Chapter Two

C aroline adjusted her spectacles. The familiar movement reminded her that she had control over her actions. It calmed her when she was flustered, or in this case…afraid. She absolutely refused to give in to tears—it would fog her lenses. To not be able to see would give the pawnbroker the advantage. She needed to retain the upper hand to bargain with the odious man.

The smug, lustful look on the man's face, while he continued to help the customer before her, worried her.

If her mother's health had not been so dire, she would not be in this situation. Caroline had exhausted their meager funds searching out any new tonic recommended by not one, but three apothecaries. She had hoped at least one of them would have the miracle her mum needed. Her faith faltered when none of the tonics or remedies seemed to help. Mum's health faded as their coin dwindled. Her death had not been unexpected, but gutted Caroline just the same.

And she had had her fill of men who looked at her as an object.

In the last few years, Caroline had suffered loss such as she had never thought to endure. Three years ago, her older brother, and his best friend, the man she'd promised to wait for, perished in the Peninsular War. Her father succumbed to illness the previous year, and a fortnight ago, she'd lost her mum. Sheltered all of her life, Caroline had not expected the turn of events that led to her to this run-down, crowded shop near the inn. What other choice did she have but to pawn the only things of value she had left? Tangible reminders of her parents: Mum's locket and Papa's pocket watch. She had three shillings in her reticule, not enough to pay the fare for the final leg of her journey to Summerfield-on-Eden.

Caroline had spent all but her last three shillings just to reach the inn—one stop shy of her destination. Providence was on her side when she chanced to overhear a conversation between two of the passengers. The men had been discussing a reputable pawnshop near the inn. Though she had never considered selling either the locket or the watch, she knew they held value and would be able to pawn them in exchange for coin. Confident in her ability to exact a trade, she'd said goodbye to the woman she had befriended on the trip and set off for the shop. Thankfully, it was not far from the inn.

The overweight, unwashed man blew out a foul-smelling breath, bringing her promptly back to the present and his crowded, dust-filled shop. The speculative look in the rotund man's narrowed eyes had her sensing that he would not be purchasing her treasures for their full worth. Hoping to sway the man, she blurted out, "I had both appraised recently."

The pawnbroker stared at her. Her skin crawled in reaction to the intensity and unholy gleam in his eyes. She had high hopes that the man would hand over the coin she needed. Did the last tangible evidence of her parents' lives only have value to her? He continued to study her. Closely. Much too closely . His gaze swept from the top of her head to the tips of her half boots and back again, settling on her bosom.

With her red hair, freckles, and spectacles, Caroline knew she did not have much to recommend her. Going without food when necessary to procure what her mum needed had not enhanced her looks. Her complexion had paled to the point where her freckles stood out all the more. Her last hope of salvation had been the widower Mr. Humbolt. At first she had been surprised when he presented himself on their doorstep ingratiating himself with Mum. He claimed to have spoken to her father before Papa passed, and hinted they had come to an arrangement. He was seeking a suitable wife. But when her mother required care around the clock, Caroline had no time for visits. The widower seemed to lose interest, no longer sending notes inquiring as to her mother's health. She had not seen or heard from him until three days ago, when he called to offer his condolences. He never once mentioned their supposed understanding, nor did she ask how she fared.

Caroline hunched her shoulders for a moment, remembering his harsh words and the impolite suggestions he had made as to how she would be able to make a living, now that she had had to sell her parents' home—and its contents—in order to pay the enormous debt she owed the apothecaries. His true nature had surfaced. Whether or not he had been on the cusp of offering for her hand, she thanked the Lord she had seen past his feigned regard for her. Otherwise, she would never have known he had designs on her parents' home and its contents, with an eye to how much coin it would bring when he sold it…after they married. "You're naught but extra baggage… How could a farsighted, redheaded woman be anything but?"

"Are you addled in the head?" the shopkeeper demanded. "I asked you a question!"

His first question rendered her momentarily speechless. He laid the locket and watch on the counter in front of him, then leaned over the counter to leer at her. Her stomach churned.

"I…er…beg your pardon. It was not intentional."

The shopkeeper studied her for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "Why don't we adjourn to my office in the back, where we can discuss what else you have to offer…privately?"

