“Is he still breathing?” He looked over his shoulder as he and his men headed into the dark alley.
“Yeah, but he reeks of beer.”
Beer? He needed to teach the man that Scotch was a better option if he didn’t want to suffer for his excesses the next day. Then again, Lord Mabry probably didn’t want to remember this evening come the morrow.
Seeing the footmen standing before the coach at the end of the alley, he wished to quicken his pace. He wouldn’t be content until he had Joanna out of there. But he had to think of the men behind him. Tripping over what may have been a broken chair, he caught his balance by grabbing the wall, not wanting to fall into the filth at his feet. Looking at the exit so close, he stopped. The footmen had disappeared.
Fear for Joanna ran up his spine, and he ran toward the coach. As he exited the alley, a fist caught him in the stomach. He folded over but came up swinging, catching his assailant in the jaw. He swung around to search for Joanna and Mariel and found them standing next to the horses, two footmen on the ground at their feet and his coachman fighting another thug. Hearing movement to his left, he spun, ducking just in time to avoid a fist in his face.
His footmen were fighting two others, but no one attacked the women. “Get in the coach!” He didn’t have time to see if they did, since his attacker jumped on his back. James backed into the wall of the building hard, causing the breath to leave his enemy, which loosened his grip. Pulling away, he spun to confront him.
The man smiled as he whipped out what looked like a large fishhook. “Come on, gent. Let’s put you down so we can enjoy the pretties.”
Backing out of reach of the weapon by inches, he wished he’d thought to bring his cane. As they circled each other, he had to do something, so he faked a fall, grabbed the dirt from the road and threw it in his attacker’s face. As the man stumbled back, trying to see, James swung with all his might. The man spun around and fell to the ground, the weapon skittering from his hand.
Snapping his head around to check the coach, he was in time to see one of his footmen on the ground and a man trying to get in the coach. He ran forward and pulled the blackguard around, slamming his now sore fist into the man’s stomach. Unfortunately, that did little to stop him. The big man roared with indignation and shoved James against the coach. Hands found his throat and started to cut off his breathing.
He grabbed onto the meaty fists, determined to pry the fingers from his neck, but his vision started to blur. Suddenly, he was released, and the man stumbled back. He gulped in air and grabbed the door frame of the coach, only to find Joanna standing there, the handle of a broken chamber pot in her hand. He would have shaken his head at her if he had time, but he was just able to avoid the big man’s clutches.
Joanna’s strategy made sense. Scanning the entrance to the alley, he grabbed what looked like the handle of a broken axe. Now he had what he needed. Blocking the miscreant’s attempts to reach him with the wooden handle, he finally connected with the man’s head and he went down.
Breathing hard, he surveyed the scene. The coachman had a bloody lip, but his assailant ran down the street. The Mabry footmen were just sitting up, and one of his men felled the last attacker. With all their assailants down or gone, he checked on the women by sticking his head in the doorway.
He was grasped so hard, he would have thought he was being attacked again, but the scent of spicy sweetness and the softness of the skin against his face told him otherwise.
“I thought they were going to kill you.” Joanna’s voice cracked as she held onto his neck, which was quite sore, but he didn’t mind. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, looking over her shoulder to see Mariel fanning herself. Satisfied they were all in good health, he extracted himself from her arms. “I need to get your cousin so we can leave here.” His voice was barely a whisper.
She cupped his face, tears running down her cheeks. “Hurry.”
It took them less than a few minutes to get Lord Mabry and the unconscious footman into the coach, before the coachman set them moving and turned down the first street to get away from the docks.
He and Joanna sat on one side with the footman propped in the corner, while Mariel tended to Lord Mabry on the other. Joanna held his hand tightly, refusing to let go. He brought her bare hand to his lips and kissed it, glad that she had thrown her gloves away before they left. “Jo, I’m fine,” he rasped.
She rounded on him. “You are not fine. You can barely speak. You almost died. You can’t die on me. I won’t have it.”
“What would you like me to do then?” He thought to chuckle but ended up coughing.
“Don’t you say another word. Just listen.”
He reached his arm around her and pulled her closer, not caring that Mariel was with them. Joanna would be his wife sooner rather than later. Now that he hadn’t been strangled to death. “The chamber pot was an appropriate weapon. Where did you get it?”
She frowned at him. “It was on the side of the street as I made my way back into the coach. I think I’m going to add classes in protecting oneself to the school curriculum. Now, I told you to listen, not talk.”
He gave her a short nod.
She set her hand against his face. “Since I tended Belinda while she was sick, I wanted to avoid marriage. Then after Aunt Mabry died, I realized I could. From then on, I was set on never marrying.”
He couldn’t help tightening his grip as she paused. It was his fervent wish to make her his wife. She was his life now.
“But then you came along and made me fall in love with you.”
He grinned. “Didn’t make you.”
“Shh, yes, you did. You treated me as an equal, something I never expected any man to do. Loving you and remaining independent are impossible. For weeks I have tried to figure out a way that I could have both, but…”
“But that’s impossible.” His stomach twisted as she nodded.
“I’ve been so torn, but when I thought I would lose you, I realized that all my independence and my school wasn’t worth living for if you weren’t by my side. I love you, James Huntington, Duke of Northwick, and I would be honored to marry you.”
