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Justin surveyed the crowded interior of the tavern looking for someone who matched the description given by the boy. The air was thick with smoke and reeked of unwashed bodies and stale drink. The tavern was home to a mixed assortment of London’s seedier population. Whores did a brisk business here and could be seen propositioning a group of raucous sailors. There was likely any number of wanted criminals intermingling in the dimly lit atmosphere. It was not a place one wanted to be caught unawares.
He caught Case’s eye and nodded across the room to a group of men sitting and drinking ale. One of them had a large scar on his right cheek, visible even in the darkened atmosphere. When the man got up to leave, Justin and Case made to follow him. By the time they elbowed their way through the throng of people and out the door, they saw the man in question rise from the ground by the steps and hurry off into the night. Case and Justin immediately followed him. They caught up to him a block away from the tavern.
“Hold it right there,” Justin commanded, pulling out his pistol.
The man stopped and slowly turned to face the two brothers. “Wot do you want?” he demanded. He didn’t seem overly intimidated by the gun Justin leveled at him.
“Who hired you to send those notes to the Countess of Penroth?” Justin demanded.
“Wot notes?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Case retorted. “We saw you place the note in the steps of the tavern.”
“I don’t ‘ave a clue wot yer talkin’ about,” he sneered.
“We’ll let the magistrate handle the matter then,” Justin replied.
The man launched himself at Justin, taking him by surprise and knocking the gun from his hand. He heard the clatter as the gun skittered down the cobblestone street, and Case disappeared from his sights as he was driven to the ground by the force of the man’s attack. He grunted as his attacker landed a punch in his midsection. The two men rolled over the rough stones of the street, as Justin sought to gain the advantage. He landed a series of blows knocking the man back, but then reeled as the man connected with a punch to his jaw.
As he went down, Justin caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye as a darkly clothed figure launched himself at the man. The newcomer was sent sprawling as the man swatted him away as effectively as if he were shooing a fly. A cry of pain rent the air, a decidedlyfemininecry of pain.
Justin cursed. The damned fool-headed woman was going to get herself killed. “Case, get over here!” he barked, as he got up and warily circled the man.
As if sensing his odds were quickly changing, the man renewed his efforts as he launched himself once more at Justin. A flash of silver glinted in his hand. Justin nearly didn’t see it in time. He jumped back, but not before the blade slashed his upper arm. He let out a hiss of pain. The man dropped the knife and ran away into the night.
Jillian reached Justin first. “Are you all right?” she asked, worry evident in her voice.
Case was not far behind. “Jillian, what the hell are you doing here?” he demanded angrily. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”
“Not now, Case,” she said urgently. “Your brother has been stabbed.”
Case looked in concern at Justin who was gripping his upper arm in an attempt to staunch the blood flow.
“It’s just a cut,” Justin replied. “Get the carriage so we can get out of here.” He leveled a stare at Jillian. “What were you thinking?”
She at least looked abashed. “I heard you and Case talking this morning. I thought I could help you.”
Justin shook his head, the pain in his arm too great to argue with her further. “Are you all right? I heard you cry out.”
“It’s nothing. I am more concerned about you at the moment.”
Case rode up then in Justin’s carriage, and Justin and Jillian climbed in. “Let me look at your arm,” Jillian ordered, sitting beside Justin in the seat.
“It’s fine,” he said tersely.
“Don’t be a ninny and let me look.”
He sighed and took his hand away from the cut. She frowned as she inspected the still bleeding wound. She pulled her shirt from the waistline of her breeches where it had been tucked in. Justin looked at her with interest. “Turn your head,” she directed. “You too,” she told Case who was also looking at her curiously.
They obliged her, but Justin could still see her from the corner of his eye. She fumbled beneath the shirt, raising it in her efforts, baring the creamy skin beneath. Justin sucked in his breath as she began unwinding a long strip of cloth from her breasts. He could just see the under swell as the strip came free.
“You can look now,” she announced. She began winding the strip around his arm, effectively bandaging the cut. He would have to be blind not to notice her breasts, now free from constraint, straining against the material of her shirt. She was tender in her ministrations, and it was driving him mad. His main source of discomfort stemmed not from his arm but his breeches.
“You’ll need it stitched,” she said, frowning at the cut she was binding. “I can do it for you. It seems rather silly to send for the doctor this late in the night.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Justin muttered. “Besides, it wouldn’t be proper.”
