Yet as he watched, a worker strode directly toward them, pausing to snatch a length of iron from the ground. His intent expression and the way he swung the iron as he walked caused a sense of foreboding to prickle over Thomas.
“Miss Gold,” Thomas shouted, but the din made it impossible for her to hear him from this distance. He ran toward her, weaving through the workers and carts as he kept an eye on the approaching man.
Annabelle didn’t appear to notice either of them, her focus on her father. Couldn’t she sense the danger? Or was he just imagining it?
“Miss Gold!” Thomas tried again, his heart pounding as the brawny worker drew closer. Still she didn’t hear his call.
The man glanced toward him, his expression hardening at the sight of Thomas racing forward. The worker increased his pace even as he raised the piece of iron in a hefty fist, prepared to strike.
Thomas’s heart leapt to his throat. “Annabelle!”
~*~
Annabelle gasped and jerked her father to a halt as she caught sight of a worker approaching with an iron rod raised in his hand.
“What?” Her father stared at her in confusion then looked at the man blankly.
Annabelle released her father to stand in front of him, arms spread wide as she faced the stranger. “What are you about?” she demanded.
The man’s cold, dark eyes held hers, causing fear to grip her even as he lifted the iron higher, preparing to strike. Without thought, she rushed forward, hands outstretched to shove him back. But her effort had little effect.
“Get out of my way,” the man shouted, his focus on her father as he easily pushed her aside.
Sir Reginald stared at him with a puzzled expression but made no move to remove himself from harm’s way.
“No.” Annabelle grabbed the man’s hand that held the rod as he stepped closer to her father. “Leave him be.”
The worker shoved her hard, and she hit the ground, landing painfully on her side.
“What are you about?” Sir Reginald demanded as he glared at the man. “Stop this at once.”
Visible only as a blur, another figure tackled the stranger and knocked him to the ground. It took only a moment for Annabelle to realize it was Thomas.
She managed to get to her feet and rush to her father’s side as the two men struggled on the ground, fists flying as grunts and shouts filled the air. Thomas gained the upper hand, straddling their attacker and plowing his fist into the man’s jaw.
A worker called out and several men hurried forward to help subdue and hold the attacker.
Thomas shifted off the man and stood with his hands on his knees as if to catch his breath. Then he straightened, his chest heaving, as he turned toward Annabelle and her father. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She glanced at her father, relieved to see him untouched if confused, as she pressed a hand over her racing heart. “Thanks to you,” Annabelle said as she looked back at Thomas. She shook her head in disbelief, her legs trembling with shock. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing but a few bruises, I think.” He glared at the attacker, who at last stopped struggling against his captors.
“What are you doing here?” Annabelle asked, her thoughts spinning as she tried to make sense of the situation as her focus shifted between her father, Thomas, and the stranger being held down. “How did you know?”
“It’s a rather long story.” His gaze studied her closely as if to reassure himself that she was well, the intensity in his green eyes causing her stomach to dip.
“Thank you, good sir.” Sir Reginald held out his hand toward Thomas. “You saved my daughter from injury.”
Thomas took his hand. “I’m pleased you’re both unharmed.”
“Sir Reginald Gold,” her father said with a smile. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Miss Annabelle Gold.”
Thomas glanced at Annabelle as if puzzled by her father’s reaction.
Annabelle briefly closed her eyes then took her father’s arm. “I’ve had the pleasure of making Mr. Raybourne’s acquaintance.”
A look of confusion came over her father’s face and she hastened to reassure him. “I don’t believe you’ve met him, Father.”
“Sir Reginald.” Thomas dipped his head then glanced at the still angry attacker. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“Why was that man trying to hit us?” Sir Reginald asked. He looked at Annabelle. “Do I know him?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“What’s happened?” Matthew Atwood, one of the foremen, stepped forward. “Why is Pickford being restrained?”
“He attacked Sir Reginald and his daughter with an iron rod,” Thomas explained. “Could you send someone for the River Police?”
“Of course.” Atwood directed a worker to do so then approached Pickford. “What is this about?”
“I’ve got nothing to say.” The man glared at those who held him, a snarl on his face.
“How long has he worked for you?” Thomas asked Sir Reginald.
Annabelle’s father looked up at the sky. “It’s a fine day, isn’t it? Although it looks like it might rain later.”
“Perhaps Mr. Atwood could answer any questions,” Annabelle suggested even as alarm filled her.
Thomas seemed to understand her concern as he nodded. “Why don’t I make certain all is taken care of here while you see your father home?”
Relieved at the suggestion, she nodded then glanced at the gathered men. “Thank you all for your assistance.” She nudged her father’s arm, her gaze holding his with the hope he’d add his thanks.
“Yes, thank you,” he said.
“I’ll be in touch soon.” Thomas’s expression of concern touched Annabelle. He’d proved to be the hero she believed him to be, despite his protests to the contrary.
Unfortunately, she had a soft spot for heroes.
Her heart trembled as she nodded in response then turned toward the carriage, hoping she could make it that far on her shaking limbs.
