“Suits us both?” Greystone scoffed. “You would see me rot in some prison cell for the rest of my days or worse!”
The way George's jaw clenched suggested Greystone was right.
He did not agree, however, and instead took a half-step forward.
“What say you if I were to say I thought your plan a clever one?” George asked, and Cecelia's insides shifted once more. “You have fooled everyone into believing you to be an honourable and heroic gentleman. I can at least see some merit in that, sir.”
Cecelia felt Greystone's grip falter, and she immediately knew what George was trying to do. Flattery always seemed to work on these kinds of men.
She held her breath, biding her time.
“Lady Cecelia could not see through you, nor her mother, nor the rest of theton,” George continued, another half-step forward.
“My plans were perfect until you came along!” Greystone spat at the duke. “You have ruined everything, and for what?”
Cecelia felt the man's grip falter again, and at a glance from George, she did the only thing she could think to do.
Bracing herself for the possible bite of the knife at her throat, she lifted her foot and slammed it down on Greystone's.
“Ahh!” he screamed, clearly agonized by the assault as he reeled backwards, the knife dropping with a jarring clang on the floor.
In an instant, George surged forward. He grabbed Cecelia by the wrist once more and pulled her well out of the man’s reach.
Cecelia, spinning on her heels, her mind just as frantic as her feet, turned just in time to see the two men lock in a desperate battle of strength.
“Go!” she heard her mother snap behind her. “Fetch the Bow Street Runners! Fetch someone, anyone you might find!”
Cecelia glanced over her shoulder just in time to see her mother's maid hitch up her skirts and bolt for the closest end of the bridge.
“Cecelia, come here!” her mother ordered when she saw her looking, but Cecelia ignored her, instead turning back to the two struggling men.
“George!” she exclaimed, terrified that this was all going to end in tragedy as the two men struggled closer and closer to the bridge railing.
They grappled with each other, their fists flying, hands gripping throats, fingernails clawing at empty air as each tried to free himself from the other.
And just when Cecelia thought George might have the upper hand, she watched Greystone raise his knee. Horror struck just as his knee connected with George's groin, sending him doubling over. Greystone moved swiftly out of the way, using the duke's own momentum to force him against the railing.
“Stop! Stop!” Cecelia pleaded, screaming the words louder than ever she had screamed before. “Please, you must stop this!”
Her feet moved without any real instruction, and she grabbed the back of Greystone's coat in a vain attempt to pull him off the duke.
“Get your hands off me, woman!” Greystone crowed, and his elbow connected with her ribs, sending her reeling backwards once more.
Yet, her interference seemed enough to give George the upper hand and suddenly, their positions shifted.
It happened so quickly that Cecelia barely managed to blink as George practically lifted the man off his feet by his throat.
“Ahh! No!” Greystone cried as his back missed the railing and he all but tumbled over the edge.
Again, Cecelia moved on instinct, reaching not for George but for the man he had almost pushed from the bridge.
In an instant, everything changed, and she and George were suddenly working together to pull him back from the edge.
The combined momentum sent them all flying back onto the bridge, onto their knees in a tumble of limbs.
George's hands grabbed her elbow for only a second to bring her back to her feet before he dropped himself down onto the man still splayed on the floor.
He gripped the man's arms, pulling them wide as he pinned him down with a knee on his chest and hissed, “Stop fighting! It's over!”
