“How?” the earl asked Darius, his furious gaze finally leaving the barrel of Eliza’s gun, swinging upon Darius in a way that would have cleaved head from shoulders had it a sharpened edge.
Darius shrugged and leaned against the newel post as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “Never mind the particulars. The house is mine now and most fairly acquired.”
“But, I…” the earl started to stutter and then his words trickled off.
“You lost it on a bad hand of cards. Whist of all games, I do believe. And to your most trusted business partner? For shame.” Darius looked to be enjoying himself. Eliza was not.
Wickham puffed his chest out and took a step closer. Eliza firmed her clammy grip and raised the weapon not in line with the trespasser’s heart but with his head. She could take it clean off. She knew she could.
If there’d actually been ammunition left to load into the blasted gun.
“I was going to get it back. How did you get your grubby hands on it? Last I heard of you, you died in the sea after being shoved off the side by pirates.”
A small smile played over Darius’s face but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he scratched the scar on the side of his neck with his free hand. “Those stories are mostly over-exaggerated, I’m sorry to say. As to the hows, as I said, they don’t matter. The house is mine and I won’t ever be letting it go to the likes of you.”
“I’ll buy it from you,” Harold said, his own self-importance only slightly lower than his father’s.
“You, brother, have no money. Neither does your father have any to lend you. I suspect that is the reason you accost a lady, the daughter of one of your peers, on her own doorstep.”
Wickham stepped forward once again and Eliza closed one eye, the other looking right down cold metal, her finger at the ready as though just wishing hard enough would make the thing fire. “Stop right there,” she commanded. Not believing in wishes or divine intervention didn’t prevent her from sending silent words up just in case some deity took note.
“I’d listen to her, Wickham. If she knows how to hold it, I’d wager she knows how to shoot it.”
The earl stopped but the effort it took him saw Eliza not backing down in the least. She did not trust these men any more than she had the others before them. Her father owed so much money to so many people and for now they would all receive the same welcome.
Wickham spoke again. “I seek an audience with the chit’s father. My business is not with her or her bloody gun.”
Darius made a clicking noise with his tongue as he came back to stand at her side. “Tut, tut, a gentleman wouldn’t use that kind of language in the company of a lady.”
Harold half turned away from the situation, another snide comment falling from his disgusting mouth. “Is there a lady present? I hadn’t noticed one.”
Darius’s men moved closer to him, their weapons once again at the ready.
One of them spoke. “Want me to off this one, miss?” He indicated Harold with a nod and a wink.
Eliza almost smiled. Her champions were most peculiar. “I think that mightn’t be the best idea but please do watch him. I wouldn’t want him to fall and sustain an injury.”
“That wasn’t very polite,” Darius told Harold.
Eliza wanted to know their history with each other. The very quick glance she’d risked had revealed just how much the two resembled each other, now that Darius had shaved off his beard. She had so many burning questions but her arms ached. The gun was very heavy when held up for so long. She had to rest. Perhaps sit down for a spell.
“My father is very ill and left for Bath yesterday. He isn’t even here. When he is recovered, I’ll send word and then you may speak what you will.”
“And the money he owes us?” Harold said, clearly ignoring the threat circling at his back and that it was vulgar to speak money with a duke’s daughter.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Eliza said, her voice sickly fake and just the right amount of sweet.
“A lie!” Wickham roared and then advanced. “I know you have paid some of his other debts. Mine is his last and I will have the funds.”
Before Eliza could react, before she could pull a trigger that would do absolutely nothing, Darius jumped lightly down the stair and met the earl halfway. He didn’t speak, only threw his arm wide, his pistol in his hand, and struck the man across his face. Bone crunched and the earl sagged, his hands over his nose as blood began to drip between his fingers.
Eliza winced. She was responsible for Darius’s actions on her land and on her behalf. One way or another and with nothing left to give or to sell, she knew there would be a cost for this tussle. A cost she couldn’t afford to pay.
Chapter Four
When the earl eventually formed coherent words and might reasonably listen, Darius leaned forward and spoke so quietly in his father’s ear, he hoped no one else heard. He didn’t want to add to the bruises to his sire’s ego just yet. “The next time I use this pistol in your presence, it won’t be to hit you with it. If you come back here before you damn well know the duke is back in residence, I will kill you.”
“I am an earl and you are a bastard,” he spluttered, blood dripping to the snowy ground. “Do you think your threats frighten me? I’ll have you locked up for this.”
Darius chuckled and walked back to Eliza’s side. “I do not exist,” he said to his sire. “You said yourself that I died at sea after a brush with pirates. I could kill you both
