Eamon fought hard. He wasn’t so much bothered about any coins he carried as he was surviving to live another day. Sam was right that his arrogance might mean he was one more body in the Thames for the River Police to find.
One of the men cried out, and then he was mysteriously gone. A second grunted, and Eamon found himself one-on-one with the remaining attacker. The man glanced behind him worriedly, allowing Eamon to land a good punch on his jaw.
The assailant snarled and redoubled his assault. Eamon jabbed and struck, his knife held in a steady hand. The knife forced the man to duck and dodge, though he continued to rain blows down on Eamon.
Swearing in a strong Shetland accent came to him, along with annoyed mutters that signaled the presence of another former soldier. Wolfe’s physician often admonished him about overusing his bad leg, but Wolfe just as often ignored him.
Between the three of them, they wore the ruffians down. Eamon’s man stayed the longest, but when Eamon’s knife came close to his eyes, he backed off and lumbered into the dark lane from whence he and his friends had come. Booted footsteps retreated into the night.
“Didn’t bring any slow matches, did you?” McCormick asked, his grin flashing.
“Unfortunately, no.” Eamon caught his breath as he slid the knife back into his pocket. “Or powder either.”
“If you two are finished congratulating yourselves,” Wolfe growled. “It’s best we get indoors. You can thank us with an ale later, Stone.”
McCormick had already raced off, whistling for the nearest hackney. One turned from the end of the street, McCormick climbing aboard as it passed.
“Thank you for springing to my aid,” Eamon said as the hackney neared. “Very timely.”
“We weren’t risking you losing all our cash.”
The hackney halted. McCormick opened the door for them, and Wolfe more or less heaved Eamon inside before climbing in behind him.
“No fear,” Eamon said as the hackney pulled away. “Your money is tucked safely away, as is Caro’s share.”
“Tucked away where?” Wolfe asked with his usual suspicion. He dropped to the seat beside McCormick and opposite Eamon. “In a box under your bed?”
“I left it with Colonel Harper,” Eamon informed them. “I’ll fetch it tomorrow. I never planned to swan about London with Caro’s funds in my pocket. I’m an idiot, but not that much of one.”
“Notice he doesn’t mention our hard-earned funds,” McCormick said as the hackney bumped along St. Martin’s Lane.
“I had noticed.” Wolfe nodded.
“You’ll have your money tomorrow, gentlemen,” Eamon assured them. “Shall I call on you, or do you want to meet at the office of your man of business, Wolfe?”
“Leave it with Kennedy,” Wolfe said. “McCormick and I will fetch it for ourselves.”
“A sensible arrangement,” Eamon said. “Then you can worry about thieves trying to relieve it from you, and I will retire to the nearest pub for refreshment.”
“Were they common robbers, do you think?” McCormick asked, cutting through Eamon’s banter. “Following you about, thinking you had a few coins to rub together?”
“No.” Eamon recognized hired thugs when he saw them. Less desperate, more determined. “I believe they came courtesy of His Grace’s cousin.”
McCormick scowled. “I thought that might be the case. We have to do something about that bastard.”
“Not a bastard,” Wolfe broke in. “He’s a legitimate heir. Berridge will be duke, no matter what his actions, if anything happens to Leo.”
“Then we must make certain Leo grows up to be happily married and produce seven sons of his own,” Eamon said firmly. “I’ll never let Rudyard stand in the way of Leo having the life he deserves.”
“A cause I can strive for,” Wolfe said with a nod. “Berridge is an idiot who should be revealed as such.”
“I am pleased I can count on your assistance.” The fact that Eamon had such friends warmed him, though he’d never embarrass them with these sentiments. He’d been very much alone when he’d been deposited at Hallbridge, but adversity had found him two fellow castaways who’d become like brothers to him.
“You will always have my help,” McCormick promised. “You didn’t make much out of this deal, though, with the painting, did you? Once you’ve paid us back and taken the lion’s share to young Leo, there isn’t much left over for you, is there?”
“It’s enough.” Eamon’s share was minuscule compared to what he’d borrowed from McCormick, Wolfe, and Sam to obtain the painting, but it was plenty for what he would purchase with it.
McCormick studied him quizzically, but Eamon kept his silence.
