Chapter Six
“If you askme, Dom expecting us all to wallow in the monkery is spoony,” Gavin grumbled. “I could have won two prizefights in the time it took us to rumble here in a carriage. How the hell am I to keep up with my sparring?”
“Especially with the Winters and all the other nibs.” Genevieve tilted her head, eying the trunk of the tree where she intended to throw her blade from beneath the brim of her hat. “At least we can throw knives here. Damned difficult to do at The Devil’s Spawn without some drunken shite wandering past and taking a blade to the ear.”
It had happened once. Gen had sliced a portion of Lord Hildebrand’s earlobe when he had inadvertently wandered into one of their knife-tossing competitions. A surprising amount of blood had ensued for a small wound. To say nothing of the manner in which old Lord Hildebrand had pissed in his breeches…
“You are taking too long, Gen,” Demon complained. “It’s sodding cold out here. My fingers will freeze before you make your throw.”
“Aye, and then how will you lift all the ladies’ skirts?” Gavin chortled.
Blade watched his siblings, gathered beneath a copse of winter-barren trees, a familiar sense of belonging sliding through him. They had arrived that morning. Thank bloody fuck, because Blade could ill afford to go about kissing Lady Felicity Hughes senseless in the yellow salon for the second day in a row.
The thought of Lady Felicity—and her sweet lips—sent heat flaring through him in direct opposition to the frigid December day.
“Mayhap I’ll just make all the birds hold their skirts,” Demon suggested with a rakehell’s grin. “Ready access to whatever I need, and they do all the work for me. Fair enough with all the pleasure I give them.”
“Spare us the disgusting particulars before I retch.” Gen snorted. “Don’t know why they’re all so eager for you to trick them out of their petticoats and fleece them.”
“They aren’t,” Blade added his voice to the good-natured banter. It was better than wallowing in unwanted thoughts about Lady Felicity. “He has to get them tap-hackled first.”
“Eh, if we need advice on hownotto impress a lady, we will ask you,” Gavin told him. “Fought any duels since you arrived?”
“Run bare-arsed down the halls to escape an angry husband?” Gen asked, snickering.
“Lady Penhurst sends her love,” Demon offered.
Well, bloody hell.He supposed he deserved that. But the reminder of his folly nettled. Had he expected any less from his siblings? No. Demon, Genevieve, and Gavin were a cutthroat trio if ever there was one.
“Throw the damned blade, Gen,” he growled at his sister.
His siblings laughed. But just as Gen was about to throw her dagger at last, Demon issued a feigned sneeze that was loud enough to be overheard back in East London.
The weapon flew from her fingers, missing the tree trunk she had been aiming for and hurtling wide, catapulting into the thick forest. A cry rose, almost instantly. Feminine.
Familiar.
Lady Felicity.
Blade’s mouth went dry. His booted feet were moving before his mind could make sense of what had just happened. He was tearing through the sticks and thin winter undergrowth, racing to where the sound of her cry had emerged. Downhill, as it turned out. He and his siblings had been on a ridge that was quite deceptive, given the subtle flare of the land and the sheer number of trees.
He slid and slipped on a mixture of snow and ice that blanketed the ground as he spotted a felled form. Dark hair, pastel skirts, and a pale cloak trimmed with fur caught his attention.
Good God, it was her.
And she was lying on the ground.
Terror crept into his heart. Had Gen’s blade hit her?
“Lady Felicity!” he called, his voice hoarse with fear.
Dimly, he was aware of the sound of his siblings chasing after him down the embankment, following him through the snow. He sank to his knees at her side when he reached her, not giving a damn about the cold and wet seeping through the knees of his trousers, biting into his shins.
She was alert, though her face was pale. Shock? Pain?
“My lady,” he said, cupping her face with his gloved hands. “Are you injured? Tell me where.”
“Mr. Winter?” Her brow furrowed. “I… What are you doing here?”
