Baron of Bad (Lords of Scandal 5)

Abernath grimaced. “If he’s part of the club, Darlington won’t see how he should be living his life. He won’t see that he needs a family and…”

“Cristina,” Grace whispered. “He already sees that. He’s talking about selling the club. And he and Minnie are going to start a family.”

“And Harry? Will Darlington raise him? Is that where my boy is now?”

Grace shook her head. She did love her son after all. “Not Darlington. But Malicorn. He had a very strained relationship with his father. He wants Harry to have the sort of childhood he never had. He and my cousin, Cordelia, wish to raise the boy. They’ve already taken him on a tour to meet the extended family. He’s likely being spoiled right now.”

Tears welled up in Abernath’s eyes and Grace watched as one rolled down her cheek. “Cordelia? The one I took to my house? Oh, she’s lovely. Kind. I bet she’ll make an excellent mother.”

“The club’s proceeds are going to Harry’s estate. They know Abernath was in debt. It will give Harry the title from your husband and the wealth he needs to sustain it.”

“What?” Abernath tried to sit up. “But five lords own the club.”

“Yes,” Grace answered. “And I believe they’re all in agreement. They’ll provide Harry with an inheritance.”

Cristina shuddered and, for a second, Grace thought she was dying. But then another tear slipped down her cheek. “I should have married Darlington,” she said again. “He’s the one decent man I ever knew.”

“Grace,” Bad rumbled from the doorway. Grace jumped, only just realizing the carriage had completely stopped. “Come here, love.”

She looked to the doorway, her gaze meeting the dark pools of his. Not even pausing, she flung herself from the seat and at his chest, wrapping her arms about his neck.

Had she said he wasn’t that handsome? In this moment, he was the most magnificent male she’d ever encountered in her life. Tall, dark, broad shoulders that might very well be able to hold up the whole world, at least hers. And he’d rescued her. “Bad,” she cried as her body pressed to his and he pulled her from the carriage, wrapping his arms about her waist. “You came.”

But he didn’t have a chance to answer. Another shot rang out and she felt the heat and rush of air as the lead ball whizzed by her left ear. Without a second’s hesitation, she was thrust back into the vehicle even as Bad pulled another pistol from his waist.

* * *

Bad grimaced. Not because someone had shot at him. It was the third time that day, he’d been fired upon. And frankly, he’d lost count of how many times someone had leveled a pistol at his chest.

He scowled because he’d had to shove Grace back in the carriage and no one had ever felt so good curled against his chest.

Letting out a long breath, he peeked around the door to determine the shooter’s location. While Bad couldn’t believe Crusher hadn’t died from either the shot or the fall, he knew the man had been the one to try and hit him again. “Where are you, Crusher? Why not come out and fight me like a man?”

He heard Grace’s gasp from the interior, but he continued to scan the road behind them. Several rocks and trees lined the dirt road giving Crusher ample hiding spots.

“Come out? Do you think I’m daft?” the other man called. “Might not be as smart as you but I’m smart enough to know how to beat you.”

Bad rumbled a dissent deep in his chest. “Really? I’d thought you’d want one last opportunity to beat me man to man and fist to fist.” He was baiting Crusher and he knew it. The man had one thing that was larger than his hulking frame and that was the need to prove how good he was.

But this time, he didn’t take the hook. “You weren’t shot and you didn’t fall from the carriage. Even I know I’m in worse shape than you.”

“Well, if we’re counting wounds, I was shot, actually.”

“What?” This was not from Crusher but from Grace. She stuck her blonde head back out of the carriage, scanning him up and down until she spotted the oozing wound on his leg. Covering her mouth, she started to move toward him again.

But he held her back with a single raised palm. “Stay there.”

A tear slid down her cheek, resting on her kid glove. “But you’re hurt.”

He wanted to close his eyes and hold her, but he resisted the urge for several reasons. The most important was that she was safer in the vehicle. But he’d never held her until just a minute ago, and it had become painfully obvious that touching her was a mistake.

Grace might be a spoiled debutante, but he was a street urchin at heart and he didn’t deserve to lick the mud from her boots. He’d always known that. Only, she’d felt as good as she looked. Soft and so perfect, smelling of fresh wind with a hint of the sea.

“You don’t want me to move,” Crusher replied as though Bad had been talking to him. But he clearly had drawn closer, Bad could tell by the sound of his voice.

He raised his pistol. “Grace,” he hissed. “Get down.”

She obeyed without comment and he said a prayer of thanks for small favors. In all the time he’d guarded her, he wasn’t certain she’d ever done what he’d asked of her.