Page 38

C oventry read the missive once before bolting out of his office on the second floor of his building. Pounding down the staircase, he called out, “Tremayne, Hennessey, Bayfield—stand guard! Masterson, with me!”

His men assembled quickly from their posts around the building. Masterson was the one to ask, “Bad news?”

“Aye. I need to speak to King immediately to form a plan of action.”

“In regard to?” Tremayne asked.

“Flaherty.”

Hennessey sighed. “Which one is it this time?”

“Seamus. He’s planning to resign. Be ready for immediate instructions when I return.”

“Aye, captain,” Bayfield replied.

“I don’t have to tell you, men—”

“We shall guard Miranda and Emma with our lives,” Tremayne interrupted.

“We’ll enlist Michael to guard the women inside your apartment,” Hennessey added.

Relief coursed through Coventry. “Excellent. Thank you.”

Masterson was moving slower than normal, which was why Coventry asked him to ride with him. “Before you ask why I did not leave you standing guard, Lieutenant Sampson recommended another fortnight before you return to strenuous duty.”

“I’m fully recovered,” Masterson grumbled as he and Coventry mounted their horses.

“Need I remind you how much blood you lost?”

They were already on their way, weaving in and around the slower-moving carriages. “Nothing wrong with my memory.”

“Save your ire for whatever Flaherty told King.”

That comment had Masterson staring at Captain Coventry. “Do you believe he only told you half of the story?”

Coventry snorted. “This is Seamus Flaherty we are speaking about.”

“Will you tell me what’s happened before we meet with King?”

The captain shook his head. “It would be best if you remained an impartial party and heard the news when King and I exchange the missives we’ve received.

That way, no one can point a finger at either of us for having received more information than the other.

His Grace will need all of the facts and our impartial opinions. ”

“Sounds like the makings of a mutiny.”

“Aye, Masterson. Let us hope neither Flaherty nor myself ends up clapped in irons in the hold of one of His Grace’s ships bound for America.”

*

“Jackson, Greeves! My office at once!” King bellowed.

Two of the men he reserved for protection duties regarding His Grace rushed into his office.

“Close the door.”

Jackson shut the door behind him and stood with his feet spread, ready to spring into action. Greeves mirrored his stance.

King waved the folded foolscap in front of their faces. “What in the bloody hell to you know about this?”

The men exchanged a look before Jackson replied, “Depends on who it’s from.”

“One of the duke’s men?” Greeves asked.

“Aye.” King rubbed the back of his neck. “Seamus Flaherty.”

“Neither of us have been in direct contact with him recently. Best just fill us in,” Greeves said.

The pounding on King’s door had him barking, “Go away!”

“Not bloody likely!” The doorknob turned and Coventry and Masterson walked into the room. One look at the missive clutched in King’s hand had Coventry shaking his head and removing one from his waistcoat pocket. “What do you make of this?”

“First. let’s compare what we’ve been told, then we’ll see,” King replied. He held out his missive to Coventry, who did the same with his. The room was silent while the two men read one another’s missives.

“Flaherty’s left his post and sent his formal resignation to His Grace,” King muttered.

“Before doing so, he made certain that the viscount and his family, and the earl and his family, would be well protected.” King slowly nodded, and Coventry continued.

“They have been training footmen and tenant farmers at Chattsworth and Lippincott Manors to stand in for them—God forbid one of the duke’s men became incapacitated. ”

King’s frown was fierce when he demanded, “What of the O’Malleys? Did they remain behind at their posts?”

There was another knock on the door, which had King ready to blast whoever it was verbally. Before he could, a deep voice announced, “Urgent missive for you, King.”

“Enter.” He snatched the missive from the man and motioned for him to leave.

He scanned the front, then met Coventry’s intent stare.

“It’s from Garahan.” King broke the wax seal and read the short note.

“It appears that Garahan is standing with Flaherty in his decision to resign and will be making the trip to Wyndmere Hall to demand that the duke amend his agreement with the men in his private guard.”

