Page 84 of The Pursuit of Lord Kit Cavanaugh

Where was Smiggs?

Through the all-but-continuous clangs as Kit fended off Nunsworth’s assaults, Kit heard banging—on the front door.

Nunsworth had barred it; Smiggs couldn’t get through.

Then Nunsworth jerked and staggered forward half a step.

Sylvia was still frantically trying to get her right hand free. From her position behind Kit, with her gaze trained on the battle and a prayer on her lips that the demented beast that was Nunsworth wouldn’t break through Kit’s dogged guard, she caught sudden movement in the shadows. On a blink of disbelief, she saw the lad from earlier wielding a metal pole; he’d whacked Nunsworth across the back of his legs with it.

But Nunsworth regained his footing. Now even closer to Kit, Nunsworth clenched his teeth in a rictus grin and brought the iron bar down with punishing force.

Kit got the tongs up just in time, catching the bar on the long iron handles with a deafening clang.

Then the muscles in Kit’s arms bunched, and once again, he flung Nunsworth back.

Before Nunsworth could recover, Ollie—Ollie!—rushed past Kit. Arms extended, with all his boy’s might, Ollie shoved Nunsworth in the chest.

Just as the lad swung his pole, this time, catching Nunsworth squarely across the backs of his knees.

Nunsworth teetered, but still didn’t fall.

Sylvia saw her chance; she could just reach. She slid down and lashed out with her bound feet, sweeping Nunsworth’s boots from beneath him.

His expression dissolving into one of shock, Nunsworth toppled backward. Arms flailing, the iron bar flying from his grasp, he lost his balance and fell heavily on his back.

Before anyone else could move, another slight figure darted in, and Ned upended a metal pail of ashes, pail and all, over Nunsworth’s head.

Coughing and spluttering, Nunsworth collapsed on the floor. Ned had shoved the pail down hard, and it appeared to be stuck on Nunsworth’s head. The pail thudded on the floor as Kit’s groom rushed up.

Kit glanced back at Sylvia. Her gaze was locked on Nunsworth. She was—thank God—unhurt.

He looked at Smiggs, who had run around and entered via the rear hatch, then at the three boys—all standing around their fallen foe as if daring him to try to get up.

Nunsworth obliged and tried to struggle up—and Jack thumped the pail hard with his rod. Nunsworth yelped and fell back, and all three boys smiled grimly.

Kit felt the tension of battle leaching from him. He lowered the tongs. “Well done, boys! Keep an eye on him.”

Their gazes ferociously intent, they did; not one of the three even glanced at Kit to acknowledge the order.

Kit met Smiggs’s relieved gaze and tipped his head toward the downed watchman, who chose that moment to groan. Kit didn’t want to think of what the man’s fate would have been had he and the others not arrived in time.

In time to stop Nunsworth bludgeoning Sylvia to death.

The ice that had flooded Kit on realizing what Nunsworth had planned still chilled him.

He spun and went down on one knee beside the lady who now held his heart.

She was tugging at her still-bound right hand; she flicked him a frowning glance. “I thought I had it, but no.” She tugged at the knotted rope. “Blast it!”

Relief that she was safe—and well enough to frown at him and grumble—swamped him, only to rise in the next breath in a wave so intense and immense it threatened to choke him. He reached for her bound hand and managed to gruffly say, “Here—let me.”

She sniffed and desisted and let him have at the knot.

He worked swiftly, loosening the knot—wrenched tight by her panicked tugging—then unravelling it and unwinding the rope lashing her hand to the rails.

When her hand, still in its glove, was finally free, she drew it close, massaging her no doubt bruised flesh. Kit helped her to sit upright, tugged her other glove free of the rope and handed it to her, then swung around and sat beside her.

When, still rubbing her abused hand, she leaned lightly against him, something deep inside him settled and subsided. After a second, he raised his arm, draped it around her shoulders, and drew her closer—and she came.