A/N: Hello! Welcome to my first fic for "Miss Scarlet and the Duke." I have loved this wonderful series from the beginning, and after a recent rewatch, I had the sudden desire to continue where Season 3 left off. I hope you enjoy it.

Police Protection

Chapter 1

Despite the recent long days, William found he could not sleep after his troubling conversation with Arabella. He hated that they had ended things so abruptly, and with Arabella so obviously hurt by her speculation that he had feelings for Eliza. More specifically, that he was in love with Eliza. Yes, it was definitely troubling, hence his lying in the dark staring up at the ceiling for half the night.

He turned the phrase over and over again in his mind, trying it on for size.

I'm in love with Eliza.

I love Eliza.

No matter how he thought of it, it was surreal and bewildering. That he was attracted to Eliza there was no doubt—William had no trouble admitting she twisted his body as well as his mind into knots on a regular basis. He had often wondered what it would be like to have her in his bed, to find out if she was as feisty and headstrong there as she was when they quarreled. Many a time he'd wanted to grab her and kiss her, but the memory of her long-ago slap kept him in line. The way she turned away from him at the last moment, either in fear or lack of interest, made him keep his hands and lips to himself.

But Arabella bringing up love, well, that was another thing altogether. If he'd been in love before, he'd never recognized it as such, nor had he had a good example of it in his parents, having grown up in a workhouse where love was the last thing on anyone's mind. He'd had plenty (countless, really) tumbles, but nothing that he would ever define as love.

Arabella had appealed to him on a deeper level than other women in his past. She'd been refined, beautiful, vulnerable, kind, and a good cook to boot. As a widow, she was free with her favors, and he was more than happy to oblige her. They were good together in that department, so he would have no doubts what he'd be getting in a long life with her.

What's more, she was obviously interested in leaving all of her cares to a husband if she found the right man, and she appreciated William's role as the man in their relationship, had expressed an interest in having a family, and even relinquishing her restaurant to be a traditional wife. In short, she was everything he'd thought he'd wanted in a wife, and he was of an age long past time to settle down and raise a few bairns.

Still, he could not stop thinking about Eliza, how she challenged him, infuriated him to the point of speechlessness, befuddled him to the brink of madness, and made him risk his job and his life to protect her on nearly a daily basis. She teased him relentlessly about his manly habits, argued with him at every turn, took advantage of his friendship and good will, and scoffed at the idea of ever becoming a wife at all. Indeed, she seemed content with her impending spinsterhood, proud of her bluestocking ways, and she seemed to value money and success above all things, even him.

But despite all of these marks against her, God help him, Arabella was right: William loved her to distraction. She had him by the short and curlies for sure, and had probably ruined him for any other woman, damn her obstinate hide. Having admitted it to himself at last, there was nothing for it but to confess his feelings, get it out there and be done with it. He would tell her straight out, demand she tell him what she felt for him once and for all, no more beating about the bush. Whether she felt the same for him or not, there was no other way to relieve himself of this torture, of that he was certain. If she rejected him, he would force himself to give up, maybe even crawl back to Arabella and beg her to give him another chance. As much as it would pain him, he would cast Eliza out of his life and start fresh without her, resign himself to living half a life with Arabella rather than no life at all.

And so, plan in place, William finally managed a light doze until first light, whereupon he rose, did his morning ablutions, and, smelling like a dandy in his best suit, set off for Eliza's house. He'd even stopped to buy her a posey from the flower girl down the street. Eliza was generally an early riser herself, but he would wait impatiently in his carriage until he saw signs of life before knocking at her door. Heart pounding, he looked up at the window he knew was her bed chamber, waiting for a glimpse of her.

It was not long before she appeared, dressed in her white night rail, her long, golden hair hanging loose over one shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt warmth flowing through his veins. She pulled up the window and took a deep breath of London's morning air (she loved to live dangerously, he mused), before her eyes alighted on William's carriage. Even from this distance, he could see her blue eyes widen in surprise, and she met his gaze with a soft, curious smile. He smiled back—he was never able to resist her smiles, even though he tried to hide it sometimes. There was a moment of silent communion between them, and he knew in his heart that he had been right to come.

And then all hell broke loose.

