Page 135 of To Catch a Viscount

An always, garrulous Anwen instantly went quiet.

“No,” Marcia insisted, because surely the only thing worse than being in a loveless marriage—or rather, in a marriage where the love was one-sided—was earning pity from her friends over that state. “I… It is just new and different.” Her protestations sounded weak even to her own ears. She forced a smile. “And how should I not be happy? I am with my two best friends.”

Both women instantly smiled.

There came a sharp cry from the driver’s box, and the carriage lurched to the right.

Crying out, Marcia braced her feet upon the floor to keep from flying forward. Her shriek blended with those of her friends as the conveyance swayed back and forth, barreling forward at a breakneck speed, and then she went lurching back as the driver yanked on the reins.

Faith and Anwen remained unable to hold their places on their bench and toppled forward, landing hard against Marcia.

She grunted as one of the young lady’s heads collided with hers.

And then the carriage came to a blessed and complete stop.

But for the occasional groan from her friends, the stillness that followed proved eerie, with an impending sense of danger that hovered in the air just before a lightning strike.

The driver yanked the door open.

“We’re all right,” she said to Davies. “We…” Marcia’s words trailed off as she peered through the tangle of her friends’ limbs, and her heart fell. “You are not Davies,” she said needlessly.

The big, burly lion of a man flashed a wide grin, displaying a row of uneven teeth. “No, I’m not Davies.” He looked from Marcia to Faith and Anwen. “Which one of you is Waters’s wife?” he demanded.

Oh, God.

Her friends looked to Marcia, and then scrambled onto the bench, squeezing themselves on either side of her.

Marcia knew precisely who’d sent them. Atbrooke and the baroness had failed in a bribe, and now intended to exact a ransom. “You’re a friend of Lord Atbrooke, are you not?”

“A friend of Atbrooke?” The balding stranger tossed his head back and howled with his amusement. “Aye, sure. We’re real close.”

Anwen lifted a hand up and spoke behind her gloved palm. “I don’t think they are really friends.”

The man’s smile fell, and he scowled. Brandishing a pistol, he pointed it at them, alternating his aim between them. “And oi’m looking to get closer to Waters’s wife. Well, now?” he asked impatiently. “I asked you a question. Which one of you is Waters’s new wife?”

“That does seem like a bit of a redundancy,” Faith blurted, and the burly fellow’s attention swung to the two other ladies. “As he’s married, and he would not be capable of having a second wife unless his first wife had perished.” As soon as those words left her, Faith went pale. “Which she hasn’t and doesn’t intend to for—”

“Will you shut your mouth?” the man barked. He shot a hand out, catching Faith in the ear that she still was still capable of hearing from. He raised a fist for a second time, but Marcia pushed her friend out of the way, putting herself between Faith and that fist, absorbing this second blow to the cheek.

Pain radiated along her jawline, and dazed, she blinked back the stars dotting her vision.

Marcia made a show of slumping forward, dimly registering her friends’ cries as she stretched her fingers towards the warming bricks.

“Now,” the man went on, “you’re making me angry, and I don’t want to get angry. So I’ll ask it one more time. Which one of you is—?”

Marcia gripped the brick, and brought it back in a wide arc.

The man abruptly stopped. His eyes went wide, and then rolled to the back of his head, as he slumped to the ground.

“I… did you hit him?” Anwen asked.

She hadn’t. She’d intended to.

Unblinking, Marcia stared at the enormous, ginger-headed fellow standing over their assailant. He eyed the brick still clutched in her fingers. “Which one of you is Waters’s wife?” he asked in rough Cockney, his tone casual, as if a man did not remain unconscious at his feet, bleeding from his nose.

“That seems to be the question of the night,” Faith muttered.

“Well?” he prodded, looking between each of them.

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