Reflexively, Lucas held out his arm in an attempt to shield Edwina. Two men materialized out of the shadows like wraiths. Lucas watched them closely as they approached, one to his left and the other to his right.

He knew that the chance of him and Edwina being attacked by footpads was high in this neighborhood. It was why he kept a sword cane with him on his rounds. He wasn't foolish enough to wander the streets of London at night without it and the small pistol he kept in his valise.

As luck would have it, he had left his cane behind at the tavern as they fled the scene. The pistol sat in his valise in his room at Greymoor House.

This was no time for remorse. All he could do now was to keep Edwina safe by keeping their attention off of her.

The man to his left was young, perhaps in his early twenties, though it was difficult to tell in the dark. His clothes were filthy, covered in muck much like the rotten cabbages that Lucas himself was covered in.

The other man to his right was older, bald, and when he opened his mouth, Lucas noticed that nearly all his teeth were missing except three on the top row and five on the bottom. It was the mouth of a man who smoked too much opium, drank too much gin, and had not once brushed his teeth with tooth powder in his life. If he and Edwina weren't in imminent danger, he was tempted to give the man a sound lecture on the benefits of proper oral hygiene.

"'ello, gov'nor. You lost?" the older man said, approaching Lucas with his hand tucked inside his jacket. He pulled out a blade that gleamed wickedly in the moonlight. Edwina gasped, drawing the eyes of the two men.

Lucas cursed inwardly. So much for keeping her hidden.

“Look at this,” the younger man said, peering around Lucas at Edwina. “A mighty, ripe tart he’s got here.”

“A juicy one by the looks of it,” the older man replied. “Wouldn’t mind taking ‘er for a ride.” He gestured crassly towards his crotch.

"Looks like he took 'er for a tumble already. Wut say you, gov? Mind sharing?" Both men laughed uproariously.

Lucas burned with anger, but stayed silent.

"Wut you say, luv? I’ll treat you real nice,” the younger man said, making a grab at Edwina's arm. Edwina pulled away in disgust.

Lucas stepped between them. "Leave her alone."

Both men smiled widely at Lucas. They were itching for a fight, a bit of bloodsport, and Lucas could smell the anticipation of violence in the air. Violence that, if Lucas lost, would be directed at Edwina in the foulest ways possible.

“Feeling brave?" the younger man said, a knife appearing in his hand. "You wanna die tonight for a bit of muslin?”

Lucas ignored him and focused on the knife in the younger man's hand. The older man took advantage of the distraction and dashed out, thrusting his knife towards Lucas's gut. Lucas deftly knocked the man's hand aside with an open palm. He used the man's momentum against him by stepping forward and kneeing him in the crotch, hard. The older man collapsed to the ground with a wail.

If this was a fight between gentlemen, the move would be considered low and cowardly, but Lucas didn't care. These men weren't gentlemen and he was a surgeon. He knew where his opponent's weak points were located.

A stunned look passed over the younger man before he turned to Lucas, his face red with fury. "You stupid cove. I'll tear up your bitch. Cut her from cunt to crown."

Lucas clenched his jaw. Every muscle in his body tightened with anger, but he knew that if he allowed the red haze of anger consume him, he chanced making a fatal mistake. He watched the younger man as he would a snake.

The younger man charged forward and Lucas braced himself. They collided. Lucas grabbed at the man's right hand that held the knife and pushed the man's wrist back until he heard a snap. The knife clattered to the ground as the man yelped out in pain. He leapt away from Lucas, his hand limp and useless at his side.

Lucas followed in one smooth motion and kicked hard at the man's knee breaking his leg. The man cried out again, falling to the ground. Lucas grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him upwards. Fear masked the man's pale and sweaty face. Lucas raised his clenched fist, the rage finally roiling free, as he prepared to throttle the footpad within an inch of his life.

"Don't...don't..." the man begged.

"No!" Edwina cried out.

Lucas turned in time as the older man brought down the point of his knife straight into Lucas's chest. A flare of pain tore through him as the knife slashed through his waistcoat and shirt and cut into his skin. Lucas fell to his knees taking the man down with him. They both wrestled with the knife as the point slowly dug deeper into his chest. Lucas’s hand, slick with blood, slipped as he tried desperately to prevent the knife from sinking towards his heart.

