Chapter 10 #2
Edward’s brain decided to work again while watching his love race towards a cocked pistol. Towards a loaded gun — to defend him.
“Not for king and country, but I’d charge for love!” he cried, launching himself in front of Tabby just as the major fired the gun at her.
At first, Edward was stunned as he hit the floor, the thick pile providing a surprisingly soft place to land.
And then he felt a pain in his chest. His breaths came fast and shallow, and he refused to look down at what he feared was a hole.
The sight of Tabby swam over him. She cradled his face with one hand and touched his body with the other, seemingly also scared to look at what must be a terrible wound.
“I suppose the old king was right about us,” said Edward, feeling faint.
“What’s that?”
“No heart.”
Edward huffed a laugh before a fit of coughing reminded him that this was no time for jokes about family lore.
Tabby seemed puzzled as she looked at the hand that had been feeling his chest.
“Dick Stone,” she asked, “you wouldn’t happen to be the only man who doesn’t bleed red?”
Her question was puzzling until he looked down and found that her hand, which he expected to be covered in viscous red blood, seemed merely wet.
And then Tabby was on him again, riffling through his coat and extracting that silver flask she’d lifted from some nob ages ago, and kept planting on him. In so doing, she’d given him a small piece of armor over his heart.
“Why, it even has a hole in the front!” she shouted, then shook the thing. “And I can hear the bullet inside!”
“You saved my life, Tabitha,” said Edward, regarding her with wonder.
“Friends watch each other’s backs,” she said, helping him sit up. “And fronts, I suppose. It’s how we stay alive in the slums.”
“I can’t help but think it’s how things should be done in manors and townhouses, too,” he said, coming to his senses. Antique guns took an age to reload, but there was a slight complication. “Demme, dueling pistols often come in pairs!”
But when they bolted to their feet, both unsteady after the blow from the bullet (him) and the discarding of slippers (her), they discovered something very unexpected indeed.
“I’m pleased you’ve rejoined the living,” drawled Monty, the Duke of Chevaliermont.
He looked entirely at ease, but had the other pistol in his hand, with the firing end trained on the major.
“I heard something of the conversation and entered the fray after hearing the shot. I’ve already sent the footman outside for Leontius. And the magistrate.”
For his part, the major gripped the back of Lord Leontius’s chair, his face gray and unmoving as his seated wife sobbed even more hysterically into her handkerchief.
“You were in the room?” asked Edward, the whole thing feeling more fantastical than a comedic opera.
Monty nodded his head towards the screens Edward and Tabby had intended to use for their spying. One of the paper panels had an enormous tear through which Monty must have launched himself.
It shouldn’t have surprised Edward that the sly fox was a good chap, his theft of Edward’s fiancée all those years ago notwithstanding. And he was rather generous with the bounty of his wife’s favors.
“Oh!” exclaimed Tabby from before the screen.
Edward rushed to her side and soon saw what had caused her shout. Philadelphia, Duchess of Chevaliermont and said former fiancée, was wrapped in a passionate embrace with a lovely young thing wearing a maid’s uniform.
“Can’t leave them two minutes,” groaned Monty from his post. It didn’t escape Edward’s attention that the man did so while wearing a smirk and seeming rather pleased.
“Hullo, Jane!” said Tabby. This must be her loaned lady’s maid. Edward wondered if the ladies had gotten up to more than writing notes in their time together. He’d need to make thorough inquiries of Tabby this evening.
“Hullo, Tab!” said Jane, adjusting her bodice and bouncing up from her coze with the duchess. “Anyone shot?”
“Just me swell cove,” said Tabby, slapping Edward on the arm companionably. “But he got it in a bit of silver I nicked ages ago, so he’ll be breathing yet.”
Just me swell cove? thought Edward, his very much intact blood rushing at this dismissal. Why, he’d have Tabby know he would be no mere cove to her! He was—
“So this is your girl.”
Phily had risen from the divan at last and was standing in front of Tabby. She was taller than his urchin, but the duchess’s gaze when she looked down at Tabitha wasn’t unkind.
What must she think of this crop-haired elf? Tabby stood before Philly with her wig halfway under a wallhanging, her stockinged toes pressed into the carpet, and a stray hairpin dangling by her ear.
For once, Tabby was demure and modest, waiting as she’d been taught for introductions. Edward wanted her to buck tradition and unleash her slum charms on his erstwhile fiancée, but she played the part of a good girl. She’d given him armor while confidently going into battle with none.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Edward?” asked Phily. Her voice was controlled, and he had no way of telling if the duchess was about to humiliate Tabby. He’d be ready to defend her just in case.
Edward made hasty, awkward introductions and stepped closer to Tabby to signal that he was watching Phily’s every move. For her part, Tabitha managed a perfectly respectable curtsy and murmured a greeting. She was a natural in each room she entered.
“The great Dick Stone has fallen at last,” said Phily, taking in everything about Tabby’s attire. Edward was glad he’d kitted her out properly; she wouldn’t be found wanting in those fine togs.
“Truth be told, it wasn’t me who made him fall,” said Tabby. “That was because of the bullet.”
Phily looked surprised and then burst into laughter.
“Where did you find her, Edward?” Phily asked, wiping her eyes. “She’s perfect.”
“Isn’t she?” asked Edward, staring at Tabby’s startled face. “Caught her picking my pocket some years ago. Haven’t been able to give her up ever since.”
“Picking your pocket?” hooted Phily. “Why, you have something on her then. You could extract any promise you’d like. Theft is a hanging crime, you know.”
“I can think of a few promises I’d like to drag out of my Tabby,” said Edward, never looking away from his girl’s widening eyes.
“Oh, forgive me,” said Phily, collapsing back onto the divan. “I’ve been exhausted these past weeks. Monty suspects I’m breeding again. Our little games with Dick Stone appear to have been most fruitful.”
At that, Tabby cast Edward a look and took off at a fast clip.
“Better chase her down, Dick Stone,” trilled the duchess. “Those tabby cats won’t stay home if you don’t give them their cream.”