Page 21 of The Duke’s Lance (The Duke’s Guard #12)

H elen was hesitant when Mary handed her a silver-backed looking glass. Digging deep for her wavering composure—no one had done her hair for her, except on one or two occasions when working for Lord Montrose—she managed not to cry.

“Take a look and let me know if you like what I’ve done. We have plenty of time for me to change the style.”

Helen glanced at her reflection and stared. “I don’t look like me.” She could not help worrying that O’Malley would not recognize her. And what if he preferred this primped and powdered version of herself? She could never be able to replicate what Mary had accomplished.

A knock had Mary hurrying over to open the door. “Oh, I was going to fetch you, but here you are. Come in, ladies—Miss Helen was just going to let me know what she thinks of her hair. I pinned it up higher than normal, and her hair is so silky soft, it just naturally loosened on its own. Not as severe a look, and I think it suits her.” She gestured for Miss Josina and Miss Jeanette to enter, followed by Margaret and Elizabeth, the maids assigned to them. “What do you think?”

Though the maids glanced at Helen’s sling and bandaged neck, neither one mentioned her injuries or commented on them. Nor did the sisters, though they had been there when it happened and knew what lay beneath the bandages. The thin and shallow cut may leave a scar, but there was not a thing Helen could do to change that fact. She hoped O’Malley would not be put off by it.

The sisters took their time inspecting her hair from all angles. Finally Josina stepped back, clapped her hands together, and declared, “Magnificent!”

“O’Malley will not be able to take his eyes off you,” Jeanette predicted. “The gown accentuates your coloring and adds a hint of rose to your cheeks.” Turning toward her sister, she asked, “Does she look a bit pale to you?”

“A bit, but with all that has occurred, lack of a good night’s sleep will take a toll on a body. Tea and something sweet will add the roses back to her cheeks,” Josina replied.

“Or a smile from O’Malley.” Mary covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide in shock.

Margaret giggled. “Oh, Miss Langley, you are so lucky. Eamon O’Malley is just as handsome as his brother Thomas.”

Elizabeth’s head bobbed up and down, and a hairpin was dislodged and pinged when it landed on the polished wooden floor at the maid’s feet. She picked it up and put it in her apron pocket. “Ryan Garahan is so dreamy with his dark hair and eyes… Not that we spend our time staring at the married men protecting the baron and baroness. As Mrs. Green has told us, there is no harm in admiring God’s handiwork.”

“You remind me of Emily Montrose…erm Garahan, Aiden’s wife,” Helen said. “I was hired as her personal maid nearly ten years ago, but then became more of a companion to her. She was adept at describing and pointing out which attributes were more important when considering a husband, and which should be ignored, and in the next breath would laugh and say she never intended to marry.” She smiled. “But then she met Garahan, and sparks flew whenever they were in the room together.” Having now met O’Malley, she wondered if others noticed what she felt.

Josina smiled. “Jeanette and I had that, too. It’s lovely to watch and remember.”

Helen wished the two lovely sisters had not had to say goodbye to the men as they left to join their regiment, only to have to bury them.

She noticed everyone had gone quiet. Uncomfortable in the silence, she shifted and felt a twinge of pain in her wrist. Given that it had been immobilized, it surprised her. She resolved to become accustomed to being more cautious, expecting her wrist to hurt.

Mary saved Helen from trying to make conversation when she was becoming anxious. “Her ladyship is bound to wonder where we are. We’d best hurry. Oh, Miss Helen, just a moment.”

Helen stood waiting, surprised when Mary added one more hairpin to her loose topknot. Then she pulled a few tendrils loose to frame her face, and one that brushed against the nape of her neck. “There. O’Malley won’t be able to resist winding the curl at the back of your neck around his fingertip.”

“Mary!” Shock at the very idea that O’Malley would want to play with her hair sent a tingle of awareness from Helen’s heart to her belly.

Jeanette stared a her for a moment. “I’m happy to see that you did not forget your sling. Thank you, Mary, for tending to Miss Helen. She has been through so much in just a short period of time.”

“I’m happy to see that O’Malley thought to send another cravat for you to use as a sling,” Josina added. “I do wonder if he wanted everyone to ask why you are not using a linen square, and wearing a bit of black fabric that matches what the men in the guard wear.”

That had Helen thinking of the man she would be bound to for the rest of her life. She wondered if he would insist on his husbandly right to bed her tonight. Mayhap he would want to wait until they reached Wyndmere Hall.

“Was there any redness around the injury on Helen’s neck?” Josina asked Mary. “She may need to see a physician.” Her matter-of-fact tone eased a bit of Helen’s worry.

“I did not,” Mary assured her.

“I have been enough of a bother to Mary—and yourselves, for that matter,” Helen said. “I am beholden to you and Jeanette for your company and chaperonage.” She felt her eyes welling up and, for the second time in the last half an hour, sensed her composure slipping. “I could not have managed to get in the tub without your assistance, Miss Josina, or washed my hair without Mary’s help. I am grateful to the both of you. It is not something I have ever needed, and I must confess it is a trial to wash my hair even with both hands. Thank you, thank you all. I do hate to be a bother.”

