7. 6 September, 1826

Grosvenor Street

Obadiah was in place on the stoop of Townhouse Number One, straining against the confines of his borrowed footman"s jacket. He"d already had to repair the sleeve he"d ripped earlier that week brawling on Bond Street. The damned attackers had gotten away, even though he"d snatched Adrienne from their filthy hands before she"d suffered any major injuries.

He"d stayed up the night before stitching the sleeve back onto the uniform. The skill he"d learned sewing shut wounds for members of Captain El"s crew after their, um, skirmishes frequently came in handy for wardrobe repair. Which happened more often to Obadiah than anyone not in his line of work would imagine.

Being a bodyguard and fierce warrior, when circumstances dictated, was the only life he"d ever known since he"d changed from a gangly boy into a tall, well built, well-muscled man. He and other members of the crew of the Lady Muirgen spent many days a week when they were back in London testing their strengths in boxing bouts as well as wrestling matches in the specially built gymnasium in Captain El"s mansion on Grosvenor Square. They came and went through the servants" and vendors" entrance so as not to raise the suspicions of her wealthy neighbors.

A slight movement and subtle scent jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned and spotted the lithe body and exotic sway of hips he knew as well as the contours of his own body. Unfortunately, he also remembered well how that body fit against his deep in the night when she was still his alone. And he"d let her go. For that colossal mistake he"d never forgive himself, or her.

He"d been well aware that she hated being alone, but he"d told himself she hadn"t asked him to stay either, had she? Zeus--. She could have at least warned him she was going to seek the protection of the earl.

He would have done anything to keep her safe. She should have known that. She should have known he loved her. She should have stayed in their little cottage in Surrey. If she"d truly loved him, she would have.

She continued her slow leisurely walk toward him as if she"d merely been out for a short walk. She twirled a dainty parasol made of expensive silk. The look on her face betrayed nothing.

He"d been ready to sweep the stews around Maiden Lane searching for her. He felt as though he had a permanent crick in his neck from trying to keep her in sight, and out of harm"s way. Damned prickly, independent woman.

"Good morning, Mr. Lassen. Tis a fine and beautiful day for a walk, don"t you think?"

"What I think, Miss Godet, is you need..." He stopped short of saying what he wanted to say.

"Please, tell me what is you think I need." Her sunny smile turned into a scowl.

Under the pretext of picking up a dried leaf from the side of the stoop, he leaned low next to her ear. "What you need, Miss Godet, is to be turned over my knee for a sound spanking." His words came out in hisses of anger. "You can"t just walk away from my protection when there"s a gang of thugs with reason to harm you."

"Mr. Lassen, as tempting as your offer might be, I have two things I must tell you."

"What?" He was immediately sorry for the gruff bark in his voice.

She held up a slender finger. "First, I am not a murderess." A second finger joined the first. "And secondly, my, um, other problem is being taken care of even as we speak."

Obadiah"s scowl matched hers. "By the gods. You"ve brought Dickie Jones into this tangle."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Why should that be any concern of yours?" She tilted her jaw forward in the stubborn look he"d come to dread from the maddening woman.

What wasit about Obadiah Lassen that made Adrienne want to punch him in the shoulder, shove him off the end of a pier...topple his stubborn, beloved body into her bed?

He finally broke the silence between them. "What is going on in that unknowable, stubborn mind of yours?"

"I can"t decide whether I should kill you or force you to make love to me all night."

"Those possibilities are definitely intriguing, but I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings. From now on, I"m going to live beneath your roof as your paid bodyguard." He paused as if to elicit a reaction from her. She sniffed and refused to give him satisfaction on that point.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I"m being paid by the earl. You remember? The gentleman who"s your protector and the one you should be pleasuring in the night."

"Pah--." She flung an arm out in derision. "I rarely see the man. Friday is my night...sometimes."

