14. November 14, 1826

14

NOVEMBER 14, 1826

NUMBER FIVE GROSVENOR STREET

O f all of the Grosvenor Street regulars, Margot volunteered to explain the happenings of the last day and a half, which she admitted made little sense to her, considering no one had realized what a dangerous man Gabrielle’s brother could be. They hadn’t realized he’d returned from China or that he was watching the house and following them around Mayfair.

Barrister Forsythe interrupted. “Beg pardon, Miss Fauchette, but is it possible Miss Tamaryn’s brother could have any connection to the blackmailer?”

She turned her tear-reddened eyes toward him. “How could he? He’s been out of the country for the last four years.”

The earl nearly talked over her in his anger. “Why did none of you send for me? This is my house. I’m responsible for all of you.”

“Gabrielle felt guilty for turning him and his ruffians on us. She felt he had a right to demand her return. She was also worried he might cause problems for you or Captain El when we suggested sending for her.” She nodded toward the pirate duchess who urged her to continue with her story.

The earl expressed disbelief by extending his hands, palms up. “Who is he that he could could be capable of causing problems for me ?”

“He has powerful friends within the East India Company. Gabrielle’s brother is one of their most successful captains.”

“Oh.” Derek stopped talking and motioned for Margot to continue.

Suddenly, there was a great noise coming from the entryway. All the men leapt to their feet as one with Captain El in the lead and headed out the parlour door to investigate who dared breech the small army of guards they’d put in place.

Soon, they all returned with CB and Dr. Douglas supporting Gabrielle between them. Although her face was covered with bruises, her dress was torn in several places, and her hands were filthy and full of wood splinters, she wore a broad smile.

Hamish brought up the rear with Col next to him, followed closely by Dickie.

Margot gave out a heart-felt cry and raced to Gabrielle. Hamish made room for her to crush her friend to her side whilst he dropped back to see to Col’s minor wounds.

Once Col and Gabrielle were ensconced on a comfortably upholstered settee, everyone tried to talk at once.

Barrister Forsythe stood and gave out a loud whistle to silence the questions. “One at a time, if you please. And I’m going to go first.”

“Col—how did your search for the blackmailer lead you to Miss Tamaryn’s rescue?”

Col leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “It turns out the blackmailer has gotten so desperate to collect his money for finding a murderess, he’s decided any mistress will do. And Elias Shell is an ex-Bow Street runner, who incidentally happened to be the arresting officer four years ago when Gabrielle was found unconscious next to a dead lord at a Cyprians’ party in St. John’s Wood.”

Gabrielle took up the story whilst Margot gently untangled her disheveled hair. “They were watching our townhouse and observed my brother…her voice broke for a moment. He was shot trying to save me when they ran our carriage off the road. I don’t know whether he’s dead or alive.”

Col patted her on the hand and took up the tale from there. “Shell took her to a rented house on Berkley Square where he tried to convince a mysterious older woman that Gabrielle is the murderess. Gabrielle said the woman asked her how old she was and if she’d ever been to Jamaica. She apparently didn’t like the answers. She told them to take the girl out and kill her because she now knew too much.”

“I was outside the window listening, and when the choir boy they chose to kill her brought her out to the garden, I clubbed him. But Gabrielle finished him off with a tree branch.”

She motioned with her head down toward where CB was bandaging her wounds.

Forsythe interrupted again. “Point of order. How the hell did you happen to be there at the right time? I know you’re a lot of things, but not a magician.”

Col gave him an impish smile. “Maybe I am.” He continued in a more serious tone. “I’d followed Shell from the Brown Bear until he side-tracked into The Globe to pay his choir boys. I was afraid they’d head over here to cause mayhem, so I flagged Dickie’s favorite hack coachmen to follow them.

“After that they raced all the way from Covent Garden out to Knightsbridge Road. Even though I’m a magician, I’m not a mind reader, so I was fairly in the dark as where they were headed. You could have knocked me over with a feather when they ran that coach off the road. We pulled the hack over to the side of the road, and I walked up to investigate. I was going to come back to pull all of you together to help me, but then I saw them drag Gabrielle out of the carriage and shoot her brother.”

“You had to be vastly outnumbered…what the hell did you do?” Adrienne kicked Obadiah in the shin for cursing in front of all her friends.

“I thought about the danger and how stupid that would be. Fortunately, the one ruffian they sent outside to be their coachman fumbled with the reins and the horses a bit too long, so I sent the hack cabbie back and had about ten seconds to decide whether or not to jump up onto the luggage bar at the rear of their carriage…and then I did.”

Col’s wife, Charlotte, who sat to the other side of him, smacked him in his shin with her walking boot.

Cassandra Collins, after listening to the wild tale, wanted to smack the earl in one of his shins as well, but refrained because she thought she should let gossiping dogs lie.

Instead, she asked, “Are you happy now that your mistresses have not only been introduced, but have been the best of friends for years?”

He didn’t answer but instead lowered his head down into his hands.

Later that night, on his way back to his mansion on Grosvenor Square, the Earl of Framlingwood leaned over his beloved Goldie’s neck to nuzzle and pat her for having gotten him safely to the meeting and back. He could see his groom waiting at the entrance to his mews.

And then it felt as though a vicious bee had stung him on his ear. When sat straight up in the saddle and felt for the sting, his hand came away covered with blood, and then he fell out of the saddle.

When he woke to sunlight streaming through his bedchamber window the following morning, he could remember nothing of the night before. Dr. Douglas sat next to his bed, along with Cassandra. He didn’t think he could ever think of her as Mrs. Collins again.

The taciturn Scot who’d protected and then married Saida was a brilliant physician, but a man of very few words. “You were shot,” he intoned, when Derek asked him what had happened.

“Shot?” His mouth dropped open. “I thought it was just a bee sting.”

Saida, who was applying a poultice to his left ear, gave him an odd look. “The bees have better things to do in November in London, like hibernate.”

Saida was the one to explain. “Barrister Forsythe is on the way over. He’s bringing Col, and the Duke of Chelmsford is retrieving Sally Big’Uns from one of his country estates where she’s been hiding. Col thinks it’s high time to use the evidence we have and take Shell before the Bow Street magistrates.”

“Humpf,” her husband uttered. “You’ll have to catch the bastard first.”

“Does everyone think this Shell fellow shot me? Why?”

“He’s a desperate man,” Saida explained with such force that Derek decided to leave it at that. And then there was the laudanum…that was his last thought before passing out again.