Page 48 of How to Best a Marquess

Chapter Thirteen

Ellie stifled a gasp.

Hugh shoved her behind him as he turned to face the two footpads. She could barely make out their faces from behind Hugh’s shoulder. One was taller than the other, with greasy hair and a pox-marked face and beady eyes. The other was short, stocky, and bald. He held the pistol.

“Yer purse! Now!”

Sheer black fright swept through her. How could this have happened? One minute, she was melting against Hugh, and now they were set upon by armed criminals?

Their secluded spot had been perfect for their heated kisses but was the worst area to call for help. Was there anyone left in the park? If she screamed, could someone hear her?

“No screaming,” the tall man said, guessing her thoughts. “Or his brains will be splattered all over yer pretty dress.”

Bile rose up her throat. The thought of watching Hugh die set a fresh wave of panic in her chest. No, she couldn’t allow that to happen. She’d lost him once, but to lose him to death was not something she could fathom. She’d never survive it.

Ellie’s back scraped the brick wall of the bridge as Hugh shielded her body with his. Her heart pounded fiercely, battling her rib cage.

Hugh slowly reached into his waistcoat. “Easy, now. I have coins in my purse. You can have them.” He withdrew his purse and tossed it to them. A clink of coins sounded as the tall man caught it.

“Now be on your way,” Hugh said.

“Not yet.” The short man with the pistol took a bold step forward. “The lady has pretty red hair. Don’t she, Butch?”

The tall man he’d called Butch nodded. “Aye. Haven’t ever seen that bright shade before. Pretty thing.”

“You don’t mind sharing, me lord. Do you?” the short man said.

Hugh’s eyes narrowed, and a cold wave settled over him. “Don’t touch her.”

The short man grunted. “As I ’ave the pistol,” he said, waving it before them, “I don’t take orders from ye.”

“Wait. Get the lady’s reticule first,” the tall man said.

“Give it to me, Ellie,” Hugh said.

She’d forgotten about her reticule. She slipped the strap from her wrist and handed it to Hugh.

“Here. Catch,” Hugh said as he tossed it in the air, but it fell short.

The man bent to fetch it just as Hugh raised his boot to kick him in the head. The pistol flew from his hand as he stumbled back and fell to the ground.

Hugh’s movements became a blur as his fist struck out and punched the taller man square in the face. Hugh set upon him with a vengeance, punching him until he staggered back and raised his hands to protect his head.

“Run, Ellie!”

She couldn’t leave him. Not now. Not when the short man rose to his feet and lunged for the gun.

“Hugh!” Ellie screamed in warning.

She feared Hugh wouldn’t reach the weapon in time. He was still battling the other man.

She rushed forward, intending to kick the pistol away before the short thug could reach it, but was too late. He lifted the pistol and fired. The deafening crack of the pistol was drowned out by a simultaneous strike of thunder. Her heart seized, then relief spread through her as she saw that Hugh was still grappling with Butch.

Thank God!

She picked up a large stone and hurled it at the man. He stiffened and looked at her in amazement before touching his forehead. Blood coated his fingers.

“Bitch!”