"I am afraid I do not recognise either of you gentlemen," she replied with the sort of cool courtesy that established both her rank and her disinclination to engage in conversation with unknown persons. "If you have business at Ravenshollow Manor, I suggest you present yourselves properly at the front entrance."
"Oh, but our business is with you specifically, Your Grace," the second man said with an unpleasant smile that revealedteeth stained yellow from tobacco use. "We've been sent to deliver a message about your domestic situation and the changes that might prove necessary for your continued well-being."
The euphemistic phrasing could not disguise the implicit threat in his words, and Evangeline realized with growing alarm that these men had been sent by someone with malicious intent toward her person or her marriage. The isolated nature of the country road, combined with the increasing boldness of their approach, suggested that this encounter had been carefully planned rather than accidental.
"I have no interest in receiving messages from individuals too cowardly to deliver them in person," she replied with as much authority as she could muster while backing away slowly toward a section of the road that offered better possibilities for escape should such action become necessary.
"Now, that's not very friendly, Your Grace," the first man said with mock reproach, his companion beginning to circle around in a manner that would cut off her retreat toward either the village or Ravenshollow Manor. "We've come all this way just to have a little chat with you about your future prospects."
Wellington's growling had increased in both volume and intensity, and Evangeline could see that the dog was preparing to defend her regardless of the odds against him. The sight of this loyal animal ready to face danger on her behalf filled her with both gratitude and terror at the thought of what these men might do to him if violence erupted.
"What do you want?" she demanded, abandoning pretense in favor of direct confrontation. "Who sent you, and what message are you supposed to deliver?"
"Well, now we're making progress," the second man said with satisfaction. "The message is simple enough. Your current husband might not be the best choice for a lady of youraspirations. There are other gentlemen who might prove more suitable to your long-term interests."
The suggestion that she should abandon her marriage in favor of some alternative arrangement filled her with such fury that for a moment she forgot to be afraid of her increasingly precarious situation.
"You are mistaken if you believe I have any interest in abandoning my marriage or my husband for the convenience of cowards who send hired ruffians to threaten women on public roads."
"Ruffians?" The first man's tone grew noticeably colder at her characterization of their behavior. "That's rather insulting, Your Grace. We're just trying to help you understand that certain changes might be inevitable regardless of your personal preferences in the matter."
"The only thing that will be inevitable is your arrest for accosting a peer's wife if you do not remove yourselves from my presence immediately."
Her defiant response seemed to exhaust their patience with diplomatic approaches, and she saw them exchange glances that suggested they were prepared to abandon verbal persuasion in favor of more direct methods of making their point.
It was at that moment that Wellington launched himself at the nearest man with the sort of protective fury that spoke of deep loyalty and courage far exceeding his size. The dog's attack was both unexpected and effective, sending the first assailant stumbling backward with a cry of pain and alarm as sharp teeth found their mark.
"Call off your dog right now!" the second man shouted, reaching inside his coat for what was undoubtedly a weapon intended to deal with such resistance.
Evangeline had no intention of calling off her only protection, and instead began running toward RavenshollowManor with the desperate hope that she might encounter assistance before these men could recover from Wellington's intervention. Behind her, she could hear shouts and curses that suggested the dog was continuing to harry her attackers with the sort of persistent courage that might well cost him his life.
She had covered perhaps half the distance to safety when the sound of approaching hoof beats announced the arrival of what she desperately hoped would prove to be rescue rather than additional threat. The sight of Lucian thundering down the road on his black stallion, his scarred features set in lines of murderous fury, filled her with such relief that her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
He took in the situation with the sort of tactical assessment that his military training had made instinctive, noting her obvious distress, Wellington's continued engagement with one of the attackers, and the weapon that the second man was attempting to draw from concealment.
What followed was a display of violence so swift and efficient that it left Evangeline gasping with shock at the transformation of her husband from gentleman to lethal predator. Lucian dismounted while his horse was still moving, his walking stick becoming a weapon in his hands as he closed the distance to the armed man with predatory grace.
The confrontation lasted perhaps thirty seconds, though it seemed like hours to Evangeline's overwrought nerves. When it ended, both attackers were on the ground—one unconscious from the blow that had felled him, the other writhing in pain from injuries that would ensure he remembered this encounter for months to come.
"Wellington, come," Lucian commanded, and the dog immediately abandoned his harassment of the fallen men to position himself protectively beside Evangeline. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, his hands moving over her with gentle efficiencyas he checked for signs of injury.
"No, I am unharmed, though I fear I might have been in considerably more difficulty if Wellington had not intervened when he did."
"Good dog," Lucian said absently, his attention focused primarily upon ensuring her continued well-being while keeping watch over their subdued attackers. "Now then," he continued in a voice that had dropped to the deadly quiet she associated with his most dangerous moods, "suppose you tell me who sent you and what message you were instructed to deliver."
The conscious attacker, clearly recognizing that his situation had deteriorated beyond any hope of successful completion of his mission, proved remarkably forthcoming about the details of his employment.
"Viscount Pembroke hired us," he gasped through what appeared to be considerable pain. "He asked us to frighten Her Grace a bit, make her understand that her marriage might not be permanent. He told us to inform her that there were other options available if she proved reasonable."
"Other options," Lucian repeated with silky menace. "How thoughtful of my cousin to provide such alternatives. And what was to happen if my wife proved unreasonable?"
The man's silence was more eloquent than any verbal response could have been, confirming that Pembroke's instructions had extended beyond mere intimidation into the realm of actual violence against Evangeline's person.
"I see," Lucian said with the sort of calm that somehow seemed more terrifying than rage would have been. "And now you will deliver a message from me to my cousin. You will tell him that any further attempts to involve my wife in his schemes will result in consequences that he may find difficult to survive. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Perfectly clear."
"Excellent. Now remove yourselves from my lands before I decide that a more permanent solution to this problem might prove necessary."
