Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,112

be called that, could not have helped him.

“I see.”

“He came within an inch of hitting me,” Northgate said. “I felt the heat from the pistol ball as it flew by my face. That man isn’t safe. He needs to be locked up.”

The crowd began to murmur, and Pru tightened her grip on Nash’s arm. All she had wanted was to bury her head in his chest and feel safe after Northgate’s attack. But it seemed she would never get that chance now. Nash evinced no reaction to Northgate’s accusation. It was as though he heard nothing and blocked all of the unpleasantness. He appeared completely unconcerned.

“If this is true,” the earl said, raising his voice to be heard above the crowd, “he should be locked away. For his safety and yours.”

The people in the crowd nodded and muttered agreement. It seemed the entire village was there now. Even the children had left their games to see what the commotion was about.

“That isn’t what happened,” Pru said, feeling all the eyes of the village turn to her. “There was a pistol shot, but Mr. Pope didn’t fire it.”

“Then who did?” someone in the crowd yelled.

“We all know he carries a pistol in his pocket,” someone else said.

And then the entire village was yelling and talking over each other, and Pru knew it was hopeless. The earl would have to send Nash away just to prevent a riot. She drew her attention back to Nash and twined her fingers with his. She’d stand beside him as long as he could. He stood straight, head up, but his hand gripped hers back.

IT WAS OVER. NASH KNEW when a battle was won or, in this case, lost. Pru thought she could save him, and if anyone could, it was she. But Nash didn’t think anyone or anything could save him now. And it was his own fault. If he hadn’t allowed himself to sink into despair. If he hadn’t carried that pistol around all the time. If he hadn’t shot at the solicitor and Duncan Murray...

He would lose her now. He would lose Pru and he hadn’t even told her that he loved her. He hadn’t even told her how much she meant to him. How she had helped him when he needed it most.

“What is this about?” The voice rose above the rest, cutting clearly through the noise. It was the voice of a man used to speaking to rowdy crowds. It was Rowden Payne. “No, don’t all speak at once. My lord, what has happened?”

The earl cleared his throat. “Apparently, my son shot at this man in what appears to be a lover’s quarrel.”

The crowd murmured again, and Rowden seemed to wait for them to quiet before speaking again. “Is that true, sir?”

Northgate—cowardly bastard—moved forward. “It’s true, sir. He almost killed me.”

“I see.” Rowden’s voice was slow and deliberate. “This is very serious.”

“Lock him away!” someone called.

“Good idea,” Rowden said, making his voice heard above the crowd. He’d commanded the attention of far more belligerent crowds from a pugilism ring in London’s underbelly. Nash knew this gathering was nothing to him. “You there—take this gentleman away.”

Nash waited for rough arms to seize him, but instead he heard more murmuring. No one moved.

“What are you about?” Northgate said. “He tried to kill me!”

“Is that so?” Rowden drawled. “With what weapon?”

Nash didn’t allow himself to smile yet. After all, Rowden would not appreciate it if he ruined his moment.

“A pistol,” Northgate said, sounding as though he were speaking to a child. “The one he always carries with him. Same one he shot the Scot with, I imagine.”

“This one?” Rowden said.

Beside him, Pru gasped, and Nash could imagine Rowden drawing Nash’s pistol out of his own pocket.

“Not that one! He has a pistol!” Northgate said, but he sounded uncertain now. He sounded as though he knew he had just taken a wrong step.

“Mr. Pope,” Rowden said. “Would you empty your pockets, please.”

“Of course,” Nash said. He reached into his outer coat pockets and turned them inside out. Then he made a show of removing his coat and emptying the inner pockets and the pockets of his waistcoat. In the end, he had nothing to show for it except a few pieces of lint and a couple of coins.

“He threw the pistol into the garden!” Northgate said, sounding panicked. “He gave it to her.” He must have pointed at Pru because Nash heard people murmuring her name. But it must have been obvious she wasn’t hiding