She leaned close, casting glances to either side. "I honestly suspect visiting the five of us is merely an excuse for the earl to frequent his housekeeper"s parlor, pretending to discuss our needs."

Obadiah remained silent as if he too had observed the same peculiar movements on the part of the Earl of Framlingwood. When he finally spoke, though, it was to admonish her. "Get inside before the other four mistresses set their tongues to wagging about us."

She looked up into his eyes and gave him a coquettish blink which showed off her lush, dark lashes before delicately snapping shut her parasol and walking through the door Young Rutherford held open for her.

6 September,1826

Housekeeper"s Parlor

Townhouse Number One, Grosvenor Street

Lady Camilla held her breath, waiting for whatever Mrs. Collins was about to impart about the Earl of Framlingwood"s mysterious Mistress Number Five.

"Margot is a dark beauty with lush, long black curls, and loyal to a fault..." Mrs. Collins held one finger in the air as if she were going to tick off all the woman"s virtues.

"But?"

"But..." She lengthened the silence. "I"m afraid she"s already deeply in love."

"With?" Lady Camilla"s curiosity was now truly piqued.

The housekeeper held out another unnaturally long pause before revealing in a rush, "Her lady"s maid."

"Her lady"s maid?" Lady Camilla"s voice rose an octave on the word, "lady"s."

"Yes. I suspected as much when Derek first brought them to stay in the fifth townhouse."

"For heaven"s sakes, why didn"t you say something to the man?"

A knowing smile caressed her lips. "I thought perhaps they"d be good for the earl...maybe widen his horizons. He does tend to be a bit of a plodding sort."

"And...have they?"

"What?"

Lady Camilla"s patience hit her last nerve. "We don"t have time for this. Have they widened his horizons? More to the point, does he know?"

Mrs Collins picked up a pencil she probably used to compose household lists and tapped her lips. "I"m not sure, since I don"t have a way to observe what goes on in the townhouses behind closed doors. However, he does seem to have a bit more of a bounce in his step the day after his scheduled time with Margot and her, um, maid."

Camilla cleared her throat politely before venturing into her next query. "I have one last question."

"Yes, of course. Anything."

"Have you always had leave to use your employers" first names when addressing them?"

The woman who claimed to be nothing more than an aloof housekeeper for the eccentric earl had the good grace to blush and glance away before answering. "We"ve had a good many conversations about how he"d like his mistresses" living quarters run. He"s very particular about everything."

"He is indeed," Lady Camilla murmured in agreement."

"And one day, unexpectedly, he insisted I address him by his first name." She dropped her head suddenly. "I apologize, milady, if I overstepped."

"You"ve nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. In fact, I"m grateful for your candid answers."

"And why is that?"

"You"ve given me the inspiration I need to put an end to Lord Framlingwood"s havey-cavey habits. And I think I know just the solution to the mysterious Margot"s situation."

When Adrienne gavehim a sultry look over her shoulder whilst swaying her dangerously enticing hips into her Grosvenor Street townhouse, he growled low, vowing to ignore her and return to his post as a loyal bodyguard should.

However, what he actually did was stalk into the house behind her. He suspected Young Rutherford, who still held open the door, harbored a smirk behind his youthful, snotty demeanor, but Obadiah let the slight pass.

Once they were inside, she turned and threw him a superior, enigmatic smile. "Just where does our lord and master expect you to sleep whilst you guard my person from this mysterious evil?"

Obadiah pointed to a plump couch trimmed with elaborately carved wooden sidearms in her front parlor. The design seemed to consist of a multitude of angelic cherubs doing unspeakable, lewd things to each other. "That"s good enough for me. All I"ll need are a few light blankets. That will do."

Adrienne squinted her eyes and made a face as if she"d swallowed something bitter. "Why on earth would you want to sleep there when there"s a perfectly comfortable bed chamber on the second floor? It"s the master"s chamber, which is never occupied, even when the earl is here." She tossed her long curls dismissively. "He never spends the night." She kicked off her slippers and headed for the bell pull to summon a servant.

