Chapter Eight

Finding Miss Amber sleeping peacefully, Aurelia returned to the nursery to find her husband and Dermott quietly speaking. Their son was in his cradle—praise the Lord—sleeping. She smiled at them and walked into the room.

"That was fast," the earl remarked.

"Is everything all right?" Dermott asked.

"Miss Amber was asleep. I did not want to wake her—she has had precious little rest since you brought her here."

"'Tis her worry that keeps her awake," Dermott said. "Though we've told her we'll protect her, I'm thinking 'tis the unknown and who she is running from that has kept her awake."

The earl nodded. "It would keep me wide awake."

"That would be my guess, too," Lady Aurelia agreed. "The poor thing could not hold off the sleep she desperately needs to recover from her injury any longer."

*

"Thank ye," Dermottsaid. "Thank ye both, for allowing me to bring Miss Amber here to be tended to and recover."

"Given the missive I received from Lord—" The earl stopped speaking at the quiet gasp from his wife.

The sound told Dermott all he needed to know. The earl had not informed her ladyship of the missive from a former acquaintance and a time his lordship had put behind him…the deceased Lord Eggerton. A quick glance was all Dermott needed to take two steps back…out of the proverbial line of fire. "I'd best be getting to me post."

"Do not take one more step out of this room!" Lady Aurelia hissed.

Dermott looked at the earl. The lack of emotion showing on his lordship's face had him wondering how the earl would extract himself from what would be a tricky situation and discussion with his wife.

"Pray, forgive my wife for speaking out of turn." Lippincott pinned his wife to the spot with his gaze. "I am certain when her temper cools, she will realize that as one of the men who have willingly put their lives on the line to protect us time after time, you have duties that eclipse her demand that you remain."

Dermott's gaze swung to that of the countess. Her hand trembled as she brushed a lock of hair that had slipped from its pins out of her left eye. Understanding filled him as hurt flashed in the depths of her eyes. "Nothing to forgive, yer lordship. Her ladyship is a bit like me ma, wanting—nay needing—to know what is happening around her that will affect how she can protect her babe."

The earl's brilliant blue eyes flashed with anger that he quickly banked. "I see to the protection of our babe and my wife."

Dermott hesitated to say more, but their lordships had unknowingly placed him in the middle of their quarrel. "Aye, and ye have done a fine a job doing so, yer lordship." He waited a beat before adding, "Her ladyship has done the same, protecting and nurturing yer babe, as me ma would say."

When neither of them spoke, just continued to stare at one another, Dermott decided it would be best if he deflected their anger at one another toward himself. He could more than handle whatever barbs they tossed at him. He'd grown up dodging his ma's temper.

He bit back a smile, remembering Da used to call it the "bloody Flynn temper," then cleared his throat to speak. "What I meant to say, yer ladyship, is that if ye're wanting to ring a peal over me head, I'm ready when ye are." Her snort of laughter, quickly silenced, relieved his worry that his lordship would be angry with him for speaking so familiarly with her ladyship. One look at the furious expression on Lady Aurelia's face had him bracing to duck—her hand was close enough to the journal on the table to lob it at his head.

"My wife is above such an explosion of temper, O'Malley. Moreover," the earl drawled, "she would never stoop so low as to hurl the journal in her hand at one of my men."

Dermott watched the normally even-tempered countess turn her frosty glare on the earl, noting that she did not set the journal on the table. "Your brother's men."

"When they are stationed at Lippincott Manor, my dear, they are my men and report to me."

Dermott swallowed his laughter. It would not do to add to the argument taking place in furious whispers. In spite of the tension between the earl and his wife, neither one wanted to wake their babe. A good sign.

"What missive?"

The earl frowned at his wife. "As your husband—"

She raised a hand up in front of her, and her expression turned to one of bleak despair. "I thought you trusted me, Edward." The earl reached for her hand, but she tugged it from his grasp. "I am certain you and O'Malley are needed elsewhere." She turned her back on her husband and rasped, "Please leave. You are bound to wake our babe, and I am too tired to repeat the last few hours trying to get him to fall asleep."

She glanced over her shoulder at Dermott, and his gut clenched. The sadness in her blue eyes dimmed until they were a washed-out gray. He could not speak of missives sent or received unless given leave to. It was his duty, and that of his cousins, to protect the earl and his family to the best of his abilities. If a part of his duty meant they would withhold pertinent information from Lady Aurelia, so be it. They'd vowed to protect the duke and his family, and extended family, with their lives. 'Twas a well-known fact that anyone blessed enough to be a member of the O'Malley/Garahan/Flaherty clan would never forsake a vow. Generations of O'Malleys, Garahans, and Flahertys had pledged an oath…and many had died to uphold it. If he was called to do so, he would without question.

"Thank you for soothing our son, Dermott. He was in desperate need of sleep."

He bowed to Lady Aurelia. "'Twas me pleasure, yer ladyship. If ye have need of me, ye've but to ask." He turned to the earl. "With yer permission, yer lordship." He waited for the earl to nod before leaving the nursery. His long strides ate up the distance between the nursery and the door to the servants' staircase. Ascending, he nodded to the footman stationed on the third floor, relieving him.

The earl expected trouble to arrive at any hour, and had asked his men to train a few of the footmen to stand guard while waiting for reinforcements to arrive: Michael O'Malley and James Garahan. The only wrinkle in the plan was that Dermott's cousins were not the only ones to arrive—though it only be a few miles between Lippincott Manor and Chattsworth, the viscount's family would be accompanying him for the duration. Dermott silently added his cousins' wives to the list—they would stay with Sean's wife. Safety in numbers. He knew he would not be able to leave his wife—or babe—behind if summoned to act as reinforcements at any of the duke's, or the duke's family's, homes.

