Chapter Twenty-Nine

If living on tenterhooks were not enough, Dermott was dealing with his wife's willful disregard of his orders to remain indoors unless accompanied by one of the duke's guard. He was accustomed to being obeyed. Given his wife's circumstances prior to losing her memory, he knew he should not push her. He would have to encourage her to come around to his way of thinking slowly. The lass had suffered greatly when her father told her that he'd all but gambled her life away! Her home, inheritance, and dowry were a huge loss, but the greatest of them all was Lord Eggerton's untimely death. He knew intimately what the loss of her da must have felt like.

"He's thinking again," Flaherty said loud enough to break through Dermott's reverie.

Sean was quick to agree. "Aye. Ye'd think he'd have paid attention to how his da handled his ma when she was wont to disagree."

"Aye," Flaherty agreed. "Aunt Bridget is a strong-minded woman, not unlike me ma—or yours."

"That she is, and she listened to Uncle Patrick," Sean said.

"Used to… Da's gone," Dermott mumbled. It hurt to say the words even after all this time. He hid his sorrow behind the glare he leveled on his cousins. "Need I remind ye that Ma's people were Flynns, and they were even-tempered people…until they weren't." Thoughts of his ma and his three brothers-in-law had him smiling. She was surrounded by men who'd take care of her and not tease her, as he and his brothers could not resist doing.

But Da used to tease Ma. He wondered if she missed the teasing. His brothers-in-law were a serious lot, given the fact that first Patrick and Finn—then Dermott and Emmett—had entrusted Ma into their care when they left to find better-paying work.

The money they sent home monthly would see that their mother would want for nothing. Their brothers-in-law would tend to the land and the farm. If not for the urgent need of coin, they would have stayed in Ireland and married stubborn women just like his sisters.

The realization hit him right between the eyes. "Feck me, I've gone and married a woman as stubborn as Grainne, Maeve, and Roisin combined!"

Sean and Flaherty snorted with laughter. "And ye didn't notice that until just now?" Sean asked.

"How in the bloody hell would I when I was consumed with worry for the lass since I lifted her limp and bleeding body into me arms?"

"Remind me not to rescue any more lasses," Flaherty grumbled.

"Yer heart is safe," Sean told him.

"Oh?" Flaherty asked. "And why is that?"

"Mary Kate Donovan has held it in her hands since the moment ye climbed on top of the carriage, opened the door, reached in, and lifted her to safety."

Flaherty's face lost all expression. He turned his back on his cousins and stalked toward the stables.

Dermott shook his head; he wasn't the only one bearing the brunt of their cousins' teasing. "Ease up, Sean. Flaherty's got enough on his mind, seeing as how ye assigned him the midday shift patrolling the road from the estate to the village and back. Besides, don't be forgetting that with yer wife, plus Garahan's and Michael's, spreading the word of Trenchert's terrorizing tactics and near abduction of Lady Aurelia and me wife, we have the villagers on our side."

"Aye," Sean agreed, "and two estates' worth of tenant farmers looking out for us, too."

Dermott nodded. "Flaherty still needs to check his temper and keep his wits about him. Plenty of places for a sharpshooter to hide and catch him unawares."

Sean grinned. "But he's so easily riled."

"Which is why ye should stop," Dermott said. "I'm thinking he's so in love with the lass that he cannot see straight. We need every man on their guard, or have ye forgotten because these few days have been quiet?"

"I haven't forgotten."

"I for one do not trust the viscount not to try again—and soon," Dermott said.

Sean sighed. "Ye have the right of it. By me calculations, the viscount should have tried something yesterday."

Dermott's mind was awash with visions of the lass being taken from the manor—hidden somewhere on the viscount's estate or in his attic.

Sean continued, "I know ye were counting on the earl to approve yer plan to infiltrate Trenchert Manor at midnight and confront the viscount in his bedchamber. Ye'll need to understand there is more at stake than the need for retribution."

Dermott turned toward his cousin. "I do. 'Tis just that thinking about how satisfying it will feel when I club the blackguard in the mouth, and hold me blade to his throat, brightens me day."

"I'm not certain the earl will be agreeing to yer plan if he were listening to ye right now."

"'Tisn't just me wife who is in constant danger," Dermott replied. "They tried to abduct and hold her ladyship for ransom!"

"Which may be the deciding factor that sways his lordship to our way of thinking."

"Ye're with me on this?" Dermott hadn't wanted to push his cousin, but he hadn't given up hope that Sean would side with him.

"Aye! It could just have easily been Mignonette, Harry, or Melinda in the viscount's cross hairs."

