If He's Wicked. Hannah Howell

succeed, another shadowy form appeared. This one was much smaller. It leapt out of the thick dark to land squarely upon his attacker’s back. As Julian felt himself grow weaker, he finally got his pistol out of his pocket only to realize that he could not see clearly enough to shoot the man who had stabbed him. Even now the pistol was proving too heavy for him to hold. If this was a rescue, he feared it had come too late.

      Chloe held on tight as the man who had stabbed the earl did his best to shake her off his back. She punched him in the head again and again, ignoring his attempts to grab hold of her, as she waited for Todd and Wynn to catch up with her. The moment they arrived she flung herself from the man’s back and let Leo’s burly men take over the fight. She winced at the sounds of fists hitting flesh, something that sounded a lot more painful than her fist hitting a very hard head, and hurried to the earl’s side.

      He did not look much like the elegant gentleman she had seen from time to time over the last three years. Not only were his fine clothes a mess, but also he stank of cheap liquor, cheap women, fish, and blood. Chloe took his pistol from his limp hand, set it aside, and then, with strips torn from her petticoats and his cravat, bound his wounds as best she could. She prayed she could slow his bleeding until she could get him to Leo’s house and tend to his injuries properly.

      “Need him alive,” Julian said, his voice weak and hoarse with pain. “Need to ask questions.”

      Glancing behind her, Chloe saw the man sprawled on the ground, Todd and Wynn looking satisfied as they idly rubbed their knuckles. “Did you kill him?”

      “Nay, lass, just put him in a deep sleep,” replied Wynn.

      “Good. His lordship wants to ask him a few questions.”

      “Well enough, then. We will tie him up and take him with us.”

      “My carriage—” began Julian.

      “Gone, m’lord,” replied Chloe. “Your coachman still lives and we have him safe.”

      “Wynn’s got the other man,” said Todd as he stepped up to Chloe. “I will be toting his lordship.”

      Julian tried to protest as he was picked up and carried like a child by the big man, but no one heeded him. He looked at the small figure leading them out of the alley and suddenly realized that one of his rescuers was a woman. This has to be some delusion brought on by too much drink, he thought.

      When he was settled on a plush carriage seat, he looked across at his coachman. Danny’s head was bloody but his chest rose and fell evenly proving that he still lived. The small woman climbed into the carriage and knelt on the floor between the seats, placing a hand on him and the other on Danny to hold them steady as the carriage began to move.

      “Who are you?” he asked, struggling to remain conscious and wondering why he even bothered.

      “Hold your questions for now, m’lord,” she replied. “Best they wait until we can sew you up and some of that foul brew you wallowed in tonight is cleared out of your head and belly.”

      His rescuer obviously had little respect for his consequence, Julian thought as he finally gave in to the blackness that had been pulling at him.

      Chloe sat in a chair by the bed and sipped her coffee as she studied the earl of Colinsmoor. He smelled better now that he had been cleaned up but his elegant features held signs of the deep dissipation he had sunk himself in for the last year. She had been disappointed in him and a little disgusted when he had begun to wallow in drink and whores, but Leopold had told her that men tended to do such things when they had suffered a betrayal at a woman’s hands. Chloe supposed that if her heart had been shattered so brutally, she too might have done something foolish. Yet, rutting like a goat and drinking oneself blind seemed a little excessive.

      Even so, she had to wonder if the earl was lacking in wits. Three times before this he had nearly been killed, yet he had continued to do things that left him vulnerable, just as he had done two nights ago. Did he think he was simply a very unlucky man? She had hoped he knew he was marked for death and at least had some idea of the who and the why. Chloe did not look forward to trying to get the man to heed her warnings, but Leopold felt they could no longer just keep watch over the man, that it was time to act.

      For little Anthony’s sake she had agreed. The boy saw her and Leo as his family. The longer that was allowed to continue, the harder it would be to reunite him with his father. Her heart would break when that happened, but she was determined to see that Anthony did not suffer unduly. The boy also needed his father alive to help him claim his heritage and hold fast to it. Between the earl’s increasingly dissipated ways and his mother’s greed, Anthony would not have much heritage left to claim unless this game was ended very soon. That was unacceptable to her. Anthony was innocent in all of this and did not deserve to suffer for the follies of his parents.

      She smiled at her cousin Leopold when he ambled into the room. Leopold never seemed to move fast, appeared permanently languid in his every action, but it suited his tall, almost lanky, body. Those who did not know him well thought him an amiable but useless fellow living off the wealth of his forefathers. Appearances could be deceptive, however. Leopold had been indefatigable in his surveillance of the Kenwoods, had gathered up reams of information, had assembled a large group of associates who were all dedicated to keeping the earl alive and getting proof of who was trying to kill him, and was himself responsible for saving the man’s life three times. England also benefited from dear Leopold’s many skills, for he was one of their most dedicated and successful agents. Chloe wondered at times if there was something about the earl’s enemies that made Leopold think they might be a threat to England as well, but she never asked. Leopold held fast to the country’s secrets.

      “He will live,” Leopold said after carefully examining Lord Kenwood’s wounds.

      “Again. The man has more lives than a cat,” Chloe drawled.

      “His enemies are certainly persistent.” Leopold lounged at the end of the bed, his back against the thick ornately carved post. “Clever, too. If not for us they would have won this game long ago, even after his lordship discovered the ugly truth about his wife.”

      “Ah, but not all the ugly truth.”

      “I think he suspects most of it. He already strongly suspects that that babe was not his get. And that his wife was never faithful to him, never much cared for him at all.”

      “How do you know all that?”

      “His best friend has become mine. Do not look so uneasy, love. I truly like the fellow. Met him the first time I saved this poor sot’s hide. Thought he could be useful, but quickly saw that he was a man I could call friend. Even more important—he was a man I could trust.”

      Chloe nodded and set aside her empty cup. “How much does this friend know?”

      “Nearly all. Guessed most of it himself. Since I was already disinclined to lie to the man, I implied that I had begun to look into the business after the second attempt on the earl’s life. He told me that was exactly when Lord Kenwood himself had begun to believe that his wife wanted him dead, that she was no longer happy just cuckolding him.”

      “Who is this friend?”

      “The honorable Sir Edgar Dramfield.”

      “Oh, I know him. I have met him at Lady Millicent’s on occasion. She is his godmother. A very good fellow. He is kinder to Lady Millicent than her own daughter is.”

      “He is a good man and he is very concerned about his friend. That is why I sent word to him this morning about Lord Kenwood’s injuries, asking him to keep it quiet. Very quiet. He will undoubtedly arrive soon.”

      “Are you sure that is wise? Lord Kenwood may not wish others to hear what we have to tell him.”

      Leopold sighed. “It was a hard decision. Yet the earl does not know us at all, does he? He has, however, known Edgar all his life, trusts him, and has bared his soul to the man on a few occasions.”

      “Whilst deep