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Edward had other words to say. Like, fucking bastard . Or worthless piece of shit . And he wasn’t sure if those insults should be directed to the man in front of him holding a pistol or to himself for putting Ivy in such danger. Either way, ‘Drat’ didn’t quite cover the depth of his emotions.

‘Stay behind me.’ He kept his voice low, and his eyes focused on the man in front of him.

‘Reach for your pocket, and I’ll shoot.’ The man’s voice broke on the last word, betraying his fear.

Edward’s dress jacket left no room for something as bulky as a pistol, so reaching for his pocket wouldn’t help in any case, but he kept his hands splayed out in front of him.

Cursing himself for a fool, he imagined his favourite pistol, tucked safely away in his greatcoat, hanging in some wardrobe, no doubt, at Widow Lovemore’s mansion.

They hadn’t stopped to collect their coats in the mad rush to capture this fiend.

A fiend who now had the advantage of weaponry.

‘Hell and damnation.’

Yes, cursing will protect us from this desperate man with a gun. Bloody brilliant, Edward!

Never had he felt quite so useless as facing off against a superiorly armed man with only his body to act as a shield against any bullets seeking to rip through Ivy’s fragile body.

Perhaps bluffing will work.

‘Listen to me, young man. I am the Commissioner of Scotland Yard. My men are only moments away. If you surrender now, things will go much better for you.’ He kept his hand in front of him, like he could hold off the bullets with his flattened palm.

‘Bollocks! If your men are so close, why did you drag a lady with you? Why not leave her behind where some of your people could keep her safe?’ The man’s left hand shook and, with it, the pistol he was holding in a tight grip.

‘Because sometimes, ladies can be quite useful in fraught moments.’ Ivy pushed Edward’s hand away. Before he could stop her, she stepped out from behind him.

Her right arm was extended, a muff pistol clasped in her gloved hand.

‘Ivy.’ He growled her name between clenched teeth in a warning, but it was no use. The woman was fearless.

‘Wh-what are you doing?’ The man swung his arm wildly toward Ivy, then back to Edward.

‘I thought it would be obvious after our last encounter. I shot you once, though based on your quick recovery, my aim needs work.’

The man involuntarily hitched his right shoulder.

Ivy raised a brow, her mouth quirked in a cold smile.

‘Or perhaps my aim was better than I thought. You don’t look well, sir.

There is a sheen of sweat on your brow. Your skin is white.

And even now, your hand is shaking. You should be in your bed recovering, not running around the streets of London trying to shoot innocent people. ’

The man shook his head. ‘Be quiet!’

Ivy cocked her weapon. ‘No. I don’t think I will. Put down the gun. Before you see how very loud I can be.’

‘I can’t fail. Not again. They’ll destroy me.’ His lip twitched in a spasm.

‘Who will destroy you?’ Edward asked.

Ivy stepped further away from Edward, deftly splitting the man’s targets.

While Edward silently cursed her for leaving his protection, the logical part of his brain applauded.

The further apart they were, the more impossible it would be for the man to subdue both of them.

If he shot Edward, Ivy would be able to level him with her own pistol.

If he aimed for Ivy, Edward would tackle him to the ground and smash his face into bloody pieces.

The man stiffened his spine, his gun retrained on Edward, and while he kept his focus there, he spoke to Ivy. ‘I don’t think you will shoot me, Lady Cavendale.’

Edward’s body stiffened.

It was a peculiar thing to face down the barrel of a pistol. While he should have been reviewing his life or recounting his numerous regrets, his mind went oddly blank.

‘I’d wager you are right-handed, sir. I’d further guess you can’t use your right hand because of the wound to your shoulder.

That’s why it’s tucked so carefully in your pocket.

I wonder how accurate you are with your left.

’ Ivy’s voice was admirably calm, although Edward guessed she was not quite as cool as she pretended.

The man swung his gun toward Ivy. ‘You bitch! This is your fault. Why were you even there?’

Acting on instinct, Edward launched himself toward the man with a mighty roar. Before the fool could retrain his aim on the new threat, Edward grabbed the gun, wrenching it from the man’s grip and tossing it on the cobblestones.

Ivy screamed behind him as Edward ducked underneath a wild swing from the man. He leapt forward, gripping the man around his waist and tackling him to the ground. The man’s high-pitched shriek alerted Edward to the fact he had landed on the man’s injured shoulder.

