Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

A rchibald called at Astley House the following day at the extremely unfashionable hour of eight in the morning. He’d been unable to sleep the previous night, but that didn’t matter. The important thing was to find out if Izzie was safe.

Last night, his heart had all but fallen out of his chest when she revealed that she’d been attacked in the park that afternoon. He’d tried to ask her what, exactly, she meant. But, of course, her mother was frantic, demanding to know what had just happened, and while Izzie was busy explaining how she was set upon in the garden, someone had shown up with the local constable. He’d had to explain to the constable why he had beaten four men badly enough to knock them insensible—and deliver the unwelcome news that there was another criminal at large whose wrist had been snapped like a twig, accompanied by two friends who had escaped scot-free. Then a Bow Street Runner had shown up, so he’d been obliged to repeat the whole story over again, and by the time he’d finished speaking to the authorities, Izzie’s family had taken her home, and he didn’t know what the hell was going on or if she was all right.

The first thing he noticed as he stepped out of his carriage was the crunch of broken glass beneath his boots. He looked up and saw that one of the ground-floor windows was boarded up. His stomach sank as he jogged up the front steps. Something was definitely not right here.

The door was opened not by Yarwood, the Astley family’s butler, but by his friend and boxing partner, Morsley, who appeared to be standing guard, along with a half dozen footmen wearing four different sets of livery. “You’re here. Good,” Morsley said in a clipped voice. “Izzie’s been asking for you.”

“What the hell is going on? It looks like someone tried to break in.” He froze as Morsley’s words sank in. “Izzie’s been asking for me?”

“Someone did try to break in,” Morsley confirmed. “Around five o’clock. That’s when she said, ‘I wish Archibald was here.’”

“Then why the hell didn’t you send for me?” Archibald snapped.

Morsley looked taken aback. “As I said, it was at five o’clock in the—”

“I would’ve come. Where is she?”

Morsley was giving him a speaking look but let the matter drop as he led the way up the stairs to a parlor on the first floor. “We’ve managed to assemble about two dozen footmen, between my house, Thetford’s, the Duke of Trevissick’s, and Peter Ferguson’s. I’m watching the front door, Trevissick is pacing the eastern front with his sword, and Lady Griselda is patrolling the back side of the house with a blunderbuss and a pack of dogs. But it’s all but impossible to guard a house like this,” he said, gesturing to one of the tall windows that lined each and every room on the ground floor.

Morsley showed him which parlor the family was gathered in, then jogged down the stairs to resume his post. Archibald found the entire extended Astley family and a smattering of their closest friends assembled, looking drawn and uncharacteristically silent. His eyes scanned the room until he spotted Izzie, seated next to her twin, who was quietly crying, on a yellow-striped sofa.

Izzie sat up. “Archibald! You—you came.”

“Of course, I came,” he said, hurrying to her side. He paused as there was nowhere to sit.

“Come here, Luce,” Harrington Astley called from a chaise-longue in the corner. “You can cry on me.”

Lucy gave him a watery smile as she stood. Archibald nodded his thanks to Harrington and took the seat next to Izzie. “Tell me what’s happened,” he said in a quiet voice.

She did, from her near miss in the park yesterday, the one she’d been hoping against hope was a coincidence, to everything that had transpired since they parted last night.

“Mama said the best course was to get out right away,” Izzie explained. “We didn’t even bother to pack. She, Lucy, and I just got in the carriage at four in the morning, the idea being that we would be halfway home before they even realized we’d left.”

“What happened?” Archibald asked, knowing the answer couldn’t be anything good.

“We didn’t even make it out of Mayfair. Armed riders descended on the carriage. The outriders managed to fight them off, but we were lucky no one was hurt. As it was, we barely made it back to the house. And then, an hour later, someone tried to force their way in.”

“I saw the window,” he confirmed.

She rubbed her brow. She looked exhausted and terrified, two things he never wanted to see on Isabella Astley’s face. “We don’t know what to do.”

“Do you have any idea who might be behind this?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve a fair idea. The trouble started while I was at Vauxhall the other night. I overheard some things in the dark walks, you see…”

She told him about the frightening encounter she’d had in the dark walks before he arrived, and everything she could recall about the two men whispering about stealing guns from the army.

“I’ve wracked my brain trying to remember their names,” Izzie said. “The first one, the one who wanted the guns, was named Cooper. I’m almost certain of it. And the man who had access to the guns was a Scotsman—Mac something or the other. McDaniel, maybe? Or McDonald, or McDougal?” Her shoulders slumped. “I wish I could be sure.”