The lust in the man's eyes had thoughts of success, and receiving the coin she so desperately needed, fading. She would not go anywhere with him, let alone the back of his shop! The pawnbroker would be the undoing of her, and not her salvation.

Caroline grabbed for the locket and watch, but wasn't fast enough. The man's sweat-slickened palm landed on top of her hand. Revulsion coiled with fear as she tugged against his hold.

"Not so fast. If I am to pay for this battered watch and locket with the broken chain, I will have to inspect them—and you—more thoroughly without interruption."

With a strength born of desperation, she yanked her hand free, spun around, and ran out of the shop. Behind her, the pawnbroker shouted, "Stop, thief!"

Icy fear chilled her to the bone. Determination had her dashing through the darkening streets, retracing her steps to the coaching inn where she'd arrived earlier.

A glance over her shoulder cost her far more than she bargained for. She barreled into a solid wall of muscle. Lifting her gaze, Caroline stared into the dark eyes of a stranger. The very large and—judging from his hold as he steadied her—very strong stranger wore an open expression of surprise.

Relief filled her. There was no malice nor lust in his gaze. "Are ye a thief, lass?" he asked.

Caroline banked her fear and replied, "Nay. He wanted more than my mum's locket and my father's pocket watch…which he kept." A solitary tear trickled across her cheek, but she brushed it away and held back the rest. Something about the dark-eyed man's posture, and the way he held her wrists firmly, but not bruising her, had her praying she was not about to make the second biggest mistake of her life in the span of a few short hours.

The man nodded and released her. She reached into her reticule and produced three shillings. "This is all the coin I have left. The coin I would have gained trading my parents' things would have paid my fare to Summerfield-on-Eden. My uncle's expecting me."

As the pawnbroker waddled toward them, the stranger lowered his voice. "Save yer shillings, lass." He waited for her to return them to her reticule. "As it happens, I have a cousin staying there. If I trust that ye have not told me a tale that will land me in the gaol beside ye, I'll deliver ye to yer uncle. What is his name?"

"Vicar Chessy."

The astonished expression on his face lasted less than a moment, but she noticed it just the same.

"Well now, I happen to be acquainted with yer uncle and have met yer cousin Miss Melanie Chessy. Ye have me word of honor that I'll deliver ye to the safety of yer uncle's arms. But ye have to trust me and do exactly as I say."

Caroline's heart nearly stopped when she heard the pawnbroker calling for the Watch. She made a snap decision. "Y-yes. I trust you."

He laid his hand on her shoulder. The warmth was a comfort as the watchman and the pawnbroker approached. "Name's O'Ghill. Me cousin is no thief!" He frowned at the pawnbroker. "I'll have yer apology and explanation now as to yer baseless accusations against her."

For a moment the shopkeeper was silent, then he blurted out, "She stole coin from me! Check her reticule."

Caroline was petrified. Between the crooked pawnbroker and the frightening frown on the watchman's face, neither looked as if they believed her. She stole a glance at her rescuer—O'Ghill. Finding her voice, Caroline said, "The three shillings in my reticule are mine."

O'Ghill spoke up. "I saw the coin in me cousin's reticule earlier. 'Tis no question she did not take them from this man." His sigh was exaggerated as he locked gazes with the watchman. "Me cousin has a stubborn streak." He frowned at her. "I expressly told ye to wait for me at the inn."

The pawnbroker pointed a dirty finger at O'Ghill and told the watchman, "He's lying."

Caroline had a sinking feeling. Despite O'Ghill's promise of help, she was going to pay for a crime she did not commit. After resigning herself to whatever happened next, she was not prepared for O'Ghill's chuckle.

"I assure ye, I am not lying, nor have I ever had a need to." He turned, ignoring the pawnbroker, and told the watchman, "Me cousin has been sheltered by me aunt and uncle all her life. They appointed me guardian last year, when me uncle became quite ill. He never recovered."

His gaze met Caroline's, and she silently prayed the watchman would be inclined to believe her savior over the pawnbroker.

"Me aunt passed away recently. As ye can plainly see, me task as her guardian is not an easy one. Although I hate to say it, me cousin should not be left to her own devices." He raised his gaze skyward before meeting the watchman's eyes. "Nor should she have gone off on her own after being strictly told not to go anywhere without me escort… Especially after dusk!"

