Rex stumbled at first at his cousin's longer stride, but kept up. "What, with the scar? Women tremble at the sight."
"They'll tremble, all right, but with eagerness to sink their claws into you now that you are in London. What's a little scar compared to your title and fortune?"
"That's not why I came. I have another mission in town. My father sent me to rescue a damsel, and I need your help to fight off the dragon."
"Damsels and dragons, eh? I suppose you get to play the white knight and you expect me to be your loyal squire as usual? I won't do it. Ain't in the petticoat line, and ain't wearing armor. I like my freedom and my comfort too well."
"This is different."
"Not army work, then? I sold out ages ago, you know. Soon as I came home, and glad of it." Daniel kept walking, leading Rex toward a better section of town, thank goodness. Too many eyes stared out of too many alleys for Rex's comfort. No one had challenged them yet, but a limping, bloody nob was an easy target for a gang. Daniel was a large target for a thrown knife or a pistol.
"I am going to resign my commission as soon as this is over. I've had my fill of being treated like a barbarian." Not that this evening was any indication of a more civilized existence, but it felt better, except for his nose.
"We saved a lot of English lives with the information we got for the generals," Daniel said, "no matter how we got it."
"But we lost the respect of those very lives we saved, and well you know it. This is a more personal battle."
"Very well, who is the dragon, then?"
"Lady Royce."
"Your mother? You've reconciled with Aunt Margaret? That's grand."
"No, I have not reconciled with that woman. She is not even in Town yet. She's flitting around Bath while there's a cyclone brewing here. It's her goddaughter, Miss Amanda Carville."
Daniel stopped walking. "The female who shot that dirty dish Hawley, her own stepfather?"
"The one who was charged with the crime," Rex amended. "And charged in a hurry, I might add, by Sir Nigel Turlowe."
Daniel whistled, then regretted it, discovering a split lip. "So that is why your father sent you. Did she do it?" Daniel knew that Rex would have the truth, if anyone did.
"She was too ill to tell me. Then she was frightened by the dog, then Nanny Brown threw me out of the room." Rex swung his cane at a street lamp in frustration. "We have to find out."
Daniel leaned against the lamppost. "We?"
"I do not know my way around Town the way you do. And if Miss Carville did not commit the murder, then someone will not want us looking into it. Nor will Sir Nigel."
"You need me."
"That's what I said, you big oaf."
"Are you sure your nose is broken this time? I could…"
They went to the boardinghouse where Daniel rented a set of rooms, to pick up his things. At first Daniel was not happy at the idea of staying at Royce House.
"I'm not, either," Rex said in an understatement. He'd rather have slept on the sagging sofa in Daniel's sitting room, but neither one of them had a choice, not if they were going to settle the court case as soon as possible. "But I vouched for Miss Carville, so I have to stay close at least until the countess returns."
"She'll be mad."
"Miss Carville? How can she complain of another champion? Besides, she is too ill to notice your presence."
"No, Aunt Margaret."
"What, that you've turned into a sot and a brawler?"
"No, that I broke your damned beak. I promised to look after you."
"That was on the Peninsula, not in London."
"I promised your father about the army. Your mother about everything else."
"Well, I promised your mother and father, too. And I never broke your nose, so you deserve the guilt and the anger."
"You couldn't break my nose if you wanted to."
Rex did not bother refuting the boyish taunt as he sipped at the wine Daniel brought. "I did not know you corresponded with the countess."
"She's my aunt, don't you know. She always wanted to hear about you."
"She could have asked me."
"Would you have answered?"
"No."
Rex sank into a chair and gratefully accepted the wet towel Daniel handed him to put over his aching nose, and another glass of wine.
While Daniel packed-if throwing clothing and papers and books into a trunk could be called packing-he wanted to know their plan. Rex always did have a plan, hey-go-mad or hell-born, and Daniel always went along with it.
"Well, until we know if the lady is innocent or not, we cannot mount a defense. We'll need to talk to the servants at Hawley's house, and pick up Miss Carville's belongings while we are there. And I want to know why the stepsister and -brother never visited the jail, and what man Miss Carville was supposed to be meeting on the sly."
"I never heard a name in the clubs and coffeehouses when everyone was talking about the killing. Mostly they were all glad Sir Frederick was gone."
"That's what I heard too, so far. But someone has to know more. Then there is the little problem I might have with the Lord High Magistrate or the sheriff's office, for nearly kidnaping Miss Carville out of Newgate."
"You didn't go bail for her?"
"There is no bond set for a killer-an accused killer. I suppose they figure the accused would all scarper off to the colonies or something."
"Right. I would be running too, if I had the gun in my hand at the scene of the crime." Daniel grinned, then found another towel to hold against his split lip. "So you stole the woman like a ravaging Hun?"
"Not exactly. I paid the guard and claimed I was taking her for medical treatment. So I might have to call at the War Office."
Daniel took a long swallow of his wine, deciding that would work better than a towel. "The Aide?"
Rex nodded. No one voluntarily called on the secretive figure behind the covert operations of the army's Intelligence division. "I am on sick leave still, so he cannot order me back to the Peninsula. On the other hand, he will not want me arrested for obstructing justice."
Daniel put on a clean jacket-cleaner, at any rate-and said, "With friends like that, who needs maggots?"
"Right."
"Tell me about the woman."
So Rex told what little he knew. Of course he did not describe the woman's figure or soft skin, only her condition, the rescue, and the few words they'd exchanged.
"Have you a guess?"
Rex knew Daniel meant about the murder, not whether Miss Carville was a virgin or not, which kept rattling around Rex's brain like a loose shutter on a windy night. "My gut says she's no cold-blooded killer, and Nanny Brown swears the countess would not have sent for us if she were. Other than that, the lady might have had good reason."
"Good enough for Sir Nigel and the courts?"
Rex did not know, which worried him. "Are you ready? I do not like leaving her alone in that household. Most of the servants are on holiday." He stood, with effort. Damn, but his bad leg was not up to this much activity. He took a last swallow of his wine for the trip back to Mayfair.
Daniel watched, without offering a hand. "Well, if she is convicted, at least your mother won't make you marry the chit."
The wineglass slid out of Rex's fingers. "What do you mean?"
"Stands to reason Aunt Margaret won't want a killer in the family, even if the gal is her goddaughter. Might shoot her husband next. That'd be you," he added, in case Rex missed the barb.
Rex was still on the dire word. "Marry?"
"Well, the wife of a peer gets special privileges in the courts, doesn't she? And there's no doubt that you compromised the female. Took her off on your horse, brought her to your mother's house with no respectable female present. Undressed her, too. If that's not compromising a lady, I don't know what is, unless you raise her skirts on a park bench in Hyde Park."
While Rex sputtered and tried to explain the situation, Daniel tied another spotted kerchief around his neck in lieu of a cravat and then hauled his trunk onto his shoulder. He looked more like a dockworker than a gentleman, but Rex was not in any position to cast aspersions, not with his shirt and coat stained with blood, his red-soaked neckcloth tossed in the trash altogether. Besides, who cared about neatness when Daniel spoke of nuptials?