He heard the front door click closed and knew it would only open again with a key.
She hadn’t called her carriage back, which meant she was on the street alone.
While she was familiar with this neighborhood, he also knew she was now dressed as a lady and not as a simple woman.
He started down the hall after her, but the Earl of Darling stopped him as he made his way down the hall. One of the earls who frequented the club, Mason attempted to shrug the other man off, but Darling stopped Mason with a hand at his arm. “You’ve had a great many female visitors today.” The man cocked his head to the side. “Most unusual.”
A knock sounded at the door. Likely Clarissa. “One is a married woman,” he muttered, shrugging off Darling’s hand and starting down the hall again.
Darling shrugged. “Doesn’t stop most of the men in this place.”
“True,” he said. “But the other is soon to be my wife, so I’d prefer if we don’t speak of what happens in this place.”
Darling gave a stiff nod. “Wife? Why’d you have her here then?”
Mason let out a quick sharp breath. Darling was far more decent than most of the men here but now was not the time for discussion. Another knock sounded at the door. “I’ll explain another time, excuse me.”
Darling gave a quick nod as Mason started down the hall once again. But Darling’s question stuck. Because the man was right.
Mason should have bundled her back in her carriage and seen her home. She’d be far safer and unable to escape their conversation as she’d just done.
Voices filtered from outside, sharp male calls made Mason barrel toward the door.
Talking long strides for the last two steps, he twisted the lock in the door. “Earls,” he called out. “You’re needed at the front door.”
He didn’t wait to see who heard. Instead he wrenched open the large wood barrier and stepped out onto the landing. His heart nearly stopped. Clarissa stood just in front of him with a small pistol raised in her gloved hand.
Just as another man fired, she shot too and the entire world slowed for a moment.
He watched her bullet hit its mark. Heard the whistle of the lead as the other shot whizzed toward them. It had been like this in battle too. Every move played out in his mind. He knew exactly what to do.
Grabbing her waist, he thrust her to his right just as a ripping pain collided with his left side.
He drew in a sharp breath. He’d been hit. But that didn’t matter now as long as Clarissa was safe.
Men poured from the
house, brandishing ash shovels, swords, pistols.
“I want them all captured,” he bellowed as he clasped Clarissa closer to his side.
Without waiting to see what happened, he moved her toward the back alley where his carriage surely waited. He needed to get her out of here. Now.
“Baxter?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Mason,” he corrected.
“Mason?” Her hand fluttered to his chest. “Did I kill that man?”
He looked over at her, her normally pink cheeks gone pale. “No, love.” He likely lied. If the man wasn’t dead, he would be soon. “But he’ll rot in prison.”
Clarissa nodded tentatively. “He’s one of the men who tried to burn down our orphanage right before Logan took us in. If he’s still alive, he can be questioned.”
That made Mason smile. There was his brave girl. “You’re glorious, you know that, don’t you?”
They reached the line of carriages waiting and he spotted the Earl of Goldthwaite’s. Heading for the conveyance, he snapped open the door and pushed Clarissa inside. He grunted, his side beginning to ache terribly.
But he hefted himself in and then sat on the bench across from her. “You did wonderfully.”