Page 20 of Crimes, Conspiracies, and Courtship (Paddy’s Peelers Mystery #1)

CHAPTER 19

February 23, 1820

Cato Street near Grosvenor Square

W alters sat with Richard Burnie, the Bow Street magistrate, and twelve other Runners. Waiting. And waiting. The Coldstream Guards were supposed to join them, and they would surround and enter the Cato Street base together. The radicals’ meeting place, a loft above a livery, was down the street from The Horse and Groom, a public house where Walters and the men presently twiddled their thumbs.

Surprise was key to avoiding any violence. With the premises so public, the magistrate didn’t want any innocent bystanders hurt.

Walters had set Roger Lynch near Lord Harrowby’s home early this morning. The Spencean who had worked for the Lord President of the Council had indeed paid a visit. Walters had sent word to Edwards in case the staff had said there was no dinner that day. He’d instructed Edwards to say the servants had been lying, and the news of the cabinet meeting had accidentally been published.

Walters had breathed a sigh of relief when the radicals had entered the back stairs of the livery in the midafternoon. By seven-thirty, the Bow Street magistrate called for the men to move. They couldn’t wait for reinforcements any longer or the Spenceans would leave for Grosvenor Square.

“Don’t try to be a hero,” Walters advised Eli. His youngest brother was still a Runner, though the family knew he might take a different path than Sampson and Ben had.

“I won’t,” he promised, running a hand through his dark-blonde waves before replacing his hat. He turned to another Runner. “We have too much living to do yet. Right, Smithers?”

His fellow Runner laughed and shook his head. “That’s why I’m second in line and not first. Besides, you still owe me a drink after this,” Smithers reminded him.

“But be sure to follow your own advice, Harry.” Eli gave his oldest brother an elbow. He was being overly jocular, a sure sign he was nervous. “I’ll buy you a bumper, too, when we finish with this business.”

The men slipped out the back of the public house. The Runners surrounded the livery, and Walters checked to see that Clayton and Gus were both at opposite ends of the street. They had been called in over an hour ago when the reinforcement had failed to arrive to apprehend any runaways.

The magistrate entered the livery first, quietly warning the men working in the stable. At his signal, the rest entered silently, moving single file up the stairs to the loft. The magistrate kicked the door open, and someone inside the loft yelled, “Extinguish the light!”

There was a pause in the line, and Walters cursed, knowing Eli was ahead of him. He could hear cries of surprise, scuffles, and a shout of pain. When he made it to the top step, he saw a Runner down. His heart stopped until he realized it wasn’t Eli.

Walters heard the magistrate demand the conspirators halt. Some ran, some dropped their weapons, others refused. One of the men lunged for Edwards, a knife in his hand. “I know this is your doing, you bloody traitor.”

Walters lurched forward, grabbing the assailant’s wrist. They fought for control, but he was able to overpower the man. The knife clattered to the wood floor.

Within minutes, a case that had taken years of surveillance was over. Unfortunately, Thistlewood and three others had escaped by jumping out a back window. He hoped they crossed paths with Clayton and Gus. The remaining radicals were arrested.

There was no need for a physician. Eli sank to his knees next to his friend, Smithers. Walters put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

Eli shook his head, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand. “This is why I can’t follow you, Harry. I want to help the family, but I hate the violence.”

Outside, Walters saw Gus walking up the street with a body slung over his shoulder. The giant grinned. “This fellow ran right into my fist. It was the strangest thing. He seemed to be in quite a hurry.”

* * *

A week later

Gracechurch Street

Walters returned from the Dog’s Bone a wee drunk, as Paddy would say. He wasn’t stumbling. His speech wasn’t slurred. But he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. This was what always gave him away. Maggie told him he always looked like a green boy in April and May when he was foxed. But he had needed to celebrate. The other radicals, including Thistlewood, had been caught. Two of the Spenceans had agreed to talk to avoid hanging. The gallows would soon be crowded with traitors.

Walters made it halfway up the staircase before Paddy called him. Turning, he faced the man who he considered his father. “Why do you always wait until I’m halfway up the stairs before you call me? Why not call for me as I pass by the door?”

“Habit,” Paddy said with a grin, his blue eyes twinkling. “Ye have company, Harry.”

“Demmed company,” he mumbled, thinking of his warm bed upstairs.

In the parlor stood the Earl of Darby and Lord Chester Hatford. Walters paused, then removed his hat. “G’evening,” he said with a nod to the men. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Paddy handed him a whisky. “Sit, boyo.”

Unease swished in his belly. He sat on the chaise longue, joined by Paddy and his wolfhound, lying on his master’s feet. The guests took the chairs, drinks already in hand.