"Or Lady Calliope," the earl said, interrupting their conversation as he approached the two men. "I don't like the idea of holding a member of the ton at knifepoint—no matter what he has said or done. If either of you, or any of my brother's guard, choose to use that as a means of forcing his hand, there will be an uproar that will taint my family's name, and that of my wife and sister-in-law."

"What would ye have me do?" Dermott asked.

The earl slowly smiled. "My brother dubbed you his mercenary, did he not?"

"Aye, but if ye won't support me going in under the cover of darkness—"

The earl interrupted again. "You have my full support, and that of Jared, to do so."

"But if I cannot go in armed—"

"I never said you had to go in unarmed. I merely stipulated that you cannot hold a knife to the viscount's throat."

"What would ye have me do if I cannot threaten him with me knife? No doubt ye won't be wanting me to club him on the back of the head with the butt of me pistol."

"You are correct. Use your imagination."

Sean snorted with laughter. "He's newly married, yer lordship, and using his imagination for other things right now."

"What would Dermott be using it for if not for convincing the viscount to cease his attempts to abduct my wife—or his?"

Sean turned to Dermott and asked, "How long have ye been married now?"

"Are ye wanting to know in minutes, hours, or days?"

The earl shook his head. "I stand corrected and remember being newly married myself. Sean, help jog Dermott's memory, meet with the others, and have a new plan ready by teatime."

"Aye, yer lordship."

Sean and Dermott watched Lippincott stride toward the rear entrance to the manor. "When he thinks no one is looking," Sean murmured, "his lordship's eyes devour her ladyship."

"'Tis as it should be," Dermott remarked. "Da was the same way, and I know for a fact yer da still is."

Sean nodded. "The earl approved of your going in under the cover of midnight. There's bound to be more than one window or door ye can slip through unnoticed."

"What can I do to make the earl see reason and agree to me plan?"

"Abduct the viscount," Sean said.

"That was me plan, but—"

"Not at knifepoint," Sean reminded him, "nor should ye knock him on the head with yer pistol, nor hold one to his belly."

"That was the entirety of me list," Dermott grumbled.

"Concentrate on yer strengths, boy-o…without the need for weapons."

"He'll never hear me coming."

Sean smiled. "And?"

"I've mastered a number of knots sailors use."

"Ye'll have no trouble throwing him over yer shoulder once ye've tied him up, but—"

"I'll need to gag him."

"Aye. A blindfold might help, too."

"I'm thinking yer plan is brilliant," Dermott said.

"Our plan," Sean reminded him. "And how will ye render him unconscious?"

It dawned on Dermott that Sean remembered what he had forgotten… "I'll wrap me arm around his throat… Only takes a few moments and a bit of pressure."

"I knew ye'd remember once ye were able to stop thinking about the stubborn lass ye married."

"I'll go tonight," Dermott said.

"Not alone," Sean told him.

"'Tis best if I go alone. I can be in and out before ye miss me."

"Ye'll be taking two men with ye to stand watch."

"Fine! I'll Ask Stratford and Varley."

"Coventry's men? What of meself or Flaherty?"

"Don't ye trust Coventry's men?" Dermott asked.

"'Tisn't the point," Sean replied.

"What in the bloody hell is yer point?"

"One of our guard should accompany ye," his cousin reminded him.

"Coventry's men are part of the duke's guard—his London eyes and ears."

"Bugger it," Dermott swore. "I'll take Flaherty and Stratford. Ye can let Stratford know—I'll have a word with Flaherty."

His cousin stared at him without speaking. Finally, Sean nodded. "Ye'll go in armed to the teeth, but ye won't be holding a knife to the viscount's throat, or a pistol to his belly."

"I already said I wouldn't." Dermott turned to leave but paused. "Don't say a word to me wife. I don't need her getting any ideas from their ladyships. I won't have her following after me. 'Tis too dangerous."

"Aye. Do ye want one or two men guarding yer wife?"

"Two…three if ye can spare a man."

Sean nodded. "Done."

"Done," Dermott agreed.

"I'll let his lordship know the plan for tonight. He may want to send a missive to His Grace."

"Whatever ye think is best, Sean."

*

Georgiana's sense ofprevailing doom grew exponentially as another day without incident passed. She wanted to ask Dermott if he was planning some sort of retaliation against the viscount for the attempted abduction of Lady Aurelia—and her own brief capture. But her husband had been in a pensive mood that morning, and barely said two words to her upon rising.

