Chapter Thirty-One

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"V ERITY !" N ATHAN ' S HEART was in his throat and he ran toward her.

The horses swerved back onto the street, and Verity popped back up from the shrubbery into which she and Malcolm had jumped. She brushed debris off her fake padded belly, and Nathan was swamped with relief. Whirling, he ran after the wagon and leapt up to grab the back side of it. He dangled precariously in midair for a moment, but his toes found purchase on the wood, and he pushed off, swinging up and into the empty wagon.

Nathan planted his feet wide, bending his knees so he was partially crouched to better accommodate the rocking of the vehicle. Two men—one tall, one short, just as he expected—sat on the driver's bench. With all the commotion, neither one of them seemed to have noticed him yet. The man not driving, whom Nathan recognized as Shoemaker, clutched the bench with both hands, screaming at the top of his lungs, as the wagon rocketed on. Hill, obviously inexperienced at driving, was shouting at the horses as he sawed at the reins, trying to steer the team.

As Nathan carefully made his way forward, holding onto the side of the wagon, the back end slid sideways and clipped a lamppost, then ricocheted back. Nathan, losing his grip, bounced from one side to the other but managed to stay upright. Regaining his footing, Nathan lunged forward and hooked one arm around the driver's neck, jerking Hill back tightly so that the man was immobilized against him.

With the other hand, Nathan wrenched the reins from Hill and hauled back on them. It would have been better to use both hands on the reins—better still to reach the braking lever—but Hill was struggling so much Nathan couldn't release him. He only hoped that all the other drivers on the road had the good sense to pull out of the way.

Finally, Nathan felt Hill grow heavy as if he was losing consciousness. Nathan dropped the arm around Hill's neck and shoved him over against Shoemaker, then lunged, reaching over the dividing wall, and pulling back hard on the brake. The combination of the brake and a firm hand on the reins slowed the horses, but Hill sucked in a large gulp of air, which revived him and he whirled around, swinging at Nathan.

Hill's fist collided with Nathan's cheek, snapping his head to the side and sending him staggering back a step, releasing the brake. The horses, however, apparently had enough and simply came to a stop, lathered and tossing their heads, blowing out air.

Nathan grabbed Hill by his arms and hauled him into the wagon bed. The two men grappled, and Shoemaker started over the back of the driver's bench to join his partner.

Then suddenly Verity was there, clambering up to the driver's seat and throwing herself at Shoemaker. Clasping her hands together, she swung them into his face. Stunned, he reeled back, and she gave him a hearty shove, sending Shoemaker tumbling off the wagon onto the ground.

She turned to help Nathan just as he slammed his fist into Hill's gut and followed it up with a hard right hook. Hill's eyes rolled up, and he collapsed. Nathan swung around, panting, and grinned at Verity.

"Glad you had my back," he said, the elation of victory pumping all through him.

"Always," she replied, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and handing it to him.

Nathan dabbed at his split lip as he took in the sight of her. The sleeve of Verity's dress was torn and her arm and cheek were scratched. Her padding had twisted around to her hips, and her wig had slid to one side of her head, wild red strands of hair escaping from it.

"God, you're beautiful." He stepped forward and pulled her into a kiss, ignoring the twinge of pain in his lip.

Malcolm trotted up, his uncle and the entire party trailing him. "Nathan, are you all right? God, when I saw you'd jumped on that wagon—" He shoved his hands back through his hair. "And you, ma'am. You saved my life. You have my eternal gratitude. That driver must have been drunk or insane. It was as if they aimed—"

"Right for you?" Nathan suggested. He nodded toward Shoemaker, who had recovered his wind and was wobbling to his feet, groaning.

"Oww, me 'ead." He looked up at Verity accusingly. "I think you broke me rib."

"You should be glad that's all I broke," she retorted.

Malcolm gaped at Shoemaker. "You!"

"Now, it wasn't me," Shoemaker whined, backing up a step at the fire in Malcolm's eyes and holding out his hands placatingly. "I didn't..."

Malcolm strode forward and punched him on the point of his chin. Shoemaker slid back to the ground, unconscious, and Malcolm turned to Nathan. "The same men. But why? And how—have they been lying in wait for me?"

"Easy enough to do when they know what time you'll be walking into your house after an unsuccessful trip to the doctor's," Verity said scornfully. Nathan had untied his neckcloth and she took it from him, kneeling down to bind Hill's hands.

Malcolm stared at Nathan for a moment, then looked over at his uncle. He turned back to Nathan, saying uncertainly, "But, no, that couldn't...maybe one of the servants..."

Nathan climbed down from the wagon and went over to him. "Malcolm. You have to face the truth or you'll wind up dead. Your uncle sent you to the doctor even though he knew the man wouldn't be there."