“I’ve come upon some interesting information you seem to have forgotten to pass on,” said Darby quietly.

Walters blinked. He recognized the earl’s quiet but lethal tone. Mattie . His heart pounded; his palms began to sweat. Would she be punished? Had he tarnished the name of the O’Brien Investigative Services?

“My fiancée has informed me that my sister has feelings for you. And she met with you many times, without my permission, and then you jilted her.” Darby crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair, his dark-blue eyes never leaving Walters’s face.

Rage roared in his chest. He stood, fists clenched. Aonarach rose to face the guests, mane bristling in support of Walters. “That’s not true. She said she told you of the commoner she was meeting. I helped her practice speaking with men—for this Season—so she would be more comfortable and not stumble while conversing.”

Darby’s eyes widened. “You were the working man?”

Walters nodded, and Paddy pulled him back to his seat, the dog following suit. “Easy, Son.”

“So it was not only Miss Pendleton who helped her master the shyness.” Darby pursed his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to. I tried to tell her no—several times—but when those doe eyes are pleading with you… How could I deny her?”

Darby snorted. “ That I understand. Did you know how she felt?”

Walters nodded. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. I’ve had an earful from my fiancée.”

“And I’ve had an earful from mine,” added Lord Chester.

“I beg your pardon?” Walters was confused. “Your fiancée?”

“The inimitable Lady Roberta.” Hatford grinned. “But that’s a story for another time and a decanter or two of brandy.”

“My lords, I can only say I am truly sorry. I am not a man of great emotions, and Lady Matilda took me by surprise.” He let out a loud huff. “I should have informed you, Lord Darby. Please do not let my actions reflect on our family business. I take full responsibility.”

“Good to hear. Why did you stop the… encounters? And are you still lurking around my mews at night?”

The devil . “I wasn’t lurking. I was surveilling. And I had no choice but to end it. I’m an orphan from the rookery. I live in Cheapside. She is…” He scrubbed his face with one hand. “A diamond of the first water. A kind, intelligent, and beautiful woman who deserves the best in life. An earl’s sister .”

“Ah, there’s the rub,” agreed Darby. He sighed. “If the world was different, if you had been born to a noble family, would you pursue her?”

“Until my last breath.” Hope surged in his chest. These were good men, peers with integrity. They might overlook this dalliance and not let it shine a poor light on the Peelers.

Lord Chester and Darby exchanged looks, then smiled at Walters. “Hatford and I are recommending you for a knighthood. The Crown is grateful for your work and the risk you took. You saved the life of Edwards and helped to stop a plot against His Majesty’s government.”

Walters sat like a stone, stunned. “A what? I was only doing my job.”

Darby chuckled. “It is just that attitude which makes Hatford want you to have the knighthood. My reason is a bit more selfish.”

“My lord?” The ale was out of his system. He was sober as a stone, and his gut told him something important was about to happen.

“My sister has been miserable. I hear her cry at night sometimes as I pass her chamber door. It breaks my heart.” Darby rolled his eyes. “And Miss Pendleton’s. If Mattie is not happy, none of us will be.”

“What he’s trying to say, Walters, is you will be Sir Harry.”

He blinked. Sir Harry Walters ?

“Now ye’ve got him bewildered, Darby.” Paddy punched Harry’s arm. “Ye can’t make a silk purse out o’ a sow’s ear, eh?”

Walters swallowed back the chuckle rising in his throat, but it grew into a full laugh, then a guffaw. Paddy joined him, then Darby and Hatford, until they were all bellowing and holding their stomachs.

Paddy wiped a tear from his eye. “There are times when the castle ye build in the sky can be pulled down to earth. Are ye strong enough to do that, boyo?”

“But it’s not a real title. Is it?” For the first time since he met Lady Matilda, his heart swelled with hope.

Darby nodded. “You’ll need fortitude to withstand my mother’s comments and demeanor. She won’t be happy. But my sister will be Lady Walters and happy, so I am satisfied.”

Walters jumped up and held out his hand. “Thank you, my lord.” He shook Lord Chester’s hand. “And thank you.”

“I have one request,” Darby added.

Walters froze. Had it been a trick? Maybe he was dreaming, and the stipulation would be the thing to wake him.

“I’d like the courtship to last a year. I know it’s a long wait, but I want to be sure my sister is happy. If she is only smitten, we’ll know after a year. If you are both still willing next December, I will have the banns read.” Darby raised a golden brow, waiting for an answer.

Walters grinned. “I’m known for my patience, my lord. It’s your sister who will be cross as a bag of weasels.”