She sighed. She missed seeing him throughout the day as she had when she was staying at the manor house, and had looked forward to his visits in between his shifts guarding the interior and exterior of the manor. The only time she spent there now was during her cooking lessons. Which were going well enough, but apparently not as well as her husband had hoped. He could have asked if I had any experience in the kitchen before he asked me to marry him.

She laughed remembering his expression of astonishment when they'd moved into their cottage and she burned their breakfast the first morning. She'd told him she had years of experience in the kitchen…snitching berry tarts. Apparently Dermott had not found it as amusing as she had.

The only reason she knew how to brew tea was due to their cook's giving in to Georgiana's constantly pestering the poor woman to give her something to do. She had hoped to be given the task of helping make the pastry for the tarts, but the cook had been horrified at the notion.

Dressed for the day, she straightened up their cottage. Looking about her, she could not help but notice how huge it seemed without Dermott's commanding presence in it. He took up so much room with his broad shoulders and deep chest. She sighed, remembering how they had spent the hour before dawn. All of those lovely muscles. She had caressed and pressed her lips to those very same muscles.

Her face heated and her heart raced. The unexpected pleasure of his lessons in lovemaking, and time spent locked in his arms, had her losing her train of thought at odd moments during the day.

She scolded herself as her thoughts wandered back to earlier that morning. Recalling the desire in his eyes, and the emotion and intention in his expression, had her shivering all over again, and not from a chill.

"You are going to need to pay attention this morning," she said aloud. Mrs. Wyatt had reminded her yesterday that the pies and tarts she was to bake under the cook's supervision would be sampled at teatime. She did not want to disappoint the earl or Lady Aurelia by burning their pastry, as she had two days earlier. In order not to repeat that unhappy performance, she needed her wits about her, and her head firmly attached to her shoulders—not in the clouds daydreaming of her handsome husband.

She opened the door to their cottage and stepped into a bright spring day. The air was soft, the sun warm. Reveling in the birdsong, she inhaled the subtly sweet scent on the breeze. Lifting her face to the warmth of the sun, she sighed and took another breath, this time taking in the scent of freshly turned earth from the nearby tenant farm. A pang of sorrow pierced her breast at the thought of never walking along the lane that wound toward the brook that edged Eggerton Hall leading past their tenant farms with her father again.

Instead of heading toward the manor house and her cooking lesson, she turned to the right. Lost in thought, she didn't remember passing by the first farm or the second. It wasn't until she heard a horse and rider approaching from behind that she looked around her, surprised that there were no farms in sight.

The look of disapproval on Flaherty's face had her sighing. Her husband would hear of her disobeying his dictate that she stay put. The man's blue eyes were riveted on her as he reined in his horse. "Where are ye headed, lass?"

The edge in his voice and intensity in his eyes reminded her of Dermott's, though her husband's were a brilliant green. "Just walking."

It was a bit unnerving how much taller Flaherty appeared sitting on his horse. "Were ye now?"

Miffed that he would question her as if he had the right to, she did not bother to respond. She turned her back on him and continued walking. One moment she was on her feet, and the next she was sitting in front of Flaherty on his horse.

"How dare you!"

"Ye'll not disappear on me watch, lass."

Dermott had warned her not to go anywhere without an escort. The realization that she could very well have been spirited away by another of the viscount's men had her trembling. "I did not mean to go so far," she explained. "When I opened the door and felt the warmth of the sun, I could not help but follow my nose toward the scent of fresh-turned earth."

She supposed his grunt was an answer.

Needing Flaherty to understand that she wasn't trying to make his job more difficult, she told him, "I used to walk the fields with my father early in the morning and stop and visit our tenant farmers… I do hope they won't be forced off the land they've farmed for years," she rasped. "Do you think the viscount will make them leave?"

Instead of answering, he said, "I'll have yer word ye won't be leaving unescorted again. Dermott would have me hide if he knew ye were out here…alone."

She frowned at the guard. "Nothing happened. I don't see why—"

A shot rang out. She felt Flaherty's big body jolt a heartbeat before he curled himself around her, protecting her. He leaned low over his horse and rasped, "Rith, laddie!"

Georgiana did not understand the word, but she understood the horse's reaction—he took off at a gallop! The echoing sound of more than one set of hooves behind them—chasing them—had him urging her, "Keep yer head down. We'll outrun them."

She prayed he was right, because she could feel the warmth of his blood soaking through her shawl onto the back of her gown. When she felt him leaning at an angle, she shifted to wrap an arm around him. A second shot rang out, splintering the tree branch hanging over the road. The third shot, and echoing grunt of pain, had her praying she could keep Flaherty from falling off the horse. The reins went slack, but she grabbed hold of them before the horse slowed his pace.

