“Oh…I did not realize…I’m sure I….” Lady Hamilton continued to blink and shift restlessly as Lenore clasped their hands together and bowed her head over them.
The scene was so melodramatic that Phin would have laughed, if he weren’t so dumbfounded by the turn the evening had taken. Here he was trying to save Lenore’s life, and she had found a way to save his in the middle of it all.
“Please forgive me, Lady Hamilton,” Lenore rushed on. “I had no way of knowing I would hurt someone as fine and noble as you. I’m just a rube compared to you. I should have come to you first to instruct me in the ways of society.”
Phin had to cover his mouth as Lenore laid it on a little too thick. Gleason did the same, his eyes wide with disbelief. Lady Hamilton lapped it up, however.
“There, there,” she said, freeing one of her hands so that she could pat Lenore’s head, as though she were a child. “It’s perfectly understandable that someone of your limited background wouldn’t know how these things are done.”
“Are you…are you forgiving me, my lady?” Lenore glanced up at her with tear-damp eyes and a look of contrition that was so convincing even Phin felt her regret. “That would be so astoundingly magnanimous of you.”
“I suppose I am,” Lady Hamilton sighed. “And in the end, no real harm was done. Lord Compton seemed very taken with my Agnes this evening, and she with him. I asked around, and do you know, it turns out he is to inherit an earldom one day. And his family is quite well off and well-connected. In fact, I’m not sure I could have found a better match for her myself.”
Phin’s mouth quirked into a grin. Lionel knew what he was doing better than anyone Phin could name when it came to making society matches. He should have hired out those services to make his way in the world instead of other services, though Phin was fairly certain he knew which services were more enjoyable to hand out.
“Now that we’ve sorted this out,” he said, clearing his throat and stepping forward. “If you will excuse us, Miss Garrett and I are in a bit of a hurry. We have a train to catch before—”
His excuse was cut off by a flurry of angry voices coming from the street. The commotion approached the door, and a moment later, someone pounded on the door with a heavy fist.
“I know you’re in there,” Swan’s voice roared through the door. “Let me in or you’ll all be sorry.”
“Oh dear.” Lady Hamilton clasped a hand to her chest as Lenore gasped and dodged behind her, using the woman as a shield. “Is that Mr. Swan?”
Her question was answered as Swan kicked at Phin’s door, splintering the doorframe around the lock and throwing the door itself open. Phin spotted the neighbor’s son dashing away, which must have been the source of the confrontation. There was no time to think about it, though. Swan barged into the hall, drawing a revolver from his side.
“Where is my wife?” he growled, waving his gun, eyes mad with fury.
Chapter 20
Lenore felt like a coward and a fool for jumping behind Lady Hamilton as Bart made his entrance. Her one saving grace was that she recovered quickly, bolstered by the confidence Phin had shown in her and the fact that they were in his house, on his ground.
Her burst of renewed courage helped considerably when Lady Hamilton shrieked at the top of her lungs and twisted to grab Lenore and thrust her forward like a shield when Bart drew his gun.
“Oh, dear God, he’s going to kill me,” Lady Hamilton screamed.
As soon as Bart noticed Lenore, his eyes narrowed with hatred, his nostrils flared, and he showed his teeth in a vicious grimace. He turned his gun on her. “You fooled me once by running out on me at that hotel in Laramie,” he hissed. “You fooled me twice by getting away again. Well, you’re not getting away this time, sweetheart.”
Bart pulled back the hammer of his revolver. Lenore had less than a second to shove Lady Hamilton to the side before he fired. The wood paneling of Phin’s wall splintered as a bullet struck at point blank range. Lady Hamilton screamed even louder, throwing her hands up over her head and tearing down the hall. She ducked into the nearest parlor before Lenore could regain her balance.
Bart took aim again, but before Lenore could move, Det. Gleason threw himself toward Bart. The gun went off, but the bullet shot straight into the ceiling, raining plaster down on them. Lenore didn’t have time to lunge toward Phin or even to breathe. She could only watch as short, slight Det. Gleason grabbed Bart’s right arm and twisted it behind his back, then kept moving in such a way that Bart dropped face down to the floor with a resounding thump. A moment later, Det. Gleason had his foot planted in the center of Bart’s back and Bart’s arm yanked up at a sickening angle behind him while Bart screamed in pain. His gun skittered across the floor, coming to rest by the baseboard near the door.
Phin hissed a curse that would have curled Lenore’s hair, if it weren’t already standing on end after the confrontation they’d just been through. “Good job, Gleason,” he exclaimed before striding to Lenore
