2. 2 September, 1826

Mayfair, London

Obadiah Lassen plastered the bland but alert look of a bored Mayfair footman on his face before settling in for another long day of watching the row of elegant townhouses on Grosvenor Street owned by the Earl of Framlingwood.

A stormy, rain-lashed morning had given way to rare, clear blue skies with only occasional small puffs of cotton-like clouds sailing past high above.

He"d long ago abandoned the oilskin cape Framlingwood"s staff used to protect their elaborate, liveried uniforms from the elements.

He rolled his powerful neck and stretched his shoulders tentatively, praying the overly tight jacket he"d borrowed for his watchman duties wouldn"t split at the seams.

Damn El for offering Adrienne the position as the earl"s mistress. And...damn Adrienne for abandoning Obadiah"s protection for that of the complete ass of an aristocrat, Derek Selkirk, the current Earl of Framlingwood.

Obadiah shrugged his massive shoulders, forgetting for a moment where he was, and heard something rip. By the gods, now he"d have to wield a needle and thread to repair the damned jacket.

Not that he wasn"t a dab hand with those particular tools. In the years he"d been with Captain Eleanor Goodrum, he"d stitched up many a wound on the men in her crew whilst aboard the Lady Muirgen, where he fervently wished he were now. The Lady Muirgen where he did double duty as both the captain"s sailing master and surgeon when need be.

His thoughts jerked suddenly from the deck of Captain El"s ship at the sound of a woman"s terrified shrieks piercing the quiet down the block from Bond Street. Adrienne"s terrified shrieks.

Without another thought, he was off and running toward the sounds emanating from the corner of Bond Street, his boots pounding against the hard-packed surface of Grosvenor Street. His arms pumped hard against the constraints of his borrowed jacket.

2 September,1826

Corner of Bond and Grosvenor Street

Adrienne thanked the luck of the whirling planets above that she"d grown up on the unforgiving streets of St. Pierre on Martinique. The words "missish" and "weak" were not in her vocabulary. Whatever gang had decided to tempt the hangman"s noose at Old Bailey by attacking her and her two footmen in the light of high noon on Bond Street had sadly mistaken her for a fainting flower of Mayfair.

Their first miscalculation? Thinking only one ruffian was required to subdue her whilst two others attacked Young Rutherford and John the footman. Young Rutherford was slowly getting the upper hand. He was slender but fast and tough as a whippet. Her footman was very tall and exceedingly handsome, but at the moment was more concerned about protecting his face from the rapid punches of his attacker.

Adrienne slumped momentarily into the iron-like grasp of the idiot whose stench of garlic and onions was stronger than his strength of grip, although he"d applied considerable force to the wooden bat he"d used to hit the side of her face. Once he"d let himself be lulled into thinking she"d given up, Adrienne suddenly stamped down on the top of his foot with the heel of one of her walking boots whilst at the same time holding her breath and viciously biting the top of his hand.

When the dolt screamed and let her go, she took advantage of the freedom of her arms to grasp her parasol from the ground like a sword and rain fierce lashes down on the bastard. And then a peculiar thing happened. One moment, he was leering and lunging for her again, and the next, he was sprawled facedown with Obadiah"s boot caving in the back of his neck. The other two men attacking the earl"s men immediately tore off across Bond Street and disappeared toward the alley-side mews once they saw Obadiah.

When he nodded toward Young Rutherford, the young man raced down the street to fetch a Peeler to help haul away the lone captive. And then he advanced on Adrienne, cracking his knuckles, his face flushed with a murderous expression somewhere between fear and rage.

She"d wondered what her former lover had been doing lurking about the stoops of their townhouses the last few days. Now she knew. He"d obviously been ordered to guard them. And apparently with good reason. It seemed someone had declared war on the earl"s precious "pearls" of Grosvenor Street.

Adrienne gave a huge sigh of exasperation. Now she"d have to soothe the hulking beast of a man before her...and explain why she"d abandoned him while he"d been away at sea.

Obadiah suckedin a breath that circled the very bottom of his lungs before huffing the same air back out in a rush and glaring at the petite, stubborn woman before him.

He"d meant to keep his tone polite and professional, but somehow everything came out wrong. "What in the hell are you doing here putting yourself in harm"s way, and why in the name of all the rulers of Olympus did you leave my protection for..." He sputtered a bit before being able to go on. "For this?"

He spread his arms wide encompassing the entire row of elegant townhouses wherein Derek Welkirk, Earl of Framlingwood"s, mistresses were opulently ensconced. "This, this...gilded cage? You deserve better than being nothing more than an earl"s temporary plaything."