"I'm sorry, cousin," she apologized. "I did not want to be a burden to you. You have done so much for me, and I was anxious to find a way to pay for my own fare."

O'Ghill shook his head. "That red head of yers is going to be a trial to yer betrothed. I confess I'm looking forward to meeting him." He smiled at the watchman. "We'll be staying at Summerfield Chase, as guests of the baron and baroness."

The watchman's eyes widened. "Baron, you say?"

"Aye. Baron Summerfield is a good and trusted friend."

The watchman nodded to Caroline. "I beg your pardon, miss. There is obviously a misunderstanding." Facing O'Ghill, he said, "I do not envy you the task of keeping your cousin out of trouble. I have a younger sister who was nearly the death of me before she wed last year."

O'Ghill chuckled. "Ye understand, then. The both of us have had to be stout of heart, and arm, in the guardianship of our loved ones."

"I would not wish the task on any man," the watchman said. "Though I would do it all again, because I would never neglect to do my duty to protect my sister. I have no doubt you feel the same about your cousin."

O'Ghill seemed pleased by the watchman's words. "Ye have given me hope that I'll be able to keep her out of trouble until we arrive at our destination. We've a good distance to cover tomorrow if we are to arrive before the baron sends out one of the duke's guard to find us."

The pawnbroker's eyes widened and glassed over. "Duke?"

"Aye, did me cousin fail to mention our connection to the Duke of Wyndmere through his brother-in-law Baron Summerfield?"

Caroline felt faint at the story that fell from O'Ghill's glib tongue. Was it all a tale, or did he truly know the baron and the duke? She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from asking.

The watchman poked the pawnbroker in the shoulder. "Apologize and be on your way."

The man blinked, but nodded and begged Caroline's, and her "cousin's," pardon before waddling back the way he'd come.

The watchman shook his head. "He's not a bad sort, just doesn't believe anyone is honest."

"Most likely because he isn't," O'Ghill muttered. Louder he said, "Thank ye for aiding in me cousin's rescue."

The watchman inclined his head. "Best keep a tight rein on her until you reach the baron's home. A newly married woman, and two younger women, were abducted recently…at the inn near the village there."

O'Ghill's eyes narrowed, and Caroline wondered if he knew something about it. "What did ye hear?"

"I thought it was idle gossip at first, as nothing like that has occurred around here before. It happened a few weeks ago. Apparently, the woman's husband and another were able to track the women down before anyone was unduly harmed."

Caroline sensed that O'Ghill knew more than he admitted to when he said, "The husband and his companion must know how to handle themselves in extreme circumstances."

"I imagine so, though I haven't heard any of the particulars," the watchman replied. Nodding to O'Ghill, he said, "I'm happy to have been of assistance to you and your cousin."

"Thank ye." O'Ghill held out his hand to the man, who shook it.

Caroline's thoughts were scattered, but not to the point where she did not notice that she was being ushered toward the inn. It seemed like hours had passed since she had come to the decision to seek out the pawnbroker and not to wait for the mail coach—which she did not have the coin to pay for. Her stomach felt empty and her throat parched. In her haste to seek out the pawnshop, she had not joined the other passengers for a light meal. Now that she was not going to be apprehended for a fictious crime, she sincerely regretted not stopping for a least a cup of tea to fortify her before striking out on her own. She felt more drained by the moment.

Thankfully, O'Ghill had interfered in time to save her from a disastrous situation. Was there a grain of truth to his tale? Did he know Baron Summerfield and the Duke of Wyndmere? His voice held a note of veracity and authority, but there was only one person that she knew who could confirm or deny what she had been told—her uncle, Vicar Bertram Chessy.

She prayed that she could trust her rescuer as she was led into the noise-filled common room at the inn. Caroline shivered, instantly grateful for the warmth. She was chilled to the bone. Exhausted, she sat quietly, waiting for the tea O'Ghill ordered to arrive. What would the man's reaction be if she did not ask any questions, but merely called his bluff?

"Yer eyes give away yer thoughts, lass."

"It's Caroline…Gillingham."

One of the serving girls arrived with a teapot, but before she could pour their tea, O'Ghill thanked her and said, "Me cousin Miss Gillingham is going to do the honors."

Caroline leaned toward him, pitched her voice so only he could hear, and rasped, "What do you intend to do now?"

