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Lenora would have to deal with the lout. She inched forward, the scepter at the ready.

The second youth faced Lenora, legs braced and a cocky grin skewing his mouth as she bore down upon them. A man shouted something indistinguishable as she brought the staff up to fell the bully attacking the old woman. Using all of her might, she cracked it across his shoulders, sending him reeling and swearing.

“Lenora!” Mama shrieked, terror turning her voice strident.

Cursing foully, the larger thief pulled a wicked-looking knife from his boot.

“No,” roared a man from somewhere nearby. “Unhand her.”

Finally. Someone else with a backbone and a jot of courage.

Lenora didn’t dare turn to see who gave the order with such icy fury and authority.

Fear etched the robber’s suddenly waxen face as he dashed a frantic glance around and moved his blade to his other hand. What stirred such panic in a ruthless cur who’d long since forfeited any integrity or honor?

“Give over yer purse.” The first young man wrenched on the woman’s reticule again, pulling the matron off balance.

“No. I shan’t.” She tottered unsteadily, her free arm waving widely.

Lenora instinctively tossed aside the scepter and threw herself in front of the elderly woman. She wrapped her arms around the dame’s petite form and rotated so she’d take the brunt of the fall.

Again, she heard her mother and sister-in-law cry out her name.

“Bloody hell,” a man thundered. “I’ll see you in Newgate, you damnable lickspittle.”

Lenora’s nape prickled at the ferocity.

The words lashed the air with their intensity. It was enough to put the fear of God in everyone witnessing the scene. Mayhap even the curs carrying out their botched robbery.

Bracing her legs, Lenora struggled valiantly to keep herself and the lady upright.

“Let’s be off, Janxy,” the larger villain growled, his nervous gaze darting over the crowd. “We gots one purse. We still have time to pick a few swells afore the day be over.”

The other scraggly thief scanned the crowd for half a second before giving his head a sharp nod.

The footpads dove into the gathering crowd, roughly elbowing people aside in their flight.

“Stop. Thief,” a man yelled.

“Catch them,” a woman trilled. “Don’t let them escape.”

Lenora seriously doubted any of the bystanders would attempt to detain a ruffian brandishing a knife with what she perceived as considerable skill.

The aged woman sagged, giving up her attempts to regain her balance.

A fall was imminent.

An instant later, Lenora hit the pavement. Hard. Her hips and shoulders vibrated from the impact before her head snapped back and cracked against the unyielding ground.

Sweet Jesus on Sunday.

A grunt escaped her as the old lady gave a panicked shriek.

The pain nearly crossed Lenora’s tear-filled eyes, and she nearly blacked out.

“Grandmother!”