Page 136 of To Catch a Viscount

Her heart pounded hard, and Marcia dampened her mouth.

She would not, not now and not ever, allow her friends to be harmed because of her. Marcia shot a hand up.

As soon as she lifted her palm, Faith and Anwen both raised theirs.

“I am,” Marcia said quietly, slanting a look at each of her friends, trying to will them to lower their arms.

“No, I am,” Anwen said.

“That is untrue, as I am the viscount’s wife,” Faith added on a rush. She scowled. “And I am going to be very displeased with dear Andrew for the manner of rude friends he’s keeping company with, Mr.…?”

The stranger puzzled his brow and then grinned again. “Mr. Red.”

“That suits him,” Anwen whispered loud enough for her voice to ring around the carriage. “He’s very red, you know.”

“I see that,” Marcia said from the corner of her mouth.

Someone behind Mr. Red said something, and the big brute looked back. “I know,” he said impatiently and then whipped his attention forward. “You coming with us or staying?”

“Who are you?” she asked quietly.

Just then, the unconscious assailant groaned, stirred, and opened his eyes.

Mr. Red leaned down and punched the fellow once more, knocking him out a second time. He looked up. “Or you can wait around for this one—”

“We’ll go with you,” she hurried, and a moment later, Mr. Red joined them in her husband’s carriage. There came a sharp whistle, and the black barouche lurched forward.

Her stomach churned, and Marcia drew the curtain back, peering out at the man lying upon the cobblestones. His form grew smaller and smaller. She searched for Davies. “My driver—”

“He’s up top with Tavish,” the hulking stranger informed her, as if she knew who Tavish was.

“I think Lord Atbrooke needs to find better friends,” Anwen said as the carriage rocked and swayed from the precarious speed their new driver had set.

“That wasn’t a friend,” Mr. Red explained.

“Undoubtedly not.” Restless, Marcia let the curtain fall and drummed her fingertips atop her knee. “Who was he?”

Mr. Red shrugged.

Mr. Red, who’d come to her and Faith and Anwen’s rescue. Mr. Red, whom she knew not at all, but who apparently knew her husband.

Who could Andrew possibly have as an enemy? There wasn’t a thing mean about him. He was always jovial and cheerful and…

And she wanted him here. Desperately.

Her teeth scraped at her lower lip.

Andrew, her husband, was content to keep company with his fellow rakes-in-arms.

Which was hardly a promising start to their marriage.

A marriage that, given the situation in which she now found herself, promised to be as short-lived as her life.

Her breath grew raspy in her ears.

Stop it. No one came to any harm this evening.

She had her friends’ lives to consider, her friends who were in harm’s way because of Marcia.

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