Chapter 28

"Hell and damnation," Dominic muttered. A hare was one thing. In his experience, they had aggressive, yellowed teeth and slightly

mad expressions. Such an animal could be turned into rabbit stew without a tear being shed.

But babies?

"Me name's Crouch, your lordship," a lean, filthy man said, moving toward them with a smile that put on display saffron-colored

teeth not unlike those of his chosen livestock. "'Tis a pleasure to have you in me rabbit hutch, that it is."

"I didn't think there would be babies ," Torie moaned.

"Milk-fed rabbits make the most delicate of broths," Crouch explained. "Excellent for bilious patients and famous for killing

a fever. Ask any doctor. I've the mother there as well, so they're in good condition with no illnesses."

Florence had replaced the bunny she had been holding and moved to the second row of cages, following Valentine. Now the twins

were shoulder to shoulder, leaning over to peer in a cage.

"They'll be looking at the runt," Crouch said, starting down the row.

Dominic arrived at the cage just in time to see Crouch respond to a command from Florence and lift a rabbit from the cage,

a youngster with long ears and fur the color of fog.

"Last of his litter," Crouch said, handing over the animal. "His ears are too long for a rabbit and yet not long enough for a hare. Odd little beast. The litter came all the way from Scotland, but he was the only one so misshapen."

Florence turned to Dominic and Torie, holding the rabbit in both hands. Her eyes were huge and imploring. "We must paint him.

Just look how beautiful he is!"

Dominic did not think the animal was beautiful. His ears were peculiar. One cocked up and the other hung down, almost covering

one eye. Thankfully, he looked too dispirited to nip Torie's fingers.

"He traveled a long way to London," Valentine said. "At least four hundred fifty miles." The twins' new tutor had been horrified

to discover that the children had only a rudimentary understanding of the United Kingdom, let alone the rest of the world.

He'd set them to planning excursions and calculating miles.

The two looked at each other and chorused with delight, "Odysseus!"

"Oh, bloody hell," Torie muttered. She looked up at Dominic. "I'm sorry."

"This is going to happen, isn't it?" he said wryly.

She laughed.

"How much for the lop-eared bunny?" Dominic asked.

"He's unique," Crouch began, so Dominic gave him a withering glance.

"I'll give you him for a ha'penny, as this is his third market, and I can't get rid of him. If I put him with others, they

attack him, and no one wants to buy a rabbit by itself. They think he's diseased, which he ain't."

Dominic gave him a shilling for honesty, and a penny for a rabbit cage, no matter how malodorous.

"I'll wash a cage for you, special," Crouch said, heading for the back of the shed. He unbolted a door and disappeared.

"I don't know why he doesn't keep that door open all the time and allow some air to pass through," Torie muttered.

Crouch took far too long to return, although thankfully a breeze did begin moving through the hutch. Finally he showed up

with a cage only slightly less dirty than those surrounding them. Whatever he'd been doing, it didn't involve water.

"He eats veg," Crouch told Valentine, who was taking a turn holding Odysseus. "Needs water regular and fresh veg every day,

mind." He tried to look virtuous even though anyone could look at his livestock and see that the poor creatures were suffering

to the point of death.

"Right," Dominic said. "Let's return to the carriage, shall we?" He had an edgy feeling, his instincts warning him of danger,

possibly because his lungs had taken all the insults they could manage.

No.

His instincts had been correct.

Torie and Florence walked out ahead of him.

"Dom!" Another lady's voice would be thready with fear or shrieking with terror. Not hers.

He halted, putting his hand behind him to stop Valentine and Simons, who was carrying Odysseus in his new cage. Just outside,

four men were spaced in a half circle, their teeth bared in the unmistakable grins of bullies.

Directly before the door was a man with a mouth like a lamprey, a sword strapped at his hip. Then there was a moonfaced bruiser holding a club, another man wearing an incongruous scrap of pink lace around his neck, and a yellow-eyed fellow who swayed as if he were drunk. The first man—presumably the leader—opened his eellike mouth to say something, but when Torie looked him over, her lip curled, he fell silent.

"Florence, behind me," she said, pushing the girl through the door.

"Inside, Torie, children," Dominic said calmly. His eyes moved among the men's faces, memorizing their features in case any

of them were smart enough to run. He'd have the constabulary on them later. "Simons!"

His groom appeared at his shoulder. "Crouch's gone," he muttered.

That blackguard had summoned his bully friends and then run off, planning to collect his share later, no doubt.

"Return to the carriage through the rear door," Dominic said.