"Wait for ye to pour our tea. I apologize, Miss Gillingham, should I have asked if ye were hungry, too?"

She would bide her time and pry the truth from the man before she went anywhere with him. Lifting the pot, she poured his cup, then filled her own. While he sipped his tea, she added cream to hers and stirred. "Do you expect me to believe that you know my uncle?"

"Why wouldn't ye? Have I given ye reason not to trust me?"

She narrowed her gaze, staring at him over the rim of her cup while carefully considering her reply. He had not only come to her rescue, but treated her like a lady. Something Humbolt had not done. O'Ghill seemed to believe her responses when he questioned her. Moreover, he'd asked her to trust him, and she agreed. Botheration! "You have not."

His dark eyes gleamed, as if he were satisfied that would be the end of the topic.

"However, while I do believe you know my uncle," Caroline continued, "given his position of importance as shepherd over his flock in Summerfield-on-Eden, I do question whether or not you are acquainted with the baron or the duke."

He set his cup on its saucer and held her gaze for long moments. O'Ghill did not try to hide his irritation when he said, "Me cousins are members of the Duke of Wyndmere's private guard stationed at Summerfield Chase. I passed through the village recently and made meself useful, at which time I was introduced to the baron and baroness."

Caroline noted that he did not mention how he'd made himself useful. Wanting to ask, but not willing to interrupt him, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from doing so. Instead, she nodded, hoping he would go into detail, especially regarding his connection to such lofty personages.

"The watchman is correct. There were three women abducted from the village—Prudence, me cousin Ryan Garahan's wife; yer cousin, Miss Melanie Chessy; and Miss Olivia Coleman, the blacksmith's daughter."

Tears filled her eyes at the thought of her younger cousin and the others involved in such a frightening situation. The distress tangled with anger in his dark brown eyes had her believing him. "My uncle never mentioned it." Her voice wavered as she told him, "Then again, Uncle Bertram has always been protective of my mum and me. Moreso after my father passed. He may not have wanted us to worry. His letters always mentioned my aunt and cousin were in good health, though he never went into any detail as to what was happening at the vicarage, not even to share news of his congregation or the goings-on in the village." She paused and looked him in the eye. "Now then, as to your connection to the duke—"

O'Ghill interrupted, "Where did ye plan to stay tonight, if yer plans to gain coin went awry?"

He would ask her that. "I was confident that I would succeed."

O'Ghill muttered something she could not quite hear, then said, "A lass traveling alone needs to have her wits about her at all times, and even then she could still run into trouble. Did ye not think of that before ye hatched yer plan?"

Caroline lifted her chin and glared at the man who was rapidly becoming quite irritating. "I was confident."

He scrubbed a hand over his face, placed his hands on either side of his teacup, and leaned toward her. "What would ye have done had I not been there to poke me nose into yer business?" He did not wait for her to reply. "Ye're just like Brigid, Siobhan, and Aisling!"

Of course the handsome man would have a bevy of females chasing after him. "Friends of yours?"

"Hah! Me sister and our cousins. They think they can handle any situation that comes their way. Stubborn females."

She had heard enough. While grateful to O'Ghill for rescuing her, she did not wish to hear a lecture. Nor did she plan to sit and listen to him harangue her. Blotting her mouth with her napkin, she folded it neatly, placed it beside her teacup, and rose to her feet. "Thank for your timely intervention, and the tea, Mr. O'Ghill."

He was seated one moment and standing in front of her the next. "Where do ye think ye're going?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"And so ye should, Miss Gillingham. I told ye I'd take ye to yer uncle, and although I can see it's going to be a trial if ye continue to ignore me advice, I always keep me word."

"While I am grateful to you for coming to my rescue, I assure you it is not necessary for you to escort me. I shall find other means to reach my destination."

"Oh aye, with three shillings to yer name? Sure and ye would too, headed in the opposite direction from the vicarage, bound and gagged on the back of a horse." He slipped his hand beneath her elbow and steered her toward the innkeeper's wife, who was speaking to two of the serving girls. She smiled at O'Ghill. "Thank ye for yer assistance earlier, Mrs. Black. I'd like to introduce ye to me cousin, Miss Caroline Gillingham. Caroline, Mrs. Black was kind enough to reserve a room for ye for the night, while I made arrangements for the last leg of our journey to Summerfield-on-Eden."

