Who was bothering her now? He left the road and galloped toward the cottage.
He approached from the back so he wouldn’t be seen and quietly entered by the back door. Voices were raised in argument, two female and one male, voices he recognized. The male was his brother, Marcus.
Nash leaned against the doorway, just out of sight, and unashamedly eavesdropped.
“He said there was funny business going on here and I don’t doubt it!” Marcus at his most cold and menacing.
“Oh, sir, Miss Maddy would never—” Lizzie began.
Maddy cut her off. “What sort of funny business, pray?” Her tone of voice would be a warning to any other man. A man who understood anything about women, that was. Not his brother.
Nash folded his arms and settled back to enjoy the exchange. Flame meeting ice. There was no doubt in his mind who would win.
“He said I should meet all of your demands but—”
“Demands?” Maddy was outraged. “I never madeanydemands of himorhis brother. I wrote a perfectly civil—”
“I have written evidence, madam,” Marcus’s voice was an icy whiplash. “In which my client begged me to give you whatever you asked for, and that, I tell you, is not at all like—”
Hisclient? What the devil was Marcus playing at? He didn’t have any clients.
“I don’t believe you! There was no reason for him to—”
“Enough! If you don’t produce him this instant, I’ll have my man fetch the local magistrate.”
“Oh, your honor, sir, Miss Maddy never done nothing wro—”
“Be quiet, Lizzie, I have no need to defend myself.” Maddy’s voice sharpened. “I tell you he left here this morning, perfectly unharmed—”
Marcus snorted. “Without his boots? I think not!”
“Of course he wore his boots.”
“He told me they’d been slashed. And to bring these.” Nash peeped around the corner and saw his brother brandish a pair of boots. Excellent.
Marcus continued, “How could he go out without boots? Now, enough of these evasions, madam: produce your prisoner, or I shall send for the magistrate.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, he’snotmy prisoner, he neverwasmy prisoner, and he left here of his own volition!” Maddy said through audibly gritted teeth. “And his bootswereruined, at least one was, but he tied it on with black ribbons.”
“With black ribbons?” Marcus said in frigid disbelief. “You show your ignorance, madam. Na—my client is always immaculately dressed and complete to a shade: he wouldnevertie his boots on with black ribbons. He wouldn’t be seendeadin boots tied with—”
“Ah, but as you see, my standards have slipped sadly.” Nash sauntered in.
“Nash!” Marcus exclaimed. “You’re all right?”
“In the pink, as you see.” Nash smiled and spread his hands. “Afternoon, Marcus. Miss Woodford, Lizzie, I see you’ve met my brother, Marcus, the Earl of Alverleigh.”
Marcus’s gaze ran over him quickly, freezing on Nash’s left boot. His brow arched, seeing the black ribbons tied in neat bows.
“Oh my Lord,” Lizzie moaned.
“What?” Marcus glanced at her.
“Oh, no, I meant . . .” Lizzie sheepishly pointed to the heavens. Marcus’s eyes glazed.
“Your brother?” Maddy gasped. “The Earl of Alverleigh? I thought he was some kind of lawyer. He said as much—”
“Implied,” Marcus corrected her frostily. “I simply referred to ‘my client’ and you jumped to the conclusion.”