“You are not a bother at all, Miss Helen,” Mary said. “Your neck did not appear to pain you when I bandaged it.”

“Compared to what it could have been, I did not expect it to. It only stung a little when I washed it with the soap.”

“That is a good sign,” Elizabeth—the shiest of the trio of maids—remarked. “Mum says if it stings when you are washing a cut, the soap is working, getting rid of any dirt and such that could lead to infection.”

Josina smiled. “Right you are, Elizabeth.”

Mary led the women from the room, down the hallway toward the baroness’s sitting room.

Helen wondered if the baroness would first stare at the bandage on her neck or her wrist resting in the sling. Either one might make for an uncomfortable encounter over tea and cake. She wished it were already after supper, and time for the vicar to arrive. How would she be able to wait without fidgeting? Thinking of the man she was to marry in a few hours, Helen envisioned his reaching out to take her hand, and wondered if the heat from his callused hands would send tingles from her palm to her heart as it had before.

It was a struggle, but she managed to push thoughts of O’Malley from her mind as they entered the sitting room. It was empty, although the door had been open and a fire burned cheerily in the fireplace, taking the chill from the room.

“Please have a seat, and get comfortable. Her ladyship will be here in a few minutes,” Mary informed them. “We shall ring for tea when she arrives.”

*

O’Malley shook his head. “His Grace will be speaking to Coventry and King regarding new staff to be hired. He’ll not risk something like this happening again.”

The footman in question did not raise his head, or comment, from his position huddled in the back corner of the stall where the three prisoners were being held.

Flaherty grumbled, “He gave up without a fight. Can ye ever imagine a man doing that?”

O’Malley shrugged. “Not a man worth his salt, no.”

Baron Summerfield had his hands behind his back as he stared at the footman. “What is his name?”

“Foldroy,” O’Malley answered. “He apparently was not on good terms with the rest of the staff, although he preferred being in the company of the other footmen to any of the women. Never interacted with them.”

Summerfield’s mouth flattened into a thin line and his eyes darkened to a dark and dangerous blue. “I want double the guards on this man.”

The footman glanced up and slowly smiled. “I heard you have two young boys living with you.”

Flaherty was in the stall a second before O’Malley. Lifting Foldroy by the throat, he shook the man. “Ye’ll never get within spitting distance of the lads.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the man against the wall, watching with a grim, satisfied expression on his face when Foldroy’s head banged against the wall. Twice.

O’Malley shoved in front of his cousin and knelt before Foldroy. “Ye think ye’re smarter than us because ye weaseled yer way into His Grace’s staff. But ye underestimate us if ye think ye’ll be convincing someone to set ye free.”

Foldroy narrowed his eyes, as if gauging whether O’Malley was bluffing.

“Know this—no one will be able to stop me from breaking yer jaw, and both of yer hands, if ye so much as whisper the lads’ names.”

Flaherty snickered. “Ye always were soft, O’Malley.” He glared at the footman. “I’ll be hobbling ye so that ye’ll never walk again.”

“Hobbling?” Foldroy muttered.

“’Tis a fine and ancient art,” O’Malley replied. “All ye need is a sharp blade—preferably one with weight to it.” He stared at the footman for a few moments, pleased when the younger man visibly shuddered. “Makes for a deeper cut, though ye don’t want yer adversary to bleed out—just sever the tendons and muscles at the back of his knees to keep him from ever walking again.”

Foldroy’s eyes rolled up in his head, and Flaherty snorted with laughter. “Ye always did have a way with words, Eamon.”

Summerfield chuckled. “Impressive, but I have to say that Thomas’s description rivals yours.”

O’Malley sighed and shook his head. “Me brother is always trying to best me.”

Flaherty patted him on the shoulder. “Ye can’t let that bring ye down—ye did a fine job convincing Bailey to talk. I’m ready to take a crack at Wilson.”

Constable Saunders had been quiet up until then. “Do you know when you will be leaving for the Lake District, and if you’ll need my assistance?”

Summerfield replied, “O’Malley will be otherwise engaged as of this evening—”

Flaherty’s crack of laughter interrupted the baron.

“Shut yer gob!” O’Malley warned.

“Just having a laugh, not at ye, mind. With ye.”

O’Malley glared at Flaherty. “I’m not laughing.”

“Well, why would ye, when ye’re the one getting leg-shackled later tonight?”

“Ye won’t think it’s funny when ye meet the woman destined to be yer wife.”

Summerfield raised a hand, and the cousins fell silent. “As Flaherty has so eloquently put it, O’Malley will be getting married tonight, and I doubt he will be leaving in the morning—”

“Actually, that is me plan, yer lordship. The sooner we remove the prisoners from yer home, the better I’ll feel. I’m sorry that we had to resort to bringing them here, but we had little choice with what Helen suffered. I’m looking forward to returning to Wyndmere Hall.”

“How will you transport the prisoners?” the constable asked.

“They’ll be riding in a special wooden carriage, one with a roof and bars.”

