Page 15 of The Duke’s Lance (The Duke’s Guard #12)

O ’Malley didn’t have the sense of satisfaction he normally felt before a bare-knuckle bout, especially if he was about to go a few rounds with one of his brothers or cousins. The wary look on the prisoner’s face wasn’t unexpected. He was leading him to the back of the stable. O’Malley nearly smiled because he knew what the man was thinking—no witnesses…and that horses wouldn’t talk.

He swallowed the laugh at the expression on the man’s face, and stripped out of his shirt. But fair was fair, and he needed to explain. “’Tisn’t what ye think.” He tossed his shirt on the stall door. “’Tis me last clean shirt. Turn around so I can untie ye.”

“Why?”

“I’m giving ye the chance to tell me what ye know in exchange for having the chance to go a few rounds of bare-knuckle with me. I need to diffuse some of me anger. Fighting always works for me.”

The man was silent as O’Malley untied the rope binding his hands behind his back. Freed, he stood and stared at O’Malley.

“Normally I prefer to interrogate me prisoners…and do enjoy beating the shite out of them when they don’t answer me questions. Would ye prefer that method, or a chance to test yer skill against me own?” He appreciated the speculative look on the other man’s face, cracked his knuckles, and nodded at the man’s coat. “I prefer to fight unencumbered. Are ye wanting to take yer coat off?” When the man still didn’t respond, but started searching the pockets of his coat, O’Malley snickered. “Are ye daft enough to think I’d leave yer pistol in yer pocket?”

“I didn’t see you take it.”

“Ye were seeing double at the time. Now then, the rules are simple: if I land a punch, ye answer a question.”

“If I land a punch?”

O’Malley laughed. “Ye won’t.”

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

O’Malley waited for the man to toss his coat over the top of the empty stall next to them. When his opponent turned around, O’Malley hit him with a jab followed by a right cross. “Now then, that’s two blows landed, two questions. What is yer name, and who sent ye?” The man staggered and blinked. Impatient to have the answers, O’Malley said, “If ye don’t want to end up bound and gagged and back in that cottage we found ye and the ladies in, ye’d best start talking.”

“Bailey.”

“Well now, Bailey, who do ye work for?”

Bailey frowned. “That’s not the question you asked.”

“Amounts to the same thing, though I see yer point…who sent ye as opposed to who do ye work for.”

Bailey shook his head, turned and spat blood—and a molar—on the straw.

Out of time and desperate for answers, O’Malley lunged toward him, but Bailey raised his hands to guard his face. “The baron.”

Satisfaction warred with the need for another detail. “Which one? There are quite a few of them.”

“Hardwell.”

Without warning, O’Malley jabbed Bailey in the nose. The sound of it breaking was almost as satisfying as the blood. “Baron Hardwell is behind bars—who sent ye?”

When the man didn’t answer fast enough, O’Malley lunged forward again.

“Wait!”

O’Malley stopped with his fist a hairsbreadth from the man’s bleeding nose.

Bailey swiped at the blood with his sleeve. “Wilson.”

“When did he give the order?”

“Why should I tell you anything else?”

O’Malley snorted. “’Tis Flaherty’s turn, and he and I were bare-knuckle champions back home. Then it’ll be Hennessy’s turn, and finally Jackson’s.”

As the man was not a complete eedjit , he answered, “A fortnight ago, before Wilson traveled to the Lake District. A few days ago he sent word that I was to come here and wait at the cottage in the woods near the inn until he sent word that he had the Langley woman.”

“What was the rest of the plan? If ye tell me, we may ask Gavin King of the Bow Street Runners to consider the help ye’re giving me answering me questions before he interrogates ye and sends ye off to Newgate.”

Bailey seemed to realize that he had no other choice but to tell O’Malley what he knew. “That’s the odd part,” he replied. “Wilson told me I could do whatever I wanted with her.”

“What about payment?”

“He paid me in advance, and I knew from past experience not to cross him.”

O’Malley’s heart ached for the lass. “We heard her scream when we were outside the building.”

Bailey shrugged. “It was right after I slapped both the old ladies. I guess the Langley woman didn’t want me to hit either one of them again.”

“Was that before or after ye held a knife to me intended’s throat?”

Every ounce of color drained from Bailey’s face. “Your who?”

“Intended—me bride-to-be.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Aye, that’s what ye’ll be paying for holding a knife to the lass’s neck. But I’m a man of me word, and I promised Flaherty I would not use up his time. ’Tis his turn next.”

“But I thought you agreed to stop.”

“Did ye now? I don’t recall saying as much. Though I do remember saying that Flaherty would go next, then Hennessy and Jackson. Is there something wrong with yer hearing?”

Bailey wavered on his feet, but caught himself. “I just thought—”

“Ye thought ?” O’Malley repeated, pleased that the man was turning a ghastly shade of gray.

“—that since I answered your questions, you would be satisfied.”

O’Malley shook his head. “Have ye a wife or special woman in yer life, Bailey?”

The man stiffened then nodded. “I do.”

“Put yerself in me place, and tell me how would ye feel if you found out that someone not only abducted her, but held a knife to her throat, threatening her life?”

Color suffused Bailey’s face as he narrowed his eyes and fisted his hands. “I’d make the man pay. Everything he did to my sweet Eileen, I’d do to him. There wouldn’t be anywhere he could hide.” He locked gazes with O’Malley and growled, “I’d find him…and when I did, I’d hold my knife to his throat, but my hands have a tendency to slip when I’m angry.”

