Soon, men would arrive to carry the crates inside, and in the night, Mr. Witherspoon’s army of delivery boys would gather. By this time tomorrow, every genteel and aristocratic household in London would have a copy of her pamphlet. Patrons of every coffeehouse would see it, and in a few days, everyone who opened a newspaper would read the advertisements. Everyone passing a print seller or bookseller would glimpse the cartoon resembling Percy. If only Rafe were here to see it. Perhaps then he would understand.
“That’s a mighty big pile of paper, miss,” Gilbert said from beside her. “London won’t know what hit ’em.”
Thea straightened, feeling confident and proud. “I’ve had my time in exile. And now, now is when it ends.”
“Quite right, my dear Miss Knight,” someone said from the open gate.
Thea whirled, as Lord Ventnor entered, with Percy Russell at his side and half a dozen of his rough-looking men in his wake. Thea let her eyes fall onto Ventnor’s ebony, silver-topped stick, and wondered how it could be, when Rafe had broken it.
Lord Ventnor smiled a chilly smile. “This is indeed where it ends.”
Thea turned in a circle to keep facing Ventnor and Percy, as they entered the yard and stopped. Straightening her shoulders, she stared them down, her back to the crates as if she were protecting her treasure from a dragon. Gilbert edged closer to her side as Ventnor’s men fanned out. One took his post behind Ventnor and Percy. Thea twisted to see the other men loitering near the crates.
“You, man, be gone,” Ventnor said to Gilbert. “I shall not harm her.”
Gilbert didn’t move.
Ventnor made a dismissive sound. “Luxborough is looking after you then, Miss Knight. How touching. Adds another meaning to the word ‘protector’.”
“He is not my protector and never was.”
“Cast you off, has he? Never mind. A pretty, lively thing like you, you’ll find another man to take you on soon enough.”
Percy snickered. “I might be interested in a new mistress. How much?”
Without thinking, Thea slapped his smirking face. Hard. It felt so satisfying that she tried to do it again, but this time Percy caught her hand. So she leaned in and kneed him in the bollocks.
Her skirts hampered her, unfortunately, but she mustered enough force to make him yelp and release her and back away. Her palm stung, and her knee was affronted at having to carry out such a repulsive task, but other than that, she felt quite good.
“You little tart!” Percy squeaked.
“You vile snot,” Thea returned.
Ventnor inserted his ebony stick between them. “Now, now, children.”
Percy’s face turned red. “But Father! She hit me!”
“Do grow up, boy. It was exactly what you deserved after speaking to her like that.” Ventnor tapped the silver end of his stick in the dust at his son’s feet. “You disgust me at times, Percy. Let us not forget that it was your malicious, childish attack on Miss Knight that got us here in the first place.”
Thea stared at Ventnor, stunned to have such an unexpected defender. “Then you know, my lord. You know that Percy and Francis Upton told lies about me.”
“I know now. A cunning little pamphlet you penned, my dear.” He opened one hand, palm upward, and the man behind him placed a booklet onto it. “I read it, you know. It’s not too bad, for a lady author.”
“How did you get a copy of that?” Thea realized she had not asked him the most obvious question. “Why are you here?”
“Not much happens in London that I don’t hear about, as everyone knows I pay well for information. Someone at the publisher let me know they were printing a cartoon resembling my son, and I investigated. And here we are.”
“Then you know my story is true and must be told.”
Ventnor waved the pamphlet like a fan. “A conundrum. Percy has behaved very badly, but he is my son, and I must protect my family. What happens to one member affects everyone. You would not believe the things I must do for the sake of my family.”
“Oh, I’d believe it,” Thea said. “Things like trying to kidnap your daughter to lock her in a lunatic asylum. Or threatening to carve up Sally Holt’s face because of false rumors about your wife.”
“Silence!”
“Or what, Lord Ventnor?” Thea demanded. “Will you send your ruffians after me, as you did to other defenseless women?”
“No, my dear. I shall silence you.”
“No, my lord. I shall not be silenced.”
“Will you not?”
Moving so quickly neither she nor Gilbert had a chance to react, Ventnor grabbed Thea by both shoulders and spun her around to face the crates. As she found her feet, it occurred to her that she had been so intent on Ventnor and Percy, she had not noticed what his men were doing.