An answering shot came like an echo, not as loud as the first.
A narrow passage led him to a small yard filled with the stink of blood and burning gunpowder. The acrid smell left a tang in his mouth. Darius ignored it and everyone else in the yard as he hurtled toward the blood-spattered figure lying prone on the ground.
He couldn’t be dead. Please God, he wasn’t dead.
Andrew weakly pushed himself up and rolled on to his back. “Faugh, this place stinks!”
Seizing him, Darius skimmed his hands over Andrew’s face and shoulders before dragging him up and clamping his mouth to Andrew’s. He needed that kiss more than he needed air. He didn’t care who saw him or what they thought. “Oh, my love, I thought I had lost you!”
Andrew gave a shaky laugh and tossed a small pistol to the floor. “I never liked that thing, but I’m glad I had it today. I always carry it.”
When he tried to push out of Darius’s arms, Darius held on tight. He couldn’t let him go yet.
Andrew leaned back. “The idiot saw me drop two pistols. He should have made me take my coat off, and then he’d have seen the small pistol in my breeches’ pocket. It’s not a comfortable thing to use. The hammer has too much spring in it, and the pan is too close to my thumb.” He lifted his hand, revealing a singed knuckle. “But it saved my life, so I suppose I’ll have to keep it now.”
“I will build a shrine to it.” Darius ignored the noise going on around him, the discussion Ivan was holding with Smith and Bull.
“Court’s dead, I presume. He had two men with him.”
“They’re gone.” Ivan broke off his conversation to inform him. “A couple of bullies ran back into the house behind us.”
“So that’s how he got here without us seeing him.” Andrew tried to stand.
Darius helped him to his feet but kept his arm around his waist, as much for his own comfort as Andrew’s. “We came here, as arranged, to meet Bartolini,” Andrew said. “Who is dead, by the way. Court shot him.”
“He didn’t want anyone left alive to condemn him,” Darius said dryly, sparing the heap of humanity slumped to the floor. “Court could then sell the list again. He’s very short of money.”
“I imagine he was. I didn’t think he committed the crime for love of France.”
Andrew’s dry tone made Darius laugh. “He could also make contact with Bartolini’s master,” Darius said. “Dealing with him directly, he could probably obtain a better price. His father is careless with the information entrusted to him.”
“Are you sure it isn’t more than that?”
Darius nodded. “Almost certain. I will, however, mention the matter to my father. I think Court was a deluded, spoiled child who assumed he was the most important person in existence. I have seen his like before. He could probably justify his actions, at least to himself. It was his father’s fault for leaving the papers unguarded, I imagine. Or his father’s fault for not ensuring his son had enough money.” As usual, in a stressful situation, emotion drained from Darius, leaving him coolly analytical. He’d regarded the effect as a gift. It had certainly put him in good stead before, and he was thankful for it now.
“I’m surprised nobody has come to discover what the commotion is.”
“The house behind us is unoccupied,” Darius said. “So is the one to the side. The other two? Either the residents have decided this business is none of their affair, or they’ve been paid off, or they aren’t at home. I don’t care. If they had been concerned, they’d be here by now. So we will leave instead.” He nodded to Bull and Smith. “Make yourselves scarce. Go to a tavern, make some noise, come back to the inn later reeking of beer.”
“Aye, sir.” The footmen shuffled out of the yard.
Ivan shrugged and moved away to sweep up the small pistol from the floor. He held it in the palm of his hand, stared at it, and winced. “You should get something better than this.”
Darius turned in time to grab Andrew as he slumped. “We’re going back to the inn. No arguments, please.”
“You’ll get none.”
His dizziness sent Andrew into panic for a few seconds, before he got hold of himself. “I can’t say I’ve ever killed a man before.” To his chagrin, his words came out hesitantly, and he sounded as if he’d swallowed a frog.
When Darius curved his arm around his shoulders, Andrew shook him off. Darius stood apart, his face frozen.
“I’m filthy,” Andrew tried to explain. “That floor has dirt ground on top of dirt.”
The lines around his mouth relaxing, Darius put his arm around Andrew’s waist once more, and this time tightened his hold. “I brought a change of clothes. You’re suffering from shock. You need support.” He laughed shakily. “So do I. Shall we lean on one another?”
“Yes.” He didn’t have the strength to object or the resolve. Darius felt wonderful, his strength supporting Andrew when he needed it the most.
Together, they swayed up the street like a couple of drunks. Not that they were out of place in this part of town. Inn doors lay open and people were laughing and shouting, as they always did when they had too much to drink. Slightly wild, crazily off-center.
Their presence reassured Andrew—a sign of life going on as normal. No wonder nobody had heard the shots. Two inns across the road from each other, crammed with boisterous clientele, doors slamming, voices raised would be enough to mask the sounds.
His head cleared as they walked to the end of the street.
Darius paused by a couple of horses tethered to a post outside a house. “I’m surprised they’re still here,” he commented. “Can you ride?”
Andrew shook his head. “Not as well as you, I’ll be bound.” Truthfully he did not want to let go of Darius. Now he had him he wanted to keep him close. Nobody thought anything of two men staggering up a street that contained its fair share of taverns. Only they knew they weren’t drunk.
Ivan murmured, “I’ll bring them. You go ahead. We need to get out of here before the authorities arrive. Let them think whatever they want to.”
Leaving Ivan to take care of the horses, they walked on, eventually gaining the more respectable part of town where their inn stood.
“I’ve never been to Dover before,” Andrew said, apropos of nothing. “Never been far out of London.”
“I like London,” Darius murmured. “It suits me better than the country but that has its merits, too.”
They reluctantly separated at the door of the inn and walked in like two fine gentlemen. Two fine gentlemen generously bedaubed with dirt. The landlord eyed them with disfavor, but Darius put on his aristocratic air and demanded two more rooms for him and for Ivan.
“Only got one available, sir, and that’s a fact,” the landlord said.
Despite Darius gently correcting him to “my lord,” the landlord remained adamant. “In the morning, after the packet leaves, there could be a room.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Andrew didn’t want Darius anywhere but his room. “We’ll take the one you have. Ivan will be glad of it when he arrives.”