“He’s cheating us,” the Viking declared.
“He is indeed,” another man said coldly. “I’ve been after him for months to show me his returns, and he puts me off. I’ll see you in court, Berridge.”
“Or we could beat it out of him now,” the Viking suggested eagerly. Eamon reflected that the man had not changed one whit from their Hallbridge days.
Others joined in the call for Rudyard’s blood.
Rudyard yelped and turned pleading eyes to Eamon. “For God’s sake, Stone. They’ll kill me.”
They might, indeed. These gentlemen were angry, and the Viking was a strong man who could deal out a great amount of pain without realizing it. That likely hadn’t changed from his school days either.
“McCormick,” Eamon commanded. “Hackney.”
McCormick released Wolfe—who was arguing that he could stand by himself, blast you—to whistle and wave at a black carriage in the square.
Eamon dragged Rudyard to the hackney that lumbered toward them, and McCormick yanked open its door.
“I’d leave the country,” Eamon advised as he bundled Rudyard inside. “Even if these gentlemen don’t kill you, they’ll blacken your name and bring suit against you. You’ve ruined yourself, Berridge. Time to go.”
Rudyard landed on the seat, blood, mucus, and tears on his face. “This is your doing, Stone.”
“Actually, no, you did this on your own.” Eamon wrenched a small bag from his pocket, which clinked as he pressed it into Rudyard’s hand. “I mean leave the country now. Tonight. There’s enough there to pay an unscrupulous ship’s mate for a crossing.”
As Rudyard stared at the bag with incomprehension, Eamon climbed into the coach himself. The coachman, thinking Eamon was another fare, started off, the open door banging.
McCormick slammed the door for them, waving them off. Eamon plunked to the opposite seat from Rudyard and shouted a direction at the driver through the hatch in the roof. Wheels skidded on cobblestones as the coachman steered them into Pall Mall and headed east.
“You’re coming with me?” Rudyard asked in a tremulous voice.
“Only as far as the London docks. To make certain you get on a ship.”
“I can’t leave England,” Rudyard bleated. “I’m a duke’s grandson. My cousin’s heir. You’ll steal him from me, beguiling him and his mother.”
Eamon shook his head. “Leo’s an amiable chap. I imagine he’ll set up some sort of allowance for you, even if the rest of the world advises him to cut you entirely.” He leaned to Rudyard, forcing the man to meet his gaze. “And if anything happens to Leo—an assassin in the dark, a hunting accident, if he even so much as skins his knee—I will come after you, and I will end you. Make no mistake about it.”
Fear flared anew in Rudyard’s eyes. “You can’t. You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. As that fellow in the Nines told you, I’m a dead shot. I’m also very good with knives.”
“You’d hang.” Rudyard’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“As long as I have my revenge, I won’t mind. And who knows? A magistrate might think me justified. But know that I will protect Leo and Caro from you with everything I have. You will be out of their lives. For good.”
Rudyard listened with his jaw slack. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Eamon sat back. “You did it to yourself, Berridge. Cheated people, juggled their money to make the influential believe you honest while you skimmed off the rest. Did the money run out? Is that why you want the dukedom—you thought it would protect you from the men you swindled? Trust me, you can’t outrun your confidence tricks forever. You’ll have to flee sooner or later. You might as well flee tonight.”
Rudyard stared. “How do you know all this?”
“I know a great deal about you,” Eamon said with finality. “I make it my business to learn all I can about people, always have. Now, I am tired of talking to you. Let us enjoy the remainder of the journey in companionable silence.”
Rudyard continued to gape, so Eamon gazed out of the window, pretending he could discern things among the smudgy fog, made opaque by the coach lights.
He half expected Rudyard to leap out of the carriage or maybe attack Eamon, and Eamon readied himself to forestall him, but Rudyard only sat like a lump. Fear had at last penetrated his arrogance.
For now, anyway. Rudyard would likely try to wriggle out of his fraud when he was safely in France or Italy and attempt to return to England with vengeance on his mind. However, Eamon knew plenty of people throughout the Continent, thanks to his father’s travels. While Sir Benedict had left distrustful acquaintances behind, Eamon had made many friends.
One of them was the captain’s mate on a ship loading at the London docks. Eamon had alerted the man through Sam Noble, and had met up with him the other morning, asking him to be ready. Eamon had planned this departure for tomorrow but tonight would serve as well.
