Page 20 of The Chef and the Countess (The Duke’s Bastards #2)

Liam walked into complete bedlam. Customers yelled, pointing at the floor at the coins and pound notes covered with spilled drinks and smeared food. Bruce and the remaining two uniformed policemen tried their best to control the situation.

Sergeant Morrisey walked toward one of the officers and held out his hand. “Your whistle, Murray.” The copper handed it over, and the detective blew it, the shrill noise cutting through the loud din. A tense silence settled over the room. The detective inclined his head toward the crowd, indicating Liam to speak.

“I do apologize for the uproar and inconvenience. We have never had this happen before. I assume the pub will be closed the rest of the night?” Liam looked toward Morrisey.

“I am afraid I must insist,” the detective replied.

“Only three tables were upended. I suggest those whose tables are still upright gather their money and any other belongings and depart—unless you wish to speak to them, Sergeant.”

“Murray, did you collect names and addresses?”

The policeman nodded. “I got everyone’s.”

“Then those men can leave,” Morrisey stated.

“If you return tomorrow night, there will be a free round of drinks on the house,” Liam stated. “I assure you, something like this will never happen again.”

The men groused as they collected their possessions, some muttering under their breath, and Liam felt he had just lost some steady customers. Blast it.

“As to the money on the floor, there is no way to know who had what amount,” Liam continued. “I suggest we gather, count, and divide the money evenly. It’s the fair way to go about it.”

“Look here, Hallahan, I know exactly how much I had on the table!” one man yelled, his face red with anger. Some of his customers started complaining, some nodding in agreement, others shaking their heads in disbelief.

Morrisey blew the whistle again. “If you gentlemen prefer, I can take all the money back to the station as evidence, and God knows when or if you will ever see it again. What the owner proposes is just. I suggest you follow his direction in the matter.”

“Bruce,” Liam waved the ex-boxer over. “Are you well?”

“Aye, Liam. Fiona wrapped my arm. The doctor said he would come and tend to me soon. He had a glance and said I’ll be fine.”

“Good man. Gather up the money, sit at this table, and count it. Let me know when you have an amount.” Liam turned toward Morrisey. “Can one of the officers assist him?”

“Of course. Northrup, help the man.”

Morrisey took Liam’s arm and led him away. “I am curious. How do you make money on this gaming?”

“I collect a flat fee as they come in and another when they leave. It’s how the previous owner did things. I also make money on liquor and beer sales and serving food.”

“Where do you keep this money?” Morrisey asked as he wrote in his notebook.

“There’s a safe in my office.”

“This episode does not sound random. In talking to your patrons and the staff, they claim these men entered the pub to cause trouble, not to rob it. They made lewd comments to the waitresses, grabbed someone’s pint of bitter, threw it around, and upended the trays the staff carried. When your man approached them, that’s when the knives came out. They never mentioned or moved toward the money lying on the tables or demanded that anyone open your safe. They were there to cause trouble and harm your business. Why?”

Liam hesitated. He recalled his promise to Darrington that if he were interfered with, he would give their names to the coppers. No time like the present. “Shinwell owes me two hundred and forty pounds from cards. That’s the reason he brought his cousin here, to work off the debt. I refused and, in turn, could not bring myself to turn the countess onto the streets. I went to their residence to collect, but the viscount declined. So, instead, I made a deal with the earl.”

“What kind of deal?”

“In exchange for the money owed, the earl would furnish his wife’s address in Italy and 35 pounds for the stress the countess endured. You see, Shinwell stole her remaining few pounds before he unceremoniously dumped her here.”

Morrisey whistled low in his throat. “What’s this about a shed fire?”

Liam explained the particulars and how the fire brigade found oil-soaked rags. “The station officer, I think his name is Brannigan.”

“I know him,” Morrisey murmured as he continued to write in his notebook. “And I have the address of the earl’s residence. But I want to offer a word of advice. Allow the police to investigate, and do not enflame this situation further. Do you understand? I won’t have you acting as a vigilante. I will keep you informed every step of the way.”

Liam frowned. “And how will you prove Darrington and his smarmy son are involved? It will be next to impossible.” Liam wondered if he should mention the earl’s alter ego--Billy Buck--and his criminal doings. He hadn’t told Celia about it as yet, and figured it would be best to keep that information to himself for now. If Liam had learned anything from living on the streets, he knew not to reveal all his weapons at once.

The two police officers who had given chase to the men entered the room.

“Did you catch them?” Morrisey asked.

“No, Sergeant. But under the street lights, I got a good look at two of them and recognized the injured one with the red hair.”

Morrisey turned to Liam. “See? We have a lead.”

“We’ve counted the money,” Northrup stated. “We each tallied it twice: four hundred forty-seven pounds, 10 shillings, and sixpence.”

“Bruce, go to the till and get enough money to bring it to 450, then divide it eight ways. The amount will be 57 pounds each.”

