Page 2 of The Duke’s Man-At-Arms (The Duke’s Guard #11)

G avin King looked up as Emmett O’Malley walked into his office. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“I’d never ignore a summons from Bow Street. Does it involve His Grace or Earl Lippincott?”

“Neither,” the Bow Street Runner replied. “And before you ask, it doesn’t involve Viscount Chattsworth or Baron Summerfield.”

O’Malley knew of another connection he and the famed runner had, a woman whose good works kept her in constant danger in her quest to save as many young women off the streets of London as possible. The darkest sections of the city, where there used to be despair, now held hope with the merest whisper of the name she had been given by those she had saved— angel of the streets . The angel had been instrumental in saving the lives of three of his Garahan cousins’ wives. But O’Malley knew better than to jump to conclusions. He waited for King to continue.

King rose from the seat behind his desk, walked to the door, and closed it. “What I have to say must never leave this room.”

“Ye have me word,” O’Malley promised.

“Dr. Robert Colborne’s daughter did not return home last night.”

“The name sounds familiar. Is he a colleague of Dr. McIntyre or Lieutenant Sampson?”

“Aye, they are known to one another.”

O’Malley digested the information, then asked, “Is she somehow connected to Miss Michaela?”

King’s eyes flashed with temper, and O’Malley sensed there was a strong connection between the missing physician’s daughter and Michaela. At King’s continued silence, O’Malley had to stifle a groan of pain. “Miss Michaela is the physician’s daughter?”

“Aye, and Colborne is more aware of her good works than she realizes. He prefers to keep it that way. He has had two men keeping watch over her since she began her crusade to rescue and heal those who cannot help themselves.”

“Does he have any idea how much danger his daughter is in?” O’Malley asked.

“He is well aware, which is why he has contacted me more than once over the last few years when he feels she is in over her head.”

“Why doesn’t he demand the lass stop?”

King’s gaze met O’Malley’s. “Have you been present whenever His Grace has tried to tell Her Grace what to do?”

O’Malley stifled a snort of laughter. “Aye.”

“Well then, you understand what would happen should the good doctor try to tell Miss Michaela what to do. She is just as stubborn as the duchess, if not more.” Clasping his hands behind his back, King paced.

“I’ve heard tales from the Garahans and have met Miss Michaela more than once,” O’Malley said. “Her size has ye thinking she’s weak. But she’s strong and has a heart of gold, even if she seems to be a bit on the stubborn side. What else have ye heard?”

“Nothing. Which is why I brought you in. Your contacts and Garahan’s have deeper connections in the stews and on the docks.” King hesitated before adding, “I need you to press them for information. I cannot shake the feeling that we do not have long to find her.”

Emmett’s eyes locked on King’s. “I won’t rest until I find her.”

King’s expression changed to one of relief. “I have a handful of men on the case. To put more runners out there asking questions may do more harm than good.”

“’Twould bring attention to who ye’re looking for. No matter if ye use her nickname or real name, the lass would be in even more danger.”

“Exactly. I’m thinking of bringing Cameron in on this.”

O’Malley shook his head. “Miss Michaela wouldn’t want Cameron, or his new wife and her family, exposed to rumor and innuendo if word gets out he’s helped her in the past. Not all those of the ton believe her mission is warranted or in their best interests. They protect their own, even if they’re twisted and bent on destroying others.” His mind was screaming to leave now, not his normal reaction when called to help. He waited a beat before adding, “I’ll speak to Cameron and Greenwood, her newest guard. See if I can unravel any threads that will lead back to who has kidnapped her and where she’s being held.”

King stopped pacing and said, “Colborne did not send word immediately, as she often works long hours, arriving home near dawn.”

“Bloody hell! ’Tis now nigh on eight o’clock in the morning. She could have gone missing anytime yesterday!” O’Malley stalked to the door, yanked it open, and glanced over his shoulder. “Have ye spoken to Garahan?”

“Given his condition—”

O’Malley spun around and glowered at King. “Are ye saying Darby isn’t fit to do his job?”

The runner shook his head. “I am sure that he is still capable—”

O’Malley interrupted him, “Garahan’s been training with Coventry and is just as lethal wearing an eyepatch as when he had perfect vision!”

King remained silent.

“Ye’ll see how wrong ye are to think to exclude him. I will find Miss Michaela with Garahan’s help. When I do, ye’ll owe me cousin an apology.”

The two men glared at one another, neither capitulating. Finally King barked, “Keep me posted.”

O’Malley grunted, turned around, and stalked out of the door. He strode along the hallway with the single-minded thought: rescue the lass…no matter the cost! The bloody bugger who dared to lay hands on Michaela would live to regret it.

He nodded to the runner stationed outside the front of the building. Stalking over to where he tied his horse, he scratched behind the animal’s ear. “We’ve a mission, laddie.” He untied the reins and mounted his horse. O’Malley’s thoughts settled into place as he rode toward the duke’s town house. He’d speak to Findley and Garahan. Findley would have no problem being left in charge. Though one of the newer men hired, he was more than capable. He’d be sure to add two footmen who would man Garahan and O’Malley’s positions guarding the town house until further notice. They had done it before and would no doubt do it again when circumstances warranted it.

