She had no real notion of what she might accomplish when she stepped out from her shield of invisibility. She lacked knowledge of a woman’s power to restore peace and logic. But men wouldn’t pay a bit of heed to an invisible assistant or anything but how loud they shouted or how forcefully they swung their fists.
Adapting to this new situation, she had to command their attention.
Carrying her walking stick, just in case, El sailed down the stairs—just as the burly, drunken Mort broke free and ran from the parlor, directly into her path. He held out his hand to shove her aside. She whacked the drunk’s arm with the knob of her stick, then poked his ribs when he staggered sideways and howled.
Well, that certainly commanded attention. One of the guards raced to haul him into captivity. In the parlor, men stood and stared. Grey, on the couch, merely gawked as if she’d dropped from the ceiling. And then a barely perceptible grin crossed his lips. El thought she could survive the evening on that grin alone.
Leaving one of the soldiers to wrap rope around Mort’s ankles, she stepped over the prisoner to enter the parlor. The gentlemen remained standing, probably not from polite deference but shock. A female using a walking stick like a sword worked well, it seemed.
She’d accept the notice however she acquired it. One way or another, the shouting had halted.
“If you will sit, gentlemen, Captain Huntley might bring order out of this chaos.” She lightly smacked a wailing Percy, shutting him up, then progressed through the room until she reached the professor.
Grey lifted one leonine eyebrow but still didn’t rise as she took her place beside him. She was fairly certain he was noticing her decolletage, though. If that was how she must hold his attention, then so be it. He knew her worth as well as she did. She was simply done with invisibility.
Andrew carried in a tray of mixed mugs and glasses he must have scrounged from their belongings while she was changing. He set them with the decanter on one of the empty trunks they’d turned into tables. Silas produced fresh tea and the little bites their brilliant cook had prepared. Whether it was her gown or the food and drink, El didn’t know, but all attention abruptly turned in her direction.
“You watched my lectures,” Grey said cryptically, exchanging his tea mug for the brandy glass Andrew offered but keeping his gaze on her.
She practically smoldered under the intensity, but she understood his comment and acknowledged the truth of it. “You had a way of shocking the boys into focus,” she murmured. “It’s all drama.”
He actually chuckled, then squeezed her hand. She’d not donned gloves and nearly melted at the contact. But clutching her hand, he returned his impressive consideration to his guests.
“Mr. Russell, if you would introduce the prisoners to the captain, and perhaps take them into the other room so we might call them one at a time?” Grey propped his bare foot on the edge of a trunk.
El smacked it down and ordered Silas to fetch his slippers and a blanket. Grey glowered. She scowled back.
It was remarkably liberating realizing she didn’t have to depend on him for an income. She had an entire village who might support her. But she did need him to turn this circus into an orderly classroom. She had no authority and could only do so much. For the moment, Grey needed to step up to his lordly authority and not revert to his intellectual professorial habits.
Andrew brought more chairs from the dining room, leaving the shouting, angry prisoners nowhere to sit when they were ushered from the parlor. Captain Huntley appropriated one of the chairs to set his bad leg upon and ordered his soldiers to the other room to keep the prisoners apart.
“Fortunately, we’re mostly civilized here,” the captain said, apropos of nothing. “We’ve learned women should be heard as well as seen. Occasionally, their presence is instructive. Thank you, Miss Leonard.”
She hoped she didn’t blush at this unaccustomed attention. “Women are the reason the human race continues to exist, if only by keeping men from killing each other.” Daring to say that really did cause her to blush, but the room was lit by only two lanterns. She didn’t think anyone noticed.
Except Grey, of course. He snickered, then idly rubbed the back of her bare hand with his thumb, offering encouragement, she’d like to believe.
“And now that order is restored, you will tell me where my heir is, since I so kindly refrained from drowning him as he would have done me.” Grey spoke in a modulated tone that hid a river of anger.
“He whined he was dying, so we hauled him to the doctor. Considering where you hurt him most, he won’t receive much sympathy from a lady physician,” Rafe said with a shrug of his wide shoulders. “I left Major Ferguson with him. He’ll not get far if he tries anything.”
“Better we gather the evidence first before confronting gentry,” Huntley suggested. “I’ve sent for Sutter to keep the proceedings within the bounds of legality. He’ll probably stop at the physician’s first. I see no reason not to start without him. It’s either that, or find cells to lock them all in for the night, and I lack the patience for the hubbub that will arouse.”
El regarded Blackie Bradford lingering uncomfortably in a dark corner. Had they decided he was not a suspect? But he still remained. Interesting. She nudged Grey and nodded in the Australian’s direction. Giving him a moment to see what she saw, she gestured at the brandy tray. “Mr. Bradford, you do not have a glass? Or at least have some tea. I believe you have been instrumental in catching our culprits?”
Their angry neighbor stroked his unshaven jaw and frowned. El sent Andrew a look her twin interpreted easily. He carried a glass over to the wary newcomer.
Bradford tipped his head in thanks, took the brandy, and remained in his dark corner.
Gathering that she wanted more information from an untalkative sort who seemed to know more than anyone else, Grey gestured with his glass. “Captain, I don’t believe you have met our neighbor, Mr. Richard Bradford. He claims to be the son of this house’s original owner.”
Hunt didn’t stand up but nodded at the stranger in their midst. “Heard the tale. I believe you’re related to Mr. Percival and the late Mr. Comfrey? My condolences on the loss of your cousin.”
“No loss if I never knew him, I suppose.” Bradford remained obstinately aloof.
“And how did you come to haul that wretch Percival in here after he knocked me in the drink?” Grey asked. “I appreciate your swift action.”
“I been following the mongrel. He’s been creeping about, up to no good. Sorry I didn’t see him before you hit the water.” The big man actually seemed embarrassed at his failure.
