Chapter 2
It wasn’t that Sebastian didn’t like ballrooms. It was that he didn’t care for the dramatics that always came with them. Some scandal was always brewing, gossip was flying, and so he stayed long enough for four dances, business, and then he was on his way.
A short stop to check on his friend Marcus in Covent Garden was cut even shorter when the man wasn’t at home.
Everything promised to be a dull evening until this.
Some fool of a hackney driver decided to break down here, the wheel clearly out of sorts and the large horse uncomfortable but unmoving. The driver was already knocked down on the ground beside him. And now there was the rider set to be the next victim.
A young woman. Lady, by the looks of it, tall and caught up in the hands of men who were determined to hurt her.
Having spent several years here in his youth, Sebastian knew all too well how to use the shadows to his advantage.
Maybe the men had done the same. But it was the only similarities they shared because he didn’t stand for such injustice.
This was something he braced himself for whenever he was here, creeping in the quiet and moving until he had to.
Anger coursed through him. They couldn’t do that to a lady. To a woman. Fortunately, he was itching for a fight, and he would take his chances to protect her.
“This is ours,” cried out one of the men. He was fumbling with the purse still tied to the woman’s hand. “Find your own lass!”
“What if I want this one?” he asked.
He heard the stilted gasp from her, knowing she saw nothing but a beast before her. Didn’t understand he wouldn’t touch her. Sebastian might have lived here, but he’d been born to a duke and understood well the morals and ethics of society. Of being a man. Of human decency.
“Let go of me!” The woman tried to fight, wriggling her body and twisted her yellow dress about.
The action started once again, only having paused by his arrival. Sebastian cursed under his breath. He should have taken advantage of that. Why had he taken to talking?
Blast it, Julian. You talk so much during our fencing matches it’s become a habit.
Putting thoughts of his friends behind him, Sebastian waded into the fight. There were a total of five men now and two victims. One was unconscious, so he could be left alone. The man didn’t look to have much on him anyway beyond the hackney, so he would be fine.
It was the lady––yes, definitely judging by her thin clothing she was a lady not meant for cold spaces like this––who was in serious trouble.
And it’s only going to get colder.
“Let her go,” Sebastian ordered as he stepped forward.
“Davey, get him!”
Davey, dumb as they could get, stormed toward Sebastian with raised fists.
While he considered letting the fool get in one hit, he decided the time wasn’t necessarily worth it.
So he shot out a fist and knocked the man down in one go.
Before Davey hit the ground in a crumpled heap, Sebastian was moving again.
This might not be an official boxing match, but that didn’t matter. He was using his fists in these very streets before ever entering a ring. It was in there he could fight like he was a half-civilized man. Here, however it didn’t matter what or who he was.
My valet will be put out if this coat ends up with blood on it. This was his favorite. I’ll have to buy another one just to please him. I shouldn’t have come tonight.
But if he hadn’t been here, then he couldn’t help the lady, whoever he was. The thought of someone hurt with a faulty carriage hurt him. It twisted his gut like a thin blade slicing at his organs. He couldn’t bear it.
“Oy, Davey! What’d you do?”
Sebastian grunted, deciding against words this time as he swung. But the younger man was fast. He ducked in time before kicking. It was a narrow escape, but still put Sebastian further away from the young lady who had gone tumbling down.
He froze, unable to help himself. What had happened? Was she hurt?
She was on top of the other man now. Moving, fighting, he realized. She was clawing at his face. There weren’t gloves, and he was screaming. There was something else in his hands he was avoiding letting her get to… The purse.
Ladies and their things. She can replace a purse and whatever fan she has in there in the morning. Let it go, lady, or you’ll be worse for wear.
And if he wasn’t careful, she might even blame him.
Sebastian huffed in irritation. The distraction only lasted a moment, but it was enough for someone to get a swing in. He caught sight of the fist too late and fell back onto a knee, grunting. They had hit his cheek. No crack, but it still hurt.
“Ha!” One of the men was gloating.
Glowering over the hit and his own shame of being caught unprepared, Sebastian picked himself back up and went in swinging. The man yelped and cowered but couldn’t escape. He managed to survive a few seconds before two hits brought him down as well.