Obadiah walked over and bent to retrieve the small, expensive leather slippers out of long-standing habit. She"d never managed to keep her shoes on for more than a few minutes at a time...even when they"d been children on Martinique. He"d been grateful back then that she"d left her shoes everywhere and then couldn"t find them when she"d needed them. As a boy, he"d made a full-time job of following her around and rescuing her shoes, so that he"d have a reason to show up at the house she"d shared with her mother whilst her father had been at sea for long months at a time.

After a long wait, Young Rutherford finally tapped at the parlor door. "Come," she intoned solemnly.

Obadiah strained to keep from rolling his eyes at her current situation which allowed her to play the great lady she"d always assumed she was. Although he admitted he was the only person he could blame for Adrienne falling headlong into the earl"s arms, and the lush prison of his townhouse. She"d had a choice, but so had he.

When the young man poked his head inside the parlor door, looking for orders from Adrienne, she announced, "I"m famished. Bring us two of everything you have in the pantry. Ooh, and maybe a jug of Cook"s lemonade with some ice from Gunther"s?"

Young Rutherford sighed and tried to play the put-upon, lofty servant, but Obadiah nipped that in the bud. "Look lively there, young man. I know this is not nearly as exciting as your customary gang activities at the docks, but it"s better than swinging at Old Bailey. Now bring the lady what she wants."

Lady Eleanor Whitcombe,Duchess of Chelmsford, knocked on the roof of her heavy black carriage, the one from her old smuggling days. She"d eschewed the ornate, cumbersome conveyance with her husband"s family crest emblazoned on the doors, announcing to every footpad in Seven Dials that a easy mark of a "nob" was passing through the stews.

When the carriage slowed only, due to her earlier instructions, she used her boot to shove open the door facing the passing storefronts. A stocky man in his late fifties with a neat mustache and beard beneath his ever-present bowler hat hopped in, nimble in spite of the helpless, limping soul he"d portrayed just minutes before in the street.

"Now wot? Will I niver get out from under what I owe Yer Grace?"

"It"s me or the gallows, Toplofty. Your choice."

"Never seen the loiks of a woman like you. Hope you don"t talk like that over tea with the other high and mighty toffs."

"This is business, and I never waste time with pleasantries when I"m discussing business."

"Awright. Who do you want offed now?"

"This should be easy for you and all your flapping ears in the stews. I need information. Find out who"s behind the blackmail notes Lord Framlingwood"s been getting."

"Wot"s it worth to you?"

"I won"t have to have the servants pack a hamper of food so that we can go early to Old Bailey to get a good position where we can watch you swing."

He turned abruptly away from his fierce companion to stare out the window before knocking loudly on the coach roof. "I see Marlowe headin" for his gin palace. Mebbe he knows sommat."

When the coach slowed, he eased out onto the street side as stealthily as he"d entered the carriage earlier. El rapped loudly four times on the roof before leaning back into the squabs, crossing her long booted legs at the ankles, and pulling her tattered hat low over her eyes for a short nap. No harm in saving one"s strength when no one was looking.

Before dozing off, she smiled at the memory of the deep, guttural Limehouse accent Toplofty employed when he was posing as himself. That same man, the leader of the infamous Rutherford gang, could don severe evening dress and appear at a tonnish ball to pass as one of the "toffs" he complained about. His speech at those formal events was so impeccable that no one suspected he and his men and women amongst the house servants were relieving them of their valuables. El never interfered in his business so long as he passed along any damning tidbits of wrongdoing amongst the members of the ton he happened to glean. The success of her many enterprises depended on information.

At that moment the heavy carriage creaked and leaned as the driver apparently turned in a wide arc along several blocks of tenements before heading her favorite team of grays back to their mews behind her Grosvenor Square townhouse. With any luck, maybe she"d have time to ravish Percy before a late supper.