“You’d best not be thinking the need for more coin is behind this,” Coventry growled.

King shook his head and handed the missive to Coventry to read. “Not the direction of my thoughts, but I will admit I had not expected a reasonable request from Garahan. He is as hot-tempered as Flaherty.” He clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “What do you make of this, Coventry?”

The duke’s London man-of-affairs was silent as he considered all they had been told. “Don’t you find it odd that neither man mentioned what happened to Mary Kate to you?”

King shook his head. “Every man in the guard is close-mouthed whenever it has to do with their wives.”

Coventry had to agree. “They are not always forthcoming regarding personal attacks on themselves through their wives—to me either, unless the situation is dire.” The captain cleared his throat.

“Given the circumstances and Flaherty’s and Garahan’s accounts about what happened to Flaherty and his wife, I believe the viscount owes him and Mary Kate an apology. ”

“We will have to proceed with caution,” King murmured. “It would not be advisable for one of us to appear that we are attacking the viscount’s good name.”

Coventry’s green eye darkened as he bit out, “Given what we have learned, I do not give a bloody damn about the viscount’s good name.

” He rounded on King and demanded, “Do you believe that because they are Irishmen and in the duke’s employ that their lives—and that of their wives and babes—do not matter? ”

King locked gazes with him. “That you felt it necessary to ask shows where your sympathies lie.”

Coventry glared at the esteemed Bow Street Runner.

“Flaherty and Garahan—as well as the rest of the men guarding the duke—have bled for him, been clubbed over the head for him—” King raised a hand, which Coventry completely ignored.

“I believe cooler heads will prevail once their wives receive a response from Her Grace.”

“What do you know that I do not?” King asked.

Coventry snorted. “I married an intelligent woman who is always looking out for my welfare, especially when it involves those that I care deeply about. She knows how I feel about the sixteen men I hired on the duke’s behalf.

I believe His Grace and the earl feel the same way.

What I do not know is where the viscount’s and the baron’s loyalties lie. ”

“I may not have married,” King said, “but that does not mean I have not given my heart to someone I cared deeply about. Had circumstances been different, I would have married years ago.”

Coventry stared at King for long moments before inclining his head. “Forgive me. You do understand.”

“Aye. I have no doubt that Garahan’s and Flaherty’s wives would have immediately sent missives to Her Grace too.”

“And Lady Calliope and Lady Aurelia would have done the same,” Coventry said.

“Thick as thieves, those two,” King agreed. “Do we wait, or go into the middle of this fiasco swinging?”

“Swinging,” Jackson and Greeves said simultaneously, causing King to grin.

“Aye, that would relieve much of the tension if we had an all-out, no-holds-barred, bare-knuckle bout.” Then he sighed and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t mind it myself,” Coventry admitted. “But as to what His Grace would prefer, I do believe that would be a round-table discussion in neutral territory.”

“Wyndmere Hall?”

“Aye,” Coventry replied. “Flaherty’s resignation, and Garahan’s, will cut His Grace deeply. The duke considers his men brothers-in-arms, and is bound to them by the blood they have shed for him and his family.”

Masterson spoke up: “Her Grace will be devastated if Flaherty and Garahan resign. She is quite fond of the men and their wives. She, too, considers the men in the duke’s guard, and their wives, as an extension of her family.”

“Then we are agreed?” King asked. “We request Flaherty and Garahan meet with us here first, before we decide if an escort to Wyndmere Hall for a second meeting is called for.”

“What if neither one is amenable to meeting with you?” Greeves asked.

King’s face lost all expression. “They will have no choice.”

Coventry snorted. “You aren’t planning to do what I think you are. Are you?”

“I believe the best move is an offensive one. Jackson, take O’Shaughnessy.

Greeves, partner with Varley. Leave at once and encourage Flaherty and Garahan to accompany you here.

I believe the men will have stopped at the closest inn to where they were stationed in Sussex, given that their wives were with them. ”

“And if they resist,” Coventry said, “remind them that Her Grace would want them to be accommodating.”