Adrienne placed her hands on her hips and returned his glare. "By "better," I assume you mean I should have been happy to remain a sailor"s land widow and sleep alone in a cold house instead of enjoying the warmth and silk sheets of an earl"s bed?"

Obadiah clenched his meaty fists so hard, his fingernails drew a bit of blood. He bowed his head for a few seconds to get his emotions under control. When he finally faced her again, the recriminations he"d stored up to rain down on the ungrateful minx suddenly left him. Instead, he pulled her close for a long, furious kiss.

When he finally released her, he was afraid he might drown in the dark, mysterious depths of Adrienne"s eyes. Instead of falling back into his arms and begging his forgiveness as he"d assumed she would, she drew back and slapped him so hard with the back of her hand, he stumbled backward, trying to regain his balance...and his pride.

"Don"t ever touch me again without my permission, sirrah," she spat out at him before wheeling on her heel and retrieving the under-butler, Young Rutherford, who sat on the stoop in front of her townhouse. He was nursing a bleeding split lip and looking dazed, as though he"d never been that thoroughly thrashed in a fight before.

She gave Obadiah one last withering look and added, "You"d better hope none of the servants report your inappropriate behavior back to the earl. He prides himself on keeping his "Pearls" respectably subdued and out of the public eye."

He shrugged his massive shoulders and moved to retrieve her similarly beaten footman who was still nursing his wounds back at the corner of Bond Street where the attack had begun. Wouldn"t do for the earl to find out his mistress and servants" disgraceful thumpings had been aired for all the ton to see at the fashionable shopping hour of the day.

2 September,1826

Number One Grosvenor Street

Adrienne sank back into a comfortable armchair in her cozy parlor and sipped on a cool drink Mrs. Collins had sent up from the massive kitchens beneath the Pearls" set of five townhouses. She"d applied a cloth bag to her bruised cheek and forehead filled with ice personally fetched from Gunter"s by Old Rutherford, or Toplofty, the head butler for all the townhouses. She gradually recovered from her afternoon ordeal and listened to the worried speculations of her fellow Pearls.

When Young Rutherford"s fill-in, Tall Rutherford, had answered the door, the other four Pearls had piled into her cozy parlor and demanded to hear all the details of the attack that afternoon before being rescued by their apparent new guard, Obadiah.

"I didn"t know we had a guard," Margot said. "Who is that gorgeous, muscular man?"

Even though the cloth bag mostly covered her eyes, she could see through a sliver of light at the bottom. Adrienne interrupted in a sharp tone. "He"s a person from my unwise past who is Captain Goodrum"s right-hand man."

"Ooooh," Sophie demanded. "Does he know? About us?" She swept a look around the room encompassing all of them.

"No, not before now," Adrienne intoned, "but I will threaten him within an inch of his worthless life if he breathes a word to the earl of our knowing each other and getting together."

"How are you so sure he won"t reveal our secrets?" Saida plopped an extra spoonful of sugar along with a smattering of soothing herbs into a steaming cup of tea and exchanged it for the cool glass of wine Adrienne had now emptied.

"Right now he"d do anything to get back into my good graces. He knows better than to divulge anything about what he"s seen here to the earl. I"ll make my terms clear when he comes back to check on me after he"s done lurking along the street outside our doors.

Lily, ever the actress, made a moue with her lush, pouty lips. "Poor Derek still thinks we don"t know about each other." She swept the room with a glance taking in all of her fellow mistresses. "I don"t know what I"d do without all of you, and Mrs. Collins. We keep each other sane. Which reminds me...which book will we be reading this month to discuss at our salon with the other ladies?"

Margot spoke up. "How are we going to account for refreshments this month? If we each order several bottles of wine through Mrs. Collins, was well as cakes, he may not be so suspicious.

Lily gave them all a sly look. I"m fairly certain when our housekeeper explains all the household expenses to him each month, he"s not paying much attention to the numbers."

An un-mistress-like snort sounded from the round sofa twined around a pillar in the center of the room. Sophie added her observation. "Have any of you seen how he looks at her?"

"You mean like a stallion who sees greener grass on the other side of the fence surrounding a certain shapely mare?" Margot clapped her hands and laughed. The others joined in.

"He has no idea what corner he"s backed himself into." Saida leaned over to get another pour of tea from Lily who was serving that day.

Just then Mrs. Collins interrupted their conjecturing and gossip by showing up herself to serve them a tray of jewel-like small cakes with smooth, velvety frosting and tiny sandwiches bulging with assorted jams, cheeses and bits of ham in a cold collation.