A loud crack rent the air. To Lucas's surprise, the older man swayed awkwardly on his knees before collapsing into a boneless heap.

Edwina rose before Lucas with a large piece of discarded firewood gripped tightly in her hands.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, flying to his side. Lucas looked up at her incredulously. Half of Edwina's hair fell loose to her waist, her chest swelled with each agitated breath, and her eyes shone bright with concern. The moonlight created a soft halo around her head.

Lucas's heart raced at the sight.

Edwina touched him gently, prodding carefully where he clutched his chest. She drew her hand back in a gasp. Her white satin glove was soaked with a dark fluid. It took a moment for Lucas to realize that it was blood, his blood.

Reality crashed into him as explosive pain. Darkness shadowed the edges of his vision as he willed himself not to faint.

***

Edwina, foolishly, did not realize the true danger she was in until the two men appeared seemingly out of thin air. When they brandished their knives, her first thought was this was the reason why ladies did not run around in the middle of the night in London. This is why they always traveled with their maids and footmen.

However, instead of a brace of footmen, Edwina had Dr. Blakeley.

Dr. Blakeley towered before her. The anger that was mere moments earlier directed at her was now refocused on the two footpads.

She almost pitied them.

Edwina watched Dr. Blakeley soundly dispatch both men in mere minutes. She wasn’t surprised. The man exuded confidence. And when she laid against him earlier, she felt the hard muscles of his body. He was a man that did not spend his days lazing about at his club with a bottle of brandy nor one that spent his days idly chattering away at Tattersall's about the best horse breed. She doubted that he ever tasted an ice from Gunter’s. This was a man that did not indulge.

So mesmerized by Dr. Blakeley’s form that she didn’t see one of the men rise with his knife clutched in his hand until it was too late.

She felt a terror rise in her when she saw the knife sink into Dr. Blakeley’s body. Edwina didn’t know what happened next except that the fear propelled her forward from her paralyzed state. She grabbed the nearest blunt object and smashed it down on the man's head.

"We need to find you a doctor," Edwina said, helping Dr. Blakeley stand. He leaned heavily against her shoulder. A handkerchief pressed against his wound and even in the dark Edwina could see that it was soaked in blood.

"I am a doctor," he snapped in return. Edwina frowned, but let his tone pass without comment. The poor man was just stabbed after all.

"I need my supplies," he huffed out, wincing in pain. "We are not too far from my room."

"How far?"

"A couple blocks north."

Edwina looked around her at the dark shadows that hugged the buildings. A full moon was out tonight, but anything or anyone could be watching them as she had unfortunately learned only minutes before. "Will we make it?"

Lucas seemed to think she was asking about his wound. "It's just a scratch. The knife did not hit an artery.”

“How do you know?”

“I would be dead by now,” he replied with a grimace.

***

It wasn’t just a scratch, Lucas thought as he leaned heavily against Edwina’s shoulder. She was much smaller than him, but he needed her to keep him upright. He struggled to stay on his feet and felt dizzy from the loss of blood.

He needed to treat the cut immediately. Even though the knife did not sever a major artery, infections were known to set in with much smaller wounds. He greatly doubted that the footpads sterilized their knives.

“Do you think I killed him?” Edwina asked, breaking the silence as they hurried down the street towards his room in Covent Garden.

They left the two footpads as they were, one bellowing out in pain, the other unconscious from being struck in the back of the head. Lucas glanced at the woman tucked under his arm. A look of grim determination on her face. Edwina saved his life. He shook his head slightly in wonder.

“It is possible,” he replied.

Edwina nodded sharply. "I cannot believe I am admitting this, but I am glad. He could have killed you."

"He could have killed you," Lucas emphasized. "You should have fled the moment they appeared."

"Then, you certainly would be dead now." Lucas was about to retort her statement, when Edwina hushed him. "Be still, you will only aggravate your injury. Tell me we are nearly there."

She was right. He had more pressing matters at hand. Lucas did not know how he felt about how this small woman, a lady of the ton , saved his life. Edwina appeared so fragile to him before, but now, he looked at her with renewed interest. She was a warrior maiden with the face and body of a goddess. He had underestimated her, perhaps, even from the start.

Before he could crystallize his thoughts and thank her properly, they arrived at the entrance of Mrs. Bagwell's coffee shop.