Page 15 of Thief Taker

“Don’t you run, Rowsley!” shouted Bell.

The coach started to move forward but there was a sharp rap from inside and Duvall snapped, “Stop at once.”

Bloody cod’s head.

Flannigan hauled on the reins and, belatedly, Elias realised he was supposed to jump down and open the carriage door. But he was too late; Duvall was already jumping out, looking around with lips pursed and a face like thunder. “Who the devil—?”

And then he saw Bell leering at him with his gap-toothed smile. “Well, you ain’t Rowsley.”

Duvall went to step forward but Elias stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. “Don’t,” he said quietly. Those blue eyes sparked, both astonished and affronted, as they dipped to Elias’s hand on his arm. Elias didn’t give a damn for his anger; Bell was undoubtedly armed. “He’s a dangerous man,” he warned and tightened his grip.

Setting his jaw, Duvall said, “As am I. Remove your hand, Mr. Cole.”

Elias believed him—he looked dangerous as hell. Lifting his hands in submission, he let Duvall prowl forward.

“Who the devil are you?” he said, regarding Bell coolly.

“I’ve a message for Viscount Rowsley—from Hal Foxe.”

Duvall paused, then said, “And who might he be?”

Bell bared his rotten teeth and pulled a cudgel from under his coat. “A man what has a message for Viscount Rowsley.”

The hairs on the back of Elias’s neck rose, the scent of violence dry as tinder. He shouldn’t intervene—he didn’t want Hal to know he was involved here—but this thick-skulled nob was about to get himself a basting. And Tobin wouldn’t thank Elias for that, even if it wasn’t his fault.

Duvall’s shoulders straightened, chin lifting. “I’m Viscount Rowsley’s brother,” he said. “You may give me your message.”

God’s teeth…

Elias rolled onto the balls of his feet, anticipating what was coming.

Bell’s grin broadened. “As you like.”

He swung the cudgel, but Elias was already moving. Slamming his fist down onto Bell’s wrist, he knocked the weapon to the ground before grabbing Bell’s shabby coat in both hands and shunting him hard against the railings. “Stow it, Bell,” he growled, low enough that nobody else could hear. “He ain’t who you’re after.”

“I’m here to send a message to—”

Elias tightened his grip, hauling the man up so his toes almost left the ground. “Consider it delivered,” he hissed into the man’s face. “And you can take one back to Hal, too. Tell him Rowsley is my business. Understand?”

“I—”

Elias jammed him hard against the railings. “Understand?”

“Enough,” Bell snarled. “I get it.”

With a grunt, Elias let him go. “Nah”—he kicked the cudgel away before Bell could reach for it—“you won’t be needing that.”

Gathering what dignity he could muster, Bell scowled at Elias before he turned and sauntered slowly back down the street. Elias cursed silently to himself. He’d have to settle this with Hal, but there was nothing for it; he couldn’t let John Bell get in the way. Especially now he knew that Rowsley had business with Foxe. Damn, but the man must be in very low water if he was borrowing money from the likes of Hal Foxe. It wasn’t a great leap to consider what else he might be doing to meet those pressing debts.

At last Bell turned the corner and disappeared from view. It was only then that Elias became aware of the heavy silence around him. Flannigan sat agape atop the coach and Duvall watched Elias with an expression caught between outrage and something more penetrating. In the flush of the fight, it was enough to make Elias’s blood surge.

“That,” Duvall said in a low voice, “was unnecessary.”

Elias snorted. “Not unless you wanted a drubbing, sir. I’d—”

“Cole!” he barked. “I’ll not have anyone in this household behaving like a common ruffian.”

It was on the tip of Elias’s tongue to say, And what about your brother’s friends? But perhaps he didn’t need to, perhaps Duvall had the same thought, because his sharp cheekbones flushed pink and not, Elias thought, in anger.