“I feel very comfortable blaming him. I saw the paperwork. There was no reason for any concerns to have been brought up.”

They had crossed the street and were only a few steps away from the darkness they needed.

“Wait, wait. There has to be some way I can fix this.”

“There is nothing to fix.” Everton shrugged. “Everything turned out as it should have. Although, we feel a bit concerned about the prospect of you involving yourself in Miss Barton’s life ever again.” The man was a cur, taking advantage of women and only begging for mercy once men were involved.

Darkness enshrouded them. With a silent nod, Nate dropped Mr. Broadcreek’s arm and shoved him forward. Then he proceeded to remove his jacket and gloves.

“You are removing your gloves?” Everton asked.

Nate folded them and placed them neatly on top of his jacket on a clean spot in the street. “They are new. I would hate to stain them.”

Mr. Broadcreek gulped. There was no other word for it. Nate rolled up his sleeves and returned his grip to Mr. Broadcreek’s arm.

Everton removed his jacket. “I’m going to leave my gloves on. They are due to be replaced, and I’d rather not sully my hands with the blood of a rat like this one.”

Everton cracked the knuckles of one of his hands and shook it out a bit, dancing on his toes. It had been much too long since he had been in a back-alley scuffle. The closest he had come was when he had let Nate hit him, and that didn’t really count. “This will be quite fun.”

“I’ll stay away from her!” Mr. Broadcreek said, squirming about in Nate’s arms. “I’m a busy man; I have no reason to ever see her again.”

Everton paused. He glanced up at Nate. His lips were scrunched to one side in consideration. “How much trouble has this man caused Diana in the past months?”

Mr. Broadcreek swallowed. Nate dropped his arm and balled his own substantial hands into fists. Mr. Broadcreek eyed the opening to the alleyway, but there was no way he could escape the two of them, and he knew it.

Nate cracked the bones in his neck. “I took the time to speak with Mrs. Richardson yesterday afternoon. It seems some of Diana’s jewelry is missing.”

“I didn’t take it.”

“Mrs. Richardson—I mean, Mrs. Winston believes that Diana had to sell it for some reason. Can you think of a reason Diana would have to sell off her jewelry?”

Nate didn’t wait for an answer, instead plummeting his fist into Mr. Broadcreek’s abdomen. Mr. Broadcreek gasped.

“Hey,” Everton pouted, touching his still-sore nose. “Why did you hit me in the face?”

Nate turned to him. “Because your face makes me angry.”

“And Mr. Broadcreek’s stomach makes you angry?”

“Everything about him makes me angry.” Nate cocked his fist back again.

“Now, wait a minute.” Everton placed a hand on his shoulder. “I haven’t even had a chance to dirty my gloves yet.”