He lunged at the earl, who was fumbling to reload. He tackled the bastard, slamming his opponent’s body against a crate. The pistol clattered out of sight, yet Mercer fought back with feral desperation. The bastard landed a low blow, and stars streaked across Alaric’s vision.
His grasp loosened, and Mercer wrestled free. As Alaric sought to regain his breath, he saw something flash in his opponent’s hand right before Mercer charged at him, knocking him to the ground. He thrust his hands out, catching the earl’s arm, blocking the downward arc of the blade. The lethal point hovered inches above his throat; his muscles strained against the other’s maniacal strength.
“I’m going to slit your throat open, you ignorant Scot,” Mercer shouted.
Like bluidy hell you will.
Power surged through Alaric. Leveraging his lower body, he gave a mighty shove, rolling over and taking his enemy with him. Now with the upper hand, he grabbed the other’s wrist, gave it a sharp twist, and Mercer released the blade with a cry of pain. Bloodlust took over, and Alaric drove his fists into the other’s face, bone crunching against bone. He didn’t stop until the other lay bloodied and insensate.
Only then did Alaric rise, his chest heaving.
“Alaric!”
He turned to see his brother descending into the hold.
Pistol in hand, Will said tersely, “All you alright?”
“Aye,” Alaric said between breaths. “Everyone else?”
“Cooper’s getting bandaged by Miss Emma and the dowager.” Will paused. “I’m not surprised by Miss Emma’s fortitude, but apparently our aunt has got a spine of steel as well.”
“Patrice is stronger than she looks.” Alaric grimaced as he tested his knuckles.
“Must run in the bloodline. For a duke, you held your own.”
“For a little brother, you didn’t do so poorly yourself.”
A pause. They grinned at each other.
Alaric said, “Let’s get some rope and tie up—”
“Behind you!” Will shouted.
Alaric pivoted in time to see Mercer rushing toward him, face bloody and demented, hand raised and wielding a knife. On instinct, he went low, kicking out, and the earl flew forward, crashing headfirst into a tower of crates. One by one, the wooden boxes toppled onto him.
Alaric and Will approached, the latter with his pistol aimed at the prone figure. Cautiously, Alaric pushed the heavy containers off Mercer; with his boot, he rolled the earl over.
Mercer’s gaze was unseeing. Scarlet bloomed around the stem of steel in his chest.
The bastard had fallen on his own knife.
“A fitting end,” Will said.
“Aye.” Alaric exhaled. “It’s over.”
Together, the brothers left the bloody scene and went to join the others.
Chapter Thirty-Four
A week later, at an intimate gathering of family and friends at his townhouse, Alaric mused over the changes that the last few days had wrought. His enemy was dead, his life no longer in danger. Yesterday, at the meeting of the United Mining venture, Alaric and Tremont’s expansion plans had received unanimous support from the shareholders, and the price of stock was soaring.
Most important of all, Alaric had publicly announced his engagement to Emma.
He watched as his betrothed mingled with their guests in the drawing room. Tonight was their engagement supper, and she was radiant in a cerise silk gown that draped enticingly over her curves and slender waist. The choker he’d given her circled her throat, and now a matching pink diamond ring glittered on her finger.
She was, every inch, a duchess.Hisduchess.
He could hardly wait the eight weeks until she walked down the aisle of St. Paul’s toward him. Lady Patrice had insisted that two months was the minimum acceptable time for an engagement; any earlier would cause talk about the reason for the haste. He knew that Emma was anxious about getting on in theton, and for her sake, he wanted no blemish on her reputation.