"I can see the back of the stables up ahead," she said. The sound of riders approaching from the direction of the manor was the answer to her prayer. "Help is coming, Flaherty. Hang on!" His weight threatened to topple them off the horse, but he managed to keep his seat until strong hands pulled her free. Flaherty groaned, bonelessly slid off the horse, and landed face-first in the road.

Two men raced past them, chasing after their attackers, who had spun around to retreat. Sean set her on her feet before lifting Flaherty off the ground onto his shoulder and draping him over the other man's horse. "Stratford, take Flaherty. I'll take the lass."

Stratford nodded, put a hand to Flaherty's back to keep him from falling, and raced back to the manor house. When Sean lifted her onto his horse, he swore, staring at his bloodstained hands. Before she could explain, he mounted behind her, pulled her tight against him, and followed behind Stratford. He reined in by the stables and leapt off his horse. "Why didn't ye tell me ye were shot, too?"

She was about to answer, but he swept her into his arms and ran toward the house. "It's not what you think," she protested. "I can walk."

"'Tis the blood loss that has ye thinking ye can, lass. Bart went for the physician," Sean started before Dermott shouted, "Georgiana!"

The sound of her husband's voice should have soothed her, but the edge of concern added another layer to her guilt.

Sean answered for her, "In here, Dermott!"

Her husband burst into the room by the pantry and jolted to a stop. "God, the blood!" Looking over his shoulder, he shouted for Lady Aurelia's maid. "Help me get this dress off her, so I can see where me wife's been shot."

Georgiana started shaking now that the danger was over. Tears welled in her eyes. She grabbed hold of Dermott's hand. "It's not my blood…it's Flaherty's!" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she burst into tears. "It's all my fault. The morning was so lovely, you see…and I just started walking."

Sean motioned the maid over. "Jenny's here, Dermott—best to have her take a look, then. She could have been grazed by a lead ball."

Dermott nodded to the maid, who stared at the blood on Georgiana's gown before quickly nodding to him. "We'll be right back."

"Me wife stays here," Dermott growled. "Ye can go behind the dressing screen in the corner. If not for the others in the room, I'd undress me wife meself!"

Jenny tugged on her arm and did as she was bidden. Georgiana should have been relieved that she was not injured, but instead, it was all suddenly too much to bear. The guilt and the embarrassment twisted inside her. She had walked farther than she intended and been caught off guard when Flaherty raced toward her. The sound of riders approaching and the shots fired would keep her awake nights.

The weight of her guilt hit her, and she crumpled to her knees and sobbed. Flaherty had been shot protecting her! Dear Lord, it was her fault that he lay bleeding.

"They've stopped the bleeding, lass. Flaherty's strong as a horse," her husband murmured as he lifted her into his arms. "The physician is on his way to remove the lead ball and stitch him back together."

"I have to tell him I'm sorry!"

"Tell him after ye've washed the blood off and changed yer gown."

The lack of inflection in his voice had her sniffing back her tears and looking into his eyes. She hoped her husband did not blame her for his cousin getting shot. She needed to apologize. "I didn't mean for Flaherty to get shot."

"Ye'll not be left to yer own devices again until we've taken care of the viscount and his men once and for all."

She wondered if her husband planned to lock her in one of the guest rooms upstairs, or put a guard at the front of their cottage and another at the back. His fierce frown had her swallowing the question.

He carried her up to the room they had shared, set her gently on her feet, and warned her, "Do not leave this room until I come back for ye." With a nod to the housekeeper who had been waiting for them, he stalked from the room. Georgiana sank into the nearest chair and knew she'd rather be locked away for a sennight than have her husband angry with her.

The knock on the door had Mrs. Jones moving to open it. Several footmen entered carrying containers of hot water to fill the tub. Georgiana watched and waited for them to complete their task without speaking. When the housekeeper closed the door, she turned and held out her hand to Georgiana, who let Mrs. Jones pull her to her feet and lead her to the dressing room where the hot bath waited.

When she was in the tub, her tears started again. "Will Flaherty die?"

"He's a strong man, Georgiana—all of the duke's men are."

"But he was shot in the back like my father." She lifted her gaze to the housekeeper's. "Papa died."

*

Dermott's jaw clenchedas he stood listening outside the door to the room where his wife wept into the bathwater. He turned and walked away, vowing, "I'm coming for ye tonight, Trenchert. Ye'll pay for setting this travesty in motion, trying to take me wife and her ladyship…and for ordering yer men to shoot me cousin!"