The innkeeper's wife beamed. "Such a lovely little village. It has been years since I have been there. I'm not able to leave our inn for more than an afternoon at a time. You are fortunate your cousin arrived earlier than expected and was available to arrange for accommodations, Miss Gillingham. He procured our last two private rooms."

"Er…yes," Caroline said. "So fortunate. Thank you, Mrs. Black. What time will the mail coach be arriving?"

"I've made other arrangements," O'Ghill informed her. He smiled at Mrs. Black. "Me horse enjoyed keeping pace with the mail coach, as he enjoys a good run." Turning to Caroline, he said, "I have no doubt that our uncle would feel the need to lecture me if I allowed ye to arrive exhausted from traveling in such close quarters as those one expects on the mail coach."

"Such a thoughtful man," Mrs. Black said.

Caroline's stomach tied itself into knots. "Yes…quite. What would those arrangement be, cousin? You haven't had a chance to mention them yet."

Without missing a beat, he smiled and answered, "I have hired a beautiful gelding for ye to ride. I know how much ye have missed being able to ride on a daily basis."

How could he possibly know that? She hadn't mentioned it. Then Caroline remembered a brief conversation with the woman sitting beside her as they'd approached the inn. They discussed their shared love of horses. While Caroline went in search of the pawnbroker, the others from the coach had gone in search of tea and biscuits. Her former companion must have mentioned their pleasant conversation and been overheard.

She blinked, then smiled at O'Ghill. "You are too good to me. Uncle Bertram will be so happy that you were able to escort me."

"Ye know I do not mind," he told her.

"I'll have hot water brought up," Mrs. Black told them. "Here are the keys to your rooms. I am sure you would like to rest until it is time for the evening meal, Miss Gillingham. Supper will be served in an hour."

Caroline could not help but notice how quickly O'Ghill grasped both keys. She held her tongue. She had plenty to say to the man, but it would wait until they were in the hallway outside of her room, when she planned to demand he hand over her key.

Mrs. Black called to one of the serving girls, who followed behind them with the promised hot water. In her room, Caroline had no choice but to nod and agree with the kind young woman as she set the pitcher on the washstand and said to let her know if they needed anything else.

After the servant left, O'Ghill asked, "Do ye intend to follow Mrs. Black's advice?"

She frowned in answer.

His sigh reminded her of her father's when he had been exasperated with her. "That is what I thought. That leaves ye two choices if ye do not plan to rest. Ye may have a quarter of an hour to freshen up and accompany me to the stables, or I can lock ye in ye room."

Incensed, she demanded, "What kind of a choice is that?"

"The only one I'll be giving ye. 'Twasn't me plan to rescue ye before I completed me business, Miss Gillingham. Now that I'm responsible for ye, I'll expect ye to cooperate. 'Tis the least ye can do, since I have guaranteed yer safety to the vicarage."

Her mouth opened and closed without a sound emerging. Though it pained her to agree, he was correct. It was the least she could do. Caroline prayed for patience. "Thank you again for your timely assistance, accommodations inside the inn, and a horse to ride tomorrow. I shall prevail upon my uncle to repay you."

"Not necessary. He's a good man, who has been kind to me cousin-in-law, Prudence, and Lady Phoebe."

He had mentioned his cousin's wife's name earlier, but not the lady. "Who is Lady Phoebe?"

"Baron Summerfield's wife, sister to the Duke of Wyndmere and his brother Earl Lippincott."

He spoke with ease. His open expression told her she really had no call to disbelieve him, except for the fantastical notion that this stranger had such high connections within the ton as a duke, an earl, and a baron.

"Do ye wish to remain in yer room?"

"Locked in? No thank you, Mr. O'Ghill."

"Fine then, why don't ye wash up? I shall return shortly." He waited for her to close the door.

She placed her ear to it to listen for the sounds of his footsteps retreating. After listening a few minutes, she opened the door and retraced her steps to the staircase, startled when a hand gripped her elbow.

"Going somewhere?"

"Mr. O'Ghill!"

"With that red head of yers, I knew ye were going to be a trial to me." He escorted her back to her room, opened the door, and waited for her to enter.

She did so, then turned to him. "Do forgive me, but—"

O'Ghill shut the door in her face and locked it from the outside.