A moment after he heard a gunshot from across the street, he saw Eliza jump in startle, her mouth flying open in shock before she looked down at her arm, where a bright red flower of blood blossomed upon her snow white nightgown. It all happened so fast that William was momentarily frozen—that is, before another shot rang out and Eliza fell away from the window out of sight.

"Eliza!" he bellowed, moving out of the carriage while the horses stirred restlessly, whinnying at the loud noise. The driver wrestled desperately with the reins. Another report sounded as William bounded up Eliza's front steps, and a bullet embedded into the door above his head, slivers of wood raining around him. He ducked and pounded on the door.

"Eliza! Ivy! Open up!" Another shot came and he knew he couldn't risk Ivy getting hit, so he took the risk and stood to kick in the door.

"Go get the police—and a doctor!" he called to his driver, and the carriage took off toward Scotland Yard with a jolt.

By this time, Ivy had emerged from the kitchen, and while there was a pause in the gunshots while the shooter likely reloaded, he ordered her to stay down.

"Eliza's been shot!" he told her.

"What?"

Not stopping to gauge her reaction, William slammed the damaged door behind him and took the stairs two at a time. His only thought was getting to Eliza. A cold sweat had already formed on his pale forehead, a reaction to the most intense fear he had ever known. He'd never actually been in Eliza's private rooms, but he unerringly went right to them. The door was open and he saw her on the floor beside her wardrobe. She was still as death, the sleeve of her night gown soaked now with blood.

"Eliza!"

He rushed to her side and knelt down, his eyes raking her body for signs of the damage done by the second shot. When he found no other wounds save the one in her upper right arm, he let loose the breath he had held, and began patting Eliza's cheeks to rouse her. She must have hit her head in her fall, or perhaps fainted from fright or shock. At his touch, she stirred instantly, her blue eyes opening to look blearily at him.

"William," she whispered.

By then, Ivy had arrived, out of breath and fearful, gasping when she saw Eliza on the floor. "Oh God! Lizzie!" Ivy looked close to fainting, herself.

William set to work tearing the sleeve of Eliza's gown to ascertain the seriousness of her wound. She gave a sharp cry and he gentled his movements.

"Bloody hell," hissed Eliza, "it hurts like the devil."

"Eliza Louise," Ivy exclaimed in horror at her profanity. William's lips quirked in amusement. She'd be all right. He lifted her small, delicate arm, noting with relief that there was a second hole on the other side, which meant she wouldn't have to deal with the further pain of having a bullet removed.

"Ivy, could you get some hot water and bandages or cloth. It looks like the bullet went through and through."

The housekeeper left immediately, pleased to have a task, while William took out his own handkerchief to press against her arm.

"Can you sit up?" William asked Eliza, pleased at the calmness in his voice, while his heart pounded loudly in his ears.

"Yes," she said, and he helped her to an upright position, resting her back against the wardrobe. With his free hand, he reached out to brush the hair from her eyes, his fingers only trembling a little as he caressed her soft, pale cheeks. He met her eyes, and felt suddenly like crying like a babe with relief.

"Did you see who shot me?" she asked.

He swallowed over the tightness of his throat. God, but he needed a drink.

"No. I was too busy running up here to rescue you." He attempted a smile, but it fell flat as he realized the enormity of what had almost occurred. "Dear God, Eliza, I thought you were—"

"Shhh…" Her left hand came up to touch his cheek. "I'm all right, William."

His beard was surprisingly soft, and she lingered there a moment, never having had the temerity to touch him like this before. For a moment, she forgot her fear and pain and simply looked into his deep green eyes, this man who vexed and invigorated her in equal measures. Her thumb happened to brush his bottom lip, and she watched in fascination as his eyes grew dark with desire. He leaned closer, his lips hovering over hers as he waited to see if she would object.

Then, of course, Ivy chose that moment to return with her supplies. She stopped short at what she saw—Eliza on the floor in her night clothes, William kneeling beside her, looking as if he were about to ravish her.

"I think I can see to her now," Ivy declared firmly.

Suddenly aware of the impropriety of the situation, William rose and risked one last glance at Eliza, fully aware now of her state of dishabille. Her soft cotton gown swallowed her slight figure, but had ridden above her knees, giving him a tantalizing view of porcelain skin over shapely calves, a wee brown mole in the shape of a heart just below her knee.

Someday, he thought, I'd like to kiss that heart.