"Shall I send Mulberry back here?" Simons asked. But Dominic wanted his coachman and blunderbuss to guard the most precious

things in his life.

"No need." He put his hand on the glittering hilt of his rapier. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"His lordship is carrying a pretty toy," the leader said, his eyes alight with malice. "Pinkie, wouldn't you like to show

that to your missus? My man Pinkie has an eye for lux'ry."

"The blade is not as pretty as the hilt, but 'twill do to take your life," Dominic said flatly, drawing his rapier. He never

provoked an opponent in case they were driven to do something rash. He believed in giving them a chance to rethink or, if

needed, say their prayers.

"He's holding his blade breast high," Pinkie said scornfully. "The pretty man with a spangly blade that he doesn't know how to use. We should take it from him for his own safety, Bullet."

Bullet? The leader, presumably. A charming name for a charming fellow.

Thankfully, Dominic heard his family leaving through the back of the hutch.

In one last warning, he spun his rapier; the sunlight filtering through the fog hanging over the market caught the diamond-cut

glass on the hilt.

"We can sell that for a pretty penny," Pinkie said greedily. "Course, we'll have to have it off you fore we can do that, me

lordship. Now how about you give it to us, and your purse as well."

"If you do that, we won't offer any offense to that buxom lady of yours." Bullet's smirk revealed quite a few missing teeth. "A lady smells sweetest when she's on her back, don't she,

Pinkie?" He drew out a battered sword with a shining edge.

"It's the fight a girl's got in 'er for me." Pinkie returned Bullet's wolfish grin. "What's the fun in tupping a naked lady

if she makes it easy for you?"

Dominic's heartbeat slowed, and his entire body relaxed. "You'll meet my naked blade first."

He would have been reluctant to maim men who turned to thievery because they were hungry. Stealing to feed their families.

But rapists?

"I don't like his expression," the drunk man said, a touch of fear in his voice.

Dominic looked him over with smiling eyes, cataloging the growing panic in the two men who had enough intelligence to recognize

their own danger.

Bullet tensed, about to attack, so Dominic jumped forward, his rapier flicking behind the man's knee before he leapt back in one smooth movement. The drunk watched with horror as his leader fell screaming in the dirt. He and his fellow thundered away on flat feet, leaving Bullet to his fate.

Pinkie was made of firmer stuff; his eyes sharpened to a savage glint. He snatched up Bullet's sword and spat on the ground.

"You'll pay for that with your money— and your life."

Dominic might have relaxed with only one assailant left, but for Pinkie's casual, confident stance; it was that of a man used

to thrusting his weapon through solid things. Such as men's thighs and chests. Dominic's body was lit with incandescent rage,

but his hand remained utterly steady.

Pinkie was too smart to rush. He circled to the left, breathing steadily, holding his sword close.

Dominic circled the other direction until he was in place to kick the wretched Bullet in the knee. The man shrieked, and Pinkie's

eyes involuntarily shot in that direction. In that instant, Dominic lunged forward, putting all his strength behind the thrust.

His rapier was not merely pretty. Spanish steel slid through Pinkie's jerkin and into his shoulder as slickly as a knife into

lard. Pinkie screamed, dropping his sword; Dominic kicked it to the side. His blade came out with a nasty squelching noise.

Pinkie's eyes were bright, then suddenly pale. "You haven't killed me." He clutched his shoulder as blood oozed between his

fingers.

"If I had meant to, you'd be dead."

Bullet was sniveling with fear, clutching his knee as he inchwormed away.

Pinkie crammed his filthy pink scarf into a wad and pressed it against the seeping wound.

"You'll live," Dominic told Bullet contemptuously. "You won't walk again. Perhaps you won't thieve or rape again." He let his anger flow down his body and shook it out of his fingertips, a trick his fencing instructor had taught him.

"I'm neither constable, judge, nor jury," he said, reminding himself of the truth as he said it. "You'll have your eternal

reward no doubt, Bullet, but while you're still on this earth, stay away from my family." He turned to Pinkie. "If I see you

again, I will cut off your pinkies and then all your other bits. Do I make myself clear?"

Pinkie grunted and kicked Bullet, holding out his hand. "Get up on your good leg."

"My blade was clean, but that rag is not," Dominic added. "I may have spared your life, but an infection won't show you the

same mercy."

He had a wife and family waiting, but first he returned to the rabbit hutch. He found only the squeaks of bunnies in their

filthy cages; Crouch was nowhere to be seen.

Walking to the first cage, Dominic flicked the catch, opened the door, and set the cage down on its side. Two large hares

scampered out the door, gone by the time he opened the next cage.

His sister would have approved.