Chapter Ten
Several hours later, Thomas paced the Gold’s drawing room, hardly able to believe the events of the day. His nerves had yet to settle. All he could see was the iron rod poised to strike Annabelle. He shuddered at the memory, wondering if the sight—along with the terrible fear that had gripped him—would ever fade.
“Thomas?” The sound of her quiet voice had him turning, his gaze taking in the sight of her. The ache in his chest eased as her dark eyes held his.
“Annabelle.” Much to his relief, she was alone, though he doubted that would last long. He walked toward her, wishing he could take her in his arms to breathe in her sweet scent and allow her warmth to chase the chill from his bones.
“You’re hurt.” Her brow puckered as her gaze lingered on his cheek. She lifted her hand and gently touched the mark.
“It’s nothing serious.” He longed to lean into her hand and allow her to soothe him. As much as the bruise stung, he could only imagine what it looked like. But it was her that he worried about. He took her bare hands in his and rubbed the pads of his thumbs over her soft skin. “You’re certain you’re well?”
“I’m fine. Truly.”
“I’m so relieved. And your father?”
“He’s well if confused.” She glanced down at their clasped hands as if gathering her thoughts before meeting his gaze again. “As I mentioned before, his mind isn’t what it used to be.”
“That must be difficult for your family.”
“Aberland normally accompanies him to the office, but he was detained so I went with Father today.” She bit her lower lip. “I had no idea we might be in danger, that anyone would want to harm him.”
Thomas didn’t add that he was certain Pickford would’ve hurt them both if given the chance. “The police arrested the man.” He hated that he had to tell her the fact didn’t mean the danger was over.
“Who was he? What did he want?”
“James Pickford. The foreman
, Mr. Atwood, said he’d only been employed a few weeks. Pickford refused to say why he attacked you and your father. Perhaps the police will be able to convince him to reveal the reason.”
“My father has always been liked and respected by the employees. I don’t understand how this came to pass.”
“I believe the attack had to do with our other mystery.”
“The murder?” Her lips parted in surprise, and she blinked rapidly. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I do either. But a friend of mine with ties to the East India Company called on me at the office this morning to share something he overheard. That was what prompted me to call on you. When your butler advised that you and your father had gone to the shipyard, I followed you there.”
She shook her head. “This is madness. The Company has pressed Father to sell many times. In fact, the dock manager mentioned it again today. But to attack anyone over a business matter seems insane.”
“Apparently they’re trying new tactics to convince him and others to do so. They’re also after Arlingwood’s dock.”
Annabelle gasped. “You think the East India Company murdered his brother to convince him to sell?”
“Further investigation will provide answers, but there has to be a connection. Hopefully, the police can uncover the details now that they have Pickford in custody.”
“Annabelle.” Lady Gold appeared in the doorway, frowning as her gaze swept over them.
“Mother, you remember Mr. Raybourne?”
“Lady Gold.” Thomas released Annabelle’s hands and eased back then bowed.
“I’m told we owe you our gratitude for your valiant efforts today.” From the woman’s expression, Thomas was willing to wager that while she was grateful for his assistance, she had difficulty believing a rogue like him could truly have saved her husband and daughter.
That was all right as he had difficulty believing it himself. Yet seeing Annabelle in danger had spurred him into action without a second thought.
Lady Gold drew closer, her dark eyes, so like Annabelle’s, narrowing as she looked at his cheek. “You were injured.”
“Merely a scratch or two. Miss Gold tells me Sir Reginald is none the worse for the experience.”
Her gaze shifted to Annabelle briefly as if uncertain what her daughter had already shared. “I’m afraid his thoughts aren’t as clear as they used to be. Sometimes he pushes upsetting things from his mind as if they never occurred. However, he would like a word with you.”
“I’d appreciate that as well.”
She turned to lead the way from the room only to pause. “I do hope we can count on your discretion with my husband’s condition.”
“Of course.”
The twist of her lips suggested she was uncertain whether to believe him. Then she moved toward the doorway, leaving them to follow.
“I don’t believe your mother is fond of me,” Thomas said under his breath.
“Let us say she is well aware of your reputation.”
He’d never before cared about such things, but he had to admit he wanted Lady Gold—and Annabelle—to know he could be trusted. His interests in the past had been gambling, drinking, and women, not necessarily in that order. Now he was suddenly involved in publishing, investigations, and fending off attacks. The rapid changes his life was taking made him feel as if he were at sea, unable to find purchase on the rocking ship.
But despite the disconcerting feeling, he liked this new side of himself. He preferred to wake with a clear head and a purpose to his days.
Before he could think further on the matter, Lady Gold knocked on a door then opened it to reveal Sir Reginald seated at a desk. A fine painting of sheep grazing in a field hung on one wall, and the opposite side held shelves from floor to ceiling lined with books that suggested a wide variety of interests.
“There’s our hero.” Sir Reginald stood and stepped around his desk with a broad smile and an outstretched hand.
Thomas bowed then returned the smile and the handshake, aware of the watchful way Lady Gold continued to study him. “I hope the events of the day weren’t overly upsetting for you, sir.”