"It was to set up the surprise party for my nephew," Robert said indignantly and came forward to join them. "I resent your implication, Dunbridge." He jabbed his forefinger at Nathan. " You were the one who was insisting on talking to Malcolm. You went outside to stop him and hold him there."

"It was you who arranged for your nephew to visit London," Nathan shot back at him. "You knew when and where Malcolm could be abducted. You had him locked up because you still had enough family feeling not to kill your nephew. But when we broke him out of his prison, when we ruined your plan, you had no choice but to do away with him so you could get to his inheritance."

"I've never heard anything so preposterous," Robert sputtered.

Nathan continued, raising his voice a tad more. "So you went back to the men you had hired and arranged for them to create an ‘accident' for your nephew in front of the party you planned. That way you'd have multiple witnesses who would swear that you had nothing to do with Malcolm's death. Oh, and then there was Tolliver. Did you have to kill him to keep him from revealing what you'd done? Did you hire these two for that task as well?" He swung a hand toward Shoemaker. "Or did you do it yourself?"

"This is all nonsense and lies," Robert retorted. "If anyone wanted to do away with my nephew it would be you. Don't listen to him, Mal. He's merely trying to hurt you. I am your family. He's just..."

"My brother," Malcolm said heavily.

"Use your head," Verity said, joining them. "Nathan has no reason to do anything to you. He's done nothing but help you."

Malcolm looked from Nathan to Robert, his eyes troubled. "Rude as she is, she's right. Nathan had no reason."

"A Dunbridge will say anything. He is just a smooth talker like his f—" Robert's voice faltered as Malcolm's eyes flashed and he took a step toward him. "Malcolm. I didn't hire Hill or Shoemaker. I never saw them before today."

The air was suddenly silent as Malcolm and the others looked at him. Nathan said quietly, "How did you know their names, then?"

"What? Why, you told me, of course."

"No. We didn't," Nathan replied.

"Then Malcolm must have told me." Robert forced a little chuckle, but his eyes took on a hunted look, and he took a step backward.

"No." Malcolm's voice was sad. "I didn't. I thought that his name was Hall."

Robert stepped back and suddenly he reached down to the unconscious Shoemaker and snatched a pistol from the man's belt. He aimed it with shaking hands at Nathan. "Damn you! Damn all your family. You ruin everythi—" Verity began to edge toward him, and Robert swung the gun and fired at her.

Nathan jumped, taking Verity to the ground, his body covering hers. "Verity!"

Robert gaped, his eyes wild. Malcolm surged toward him, and Robert whirled and darted into the street. It was hard to tell if he turned his ankle on a pothole or just lost his balance, but one moment Robert was standing and the next he was down on the ground—directly in front of a horse drawing a carriage. The driver let out a shout and hauled back on the reins. But there was no time to stop, and the awful muffled sounds of the horse's hooves on Robert's body were followed by the wheels of the carriage.

There were shouts from all around, and Malcolm rushed out into the street, crying out, "Uncle! No!"

The others hurried after him. A man exclaimed, "My God, he's dead!" A woman screamed and fainted, and more than one man turned away from the sight of Robert Douglas's lifeless form.

The horse reared, and the driver of the carriage dropped the reins and jumped down from his seat. "He ran right out! I didn't see him!"

Chatter and movement were all around him, but the tumult didn't pierce Nathan's awareness. He had eyes only for Verity.

"Verity!" Nathan ran his hands over her frantically. Her eyes were wide and frightened and her chest was still. "Where were you hit? Don't you die on me."

Verity's hands flew to her chest, and her face was panicked. Finally she sucked in a huge breath. "I couldn't breathe!" She sat up, pulling Nathan close and holding on tightly. "I'm all right now. It was just the wind knocked out of me."

"Thank God," Nathan said fervently, raining kisses across her forehead and hair. "I thought you were dead. I thought—" His voice choked off and he tightened his arms around her convulsively.

"I'm not. I'm fine. I wasn't hit."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She pulled back a little and glanced around. "What happened? Did he get a—oh." She saw the body on the street. "Is Robert dead?"

"I think so. I wasn't paying attention to anything other than you." Nathan relaxed his arms, letting her go and sitting back on his heels. He lifted a hand to push back his hair. "Ow." He looked down at his arm, aware for the first time of a searing streak of pain. The sleeve of his jacket was sliced through and blood stained the material around it.

"Nathan!" Verity gasped. "It's you! You've been shot." She shoved back his jacket and pulled it off, eliciting a little yelp from Nathan.

"Have a care, would you?"

She ripped his shirt sleeve farther apart, revealing a streak of red across his arm, and let out a sigh of relief. "Thank heavens. The ball didn't go into your arm, just grazed you."

Nathan peered down at his arm and said mournfully, "Another jacket ruined." He sighed. "I'm growing rather tired of getting shot."