Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(111)
“Jesus,” someone muttered in disgust nearby.
Griffin raised his head but didn’t take his emerald eyes from hers. “Go away, Wakefield.”
Hero’s eyes widened, and she glanced wildly around until she saw her brother, still seated on his black horse, staring disapprovingly down at them.
“You can’t take him!” she cried, and clutched at Griffin’s broad shoulders. Maximus could hardly arrest Griffin if she clung to him bodily.
“He’s not going to arrest me,” Griffin said, arrogant as always. “Not if you marry me.”
“Are you blackmailing my sister?” Maximus growled.
“If I have to.” Griffin’s gaze had returned to hers, and what she saw there suddenly made her heart fly free. “I’ll do whatever it takes to marry you, Hero.”
She caressed his jaw—the only part of him not covered in blood—with unsteady fingers. “You don’t have to blackmail me to marry you. I love you.”
His eyes flared and he pulled her close again. “Do you mean that? You’ll marry me?”
“Gladly,” she breathed.
He bent his head and kissed her, but just as she opened her mouth beneath his, he jerked his head up.
“My lord!” A soldier had come running up to Maximus. “There’s rioting just to the west of here. Shall we send for reinforcements?”
Hero looked at Griffin in horror. “That’s where the home is!”
He nodded. “Right.” He glanced about and bellowed, “Deedle!”
Griffin’s valet appeared, his hair on end, one arm bloodied, but he was standing upright. “Aye, m’lord?”
“Have the Vicar’s men taken the bait?” Griffin asked cryptically.
Maximus frowned. “What’s this?”
Deedle grinned from ear to ear. “ ’Is men are in and ours are out, m’lord.”
“Then do it.”
Deedle nodded. He placed two fingers between his lips and blew a shrill, piercing whistle.
Griffin turned to Maximus. “I suggest you call your men to you.”
Maximus raised his eyebrows suspiciously but shouted, “To me!”
At once the remaining soldiers started for him.
“Taking a while, isn’t it?” Deedle said worriedly.
BOOM!
A huge concussion made the very ground shake. Bricks tumbled from the nearest buildings while at the same time an intense light lit the night. The smell of smoke filled the air.
Hero grabbed for Griffin. “What was that?”
“That’ll cut the Vicar down to size.” Griffin grinned ferociously. “Nick would’ve liked the pretty trap we set for the Vicar and his men.”
Maximus, who had been eyeing the explosion, turned to look down at them. “You blew the still, didn’t you?”
Griffin grinned. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. But if a still did blow, it might be because a very insistent lady recently showed me the evils of gin and gin distilling.”
Hero’s heart swelled as tears pricked her eyes. “Oh, Griffin!”
Maximus grunted. “You’re an annoying prick, but I suppose I must accept you into the family.”
He glanced at Hero.
She tilted her chin up. “Unless you prefer I elope?”
Maximus shuddered. “I’d never hear the end of it from Cousin Bathilda if you did.” He leaned down and offered his hand to Griffin. “Pax?”
Griffin took the proffered hand. “Pax.”
“Now.” Maximus straightened in the saddle. “Where is this orphanage?”
SILENCE LOOKED UP at the drunken tough advancing on her and wondered if she would want to live after he finished with her.
A shout came from behind the man. Since it was merely one of many raucous voices raised in the night, her attacker ignored it. But he couldn’t ignore the gloved hand that slapped down on his shoulder. The drunken lout began to turn, but he suddenly spun in an oddly graceful movement that ended with him face-first on the ground.
Silence blinked and glanced up at her savior.
And then she could only stare. The man before her looked like something out of a pantomime. He wore breeches and a tunic patterned all over in a harlequin’s red and black diamonds. On his feet were tall black jackboots, and cuffed black gloves covered his hands. A grotesque half-mask with an enormous hooked nose concealed his features, leaving only his mouth and chin bare. As she looked at him, he doffed a huge wide-brimmed black hat and swept her a courtly bow.
“You’re the Ghost of St. Giles!” she blurted.
His mouth curled at the corner, but he made no sound, simply gesturing with his hat before him as if to direct her path.
“I live over there,” she said, feeling a bit foolish for talking with a mute comic actor.