Alone in the corridor, he made his hourly sweep of the floor, opening doors, checking rooms, and pausing by the windows to scan the perimeter. All was quiet…but for how long?

Heavy footfalls had him retracing his steps to the servants' staircase, expecting either Sean or Flaherty to appear.

The door opened and Sean stepped into the hallway. "We're to expect Michael and James to arrive within the hour."

Dermott sighed. "And the viscount and his family."

Sean tried to cover his snort of laughter but did not succeed.

"'Tisn't a laughing matter having to add the viscountess and their babe to our list of those under our protection."

His cousin studied him closely before asking, "Are ye saying ye aren't up to the job?"

"Bugger it, Sean. Ye know as well as I do that whenever the countess and viscountess get together, we are running to keep up with the trouble they stir up."

Sean grinned. "'Tis mischief, not trouble."

Dermott shook his head. It wouldn't make any difference if he disagreed; all of the O'Malleys—brothers and cousins—were known for their stubbornness. "All is quiet on this floor. I'll head down to the second floor and send one of the footmen to fill me post."

Sean followed him down to the lower level. "Did I mention another missive from Coventry arrived right after the viscount's?"

Dermott opened the door and looked over his shoulder. "If it wasn't to tell his lordship that he was sending two of his men to add to our guard, ye can fill me in later."

Sean's grip bit into Dermott's arm. He spun around and elbowed his cousin. "What in the bleeding hell do ye want from me, Sean? I'm doing me duty to His Grace and his lordship, and have the added worry of Trenchert and God knows how many of his cohorts searching the area for the lass!"

His cousin dropped his hand to his side. "If ye think for one moment that I do not understand the position ye're in, ye've bollocks for brains! I have been in yer boots and know exactly what ye're facing. 'Tis the only reason I haven't knocked ye on yer arse for dereliction of duty. Captain Coventry is sending three of the men recently hired at His Grace's insistence that he needed more men based in London to relay firsthand information regarding threats, rumors, and bloody wagers against the family. The lot of us worked in London before we were hired by the duke, and some of the men were suggested by yerself and me when Coventry asked for recommendations."

The slash to Dermott's pride was nothing compared to the guilt slashing his guts to pieces. "Shite." He raked a hand through his hair and stared at his cousin, who was a mirror image of himself. Chiseled features, bright green eyes, and light hair. Taller than their Garahan and Flaherty cousins, and just a bit broader through the chest and shoulders. Dermott knew from the glint in his cousin's eye that he was anticipating a bare-knuckle bout with him, which had the potential to go on for hours. They were equally matched, and beating the bloody hell out of one another would not solve anything.

As if Sean knew what Dermott was thinking, he nodded. "I'd give me eye teeth to go a few rounds with ye, but we've plans to put in place before our cousins arrive. Hopefully, they'll bring Michael's stepson Bart with them. The lad's been practicing with his fists as well as weapons."

"Aye, he more than proved himself when those blackguards tried to destroy the crops he and his ma had planted the night Michael came to their rescue." Dermott frowned. "You don't think our cousins will bring MacReady along with them, do ye?" Sean's snicker had Dermott's frustration easing. He admitted, "I suppose we'll have to make an allowance for the crusty Scot, given that his head's as hard as granite and he never listens to reason. MacReady has proven himself time after time protecting the viscount, Lady Calliope, and their son. I'm thinking he'll be called upon to add to the protection of our cousin's wives, as well as the viscountess."

"Aye," Sean agreed. "He still serves as the viscount's valet and sometimes footman. Oh, and don't discount that, in a pinch, he's been known to ram his hard head into more than one intruder's gut."

"Thought he was going to do that to us, more than once." Dermott couldn't keep his snort of laughter contained. "Thank ye for helping me remember what's important, Sean. I cannot let meself get distracted."

"By the lass's pretty face or the trouble we know will soon find its way to the earl's door," Sean murmured, "ye won't. Ye're an O'Malley, boy-o."

Dermott shoved Sean out of the way with his shoulder. "If ye understand how I'm feeling, then ye'll know I'll do whatever it takes to protect her. I vowed to the moment she opened her eyes and looked up at me with trust so deep and true, nothing could shatter it."

"Ah, well, in that case, ye'll have no choice in the matter," Sean predicted.

"What matter?"

"Marriage."

"I didn't ask the lass to marry me…" Yet, Dermott's heart prodded him.

"Yet," Sean mumbled.

Dermott's heart echoed the word a second time, but he stood firm in his conviction that he could not afford to marry the lass. She already had his head in a muddle! "I don't think—"

"Well now, that isn't anything knew. Patrick and I have discussed yer propensity not to think in the past. Remember the time on the docks when that behemoth came at ye with a knife in one hand and a cudgel in the other?"

"I'll not likely be forgetting, and before ye say anything else, that was when Emmett and I first stepped off the boat from Ireland. We've learned how to navigate our way on the docks and through the stews since that day. If ye're done spouting, we've work before our cousins—and their charges—arrive."

"Don't forget to stop in and ask how Miss Amber is feeling."

Dermott jolted to a stop. "Is something wrong? Has something happened?"

Sean didn't bother to answer—he was already halfway down the stairs to the first floor.

"Bloody buggering knot head." Dermott put his cousin's taunting out of his mind. He had a shift to finish, plans to go over with Flaherty and Sean when he was through…after he paid a visit to the lass. Hopefully, he could get it all accomplished before their cousins arrived from Chattsworth Manor.

Heading to the lass's bedchamber, he prayed aloud, "Lord willing."