an attempt on Lady Gregoria’s life.”
Mr. Barrow had now joined them, too. “Nice work, Mick.”
A crowd had gathered around them, the onlookers buzzing with excitement over the spectacle this funeral had just provided. Havers ordered them all to stand back. Above the din of the crowd, Julius heard Gory calling out to him. “Tell your big ox of a brother to let me through!”
He realized Octavian still held Gory behind him. “Octavian, let her go before she hits you with something hard.”
Gory flew into Julius’s arms the moment his brother stepped aside. “Are you hurt? You wonderful idiot, I saw you land hard on your arm.”