“It sounds like he works for the Office of Ordnance.” Archibald’s mind was flying. He had contacts at the Office of Ordnance. They were Nettlethorpe Iron’s biggest customer. His contacts specialized in cannons, of course, not the small firearms it sounded like this Cooper fellow wanted. But that was probably for the best. It certainly increased the odds that the people he knew wouldn’t be involved in this scheme…

“Anne has all kinds of contacts through her charity work,” Izzie explained. She was referring to Morsley’s wife, the founder of the Ladies’ Society for the Relief of the Destitute, who did indeed work in some very rough neighborhoods and who kept a number of potential informants on her payroll. “They haven’t found any leads yet. I know they’re asking around, but it feels like we’re grasping at straws.”

“I know some people at the Office of Ordnance I can ask,” Archibald said.

Izzie looked up, startled. “You… you do?”

“I do. Nettlethorpe Iron sells them quite a lot of cannons.”

From across the room, Edward Astley groaned. “Of course you do. Why didn’t we think of that?”

“To be fair,” Harrington noted, “we’ve been extremely busy flying into a panic.”

Izzie gazed at him with wide eyes. “You make cannons?” she whispered.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s been most of our business these past few years, what with the war.”

Archibald was trying to decide whom he was going to approach. Smalley, he decided. Robert Smalley seemed as upright as the day was long. Of course, one could never be sure.

But if it came down to it, if Smalley was on the take, no one could top the price Archibald would be willing to pay to secure Izzie’s safety…

“You’ve given me hope,” Izzie said. “At least we have a lead. It’s terrifying that I have to hole up here like a sitting duck, but I’d much rather do it for days than weeks.” She gave a great sniff. “And I’ve put my entire family in danger. That’s the worst part.”

He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he could hardly do so with everyone looking on.

One thing was clear—Izzie wasn’t safe here, not even for a matter of days. It was hard enough to guard a house with this many windows during the day. Once darkness fell, it would be ten times worse.

What they needed was a fortress.

Archibald froze. A fortress… like the one in which he happened to live…

“There is a solution,” he said slowly. He rose from the sofa and began to pace the room.

The more he thought about it, the more pieces fell into place. It was perfect . If he could convince them, then Izzie would be safe. That was the most important thing.

And he? He would achieve his fondest wish, his most impossible dream.

“The problem is twofold,” he announced. “Of primary concern, naturally, is the threat to Lady Isabella’s life. It is imperative that we find a way to protect her.”

He reached the mantelpiece and turned back the other way. “But do not forget that Lady Isabella has also been ruined by last night’s events. She was discovered by several dozen onlookers, alone in the garden with a man—me—with her dress torn. If she does not marry, her reputation will be in tatters, and Lady Lucy will find herself suffering the consequences as well.”

Having reached the center of the room, he turned to face the assembled Astleys, who were regarding him with surprise. “What Lady Isabella needs is not just anyone who can protect her. She needs a husband who can protect her.”

He turned to face Izzie, looking her square in the eye. “And that husband is me.”

It seemed that everyone in the room was too shocked to speak. Archibald continued, “I believe last night I demonstrated some facility for dealing with these cretins. I hope I have shown my willingness to do whatever it takes to keep Lady Isabella safe.” He kept his eyes locked on hers. “Because I will.”

Lady Cheltenham seemed to have recovered from her shock. “And we appreciate everything you did for Izzie last night.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the room. Once they died down, Archibald continued, “But it is not merely my brute strength that makes me uniquely suited to this role. Excepting the Tower of London, my house is the closest thing you will find to a fortress for fifty miles. The windows are small, and there are bars on them. Unpickable locks on every door that I designed myself and built by hand. Thick stone walls. Towers on every corner. My house can be defended, and not only that, I have the men to defend it.”

He turned to Lady Cheltenham. “My forge employs five hundred ironworkers. The most hardened criminals in Newgate Prison are not a tenth as hard as my men. I treat them well, and I pay them some of the best wages in London. For every opening we have, we receive a hundred applicants. These men are loyal to me . And I can afford to pay however many of them are needed to guard my house around the clock, both inside and out.”

“As for the rest of it, it is no secret that I have been looking to marry.” He returned his gaze to Izzie, who looked very small, and very alone, on the yellow-striped sofa. He tried to convey everything he felt for her with his eyes. “And I would be very happy, indeed, to find myself married to Lady Isabella.”

Silence fell over the room. It was finally broken by Lady Cheltenham. “I must admit, it is a far better solution than anything we’ve come up with.” There were a few reluctant murmurs of agreement. Once they died down, Lady Cheltenham continued, “But what do you think about all of this, Izzie?”

Archibald studied her, trying to read her face. He would describe her expression as thoughtful but also hesitant.

After an interminable duration that was probably no more than ten seconds, Isabella said, “Might I have a few minutes to speak to Mr. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy in private?”