“Well, yes,” Jack said through clenched teeth. “That’s the trouble with humiliating immensely wealthy men with enough power to amass their own private army. They come after you.”
“Don’t look so smug, brother.” Nick waved an arm at him. “They’re after you as well.”
“And why in bloody hell are they after me?”
A lady at a nearby table gave a loud gasp and rose to leave. Jack ignored her, focusing on his brother, who, amazingly enough, looked even more concerned than he had a moment before. Perhaps Nick sensed that his death was imminent.
“I might have mentioned that you thought the duke was a filthy whoreson scoundrel. Something to that effect.”
Jack reached across the table, gripped his brother’s arms and hauled him close. “And what the devil would possess you to say that?”
Nicholas tried unsuccessfully to pull free. “It’s the truth.”
“And the king is daft as a loon, but you don’t hear me spouting it all over Town.”
Jack knew he was bellowing, and he knew the remaining patrons of the coffeehouse were staring at him. But he didn’t care. Only one of the Martingale brothers was leaving this establishment alive.
And it wouldn’t be Nicholas.
“I might have lost my temper and said too much,” Nick argued. “But it was for a good cause.”
Jack slumped in his chair. How could he remain angry when the honor of a poor, innocent girl was at stake?
“And,” Nick said with a wink, “she was most appreciative.”
“That’s it.” Jack wrapped his hands around his brother’s neck and pulled Nicholas to his feet. “We can cease worrying about Bleven. After I kill you, I’ll be imprisoned in the Tower. Not even Bleven can reach me there.”
“After you—”
Jack began to squeeze, cutting off Nick’s words. Choking his brother felt wonderful for three seconds.
Until Nick slugged him with a hard right hook.
Jack stumbled back, regained his balance, then went down hard when Nick pummeled into him. Jack hit his shoulder on the table and it slid into the chairs. There was a crash, and then scalding coffee smacked him in the chest.
Jack lay on the hard floor, his jaw aching, his shoulder throbbing, and his chest burning from the hot coffee. If he could have moved enough to retrieve his pocket watch, he would have taken note of how long it took his brother to cause mass chaos. He guessed that from the instant Nick entered the coffeehouse until this moment couldn’t have been more than five minutes.
Not a new record for Nick, by any means, but still impressive.
Jack looked up and saw Nick coming for him. He tried to roll to the side, but a chair was in the way, and the full brunt of Nick’s weight hit him like a charging bull. Jack had a moment to reflect that his brother was heavier than he looked, and then Nick’s famous right hook came down again and pain exploded in his nose and eye. Jack groaned, and Nick pulled back.
“Sorry,” Nick said. “Are you all right?”
But the pain had reignited Jack’s fury. He shoved Nick off him and kneed him in the groin. Nick yelped, and Jack used the distraction to elbow his brother hard in the jaw.
“I said I was sorry,” Nicolas moaned.
“I’m not.”
Nick went down on one knee, and Jack pounced. He got in a good blow to Nick’s stomach before his brother clutched his face with one hand.
“Just like old times, eh, Jack?” Nick said, sounding far too cheery for Jack’s taste.
Jack grasped Nick’s wrist and attempted to pull Nick’s hand off his face before his brother could gouge out his eyes. “And like old times,” Jack wheezed, “I’m going to win.”
Nick shoved his hand hard, clipping Jack on the ear. For a moment all Jack heard was ringing, and then Nick was scrambling away and pulling Jack up beside him.
Jack shook his head to stop the ringing, succeeding only in making it worse. Somewhere through the clanging he heard his brother shout. Something about eleven . . .
