Giles’s gaze then landed on her. “As for you and me, we need to have a nice long talk.”
Alyssia didn’t know if she should feel scared or excited.
Her inner snip snorted.
Probably both.
There were hopelesslost causes, and then there was Bishop.
What nice long talk?
He still hadn’t recovered from thenice long talkhis wife had given him last night.
With her tongue.
Truly, utterly hopeless.
Bishop shelved that thought for later as he strode past the butler of his childhood home, fist clamped around the collar of the brigand who had chased Alyssia through Knox’s townhouse like a fox through hens. How fitting that the final confrontation should take place in the dining room. What happened to him mattered far less than what happened to her—and his uncle was about to learn precisely how merciless Bishop could be, especially before the very society the man treasured so dearly.
He marched into the dining room without pause—much as he had the first time—only now he bore bruises Alyssia had soothed mere hours ago, still aching like the devil, and he was flanked by his wife, Crane, Knoxley, and, bringing up the rear, the Bow Street Runner. Oh, and he’d hauled something with him.
“Uncle, Aunt, we meet again,” Bishop drawled, dragging the cutthroat by the collar and flinging him to the ground without ceremony. “I’ve come to return your property and request that you relinquish mine.”
Alyssia snorted behind him, a lovely sound.
“What the devil is the meaning of this?” his uncle demanded, leaping to his feet, flecks of egg flying from his lips. Disgusting. They would absolutely have to strip this house of every furnishing his uncle had soiled. Starting with this dining table.
His mother, had she been alive, would have insisted on nothing less.
His uncle’s gaze snapped to the brigand on the floor. “I have no idea who that man is.”
“Of course you don’t,” Bishop murmured. “Just as you claimed not to know who I was when I first reunited with you after so long. Howsingularly unfortunate for you that Bow Street disagrees.”
His aunt rose, wringing her hands. “This is absurd. How could they side with you?”
“Well, the cur who’s not here is still at Bow Street. Big devil, that one. Tight-lipped. This one, on the other hand, not so much.” Bishop nudged the man with a foot. “Is this the man who hired you?”
The blackguard looked to his uncle and nodded. “That’s him. Told us to end you and your wife.” The man spat on the ground and added, “By any means possible.”
“Do you hear that, uncle?” Bishop gave the man a hard, uncompromising look. “By any means possible.”
“This is absurd,” his uncle bellowed. “You can’t take the word of a snake!”
Alyssia scoffed. “The only snake I see is you, sir.”
“I agree,” Bishop said. “After all, what brother orders the murder of his brother?”
“I never murdered Seth!”
“Not with your own hands, no,” Bishop said. “But you did have it ordered.”
“Hearsay!”
Bishop shrugged. “Men have been doomed for less. Besides, our trusty old snake here confirmed the men’s names of that day. He was supposed to be there himself, he said, but got a wild stomach bug and sat the job out. Isn’t that right?”
The man scowled but nodded. “Right.”
“Now that that’s settled, what to do with you, Uncle?”
