Free A Rag-mannered Rogue by Hayley A. Solomon Page B

less concerned with the lanterns than with pleasing his master, rushed upon him and pinked him with a cunning device concealed up his sleeve. Nicholas saw the flash of steel just before he ducked, averting more immediate harm to himself, though blood flowed freely from his shirt. He divined it was a flesh wound, however, for though the graze stung, he could still breathe freely.
    â€œBlackguard!”
    â€œTie ’im up, gentlemen.”
    â€œWhat will you do with him? ’E looks naught but trouble.”
    â€œTrouble? ’E is naught but a coward.”
    â€œYou’ll not be killin’ ’im!”
    â€œSnaffle it, Millwardshire! ‘Is blood will not be on your lilywhites! ’E will live to tell us all ‘e knows. After that . . . It is not up to the common likes of you an’ me. Now go, all of yer! And one at a time, mind. We don’ want to draw no attention to ourselves. Trouble it is when folks start reportin’ on ‘avey-cavey behaviors. Stubble the lanterns, will yer? The moon is ’igh enough for our needs.”
    So saying, Fagan turned to his prisoner with a rare smile illuminated by the flames. He had a large mouth, quite handsome really, were the effect not spoiled by one cracked tooth and two gaping holes where his molars should have been. Nicholas, seeing the smile, was not inclined to return the gesture.
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    It did not take the resourceful Miss Hampstead long to make her prisoner talk. Indeed, she felt rather amiable toward him as she eased his bonds a little.
    â€œI am dreadfully sorry you are being treated like this. It is not my habit, you know, to threaten violence.”
    â€œIs it not? I would have thought you a veritable old hand at it!” The man’s clipped tone was wry as he looked into the barrel of pretty Miss Tessie’s rather businesslike gun.
    â€œNo, Grandfather would not have a bar of it, you see. My temper is too vile.”
    â€œI shall endeavor to remember that. May I sit up, Miss . . .”
    â€œEvans. Miss Charity Evans.” The lie slipped easily off her tongue. Tessie thought it was only fair to be consistent.
    Unlike her teasing gentlemen, he seemed to notice nothing amiss in the extraordinary name but merely nodded as he shifted his weight a little.
    â€œAh, Miss Evans, then. May I sit up? This tree stump is beginning to pall on me, and I have the most diverting notion that I might just cast up my accounts.”
    Rather than recoil in horror, Miss Tessie looked stricken. “Oh! If you do, it will be all my fault. It is the cod liver oil. Nasty stuff, alas, but that password was urgent.”
    At mention of the password, the man’s eyes focused and he stopped fidgeting with the bark of the tree. Apparently, his dinner was safe, for he did not cast up his accounts as threatened.
    â€œMiss Evans, answer me truly, if you please.”
    His voice held a pleasant lilt that seemed surprising in a man of his origin. Tessie made no comment, though she eyed the man speculatively. His low tones held both urgency and authority, which was really most diverting considering the circumstances.
    â€œWhy should I?”
    He continued. “You will agree that while I am bound and you are in possession of that excellent pistol, there is no immediate threat to your person.”
    Tessie’s mouth curved. “Yes. . . .” But her fingers closed quite naturally around the trigger.
    He shrugged as best he could under the circumstances.
    â€œI suppose I shall have to accustom myself to that thing, but I do implore you to point it at my arm rather than at my heart. You might sneeze.”
    There was a moment’s silence as Miss Hampstead eyed the prisoner warily, for though it is true he was tied to the tree, he nevertheless had recovered remarkably quickly from his crushing blow.
    Worse, in her opinion his voice sounded rather too animated for comfort, and she had the distinct impression he did not take her