“No.”
Common thieves possessed an unmistakable odor that had been noticeably absent on these attackers.
Mantis had been lost in a fog of sensual gratification, and by the time he’d heard the branches breaking he’d been mostly concerned that he and Felicity would be discovered.
Separating themselves from the other guests so he could be alone with her had been the height of idiocy, and thanks to him, she’d been injured. Good God, she could have been killed
Once she’d fled from the danger, Mantis’ skills had taken over. He was certain he’d broken one of their arms, possibly unmanned another, and nearly strangled one to death.
But he wasn’t a killer. When Blackheart’s men swooped in, he’d loosened his grip, and the man had fled in the same direction as the others.
“You’re certain you hadn’t seen any of them before?” Greys asked.
Blackheart’s arms were folded across his chest. The duke’s disgusted expression matched his own.
Mantis bent over and spat out blood that had pooled in his mouth.
Felicity had insisted on waiting to see for herself that he’d not been killed but then been quickly ushered away to Chaswick’s carriage, Lady Bethany’s arm around her for comfort and Chaswick following.
Her hair had been hanging down her back, her lovely gown wrinkled, with dirt and leaves clinging to it.
“She cannot show up at Brightley’s looking like that.” Mantis said. The earl would never forgive him.
Damn his selfish cock. He should not have risked her safety to appease his inconvenient lust.
“Lady Chaswick mentioned taking her to Byrd House first.” Greys rubbed the back of his neck.
Mantis had thwarted more than one knife from plunging into his chest.
He’d not been paranoid. Someone was trying to kill him.
He shuddered to think what the blackguards would have done to Felicity if given the chance.
“I’m an ass. I put her in harm’s way.”
“I’m the ass. I should have seen it coming.” A highly unusual statement on Blackheart’s part.
“No doubt Chaswick is kicking himself for not catching any of the bastards,” Greys added, sounding slightly more like his normal, unflappable self.
“One of them will be nursing a broken arm.” Mantis wasn’t sure who had been more surprised by the snapping sound—the victim, his partners, or himself. “Took off like a scared rabbit after that.”
Mantis had wanted to chase after the assailant but needed to see for himself that Felicity had made it to safety. He’d sent her off alone in the woods. He’d placed her in danger enough for one night.
“All of this, it makes no sense whatsoever.” That bullet wasn’t a coincidence, then. And the illness? Had he been poisoned? “If someone wants revenge on my father, they’ve chosen the wrong victim to use to take it.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Greys brushed at his coat. “I need to attend to my other guests. They’ll wonder at your early departure.”
“Tell them—” Mantis couldn’t stop the turning in his mind, which was already searching for any reason for the attacks. “Tell them—”
“Lady Chaswick took ill,” Blackheart supplied. “And Lady Felicity is comforting her friend.”
“Yes.” But it was the other way around. And Felicity wasn’t ill—she was carrying a child. He needed…
A deep breath.
“Meet me at Knight house,” Blackheart said. “I’ll have a rug rolled out in the ballroom. We’ll figure this out after a few matches.”
Wanting to do more but also realizing this was for the best, Mantis nodded.