O’Malley and Darby would split up and gather information from their contacts. Someone would know something , anything, that would lead him to Michaela. The overwhelming need to find and save the lass was his mission. A calm filled him at having a workable rescue plan that included Garahan. As he neared Grosvenor Square, he murmured, “Hang on, lass, we’ll find ye!”

O’Malley whistled as he dismounted on the fly, handing the reins of his horse to one of the stable lads. Garahan rounded the corner of the house from the servants’ entrance as Findley strode toward them from the front. Even when one of them gave the urgent signal—the three-note whistle—it was agreed no one would run out of the front of the town house. It could cause alarm should anyone observe one of the duke’s guard running.

“What’s the emergency?” Findley asked.

Garahan asked, “Have you heard?”

“Michela’s missing!” O’Malley said.

Findley frowned. “ The Miss Michaela?”

“Aye,” Garahan bit out. “Burke sent a message.”

“She moved to the new location a week or so ago,” O’Malley said. “She should have been safe.”

“Who told you?” Garahan demanded.

“King sent for me.” O’Malley held up a hand when Garahan’s face flamed with anger. “I let him know that he’d made a mistake trying to exclude ye. Ye’re as fit as ever, and have the balance of a cat.”

Garahan raked a hand through his dark hair. “Bugger it!”

O’Malley shoved his cousin with his shoulder. “I told him that Coventry taught ye well.”

Garahan’s stance relaxed. “Thank ye.”

“I’ll have two of the footmen take your positions while you are away,” Findley said. “Do you expect trouble to find its way here?”

O’Malley met the other man’s direct look. “Nay, but be on guard for it. Darby and I are going hunting. We’ll find the lass and bring her back here.”

Garahan shook his head. “Not here.”

“And why not?” It felt right to O’Malley, but he valued his cousin’s point of view.

“Too many people living on this bloody square cannot keep their noses out of the duke’s affairs.”

O’Malley sighed. Mayhap Garahan was right. Time would tell. “Where, then?”

“Bring her to Aimee. We’re well protected living in Captain Coventry’s building.” When O’Malley did not answer right away, Garahan pressed him, “Ye know me wife would do anything for Michaela. She saved her life and gave her back her self-respect.”

“I’m thinking marriage to ye did that, boy-o,” O’Malley replied.

“I don’t—”

“Want to waste anymore time,” he finished for Garahan. “We’ll be in touch, Findley. Send word through Coventry or King if ye need us.”

“Aye. I’ll tell the footmen we may need to have a rotating shift until you return.” Findley took off at a lope around the back of the building to the servants’ entrance.

The stable lad had two geldings saddled and ready to go when Garahan and O’Malley approached the stables. “I was going to saddle another horse for you,” the young man told O’Malley, “but this one here wasn’t ready to go back in his stall.”

O’Malley accepted the reins from the younger man and scratched behind his horse’s ear. “He knows we’ve a lass to rescue.” He mounted his horse and turned to Garahan, who was speaking to his horse in low tones. “Are ye asking him what scuttlebutt he’s heard?”

“Aye,” Garahan replied. “Ye’d be surprised how efficient the rumor mill is straight from the horse’s mouth, stable to stable, throughout the city.”

O’Malley shook his head. “Now that ye mention it, this lad wasn’t surprised to hear about Michaela.” Vibrating with anger, worried that too much time had passed, increasing the possibility that the lass had been injured, he took the lead.

Garahan pulled alongside of him and said, “I’m going to speak with Burke. See if he’s learned anything more since he sent his message.”

O’Malley nodded. “I’ll head over to the docks and see if I can find Leach or yer man O’Shaughnessy.”

“We’ll report back here in three hours at the latest,” Garahan said. “Agreed?”

“Aye.”

“And whoever finds the lass first will bring her to Coventry’s building,” Garahan reminded his cousin.

“Ye have me word,” O’Malley rasped.

The hand on his shoulder surprised him, though Garahan’s words of encouragement did not. “We’ll find Michaela before the night is over.”

Worry for the angel of the streets nearly distracted O’Malley. With each beat of his heart it increased until he accepted the fact that she was more than just a worry. She mattered to him. The few times he’d witnessed her care for those they’d rescued, most recently Darby’s wife and the little lasses, the connection between them had grown stronger. She was not just the angel of the streets… She was his angel. “At what cost to the lass?”

Garahan squeezed O’Malley’s shoulder, then gave him a shove. “Less than could happen if ye keep shooting off yer gob, delaying us further.”

For a moment, O’Malley was so wrapped up in thoughts of Michaela and what could be happening to her that he hadn’t realized he’d frozen in place. His mind reeled just thinking of all that could happen to the petite but strong beauty with the soft brown hair and moss-green eyes. “Three hours,” he ground out as they parted ways and headed off in opposite directions.

“Three hours,” Garahan echoed.