The same man who complained before stepped forward. “I had more than 57 pounds. And everyone at my table knows it.”

“Oh, shut it, Williams. You can afford to take the loss,” one of the men said with a sneer.

Williams took the money offered, then grabbed his coat. “Well, I won’t be returning here. It’s located in a bloody slum, anyway. I will ensure others know what a cheap, grifting card palace you run, Hallahan.” The man exited, slamming the door behind him.

The man who had spoken against Williams took his money and shoved it in his coat pocket. “It’s just as well Williams stays clear; we think he cheated, though there was no way to prove it.” The man touched his forelock. “I’ll be back tomorrow night for that free drink.”

After the rest of the patrons collected the money and departed, Liam exhaled.

“We should be going as well,” Morrisey said, tucking his notebook away. “As I said, I will keep you informed regarding the investigation. Allow the police to do their job. Please stay away from the earl and his son. Agreed?”

Grudgingly, Liam nodded. “Aye. Agreed.”

Drew came up to stand beside Liam. “The detective speaks sense, Liam.”

Liam turned to face Drew. “How is Celia?”

“It is just a scratch; regardless, she must heal. I stitched part of the wound and wrapped plasters and gauze around the gash. I suggest she stay abed for tomorrow, and after that, light duties, no heavy lifting. She must take care moving about until the injury heals, I would say two weeks at most, probably ten days. There is no sign of infection, and we certainly do not want any complications. I will come by in two days to check.”

“Drew, as always, thank you,” Liam said sincerely.

“Now, I believe I have another patient. Bruce, is it? Come and let me inspect your injury.”

The pub staff stared at Liam, looking for direction. For Liam’s part, he swung his gaze about the room, taking in the damage—broken chairs, glasses, dishes, food, and drink everywhere. Tonight was a complete loss. He glanced at the regulator clock on the wall—a quarter past nine.

“Unfortunately,” Liam said, “what happened here tonight occurs often in pubs and taverns, especially in the East End. But that is no excuse. I want you all to feel safe, and tonight, I’ve failed in that basic premise. There will be changes; Fiona and I discussed them before this disturbance occurred. I will hire more men for the pub, and any ladies who wish to move to the day staff, please let me know.”

Morrigan, his head pub waitress, raised her hand. “I’d like to move to the day staff.”

“All right, let’s meet in my office tomorrow night at half past six to discuss it.”

Morrigan nodded. Liam looked at the other three waitresses. “Anyone else?”

Two shook their heads; the third said, “Can I think about it?”

“Aye, Sally. You can. Now, we must do a clean-up for the rest of the shift. I’ll fetch the boys to assist.”

“We’re here, Liam.”

Liam turned to find Tommy, Timmy, Enya, and Hannah. “We heard the commotion, and the boys told us what happened,” Hannah said. “And we’ve come to help.”

Despite the upheaval, Liam was touched. Maybe Celia was right. They were a family. And it was time he started acting as if he were part of it.

* * *

Celia and Fiona were left alone. Awkwardness lingered about the room like a spectral apparition.

Fiona sat on the chair by the bed, facing Celia. “So then, Lady Celia.”

Celia sighed. “I’m sorry I did not inform Liam right away that I am the widow of an earl. I suppose I was afraid he would toss me to the cobbles, for he made his disdain for the upper classes plain. I told the truth in everything else.”

“A lie of omission, then,” Fiona replied.

“Yes. I like being part of the group and having you all treat me as an equal. As a countess, I lived in a cottage near the Scottish border. There were no fancy balls or other social events in my life, not for a long time. I spent the past six years tending to my ill, much older husband. Liam and Drew offered me Drew’s rear flat until I could contact my aunt and friends, but I wanted to stay here with all of you.”

“And with Liam,” Fiona interjected softly.

“It is that obvious, then?”

“Aye, it was when I first mentioned it, and it’s more so now. On both sides, it seems. The look of horror on Liam’s face when that loud-mouthed git cut you. It spoke volumes.”

Celia’s heart hitched. “It spoke of what?”

“Ducks, I walked in on you sitting on Liam’s lap with his hand up your skirt. That proves desire. But it’s more than mere lust. I saw the concern on his face when you were injured. I’ve also seen you and he cast longing glances toward each other when you thought no one was looking, including yourselves.” Fiona chuckled. “It’s the talk of the staff.”

Celia groaned. “Oh, no. I so wished to avoid that.”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “What happens when you contact your aunt or friends? Will you rejoin the upper crust? Find another elderly aristocrat to hitch your wagon to? Swan off to some country estate to live a life of leisure and privilege?” Fiona’s words cut, as if she were purposely trying to taunt her.

At first, Celia felt hurt by the assessment. Then, she grew annoyed, but she would not take the bait. “I am not some pampered countess,” Celia declared evenly.

“Is that so?”