“I take it Hennessey and Jackson will be leaving with you, guarding the prisoners,” Summerfield said.

“Aye, yer lordship. Bailey and I had an enlightening conversation. ’Tis just Wilson that has refused to talk, so far…” O’Malley stared at Wilson, who was still unrepentant and refused to speak. “I’m thinking ’tis time I had a turn convincing him to talk. Flaherty had his turn—I had me hands full pulling the lass to safety at the time. After I have a go at him, we’ll let Garahan have a turn. He has a stake in this as well, being as how Wilson murdered Aiden’s father-in-law…before Aiden had a chance to meet the man.”

Summerfield moved to stand beside O’Malley. “Do you have anything to say in your defense, Wilson? Any reason—though I cannot think of one that would be acceptable—for doing Hardwell’s bidding? The charges carry a heavy penalty. Are you ready to face the gallows?”

Wilson’s expression changed from bored to hate-filled.

The baron inclined his head. “So be it. I shall be in the library. Have at him, O’Malley.”

Anger fought against O’Malley’s steely control, but he would not let it get out of hand. He was about to be married, and it would not be wise to beat the prisoner senseless, as word of what was about to happen would surely reach the baroness and the ladies.

“Flaherty, help Wilson to his feet.”

His cousin yanked the man up off the straw spread on the bottom of the stall.

O’Malley cracked his knuckles and walked toward Wilson. “I’m hoping this hurts ye more than meself.” He punched Wilson in the gut, satisfied that he met more flab than muscle. When the man doubled over, O’Malley grabbed a fistful of his hair, lifted his face, and growled, “That was for the abducting me intended.” He delivered a solid jab to Wilson’s face, followed by a knee to the groin. “That is for attacking Emily with the intention of violating her.”

O’Malley shoved the man away from him, inordinately pleased when Wilson collapsed on the floor, puking up his guts. He nodded to Flaherty and the constable. “Wilson may need a few minutes to compose himself. I’ll relieve Garahan so he can have his turn questioning the prisoner.” He had his hand on the door to the stables when he thought it wise to remind the men, “I’ve already thoroughly questioned Bailey.”

“Bugger it, O’Malley, ye went a few rounds with him.”

He slowly smiled at Flaherty. “’Twas me prerogative, now wasn’t it?” Flaherty mumbled a curse while O’Malley ignored him and looked to Bailey. “Did ye remember to retrieve yer tooth after I knocked it out?” Bailey shook his head, and O’Malley shrugged. “Ah well, ’tisn’t like ye could have shoved it back in yer jaw. Any man who values his wife, or family, above his own life, and tells the truth, is worthy of rehabilitating in me book.”

O’Malley told the constable, “I’m thinking that, depending on what the final charges levied against Bailey are, His Grace may be willing to hire him as one of his London contacts on the docks, seeing as how King recently hired O’Shaughnessy as one of his runners.”

Flaherty agreed, “We should fill O’Shaughnessy’s position on the docks as soon as possible.”

“I’ll send Garahan in. Oh, and Flaherty?” O’Malley said.

“Aye?”

“See that our cousin doesn’t land a killing blow. ’Twould displease His Grace…and Garahan’s wife.”

“What of his lordship?”

O’Malley chuckled. “I’m thinking he’d be more reasonable than either the duke or Garahan’s wife, but ye can add him to the list, too.”

He was in a much better frame of mind as he walked out of the stables and whistled. The short, sharp sound was used to warn of an emergency or impending attack.

Garahan sprinted toward him from the other side of the building. “Are we under attack again?”

“Nay. ’Tis yer turn questioning Wilson.”

Garahan’s eyes turned black with anger. “The man who pushed Aiden’s father-in-law in front of that carriage?”

“Aye. Thought ye’d like to have a go at him.” Garahan nodded, and O’Malley added, “Ye can let Aiden know that ye’ve struck a few blows on his behalf.”

“Ye’ve questioned him already?”

O’Malley grinned. “Did me soul good to plant me fist in his face and knee in his bollocks—I told him that was for Emily.”

Garahan clapped a hand to O’Malley’s shoulder. “Ye’re me favorite cousin, Eamon.”

“I thought Killian O’Ghill was.”

“Ah, but O’Ghill isn’t here, and ye’ve given me a chance to avenge me sister-in-law.”

“Happy to oblige.” O’Malley watched his cousin stalk toward the door to the stables and yank it open. Garahans fought dirty, and O’Malley was sorry not to be able to watch Ryan take Wilson apart. But a bargain was a bargain—he’d guard the perimeter until Garahan returned. Then he’d see if Mrs. Green needed a hand delivering a tea tray to Lady Phoebe and her guests.

He couldn’t wait until after the evening meal to see his bride-to-be, or kiss her senseless. If Mrs. Green did not need his assistance, he’d simply tell his brother that he needed to check on the lass’s injuries. Thomas would understand and back him up if anyone questioned his reason for interrupting the baroness when she was enjoying tea with the other ladies.

Satisfied with his plan of action, O’Malley strode off to his post.