But he had a friend there waiting.
“Let me at ’im!” Cried a voice from behind.
He twisted around at once, this time catching the man before he could do anything. There was the smell of sweat and blood in the air. Sebastian inhaled heavily as he picked the fight back up.
One man in front and the other behind him offered up a small challenge, but not much.
He toyed with them for a minute. It was easy to get carried away in a fight during moments like these.
Besides, he hadn’t enjoyed a good bout for a little while.
That was why he’d come here to Marcus, to get himself another match.
This should do the trick for a while.
Light on his feet and with the raw power from years of fights and boxing and wrestling, Sebastian eagerly tackled his opponents.
All of them were scruffy fighters. They didn’t know the rules.
They only ever fought to survive. Boxing, sometimes, had too many rules.
There was a freedom in this that Sebastian enjoyed.
He enjoyed it even more when the two men went down.
That put three of them out of the way, with only two more to manage. The lady had made it to her knees and was still fighting one of them while the other was yanking at her waist. There was a flash of light. No, silver.
He has a blade.
“Don’t touch the lady,” Sebastian growled. An instinctual wave of protectiveness had him storming the man touching her.
While he could hardly believe the words he said, he let the moment slide as he snatched up the other man and tossed him down to the ground.
During that, he heard something rip. Something stung, too, but he ignored that.
The cold could do that to a man. He hoped it was along a seam somewhere and nowhere terribly noticeable.
But he could worry about the clothing and the chill later.
The man was on the ground, still conscious, and groaning loudly.
“I wasn’t doin' nothin',” he moaned. “Why’d you ‘ave to do that?”
Sebastian contained his rage as he walked two steps over to him and hovered for a second to glare.
The answer should have been obvious. Deciding to give him time to think over it, Sebastian hit the man unconscious.
One of his friends, Tristan, always said that sleep helped a man to think, after all.
“Now,” he started as he turned to the last man.
The thief and the lady had finally come apart––and the former had won the purse. But now Sebastian conveniently stood in the way of his escape into Covent Garden. If the thief made it in there, then Sebastian doubted he would even be able to find him. The mews were too vast for a thorough search.
“Give it here,” Sebastian demanded.
“I need it back, please!” The lady scrambled up to her feet, her hair askew and her cloak on the ground. It didn’t seem to do much in general. Sebastian couldn’t tell if it was the dim light of night or the cold that made her appear blue. She made it to her feet and darted at the man.
Thief that he was, he had his prize and didn’t want to let go. He took off running in the other direction––right into the Soho neighborhood. It would lead on to Mayfair and other fancy streets and narrow pocket lanes to get lost in.
“Wait,” Sebastian started to the lady, knowing how unlikely it would be for them to be able to follow.
He took a step forward to chase after the lady now chasing the thief, but something walloped him hard in the head. He fell forward onto his hands and knees. The shock vibrated through his body and he fumbled down onto his side, turning to see a new man there.
The man was shakily holding up a wheel that tumbled down at his feet. Judging by his only slightly shabby dress and wide-eyed look, he wasn’t a thief. He was the driver.
Sebastian let out a curse. The world was still spinning after that hit. But a wheel would do that to anyone, he considered. The world tilted and cast a cold sheen over him. He thought he felt something damp on the back of his skull.
“What was that for?” he growled, trying to remember how to stand.
“Don’t touch her,” the man wheezed.
He grunted. “I was trying to help the lady, you fool. I wasn’t one of the thieves or cutthroats.”
“No? You came out of nowhere,” the driver accused albeit weakly.
“All the better to scare them.” Sebastian staggered up and felt himself weaving. He winced, forcing deep breaths. He could walk in a moment. He could run in a moment, too. He just needed to get this out of his system. It was nothing more than a fair hit. “I wouldn’t hurt the lady.”
Nor would I have let my hackney break down in a place like this.
“Ah.” The driver stumbled back against his carriage. There was a dark stain spreading by his forehead. He must have been hit as well. “My er, apologies. What of the lady?”
Sebastian glared. “I’ll save her.”
“Very good,” the man said dimly.