Richmond knew that look. Danforth was itching to wrap his hands around Grimsby’s throat. He would have to get in line behind Richmond.
“Goodness! What is it with men using their mother’s names?” Rosalind said, exasperated. “Well, whoever’s name it is, he’s got our girl. We must save her.”
For a moment,Richmond pondered the potential chaos that might unfold if the four Golden Duchesses were with them whenthey headed to the warehouse and decided against allowing it. “Mother, we’re heading to Julian’s. He’ll want to go with us. I promise, we will get Serafina back. Don’t worry. For now, go home, and…”
“And wait to hear from you,” Dora finished with a nod. “Very well, son, but please be careful. All of you. I do hope you’ll be taking that burly Adam with you.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be prepared.” Richmond kissed his mother on the cheek, and he and his friends left.
Once they were outside, they vaulted into Damon’s carriage and rode in the direction of Julian’s townhouse. Serafina was gone. And that bastard had her. A cold dread gripped Richmond’s heart. Serafina was his ward, but she was the sister of his heart. He would make Grimsby pay for taking her. And God help that bastard if he hurt her.
As they neared Julian’s townhouse, a violent commotion on a vacant lot caught their eye.
“My God! Is that Julian?” Landon exclaimed. “Boys, shall we even the numbers?”
“Driver—fetch the runners and bring them at once!” Danforth barked as the carriage ground to a halt. “They’ll know what to do with these villains once we’ve taught them a lesson.”
The driver cracked the reins and shot off down the street as though pursued by the devil himself.
Richmond, Danforth, and Landon charged across the lot. Each seized an assailant, hauling him back and whipping him around with enough force to rattle bones. Fists flew; the air filled with grunts, curses, and the meaty thud of blows landing with satisfying crunches.
Richmond spared Julian a glance—and despite the chaos, felt a flicker of admiration. Julian fought like a man well-trained, but no one could stand against five great brutes forever.
Especially not when one of them was intent on murdering him.
Richmond saw the glint of steel—saw the knife raised for a strike aimed squarely at Julian’s back. With a guttural warning shout, he barreled forward and slammed into the bastard, wrenching him away just as the blade swung down.
He spun the man around. The fellow had the ugliest face Richmond had ever seen—twisted with rage and malice. The brute snarled and lunged at him, knife flashing in the dim light.
Richmond caught the man’s wrist mid-strike and wrenched it back with a twist that forced the knife free. “I’ve been wanting to try this move ever since I opened my sparring club, you piece of shite!” he thundered. Before the brute could recover, Richmond drove his fist straight into the man’s groin with all the force of a man who had waitedyearsfor the opportunity.
The fellow let out a strangled howl, his body jerking upward before crumpling face-first into the dirt.
After they’d draggedthe thoroughly beaten and unconscious ruffians to a low brick wall, Richmond swiftly informed Julian what had happened.
“He has Serafina,” Richmond said.
“Damn and blast! If he’s hurt a hair on her head, he’s signed his death warrant,” Julian spat.
“Exactly,” Landon echoed.
Richmond’s driver returned at a full gallop, another carriage thundering close behind. The four runners Danforth had hired spilled out before the wheels had fully stopped.
“Gentlemen,” Danforth said, gesturing to the sprawled bodies. “They’re all yours.”
The runners nodded briskly and set to work, binding the unconscious thugs with practiced efficiency.
“Gentlemen,” Richmond addressed them, “we need to get to the warehouse at once. Will you join us there after you’ve dealt with this rabble?”
“Aye, my lord. We know the place,” one of them replied.
“Good man,” Richmond said. “We’ll meet you there.”
As the four men climbed into the carriage, Landon turned to Julian with a grim shake of his head. “That was far too much muscle for one man to face alone. The baron meant to have you killed, Strathmoor.”
“I know,” Julian said quietly. “And he nearly succeeded. Had you not come when you did…” He exhaled, shaken. “I owe all of you my life.”
But beneath the gratitude churned something heavier. He could not stop thinking of how close he had come—not just to death, but to leaving everything undone. He had failed to uphold his father’s legacy. Failed to prove himself worthy of the Strathmoor name. Worst of all, he had failed to tell Serafina the truth—that he loved her. My God. He loved her more deeply than he ever thought possible.