Masterson smiled. “They would do anything for the duke—and Her Grace.”

“Aye,” King agreed. “I expect to see you back here late this evening, men, if not early in the morning. Hopefully, Garahan’s and Flaherty’s wives will not be a hindrance.”

“From having met both Melinda and Mary Kate,” Coventry said, “I believe they will do all in their power to resolve this situation without the need for either of their husbands to resign. They will come.”

“Excellent,” King said. “Men, you have your assignment. Get moving, as time is of the essence. All hell could break loose if word leaks out that there is trouble within the ranks of the duke’s guard and the wrong parties hear of it.”

“I expect to be receiving an urgent missive from His Grace by midday,” Coventry added. “The duke should have received Flaherty’s and Garahan’s missives by now and will have sent a directive to me, demanding to know what in the bloody hell is going on.”

“By then, we will have set the first part of our plans in place,” King said. “Send word if the duke reacts differently than we expect. We will amend our plans accordingly.”

“Aye, King.” Coventry turned and nodded to Masterson. “We’ll keep in close contact.”

*

“I don’t like it, O’Malley.” O’Shaughnessy’s glare was fierce. “I don’t want my wife left alone while I’m off chasing down your kin.”

Emmett O’Malley glared at O’Shaughnessy. “How do ye know ’tis me family and not something else entirely?”

“A feeling in my gut. I get them, same as you do,” O’Shaughnessy grumbled.

“What else do ye know that ye aren’t telling me?” Emmett demanded.

The big Irishman grunted. “I can keep my mouth shut when I’ve been told to. All I will tell you is that I need to leave immediately with Jackson, Greeves, and Varley, and we’re riding south.”

“I still don’t see—”

“Promise me you’ll protect my wife while I’m gone. Mary’s still skittish around those she feels are her betters…through no fault of her own. I’m begging you.”

Emmett raked a hand through his hair and winced.

The muscles in his back had been damaged when he was viciously stabbed a few weeks ago.

He was healing, but it would be a few more weeks, mayhap longer, before he was back to full fighting form.

“Aye. Michaela and I will ride over, collect Mary, and bring her back here.”

O’Shaughnessy hesitated. “She’ll give you ten reasons why she cannot stay at Grosvenor Square. Isn’t there somewhere else you can take her?”

“Ye trust me, don’t ye?”

In answer, the man pulled Emmett in a one-armed hug. “Aye. Thank you. I expect to return tonight or early in the morning at the latest.”

“Go, before King sends another of his runners to find out why you haven’t reported in yet.”

With a wave, O’Shaughnessy was gone and Michaela slipped out from behind the door to the servants’ staircase to join her husband in the hallway. “I have a bad feeling about this, Emmett.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Let’s alert Findley, and have two of the footmen stand guard with him. It won’t take long to fetch Mary and bring her back here.”

“Give me two minutes,” Michaela said. “I’ll let Mrs. O’Toole know, and ask her to bake a batch of her lemon teacakes. Mary’s partial to them.”

Emmett pulled his wife in for a lingering kiss.

“I’ll have the carriage made ready. Meet me by the stables, instead of out front.

We don’t want to attract undue attention.

” Watching his wife rushing toward the kitchen, he smiled and raised his eyes Heavenward.

“Thank ye, Lord, for granting me more time with me darling wife.”

He stepped outside and gave a short, sharp whistle. Findley came striding toward him from the front of the town house. It was part of their duty not to attract attention by running in and around the town house in response to the whistled warning. Best to act as if nothing was wrong. “Trouble?”

“Could be. Michaela and I are going to collect O’Shaughnessy’s wife. She’ll be staying with us tonight. Something’s happening that we’re not privy to—yet—but I have this feeling in me gut.”

Findley nodded. “I’ll grab two of the footmen and set them at their posts. We’ll be ready for anything.”

“Thank ye. I’ll speak to the stable master. We’ll be taking the black carriage—without the duke’s seal.”

“Wise choice.”

“Aye. Watch yer back, Findley.”

“Watch yours.”