Shouts down the road arrested their attention. She began to move toward the noise—it seemed to be coming from an alley several buildings away. Lord Berkeley’s arms raised half an inch to stop her. She cocked her head at him.
His jaw tensed. “One moment, let me—”
The shouting intensified, and his arm came up higher. The action, rather than frustrating her, made her feel protected. “Miss Faraday, my carriage is just there. Please, wait within while I see what is occurring.”
He did not wait for an answer but jolted forward.
Similarly, she did not wait a moment before following.
Chapter 14
Lucas followed the sound ofshouting to the edge of the building beside Mr. Sperry’s office. Worry for both whatever he might find and for the woman he’d left behind coursed through him with the energy borne from a natural reaction to danger. He might have left the individuals to their squabble if it were not for the fact that one of the voices seemed to be that of a woman. He could never leave a woman in danger.
He made it to the alley between buildings and was several steps down it before his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.
Two figures appeared from the shadows. A man was attempting to wrest something from a much smaller woman. She kicked at his shins, but it did not deter him. He elbowed her in the side. She screamed.
“Hey!” Lucas shouted. His vision turned red. For a moment, the woman seemed to disappear, and it was his sister in her place.
He charged forward.
The woman caught sight of him. “Me bag! He’s tryna get me bag!”
Lucas grabbed one of the man’s arms, holding it back—his fingers digging into the scratchy fabric of the assailant’s shirt. The man jerked against him but was a head shorter than Lucas and not nearly as broad. Abandoning his attempts to wrest the bag from the woman, he turned his attention to Lucas. The woman fell back to the ground, holding the bag to her chest, eyes wide.
Her assailant threw a punch at Lucas, who easily ducked. He’d picked the wrong moment to try to steal from the lady—Lucas was no pencil-pushing gentleman. And his blood was running hot at the audacity of this man to attack a helpless woman.
Deftly, he pinned the man’s arm to his back, but the attacker managed to elbow Lucas in the gut. He grunted, loosening his hold but not letting go entirely. The man twisted around, throwing another sloppy punch that forced Lucas to release his arm. He was stronger than he’d first appeared. Lucas parried the punch, leaning to the side then returning with a blow of his own to the man’s jaw. The man staggered back but recovered quickly, raising meaty fists to come at Lucas again.
“You don’t want to do this,” Lucas said, a dangerous edge to his voice.
The man only growled in response, starting forward.
Lucas’s eyes darted around the alley, noting the woman—who had pushed back against a wall out of the way—and anything he might use to his advantage or that might be a hindrance. A pile of crates. A few loose stones. Discarded rubbish. The man’s arm lifted, but Lucas beat him to the punch—quite literally. He threw a hook straight into his stomach, then a second to his head in quick succession. The rules of proper boxing were out the window here, and his goal was only the safety of the woman and Miss Faraday. Safety he hadn’t been able to give Marietta.
The man dodged his second hit and returned a surprisingly swift jab at Lucas’s side. Lucas sidestepped, the hit just grazing him, and the man flew beneath his arm with the force of his blow. Lucas spun to face him, and as the man came forward again, seemingly about to grab Lucas around the middle, Lucas grasped his head in his arms, bringing his knee up. Hard.
The assailant hit the ground, head banging against the road before he stilled. Blood pumping in his ears, Lucas bent over him. The blow and fall had rendered the man unconscious and given him a bloody nose and likely a nasty headache for the next week, but nothing more. Lucas turned back to the woman.
“Are you all right?” he asked, chest rising in a heaving breath.
She nodded shakily, still clutching her bag. Thin, brown hair fell into her face, but she didn’t push it back. “Me wages for the month... everything I ’ave is in this bag. Me kids woulda—” She took a ragged breath. “Thank you.”
He offered her a hand, but when she went to take it, she cried out in pain.
A small figure elbowed past him, dropping down behind the woman. “It is her wrist.” Of course Miss Faraday would not have stayed in the carriage—the woman never seemed to do as expected. She looked the woman in the eyes, voice soft. “Do you mind if I look at your arm? I think you may have injured it in the struggle.”
Lucas stepped out of the way. He rolled his shoulder back as he looked at the attacker. Why was it always his shoulder that got the brunt of things? The man groaned, eyes still closed. Lucas looked around. What were the odds he’d be able to get a Runner before the man awoke?
He glanced back at the women, realizing in that same moment that he’d torn his coat sleeve. “Dash it all,” he muttered.
Miss Faraday glanced up at him, her eyes serious. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No.”
Her gaze landed on his shoulder, and she quirked a brow but focused back on gingerly touching the woman’s wrist.
“I though’. . . though’ I’d be all right, ye see. Though’ I could walk home withou’ Johnny. I deal with a far worse sort down at the docks. Ouch—tha’s it right there.”