His eyes went to her face, now tinged a delicate pink, even amidst the pain and danger of the shooting. With her good hand, she pulled down her nightgown, and he grinned, a hint of wickedness in his eyes which made her blush deepen.

William crept over to the window, staying out of any possible assassin's line of sight. All he saw when he risked a peek was a mostly empty morning street, although some people had gathered on the sidewalk across from them, pointing at Eliza's house and recounting to one another what they'd heard and seen. William frowned. Those witnesses needed to be questioned before they dispersed, but he didn't dare leave them until his colleagues arrived, given the front door was kicked in and he'd left his sidearm in the carriage. Had Eliza welcomed his feelings, he would not have wanted to embrace her with his gun in its holster. He closed the window and drew the curtains before turning back to report.

"The shooting's stopped. A doctor should be coming soon, so if we can keep her bleeding under control, she'll be fine, I think."

"I'll clean and bandage her," Ivy said cooly. She knelt down and, removing the handkerchief William had used, surveyed the damage with a frown. William admired how Eliza gritted her teeth against the pain.

"Who would have done such a thing?" Ivy lamented.

William shook his head, but then a disturbing thought occurred. He looked to Eliza.

"You're set to testify in court next week?"

"Yes," she replied. "The Corey murder. I was the only witness against Lord Rothschild."

William nodded. "He is a powerful man, and I heard him threaten you when we hauled him off. I daresay he was surprised that Scotland Yard believed a woman over him."

Eliza gave a sniff at that.

Ivy paused in her nursing duties. "You think he would have Eliza killed to keep her from testifying?"

"He's a murderer, Ivy," Eliza said. "I saw with my own eyes when he shot his wife's lover. He'd hired me to find out if she was being unfaithful. Unfortunately, his suspicions were correct."

Ivy finished dressing Eliza's wounds, and her patient moved impatiently to get up.

"Oh no ye don't," said William, going again to her side. "You should be in bed until the doctor arrives. You've lost a fair amount of blood. I'll not have you collapsing in a swoon and knockin' yerself senseless."

"I've never swooned a day in my—"

Before either lady could protest, William had bent and picked Eliza up and carried her back to her bed. She was light as a feather, and the feelings he had of protectiveness and love threatened to overwhelm him, especially when he looked down into her lovely face, her thick blonde tresses falling around his arms as he held her. He would bet his life she wasn't wearing anything under her night rail, but, mindful of Ivy's presence, he didn't dare look directly, accepting the wonder of it would be enough to infuse his dreams later. He laid her down on the unmade bed, while Ivy rushed to protect her virtue by pulling up the bedclothes safely up to her chin.

"I'll stay with her, Inspector. You may wait outside for the doctor."

He met Eliza's eyes with a twinkle, and she grinned and blushed again.
"Yes, ma'am," he said to Ivy.

"Thank you, William," Eliza called sincerely, settling back against her pillows with a cringe of pain.

He nodded, trying not to show how much it hurt him when she hurt. "I've lost count how many you owe me now."

"About as many as you owe me, I expect," she shot back. He chuckled softly and quickly heeded Ivy's stern expression.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had probably been only about ten minutes since the shooting, so it would likely be at least ten more before his colleagues arrived, and William used this time to do a turn about the house, peeking out windows for suspicious characters, barring the broken door with a heavy chair from the parlor. In the kitchen he found Ivy's hidden stash of sherry. He poured himself a dram and winced at the sweet stuff, but the alcohol helped settle his nerves.

If he was right and it was Lord Rothschild's henchman who shot Eliza, he had to put her in hiding until the trial, preferably out of the city, for he knew damn well she would try to escape and look for the shooter herself the first chance he got. Perhaps he could drive her and Ivy to an inn some distance away. He would take leave from work to guard her himself, if need be, for he found that he didn't trust anyone else to keep her safe.

A sudden knock at the door made him tense, and he reached automatically for the sidearm that wasn't with him.
"Dammit," he muttered, then went out into the foyer. "Who's there?" he demanded in his most threatening tone.

"Inspector Wellington. It's Nash."

William rolled his eyes. "We're in no need of an investigator today."

"I'm here to inquire after Miss Scarlet. I heard there has been a shooting."

"Where'd you hear that?" he demanded, not bothering to open the door.

"If you'd kindly open the door so we wouldn't have to shout through it…"

William sighed. "This is an active crime scene, Nash. I'll not have you mucking it up before my men arrive."