“I was forced into that marriage at age nineteen when I had nothing and no one. Not even my aunt spoke up for me. Well, she tried. Regardless, it’s the reason we are estranged. My parents died in a boating accident when I was ten, and I had no choice but to move in with my aunt and her family.” She kept her voice as steady as possible.

“What happened to your parents’ money?”

“My father was a baronet, not part of the peerage. We lived comfortably, but we were not wealthy. The residence and belongings were sold to settle the mortgage and other debts. There was nothing left when it was all said and done.” Celia caught Fiona’s gaze. “Why am I explaining all this to you? What business is it of yours?” Her voice raised with each sentence; so much for keeping emotion out of it.

“Liam is my business,” Fiona replied, her voice fraught with feeling. “He’s family, and we look out for one another. I don’t want to see him hurt. You should have seen him when Walter took him in. He acted like an untamed animal, too thin and sickly by half. Already, he kept his feelings well hidden. It took months for Liam to show even a smidgen of trust. To this day, he keeps a part of himself removed from everyone. Until you arrived here.” Her concern for Liam was palpable in every word she spoke. Celia could not fault her for it.

“Me?” Celia gasped.

“Liam’s had plenty of lady friends through the years, some relatively recent. But he never brought them around here for us to meet. He keeps you close even when the opportunity arises to hand you off to the doctor. He wants you at his side. And that has me worried. This life is not for everyone. It’s hard, grinding work from dawn to dusk and beyond. Do you honestly believe you can live and work at Liam’s side for the foreseeable future? Have you ever given any thought to it? Because I can guess Liam has when he’s alone with his thoughts.” Fiona paused. “He’s in love with you.”

Love? The thought filled her heart to near bursting. “Has he said so?”

Fiona shook her head. “I don’t think he’s quite aware of it yet, or at least he can’t put a name to his feelings. As I said, Liam keeps his emotions well concealed. He’s never talked of his past much, but I assume it had something to do with him being—”

“Aloof? Withdrawn? Distant? Reserved?”

“Aye. To a point. More often than not. It also speaks to his vulnerabilities, and aye, he has them.”

“Don’t we all? He talked about his past with me,” Celia declared. “Some of it, at least.”

Fiona’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Well. That gives further proof.”

Celia held out her hand, and Fiona leaned forward and took it. “I do not want to hurt Liam. I’d rather cut out my liver.”

Fiona chuckled. “You heard Bruce say that more than once.”

“Yes. I like the expression as it conveys how I feel. My feelings for Liam are private; when I voice them, it will be to him and no one else. For once in my life, I have choices before me, and I am going to do what is right for me and my happiness. We all deserve it.”

Fiona squeezed Celia’s hand and nodded, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Aye, ducks. Contentment. Love. We all deserve it. Even me. Bruce has said he wants us to be together, permanent like.”

“You and Bruce? I think that is wonderful!”

Fiona scoffed. “He’s twenty-eight to my forty-one! It’s complete bollocks.” Fiona pulled her hand away to wipe away tears gathered at the corner of her eyes.

“Never!” Celia exclaimed. “Who cares if you are older?”

“What about children?”

“I do not hold to the notion that the only reason a man and woman should come together is to have children. There is so much more to a loving partnership than that. I did not have it with Winterwood, but I genuinely believe in it. My late parents had it.” Celia paused, then sighed wistfully. “I had no children with the earl, and maybe I cannot have them. While that possibility saddens me, it will not rule my life. So you should not let that be a deterrent to future joy.” Celia smiled. “Take love with both hands and welcome it. I intend to do the same—when and if the time comes.”

“Thank you. And you’re right. Everything you said.”

“Fiona, what are friends for?”

Fiona smiled and patted her hand. “Aye, ducks. We are that.”

“Maybe you could help me to my room,” Celia suggested.

“Liam brought you to his private place. Let him care for you.”

The outer door opened, and Celia recognized Liam’s heavy tread.

“Speak of the handsome devil,” Fiona whispered.

Liam entered the bedroom. “Fiona, cleanup has started. Can you supervise? I’ll be down soon.”

“Aye. I’m on it.”

Liam gently grasped her arm. “Please say nothing about Celia’s dowager countess status. Not yet.”

“No worries, love.” Fiona patted Liam’s hand, then departed.

“How are you?” Liam asked worriedly.

“I'm a little tired. With some rest, I will be as right as rain in a day, two at most. I’m ready to tackle sandwich making once again.”

Liam picked up the quilt folded at the end of his bed and gently laid it over her. “Then sleep. I must help downstairs.”

“Yes, Chef.”

Liam chuckled softly.

“I will be fine, I promise,” Celia added.

“Aye, love. I know you will.” Liam caressed her cheek, then turned down the gas light on the wall. After he left, Celia pulled the quilt up to her nose. It smelled of Liam, his shaving soap, a faint odor of enticing food scents, and a masculine scent all his own.

Feeling comforted and protected, Celia smiled as she drifted off to sleep.