trace of blood scrubbed away, all before anyone came upon the scene. Then you would have Jem's and my disappearance to account for. Hue and cry would be raised for us, and you would inevitably come under the kind of close scrutiny that, under the circumstances, I am quite sure you would rather avoid."
He met her gaze for the briefest of moments.
"You're a mighty cool customer, madam, I'll give you that," he said with a slight, wry twist of his lips. Despite a protesting murmur from his henchman, who stood just behind him glowering at them over his broad shoulder, he carefully eased the hammer down into a safe position and repocketed the pistol. "So which is it, do you think, Gabriella? Have I refrained from shooting the two of you because I fear bringing the household down around my ears, or because the task of disposing of two— how did you put it, bloody corpses? —is beyond me?"
"I have no idea." Gabby's voice was unruffled. "Nor do I particularly care."
"You rascals, by this time tomorrow the Runners will be after you," Jem said with relish, having apparently decided, now that the pistol was out of sight and the imposter was responding so lightly to Gabby's challenge, that the enemy was well on the way to being routed. "If 'twere me, I'd be taking to me heels as soon as ever I could. I dunno but what impersonating a belted earl ain't a hangin' offense."
This, Gabby could not help but feel, was unnecessary provocation. The false Wickham's gaze flicked to Jem, running over him from the top of his salt-and-pepper head to his sturdy boots, giving the impression that it missed nothing in between.
"You know, you are growing most tiresome, the pair of you. I really cannot have you spouting your nonsense all over London." His tone was thoughtful. Crossing his arms over his chest, he regarded them out of narrowed eyes.
"Let me take care of the bloody nuisances for ye, Cap'n," growled the hitherto silent giant at his back. "I won't 'ave no problem riddin' us o' a pair o' plaguey corpses."
"Then I see I need no longer hold back." The imposter looked at Gabby with a sardonic smile. Jem immediately thrust her behind him again, almost oversetting her in the process, and reached inside his coat, withdrawing from an inner pocket a pistol that Gabby had not even known he carried. Horrified, she watched as he brandished the pistol at their adversaries, facing them with the gloating expression of one who held all the aces even though he had to tilt his head back to look up into the faces of the taller men.
"You'll keep a proper distance from Miss Gabby, ye scoundrels," Jem said through his teeth. "Miss Gabby, do you go back along to the book room and lock yourself in. I'll deal with…"
The imposter's fist shot out so fast that Gabby barely saw it move, and connected with Jem's chin with a wicked-sounding crack. Jem's grizzled head snapped back, and without a word he crumpled to the floor, landing with a sickening thud. The pistol skittered harmlessly across the floor. Grinning, Barnet moved to scoop it up.
For a moment Gabby could only stare in horror at her fallen champion, who sprawled senseless almost at her feet. Then her accusing gaze shifted to her ersatz brother, who looked maddeningly calm as he rubbed his knuckles with the thumb of the opposite hand. Behind him, his henchman chortled approval as he pocketed the pistol. At the sound, her spine stiffened and she felt her temper begin to heat.
"You have now run your length," she said icily to her false brother. She crouched rather clumsily beside Jem, ascertained with a touch that he still breathed, and glared up at the man looming over them. "Whoever you are, whatever game you are playing at, this farce is now at an end. If you do not turn yourself about, instantly, and leave my house, taking that— that sniggering ape with you, I shall scream the place down."
"Unwise to utter threats you can't carry out, Gabriella." There was a taunting note to his voice.
"Oh, can't
He met her gaze for the briefest of moments.
"You're a mighty cool customer, madam, I'll give you that," he said with a slight, wry twist of his lips. Despite a protesting murmur from his henchman, who stood just behind him glowering at them over his broad shoulder, he carefully eased the hammer down into a safe position and repocketed the pistol. "So which is it, do you think, Gabriella? Have I refrained from shooting the two of you because I fear bringing the household down around my ears, or because the task of disposing of two— how did you put it, bloody corpses? —is beyond me?"
"I have no idea." Gabby's voice was unruffled. "Nor do I particularly care."
"You rascals, by this time tomorrow the Runners will be after you," Jem said with relish, having apparently decided, now that the pistol was out of sight and the imposter was responding so lightly to Gabby's challenge, that the enemy was well on the way to being routed. "If 'twere me, I'd be taking to me heels as soon as ever I could. I dunno but what impersonating a belted earl ain't a hangin' offense."
This, Gabby could not help but feel, was unnecessary provocation. The false Wickham's gaze flicked to Jem, running over him from the top of his salt-and-pepper head to his sturdy boots, giving the impression that it missed nothing in between.
"You know, you are growing most tiresome, the pair of you. I really cannot have you spouting your nonsense all over London." His tone was thoughtful. Crossing his arms over his chest, he regarded them out of narrowed eyes.
"Let me take care of the bloody nuisances for ye, Cap'n," growled the hitherto silent giant at his back. "I won't 'ave no problem riddin' us o' a pair o' plaguey corpses."
"Then I see I need no longer hold back." The imposter looked at Gabby with a sardonic smile. Jem immediately thrust her behind him again, almost oversetting her in the process, and reached inside his coat, withdrawing from an inner pocket a pistol that Gabby had not even known he carried. Horrified, she watched as he brandished the pistol at their adversaries, facing them with the gloating expression of one who held all the aces even though he had to tilt his head back to look up into the faces of the taller men.
"You'll keep a proper distance from Miss Gabby, ye scoundrels," Jem said through his teeth. "Miss Gabby, do you go back along to the book room and lock yourself in. I'll deal with…"
The imposter's fist shot out so fast that Gabby barely saw it move, and connected with Jem's chin with a wicked-sounding crack. Jem's grizzled head snapped back, and without a word he crumpled to the floor, landing with a sickening thud. The pistol skittered harmlessly across the floor. Grinning, Barnet moved to scoop it up.
For a moment Gabby could only stare in horror at her fallen champion, who sprawled senseless almost at her feet. Then her accusing gaze shifted to her ersatz brother, who looked maddeningly calm as he rubbed his knuckles with the thumb of the opposite hand. Behind him, his henchman chortled approval as he pocketed the pistol. At the sound, her spine stiffened and she felt her temper begin to heat.
"You have now run your length," she said icily to her false brother. She crouched rather clumsily beside Jem, ascertained with a touch that he still breathed, and glared up at the man looming over them. "Whoever you are, whatever game you are playing at, this farce is now at an end. If you do not turn yourself about, instantly, and leave my house, taking that— that sniggering ape with you, I shall scream the place down."
"Unwise to utter threats you can't carry out, Gabriella." There was a taunting note to his voice.
"Oh, can't
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