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“P ersephone!”

The duchess sighed. She had no doubt that her husband had received a handful of missives too. “What a bumblebroth!” she muttered. They had to get to the bottom of this mess and untangle the knotted threads holding it together before they lost Flaherty and Garahan for good!

She opened the door to the nursery suite and waited for her husband to reach her side.

“Why is this happening? What are my men thinking? What in the bloody hell was Chattsworth thinking?”

“Come in, darling. I’ll ring for tea.” Persephone waited until he closed the door behind him to walk over to the corner of the room and tug on the bellpull.

“I don’t want any bloody tea! My guard is on the precipice of falling into ruins. How will I be able to protect you or our children without them? What if the rest of the guard decides to resign in support of their cousins? What will happen to my brother, sister, cousins, and their families?”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and sighed.

He had only spoken of half of those the men in his guard were protecting.

Her husband needed a good knock on the head, and she was thinking about using the book on the table when someone knocked.

“Answer the door and ask for tea and whisky or brandy—whatever you wish, Jared.”

The duke grumbled, but opened the door and made the request.

*

Patrick O’Malley received two missives. One from his brother, Dermott, and one from his cousin, Michael.

He broke the wax seal and read the contents of Dermott’s message and then Michael’s.

Immediately assessing the situation as dire, he folded the notes and tucked them in his waistcoat pocket.

Stepping just outside the rear entrance to Wyndmere Hall, he whistled.

Three men came running: Aiden Garahan, Eamon O’Malley, and Rory Flaherty.

He nodded at the expectant expressions on their faces.

“Men, we have a problem. No doubt the duke has received a similar missive just now. There is a situation in Sussex.” When Rory and Aiden stiffened, bracing for the news, Patrick told them, “Yer brothers have left their positions in Sussex and sent their resignations to His Grace.”

Rory shook his head. “Why in the bloody hell would Seamus do that?”

“James would have to be a bloody eedjit ,” Aiden added.

“No doubt His Grace is still reeling from the last urgent missive, received two days’ past,” Patrick said.

“Not one of us could conceive of the fact that Mary Kate had been abducted twice, or that it was not connected to any of the previous attacks and attempted abductions. It is unconscionable that she and Seamus were found unconscious, left to die inside a burning barn.”

The men agreed, and Rory muttered, “I’m thinking Seamus’s actions have more to do with that than the abduction attempt.”

“Mayhap ’twas the direct hit to his pride as well,” Patrick suggested. “Not being able to protect his wife while on duty for the earl, while she’s serving as Lady Calliope’s maid at Chattsworth Manor, has to have been a problem he was trying to resolve before this happened.”

“James would have a fit if he were not able to protect Melinda,” Aiden interjected. “Pride or not, we have to be able to ensure that we are protecting our wives and babes while at the same time protecting the duke’s family.”

“Aye,” Patrick agreed, then nodded at Eamon. “What do ye think?”

“I’m in total agreement with Seamus and James,” his cousin replied. “Our wives are equally important. If the duke cannot see that, then ’tis time to we sought other employment. Our reputation is well known—we could find work anywhere.”

Patrick held up his hands as if to forestall that action. “Let’s not be hasty. We need to come up with a solution that would benefit His Grace, and those under our protection, as well as our wives.”

“I’d like to have a few words with the viscount.” Rory cracked his knuckles and slowly smiled. “I haven’t even had the chance to meet me sister-in-law, and already Mary Kate’s had her life threatened more than once.”

“Melinda is the sweetest woman,” Aiden said. “The thought of any of our wives not being protected—or their protection is being pushed to the side in favor of the duke’s family—is burning a hole in me gut right now.”

Patrick felt the depth of his cousin’s emotions, as it echoed his own. This situation had the potential to dismantle the duke’s guard.

He shook his head. Dismantle? More like detonate.

“I cannot even begin to think of Gwendolyn and little Deidre in harm’s way. We need a plan. I’ll take yer ideas now, as I’m certain His Grace will be summoning me to speak with him shortly.”

“We need more men,” Rory said. “Didn’t His Grace hire additional men in London?”

“Twenty hired on the recommendation of Captain Coventry. The men are His Grace’s eyes and ears around London.”

“Then we need to add twenty more men to take over those positions—no doubt on the docks, in the stews, and the Dark Walk,” Aiden suggested.

“Aye,” Eamon agreed. “Dividing up the twenty men between the six locations—four that the duke owns, plus the viscount’s manor, and the baron’s manor.”

“’Twould be better if we had twenty-four men to even it out,” Rory said. “Surely we can ask King to loan four of his men to us until Coventry hires four more.”

Patrick nodded. “A quick plan, but it makes sense to me as well. We don’t want to lose Seamus or James, but have to be prepared for the fallout if they leave. Are ye willing to stay on, men, even if yer brothers resign?”

Rory and Aiden shared a glance. “That would depend on what the duke decides to do about the importance of protecting our wives and babes,” Aiden answered.

“That’s how I see it as well,” Rory said.

“Ye aren’t even married, Rory,” Patrick reminded him.

Flaherty shrugged. “That may be, but I’d want equal consideration for me someday-wife’s protection.”

Aiden nodded. “I’d want the same for Emily and our babe-to-be. Protecting them both is paramount.”

“I feel the same about Helen and our babe she’s carrying,” Eamon added.

“Then we agree,” Patrick said. “I’ll present our plan to His Grace when he sends for me.”

“And if the duke doesn’t agree?” Rory asked.

Patrick shook his head. “We cannot let that possibility occur. His Grace is a reasonable man. He will agree. He has to !”

“Are yer flasks full?” Rory asked.

“What in God’s name does that have to do with any of this?” Patrick demanded.

Rory grinned. “A bit of the Irish always clears the head and soothes the soul.”

Aiden shook his head, and Eamon snorted. “Ye aren’t wrong, Flaherty.”

“We Flahertys are rarely wrong.”

“Back to yer posts, men,” Patrick said. “I’ll let ye know if and when the duke has spoken to me.”

“And ye’ll not hold anything back?” Rory asked.

Hand to his heart, Patrick promised, “Ye have me word.”