“Thanks to you, we are home safe and sound.” He turned to his wife. “You should’ve seen our Annabelle, attempting to fight off the brigand. Then this young man saved her. Saved us both, actually.”
“How fortunate.” Warmth crept into Lady Gold’s expression. “I’m pleased you both returned home unharmed.”
“Mr. Raybourne can be counted on when the need arises,” Sir Reginald said.
“I’m happy I could be of assistance.” Thomas realized he would do anything in his power to protect Annabelle and her family.
“I was acquainted with your father, though he never had anything good to say about you.”
“Father—” Annabelle reached for the man’s arm in alarm only to be ignored.
“He said you were worthless,” Sir Reginald continued. “Told that to anyone who would listen.”
Thomas clenched his jaw as old but still painful feelings of inadequacy and embarrassment surfaced. “Yes, he told me as well.”
“What kind of man tells his son that, I ask you?” Sir Reginald shook his head. “It’s no wonder you’ve wandered through life thus far with no discernible goal.”
“Father,” Annabelle squeezed his arm to gain his notice. “I don’t think we should discuss such things.”
“Why not? He has a right to know.” Sir Reginald frowned at his daughter and her efforts to quiet him.
“His relationship with his father isn’t our concern.” Annabelle sent Thomas an apologetic look.
“Very well, though honesty is always best. What say you, Raybourne?”
“Agreed, sir.” The older man hadn’t said anything Thomas didn’t already know. But Thomas appreciated that Sir Reginald thought it wrong for a father to tell his child such things.
“Mr. Raybourne can’t stay,” Annabelle said with a pointed look at Thomas.
“I must be going.” He could see how uncomfortable the conversation was making her. Odd how that bothered him more than his own unease.
“I hope you call on us again soon. We can’t thank you enough for your assistance today.” Sir Reginald glanced between Annabelle and him. “My daughter is unmarried, you know. She would make a fine wife.”
“Father, please.” Annabelle’s face flushed an alarming shade of red.
“Young men these days need a little guidance to make the right decisions.”
“Reginald, you’re embarrassing your daughter,” Lady Gold said as she caught Annabelle’s eye and tipped her head toward the door.
Annabelle appeared grateful for the excuse to escape. “I’ll see you to the door, Mr. Raybourne.” She avoided meeting his gaze as if he’d suddenly contracted the plague. Obviously the topic of marriage unsettled her. He dearly wanted to know if it was marriage in general or to a man like him that bothered her.
“Good day.” Thomas bowed to Sir Reginald and his wife and followed Annabelle out the door, noting how she closed it firmly behind her.
“I’m terribly sorry.” Her cheeks had yet to return to a normal shade. “He says the oddest things sometimes. You can see why we have to be careful who we allow to see him.”
“I’m sure it can be a challenge.”
“Please forgive him.” She shook her head. “Those remarks about your father were inappropriate.”
“Believe me. Sir Reginald didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.” He liked to think he was beyond the pain his father’s remarks had caused. Yet this was a reminder that some injuries never healed but remained painful for a lifetime.
They reached the entrance hall, and Annabelle slowed her steps to a stop. Thomas couldn’t help but place a finger beneath her chin so she’d at last meet his gaze. “It’s truly fine. All is well.”
The light of temper in her gaze took him aback. “No, it’s not. Not for my father, but especially not for yours. No child should hea
r they are worthless, regardless of their age.”
Her anger on his behalf warmed him. “There were reasons my father believed it.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Her mouth firmed with resolve. “Everyone makes mistakes. That doesn’t make them worthless. It’s a terrible word that should be removed from the English language.”
The rigid band that encircled his heart loosened at her words. “My father wouldn’t have agreed with you, but he would’ve admired your spirit.”
“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but what was wrong with that man? How could he not feel blessed to have a son?”
“Because he didn’t think I was his.” The words escaped before he could think twice. How could he have shared that with Annabelle when he had yet to do so with his brothers?
“Well if he said those things to his wife as well, is it any wonder that she sought solace elsewhere?” She bit her lip as if realizing what she’d said too late, her cheeks flushing becomingly once again. “My apologies. My tongue and temper occasionally get the best of me.”
“I believe they are two of your many admirable traits.” Thomas couldn’t help but smile at her passionate defense of him. Having someone outraged on his behalf was a new experience. One he rather liked.
“My family wouldn’t agree.” She glanced down the hall toward the library then reached out to smooth his lapel as her gaze captured his once again. “I can’t thank you enough for saving us today. I shudder to think what might’ve happened if you hadn’t arrived when you did.”
The heat of her hand on his chest caused him to draw a deep breath, making him long for more of her touch. “You are welcome. I only wish I had arrived sooner.”
“Then he might not have acted. He would still be an unknown threat.”
“Excellent point.” The delicate rose of her lips drew him, causing desire to rise. Yet her mother and father were nearby, and he didn’t dare risk taking a kiss. The knowledge did little make resisting easier.
A Rogue No More (The Rogue Chronicles Book 3) Page 12