A Daring Liaison(54)
The shadow of a movement from behind drew him from his introspection and he turned just in time to see the flash of a blade slicing downward. Instinctively, he dodged to the side and rolled, coming up on his feet. Both slashes would have been killing blows if the attacker had made contact. A second later and he’d have been dead, a knife in his back.
Still a possibility.
His assailant lunged again and Charles bobbed to the side, then drove into the man’s midsection with his right shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Through the gloom, he could see that the man wore a black woolen hood with two ragged eyeholes cut out, much like an executioner’s mask. Why the precaution unless Charles would recognize him?
“Gibbons,” he snarled. “Finally decide to do your own dirty work?”
The man pulled off his mask and grinned, exposing two rows of rotten teeth. “Think yer clever? How clever will y’be when yer dead?”
Gibbons gained his feet and crouched, swaying from side to side in an invitation for Charles to lunge again.
Instead he fell back a step. “Big words, Dick. Back them up.”
Gibbons charged forward with his right leg, slashing the knife in a wide arc. Charles dodged to the side, the knife barely missing his midsection. He seized Gibbons’s arm, twisted and pulled, fully intending to break the infernal thing.
Gibbons howled in pain, his numbed fingers dropping the knife. Charles slipped his own knife from his boot and advanced. Kill the bastard, or take him in?
The gloom came alive with groomsmen, stable boys and drivers. “’Ere, now! What’s afoot, lads?” the stable master shouted, running up behind Charles.
Gibbons used the moment to spin and retreat toward the maze of narrow lanes and alleys outside the commons, his arm dangling uselessly from the shoulder socket. Dislocated, but not broken, damn it all. As Charles leaped to follow, the stable master seized him by the jacket.
“No trouble ’ere, lad. This be a peaceful place.”
Charles jerked free, but the delay had cost him the pursuit. He’d never find Gibbons with such a lead—that scum-dwelling assassin.
One of the stable boys, having recognized Charles, brought his horse. He slipped his knife back in his boot, tossed the lad a coin and mounted. As he turned toward home, the wry humor of the situation dawned on him.
He’d been meaning to provoke an attack. If Gibbons had been following him, this had been a perfect place and time to act. But he’d meant to incite Georgiana’s tormentor. Not his. Ah, well. All in a day’s work.
* * *
Georgiana settled in the carriage, trying to calm her nerves. She’d met most of the Hunters, but she’d never met the eldest, Lord Lockwood, or his wife, Lady Elise. She took courage from the fact that she was wearing her new gown and knew she looked more than presentable and every bit as fashionable as Lady Elise would be.
She’d expected Charles to take a place beside her after he handed her up, but he sat across from her instead, facing backward. They started off with a little jerk and he braced himself with a shoe to the seat beside her. A little smile hovered at the corners of his mouth as he studied her. He was so completely handsome tonight that she feared her heart was in her eyes so she glanced away.
“No more country mouse,” he murmured. “You will not be easy to ignore.”
“Do you want to ignore me?”
“Not in the least, Georgiana. I thought you knew that. Would you like me to show you what I want from you?”
“No!” The last thing she wanted was to arrive at Charles’s brother’s house looking disheveled and wrinkled. “I’d much rather you behaved yourself.”
“Really?” He licked his lips and smiled again.
Her heartbeat hammered rapidly and heat washed through her. She knew too well the havoc that tongue could cause to her senses. To her free will. And was causing havoc to her now with just his subtle reminder. “Behave yourself, Charles.”
“’Twill be a long, boring evening if I do.”
“’Twill be a mortifying evening if you do not.”
“I am not feeling in the least bit civil.” He knocked on the roof above him. “Change of plans, Peter. Belmonde’s,” he called to his driver.
“Belmonde’s?” she queried as the coach turned.
“A place where it will not matter how I behave.”
“But—”
“I’ve decided I want you to myself tonight, Georgiana. My brothers will understand.”