The scream abruptly stopped as the blackguard passed out.

Pulling himself onto all fours over the man, Edward slapped his pale cheek, but there was no response. ‘Huh,’ he grunted. He’d never subdued a man by simply landing atop him before. But then most of the men he tackled weren’t recently shot.

‘You idiot! He could have killed you.’ Ivy’s enraged voice registered as the pounding in his ears slowly subsided.

Pulling himself up from the ground, he turned to face her. The fear he’d kept at bay when the man’s pistol pointed at Ivy resurfaced like a wave of lava. ‘He could have killed you !’ he roared, jabbing his finger at her for unneeded emphasis. ‘You were supposed to stay behind me.’

Ivy’s hair had come free of its pins and fell around her in wild disarray. She was also without her coat. Her chest expanded and contracted in wild breaths that drew his gaze down for a distracted moment.

‘I was trying to save you!’ She stepped closer to him, fairly vibrating with anger.

‘I was trying to save you !’

Yes. I’ll just keep repeating back what she’s already said, only louder. That will convince her that I’m right and she is not.

The man at their feet groaned. They both looked down.

‘He needs a doctor.’ Ivy nudged him with her bare foot. Something about her pale toes touching the black fabric of the man’s jacket shattered Edward’s control. Pulling her into a harsh embrace, he let the warmth of her seep into his skin.

‘You scared me.’ He whispered the words against the top of her head, tightening his arms around her.

Her whole body went rigid before slowly melting into him.

‘You scared me ,’ she replied.

For an endless moment, they stood that way, both breathing hard, both encapsulated in each other’s fear and relief.

Scuffling feet alerted them of the nightwatchman’s panicked approach. Ivy broke away first, shoving her pistol into some hidden pocket in her skirt.

The next few hours were consumed with ensuring Ivy got home safely with an escort from one of his men, engaging a doctor to meet them at 4 Whitehall Place to assess the man’s injuries, and calming down an enraged baron, Lord Augustus Thurston, who came to claim his wounded son.

The man now had a name. Clarence Thurston, second son of Lord Thurston and fresh out of studying Classics at Cambridge.

Lord Augustus refused to allow Edward to question his son based on such thin evidence as ‘a hysterical young miss falsely identifying his dear boy as some kind of street thug and baselessly threatening him with a gun, which no lady of morals would ever own’.

While Edward was clear Clarence would need to submit to questioning, the baron would have none of it.

‘I am a personal friend of Prime Minister Russell. I will see to it you are stripped of your position here, your title. Everything!’ The baron’s face grew crimson with rage. He stormed out of Edward’s office and joined his son in a waiting carriage, trundling off into the sunrise.

‘Well, that could have gone better.’ Reading poked his head into Edward’s office. No doubt the man had been listening to the entire affair from the other side of the door.

‘It could also have been much worse.’ Edward didn’t dare think of what could have happened.

‘It would seem Lady Cavendale saved you. How very dashing of her.’ Reading feigned interest in a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve. He wanted a reaction from Edward.

Exhaling a calming breath, Edward looked up and gave him the one thing he wouldn’t expect. The truth. ‘She is a remarkable woman.’

Reading’s sharp gaze flicked to Edward. ‘Quite.’

‘Did you have a reason for coming in here other than to annoy me, Reading?’

Reading ceased hovering in the door and stepped into the office. He pulled a piece of parchment from the file he was carrying. ‘Well, annoying you is always my primary goal, but yes. I did have another reason.’ Walking to the desk, he dropped the sealed letter in front of Edward.

‘What is this?’ Edward turned the letter over to look at the seal.

Head of a crow. Body of a wolf. Tail of a snake.

Edward looked at Reading as everything went deathly still. ‘Where did you find this?’

‘In Lord Clarence Thurston’s pocket.’

Edward raised a brow. ‘And what were you doing in Lord Thurston’s pocket?’

Reading fiddled with his file. ‘Well, the doctor had to remove his coat to check his wound. What was I supposed to do when the letter practically fell out?’

Edward brushed his finger over the seal.

‘Perhaps it will help with the investigation.’ Reading sat across from Edward. Placing his file carefully down, he tugged on his vest.

Edward took a letter opener from his drawer and slid it beneath the wax seal, popping it free of the parchment. He opened the paper and quirked his brow. ‘It’s just columns of numbers.’

Reading took the paper and frowned. ‘What do you think it means?’