"All right then. I always have a man stationed near Scotland Yard. You never know when a case might come of it. He was there when your driver arrived, hollering about needing police at Miss Scarlet's before he'd even gone in the building."

"And you got here before them? Why do I find that hard to believe."

"Well, my office is just down the street you know. And look now, here they are."

About ten of the police force, including Detective Fitzroy, hopped down from the police wagon and waited while Fitzroy moved toward Eliza's front door. So much for keeping Nash from the scene. William moved the chair and went down the steps, brushing past the private detective to confer with his men. He thought better of this, given the slippery nature of all private detectives, but by the time he'd turned back to Nash, he'd already gone in.

"Dammit," he swore again. "Fitzroy—shots came from across the street. You and the men follow the trajectory from the top floor south window. Four shots were fired. I'm thinkin' it was a sharpshooter, given the accuracy and the sound of the report. Miss Scarlet was shot in the arm, but she'll be fine. I've reason to believe this may be a hit to prevent her from testifying in the Corey murder trial." He addressed the other policemen: "Start asking questions along the street. Someone had to have seen or heard something. Bring in anyone suspicious. And I'll need a couple of you to guard the front and back doors of Miss Scarlet's house."

"Yes sir," chorused the men, dispersing quickly to carry out orders.

"You're sure Miss Scarlet is well," Fitzroy stayed to ask.

"Yes. But she'll need a doctor to stitch her up." He looked past the detective down the street toward the hospital. "Is he on his way?"

"Right behind us," said Fitzroy.

"Good. I'll be upstairs gathering evidence, trying to find the bullets. Get started by going down to the Tower and questioning Lord Rothschild." While he awaited trial, the baron was being held in the Tower of London in the poshest apartment. Noblemen were still able to wield their power, even from there, and were granted permission to visit with their solicitor whenever they wished.

Fitzroy's eyes widened. "On my own, sir?"

"I think you can handle it. Try to get him to admit to hiring someone to kill Miss Scarlet. Take copious notes, lad, for I may be leaving for a time to secure Miss Scarlet's safety outside of Town."

"For how long, sir?"

"Until the trial Monday next. Now, off you go, and don't disappoint me."

"Yes sir, Inspector!"

William thought there would be little hope of getting any information out of Rothschild, but he must see to every possibility. This would give Fitzroy valuable experience in the field, and in dealing with high-power subjects. He went back up the stairs to Eliza's, nodding to the man who guarded the door.

Upstairs, to his great consternation, William found Patrick Nash in Eliza's room. They were having an animated discussion of the shooting, while Ivy looked on in disapproval.

"I told ye not to interfere in my investigation," William ground out angrily.

Nash shrugged. "No, you told me not to muck up your crime scene, which I have not done. I'm merely checking in on an employee's wellbeing."

"What?" This was news to William. Bad news.

"I'm sorry, William. In all the excitement I didn't get the chance to tell you that I'll be working as an investigator at Patrick's agency."

Patrick, was it now? William fumed. "You're bamming me," William said, his eyes hard on Eliza's. "You're gonna work with this reprobate? I forbid it." He could almost see her hackles rising, and knew the moment he'd said it, it was the wrong thing to say. Sure enough…

"You forbid it? Patrick made an irresistible offer, and I accepted. It's a sound business decision. I don't believe I need your permission for this, or for anything else for that matter."

"What would your father think of your associating with such a man?"

She stared at him a moment, so angry it had moved her to silence. "Get out, William," she managed finally, her voice shaking.

"I will not. I have an investigation to conduct. This room is now under the purview of Scotland Yard. Mr. Nash is the one who should be leaving. Furthermore, as an officer of the law, I hereby place you under police protection. I'll be moving you and Ivy to a safe location. As soon as the doctor tends to your wounds and confirms that you can travel, we'll be on our way. I'll brook no arguments, or I'll lock you up until the trial, don't think I won't."

He'd planned to gently ease her into the idea, but once again, his anger where Eliza was concerned had quickly gotten the better of him. So be it, he thought morosely. If she wanted to fight him he'd fight back even harder. He would not budge when it came to her safety. Now, he thought, as she sat and angrily stewed over his words, her eyes shooting blue daggers his way, he just had to come up with a place to take her…

A/N: I don't know how many might be reading this, but if anyone is out there, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Chapter 2 will be up soon.