O’Malley nodded, pleased with the man’s answer. “And of course ye’d warn him of that ahead of time.”

“It would only be fair,” Bailey admitted.

O’Malley studied him for a moment before deciding that the man’s answer had just saved his life. Though he wouldn’t be telling Bailey that just yet. “That changes things a bit. I have one last question for ye. Is Eileen employed, or does she still live at home with her family?”

Anger vanished, and Bailey sank to his knees and begged O’Malley, “I will do whatever you ask, for the rest of my life, if you promise you’ll not harm Eileen. She has no idea what I do to earn coin on the side. Would never understand that it is the only way I’ll ever earn enough blunt to rent a place for us to live. She deserves the best, and I mean to give it to her.”

Touched by Bailey’s declaration of what he sensed was the truth, O’Malley sighed and put his shirt on. “Ye’ve given me something to mull over.”

“I know I don’t deserve Eileen, but if you promise not to harm her or her family, I’ll tell you without your asking that there is one other man working for the baron. One you wouldn’t suspect.” Bailey looked around them. “I know I could face time in the gaol”—he swallowed audibly—“or swing from a rope. But I’ll gladly pay for my crimes as long as Eileen is safe. Her life is worth far more than mine.”

O’Malley felt the same about Helen. “Tell me the name of the other man, and ye have me word that ye won’t hang.”

Bailey rubbed his neck as if he could feel the rope tightening around it. “Hardwell never told me the man’s name, but I do know he was recently hired by the Duke of Wyndmere to work as a footman at his estate in the Lake District. In fact, he was supposed to insinuate himself among the staff and wait until Miss Langley left the duke’s home—for whatever reason. He was to accompany her, if and when she left the duke’s home.”

O’Malley saw red, and seethed with anger, but controlled it. “Did ye ever see the man? Can ye describe him?”

“I’m ready to go a few rounds with the prisoner,” Flaherty announced, walking toward them. Staring at O’Malley, he frowned. “Ye never fight with yer shirt on, though from the looks of his nose, yer punches connected a few times. Do ye have all of the answers already?”

“All but one.” O’Malley nodded to their prisoner and said, “Bailey here is about to describe the other man who was in on Hardwell’s plan—a footman recently hired by His Grace.”

“Bloody hell!”

“Aye,” O’Malley agreed. “Tell us what he looks like.”

“Wait,” Flaherty said. “Do ye know his name?”

“Do ye think I haven’t asked him?” O’Malley demanded.

His cousin shrugged and motioned for Bailey to continue.

“If I knew, I’d tell O’Malley. I have seen him, though—he has light brown hair, pale gray eyes, a weak chin, hawkish nose, is rail thin, and stands about five feet, nine inches tall.”

“’Tis detailed enough that I know we’ll find him soon,” O’Malley replied.

“All you have to do is wait until dusk,” Bailey told them.

“Oh?” Flaherty said. “Why?”

“He was to wait until dusk, then go to the cottage and collect Miss Langley.”

“And?” Flaherty asked.

“That’s it, and before you worry if the young man would seek to harm Miss Langley, there is no fear of that. I, er…overheard that the footman has a preference for boys. He won’t touch Miss Langley. It was part of the reason Hardwell hired him.”

O’Malley didn’t question the validity of Bailey’s words, and needed to verify what he’d hinted about the baron and his henchman. “What of Wilson? Does he share the same preference as the footman?”

Bailey shook his head. “Nay. Believe it or not, Miss Langley would have been safer with me—I’d never tarnish what I have with Eileen like that.”

Flaherty looked at Bailey then O’Malley. “Eileen?”

“The woman he loves,” O’Malley said.

Bailey nodded. “As I was saying, Miss Langley would be safe with me, but not with Wilson or Hardwell’s latest pet hire.”

“Pet hire, ye say?” Flaherty asked.

Bailey shrugged. “Everyone who works for Hardwell knows to follow his orders to the letter, or they’ll end up spending time in his secret room.”

O’Malley held up a hand. “Ye don’t need to go into further detail.”

“We’ve heard enough,” Flaherty said. “Hennessey and Jackson are with Miss Langley and the Hinkle sisters, ready to leave, but from what we’ve just heard, we won’t be leaving until after dusk.”

O’Malley nodded. “There’s time now to send word to King. We’ll see to it the lass and the Hinkle sisters have been taken care of to me satisfaction before dusk. We’ll apprehend the footman using Bailey’s technique at the outhouse—we’ll be waiting for him inside the cottage. Oh, and Flaherty?”

“Aye?”

“I have promised Bailey that he will not hang for his part in any of this in exchange for information. I’ll explain more later.”

Flaherty eyed the prisoner and nodded. “Good enough. Bring him with ye. We’ll need to put our plan together with Hennessey and Jackson. We’ll either be on our way to Summerfield Chase late tonight, or early in the morning.”

“I’m thinking we should leave in the morning. I’ll reserve a room for the lass and her chaperones.”

Flaherty swore beneath his breath, then declared, “I’m never going to lose me heart to a woman. Because the head’s the next thing that follows once the heart falls.”

O’Malley wanted to contradict his cousin, but in truth couldn’t. The better part of valor was to remain silent. For the second time in a sennight, Eamon O’Malley clamped his mouth shut.