“Nathan,” he murmured, using that same tone of exasperation he’d used when they were children.
“Lucas,” his brother echoed, in exactly the same way.
And then it was done. They were kids again, facing off after one of them had made a mistake. “I’m so sorry,” Lucas said.
Nathan took the step forward and embraced him. His arms were thicker than when they were children, his grip a thousand times more welcome. And after the emotional moment he’d had with Diana, this felt like another tidal wave of feeling. He hugged his brother, using the time to let the tears slip free because he could hide them in his brother’s rough cloak. And when Nathan shuddered in his arms, Lucas felt his own breath release.
He was welcome. His brother didn’t wish him dead.
“Damn you,” Nathan said against his ear. “Father’s going to—”
“No!” He jerked back, out of his brother’s arms, feeling his chest tighten. “No,” he said more calmly.
“But they deserve—”
“Let me tell them in my own way. Give me that, at least.”
Nathan didn’t look like he would agree, so Lucas took a stab at explaining.
“Imagine it, Nathan. The moment Mama sees me alive and comprehends the truth.”
“She’d be so—”
“Happy? Truly? Certainly, she’ll make a show of it, but remember how happy she was when you took my title. Can you remember one time when she ever looked on me with such joy?”
He waited, his breath held as Nathan finally let his head drop. “Very well,” he said, “but Papa—”
“He’s not a man for change—for good or ill. You know that. He won’t like it simply because—”
“It’s not what he is accustomed to.” Nathan nodded. “But you must tell them. You must take your place.”
Lucas let the thought hang. Did he really need to take his title? Truly? He had some money and work that he was good at. It wasn’t the life of leisure most titled peers enjoyed, but he’d never lived that. Not even when he was in school and his friends were future aristocrats. In many ways, the life of a soldier had suited him better, as did the management of men who watched over a gaming hell and the workers within. He had grown so used to not having any of the responsibilities of his title that he wondered if it was something he truly needed.
“You wear it much better.”
“The hell I do,” his brother spat.
What happened next came by luck, not because he’d been paying enough attention. He heard a rustle in the shrubbery and a muffled grunt. If he hadn’t been arguing with his brother, he would never have allowed Diana to stand so far apart from him or so near the shadows. The noise was all that alerted him, and even so, he was too slow.
A hand came out of the shrubbery and grabbed Diana. She gasped in surprise as she was jerked back, but another hand covered her mouth, and any noise she made was muffled. Didn’t matter. Lucas was already leaping forward, knocking the bastard back—twobastards. No,three, all stepping out of the shadows. He tried to pull Diana sideways toward his brother. It didn’t work. She was held too fast. Worse, he saw the glint of a blade in the lamplight. He was about to stab Diana!
He tried to knock the blade aside, but he already knew he was too late. Almost at the same instant, he saw a coin flash almost as bright as the blade. Nathan had thrown it, his accuracy uncanny ever since he’d learned the trick as a boy. It zipped past Lucas’s vision to land square in the attacker’s eye. The blackguard cried out and recoiled, which gave Lucas the time he needed.
He knocked the blade aside, then grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted hard. It was enough to free Diana, especially as she slammed her elbow into the bastard’s chest before dropping down below the grip of his arms.
She was on the ground, rolling to safety. That gave room for Lucas to release his full fury. Even with a damaged hand, he was a fast fighter. Whatever power was lost because of his mangled hand was made up for in speed. He moved quickly as he steadily pummeled the man. And as Nathan took on one of the blighters, Lucas managed to handle the other two. He fought as he had been taught—with hands, feet, and any other weapon that could be brought to bear. In this case, he made sure one tripped over a tree root, and the other got tangled in the shrubbery. Not to mention the steady pelting of sticks and pebbles that Diana threw at their faces.
It was over quickly. The moment the brutes realized they faced true opponents and not a frightened woman, they scrambled back into the bushes and away. Lucas meant to go after them, but he checked the impulse. His first priority was Diana. He spun around to see her launching two clods of dirt with impressive speed. He even heard the grunt of one of the attackers as her missile landed. But then she stopped, her breath coming in quick gasps as she looked around.
“Is that all? Are there more?” she asked.
Nathan hadn’t stopped when Lucas turned back for Diana. They could hear him now crashing through the underbrush. But a moment later, he returned with a grim expression.
“They’re gone,” he said. “There’s a path that leads back to the river.”
Lucas had already guessed as much. Meanwhile, he scanned Diana from head to toe. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
She slapped her hands together to brush off the dirt. “Only my pride. I had heard that Vauxhall could be dangerous, but I never thought—”
