he intended to take a beating this day.
“Bastard,” Bolingbroke hissed, letting a fist fly.
Ducking out of reach, Tynan dodged that assault. “Only in the figurative sense,” he said coolly.
Bolingbroke’s eyes bulged, and this time, he flew at Tynan, catching him hard on the chin with a rather impressive right hook.
Tynan’s head went flying back, and his ears began to ring.
Faye cried out. “Do not hurt him! What are you doing?”
The baron cracked his knuckles, and the answer to that question, he directed Tynan’s way. “Killing him.”
Tynan tensed, braced for the next attack.
“The hell you will, Tristan,” Faye hissed and surged forward, putting herself between Tynan and her brother.
It was the first time in the whole of his existence that a single person had ever come between Tynan and an attack upon him. Not even his own mother had rushed to put herself in the path of her husband’s meaty fists. Nor had Tynan wanted her to. He’d been content to take those beatings for her and his sister’s sake. And neither had he believed himself worthy of another person intervening. And yet, somehow, this woman did. This woman, snapping like the angry cat he’d first dubbed her, went toe-to-toe with the baron.
“You are most certainly not going to kill him,” she was saying. “I forbid you to put your hands upon him again. He has done nothing.”
“Nothing?” the baron whispered. “Nothing? I find you together, half-naked. And then there is this.” He angrily jerked a packet from his pocket and slapped it in the air. “Do you know what these are?” he demanded of Faye.
“They appear to be letters of reference,” she acknowledged.
“Ones since checked by our family butler,” Tristan bit out each word. “A search which has revealed this man has given false letters.”
Faye inclined her head. “Yes, but not without good reason.”
She managed to bring her brother up short. And, for that matter, Tynan, too.
Confusion wreathed her brother’s haggard face. “What?”
“I found myself in trouble.”
Bolingbroke’s brows flew together. “What manner of trouble?”
God, the other man was no match for the young woman some ten or so years his junior. He’d no idea that she’d diffused and now diverted.
“I am engaged in a mission of shedding light on the crimes of members of the peerage, and in so doing, I’ve inadvertently angered some.”
Just like that, she sacrificed herself and her plans, sharing them with a sibling who would not only never approve, but never allow her to seek the justice she wanted.
The baron scrubbed a hand over his face. “What?” he asked. His already-tired tones grew more strained as he squeezed an extra syllable into that desperate-sounding query.
“I…”
“I heard you,” the brother snapped.
She gave a flounce of her head, sending the handful of loose curls at her shoulder bouncing. “Yes, well, then you really should not have asked that clarifying question.”
The baron looked back and forth between Tynan and Faye. The gentleman warred with himself, and even as he did, his eyes blazed with murderous intent. He wanted to kill Tynan. As he should. As Tynan deserved for having put his hands upon Faye. But then Bolingbroke yanked his gaze away.
“Get out.”
That was it? He’d escape with his life, and yet, when he did, he’d never again see Faye.
His gaze locked with her pain-filled eyes. Or mayhap that was his own misery reflected within those pools.
This had always been slated to end. He’d known that from the start, even if Faye had fought it at every turn. He’d just thought there would be time for a proper goodbye. All his stomach muscles seized, threatening to double him over.
I’m not ready.
But then, would he ever be?
“Now!” her brother barked.
With a last lingering look for Faye, committing her face to memory, Tynan turned on his heel and left.
Chapter 26
She didn’t believe for a moment her brother had bought a single word she’d fed him about nothing untoward having happened between her and Tynan.
As she stood at the front of the parlor, scouring the streets for a last glimpse of Tynan, she held her breath, more than half afraid her brother would order him detained, after all.
And then he was there, absent that silly wig her family, and Polite Society, insisted servants wore for the sake of uniformity among the staff. Also rid of his sapphire livery.
Look back at me, she silently pleaded as he moved at a quick pace through the quiet Mayfair streets. Even though it was selfish and wrong. But it was also the last she would see of