“Oh, no, little miss, we know better then that,” said one.
Another said to his companions, “We can’t let her go. She’ll alert the others.”
“Good idea,” said Sophronia, at which juncture she threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Instantly, not so very far away, she heard someone crashing through the trees. She screamed again.
Apparently, deciding it was most important to hush her, two ruffians charged. Sophronia took aim and fired with her hurlie a second time. It hit the burned man in the chest and bounced harmlessly off. The hooks were made to catch on the draw back, not the firing. I should get Vieve to mount a sharp point in the middle that pops out when I release the turtle. Still the man howled in surprise; the spring-loaded release was strong, so it would at least bruise. Then the other man was upon her.
Sophronia fell into Captain Niall’s best defensive stance for the smaller personage when faced with a large opponent and raised her letter opener. The ruffian moved in, no doubt relying on the fact that she was female and could not possibly know anything about fighting. Captain Niall had only taught them a single attack, but he had made them practice it over and over and over. Sophronia slashed out, opening up a long gash on the man’s arm.
He backed away warily.
The other ruffian stopped, grabbed at her grappling hook, and began tugging on it. Soon he would have Sophronia by a leash, and she had no time to undo the turtle from her wrist, focused as she was on fighting the first man. Sophronia prepared to kick. That was a dirty tactic, not taught by Captain Niall, but Soap had shown her a few tricks and she was prepared to use them if necessary.
It was not necessary, for a rescuer appeared out of the forest.
“You screamed, madam?”
“Why, Lord Mersey, what are you doing here?”
“Following you, of course. Spot of bother?”
“Little bit of one, yes.”
The young man looked with interest at Sophronia’s opponents, one holding a collapsed Dimity, one bleeding from a gash to the arm, and the third bleeding from a wound to the back.
“My dear Ria, you hardly need my help.”
“Hardly.”
“Have I told you recently how much I admire a capable woman?” As he spoke, the young lord reached inside his coat and produced the most remarkable gadget. It wasn’t very big and was rather flat, which explained how he could keep it in his coat without upsetting the lines, but it was extremely evil looking. It was long and sharp with multiple attachments and a nozzle blackened from extruding some toxic substance. It looked highly flammable and quite deadly. Vieve would have been enthralled.
The ruffians were suitably impressed. They stopped.
“Put down the young lady,” said Felix.
The man holding Dimity hesitated.
Felix was an aristocrat and accustomed to instant obedience. “This moment!” He swung the weapon to aim at the man and Dimity. “I assure you, I am a very good shot. I will most certainly hit you, not her.”
“What is that thing?” quavered the ruffian.
“Oh, this?” Felix was casual. “This is a ballistic exploding steam missile fire prong. It’s my latest invention, and it’s very, very good at being deadly.”
That did it. The ruffian holding Dimity dropped her once more, and she flopped becomingly, like a sleeping princess from a fairy story.
The man who had been hurlied said to the other two, “We ain’t paid enough for this.”
The others apparently agreed. “Leave it.”
With little more to-do, the three ruffians dashed away into the forest.
Sophronia and Felix looked at each other.
“Nice prong,” said Sophronia after a moment.
Felix grinned and waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “Thank you for saying so.”
Sophronia was instantly suspicious. “You mean that isn’t a ballistic exploding steam missile fire prong?”
“No such thing, my dear Ria, but it certainly sounds wicked, doesn’t it?”