He hefted her higher.
Pressing her palms into his coat, she pushed up. John was facing off with Sudworth, Montague standing off to the side. Rothchild and Sutton each prodded their prisoners to their feet and followed after Netta and Dunkeld.
Leaving John to fight for his life.
“You sorry, whey-faced, unfeeling cur!” She resumed her useless beating. “Stop at once. We can’t just leave him!”
Dunkeld carefully placed her inside a carriage and climbed in after her. He blocked her easily when she lunged for the door. “I’m sorry. But some things aren’t fit for a woman to see.”
She scrambled for the opposite door, but it stood firm against her attempts to open it. She wrenched the window down and the first full light of day fell on her face.
Dunkeld grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her back. “Please, don’t make me restrain you. I would like to remain friends after today.”
She gaped at him. “Friends? Isn’t John your friend? How can you let him do this?” Either John would die or he would kill. And she wasn’t certain this killing could be legally justified.
The man tugged at his auburn queue before pushing it back over his shoulder. “What else can he do? Sudworth has made a direct threat against you. If he hadn’t, we might have persuaded John to follow another path. But as it is…” He shrugged. “If the government won’t prosecute him for his crimes, justice is only to be found in one way.”
She dug her fingers into the fabric of her skirts. They still trembled. What he said made sense. Sudworth would remain a danger against her, against John. Against her sister.
Netta closed her eyes as the tremors spread to the rest of her body.
John was going to kill a man. And that was the best outcome she could hope for.
Dunkeld pounded on the ceiling. “Driver!”
Her eyes flew open. “Wait!” She grabbed his sleeve. “Please. Let us wait here. I want to know…need to know, as soon as possible, that John hasn’t been…”
Dunkeld squeezed her hand, the heat from his skin doing little to warm her chilled flesh. “All right,” he said quietly. “We’ll wait. Stand down,” he yelled to the driver.
Netta strained her ears, terrified of what she might hear, but becoming even more frightened at the silence. Had they decided not to fight? Could Sudworth have been convinced to leave them be?
Minutes passed. Netta’s foot bobbed. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Her body felt ready to burst with the need to escape the carriage, fly to John.
She waited until she wanted to scream. And then she waited some more.
The door was wrenched open. John’s gaze fell hungrily on her, the haunted shadows vanishing when she tumbled into his arms, her knees wrapping about his hips.
She held him tight, her breath not evening out until she was assured that the heartbeat pounding against hers was strong and steady.
She threaded her fingers into his hair, loving the silky caress of it against her skin. She yanked his head back and scowled down at him. “Mark my words. You will pay for putting me through that.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
John climbed into his landau and adjusted his top hat. He kicked his boot onto the opposite seat and watched as the front door to Netta’s apartments eased closed.
He sniffed. Another lovely night and even better morning. He’d worried that Eleanor’s presence might interfere with his and Netta’s relationship after she’d officially become Netta’s ward, but the chit had turned out to be surprisingly pleasant company.
No, he and Netta could no longer play one of their games in the parlor or any other public room, but keeping their bed sport in the bedroom hadn’t diminished the heat between them.
Everything was turning out the way he wanted. He crossed his arms and dropped his chin to his chest. So why did he feel more and more disgruntled each time he left her?
“Sir?” Wil turned from the driver’s seat.
“What?”
“Your club?” Wil bobbed his head at the door to Simon’s. “You did want to come here after Miss Evered’s.”
John scowled. He still hadn’t become used to the sound of the name Evered. Netta LeBlanc didn’t sound much better, though infinitely preferable to Pickle. “I know what I want.” He kicked open the door and jumped down. The sneaking suspicion that he had no clue what he wanted only angered him more.
