Chapter Four

C aroline was not certain what unspoken messages the cousins had been communicating to one another with a look, but she was tired of being treated as if she were incapable of handling her own affairs. Now that her brother and parents were gone, she was fully in charge of her own life, and had been since her mother had passed. She did not plan to relinquish the reins to her life, even if it were to hand them over to her aunt and uncle in exchange for a roof over her head.

Listening to O'Malley ask the innkeeper's wife to escort her to her room and help her pack was more than enough. "I am quite sure that I can manage on my own, cousin ." She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and confided to Mrs. Black, "While I appreciate that my cousins are determined to see that I reach Uncle Bertram in one piece, they are a bit high-handed at times."

The older woman smiled. "Let your cousins have their way. Do you know how fortunate you are to have their protection? A lass alone in the world could easily fall prey to innumerable predators. The possibilities of what could happen are endless…and not to be discounted."

Caroline glanced at O'Malley, but his expression was closed. She had no idea what he was thinking. Before she could refute Mrs. Black's warning, he said, "As head of the Duke of Wyndmere's guard at Summerfield Chase, I have firsthand knowledge of what could happen."

The innkeeper walked over to join their conversation. "How long have you worked for the duke?"

"A few years now," O'Malley answered. "Originally me brothers, cousins, and I were stationed at His Grace's London town house, but after he married and settled at his country estate, the sixteen of us were divided into groups stationed at his other residences."

Caroline could not help but wonder if O'Malley always gave such detailed information when questioned about his position within the duke's guard. Was it for her sake?

"So you've been to London," Mr. Black said. "We heard rumors of a madman holding the duke's sister at knifepoint a few years ago. Was there any truth to it?"

O'Malley's eyes hinted at emotions that were being suppressed. "'Tisn't a rumor. Our duty to protect the duke and his family have had us calling upon our combined skills with bare-knuckle fighting and all manner of weaponry."

The stocky innkeeper nodded. "I keep a blunderbuss behind the desk, a pistol in our private quarters, and carry a knife in my boot."

O'Malley smiled. "Yer wife is a treasure. Ye're wise to protect her at all costs. 'Tis why the lot of us have been rotating between the duke's properties every four months until recently."

"Was it because of the kidnapping attempts on his twins?" Mrs. Black asked.

O'Malley's face darkened, and Caroline sensed he had firsthand knowledge of the attempt. "Ye heard about that, too?" When the couple nodded, he said, "I'm sure ye'll understand that I'm not at liberty to discuss what happened. I will tell ye that, aside from Summerfield Chase, I have been stationed at Wyndmere Hall in the Lake District, Lippincott Manor in Sussex, Penwith Tower in Cornwall, and Chattsworth Manor in Sussex, and am familiar with all of the surrounding land."

Caroline did not expect to be so impressed by O'Malley, nor did she anticipate being so distracted by his presence. But she could not deny that the pull she had felt the moment he opened the door to her room, his green eyes boring into hers, was growing stronger the longer she was in his presence. He was at least a head and a half—nay, two heads—taller than her. She had always been close in height to her brother's friends.

While Mr. O'Malley answered a few more of the innkeeper's questions, she watched his facial expressions. His strong features added to the appeal of his ruggedly handsome face. When he turned and met her gaze, his brilliant green eyes held her captive. She could not quite catch her breath until he turned back to answer another question.

She had no idea why she felt the instant pull toward O'Malley, or why she hadn't had a similar reaction to O'Ghill. They were both broad, though O'Malley had a few inches on his cousin. Mayhap it was his light hair and those bright emerald eyes.

Caroline needed to stop thinking of the man and concentrate on her need to arrive in Summerfield-on-Eden—and speak to Melanie to see for herself that her cousin was unharmed.

Finally, she was able to get control of her wayward thoughts, but not before taking a moment to admire the breadth of O'Malley's chest and the width of his shoulders. But it was not just his physical appearance and obvious strength that had her enthralled—it was the way he treated those he came in contact with. His honesty and integrity were part and parcel of the man himself. Papa would have highly approved of O'Malley.

"I'll be leaving ye in good hands while ye gather yer things, cousin," he told her. "I need to have a word with O'Ghill and the hostler, and check on our horses."

The innkeeper said, "My wife and I will watch over Miss Gillingham for you before you come to collect her."

"I'm in yer debt," O'Malley rumbled. "Thank ye."

A few moments later she was staring at the Irishman's broad back, wondering just what he and O'Ghill had to discuss that they did not want her to hear.

"Let us see to our task, Miss Gillingham," Mrs. Black urged when Caroline had not immediately followed her. "You do not want to keep Mr. O'Malley or Mr. O'Ghill waiting, do you?"

Caroline wanted to say yes, but did not want to seem ungrateful for all that the two men had done for her. "No, of course not."

She followed the innkeeper's wife up the stairs, all the while wondering how soon the men would be ready to leave.

*

O'Malley listened as O'Ghill relayed the information from his contact. He could not believe what he'd heard. "Bleeding bastard! Ye're telling me Anderson will never have to pay for kidnapping me cousin's wife and the others?"

"'Tis exactly what I'm telling ye." O'Ghill sounded irritated. "Though I do wonder how Prudence will take the news about her mother and aunt being held at Newgate until their trial."

O'Malley's frustration roiled beneath the surface. "Those two women should have to pay for their part in the plan they hatched and what they would have allowed to happen…if Anderson managed to do what he had intended and force himself on Garahan's wife!"

"What about the attempted murder of Lady Phoebe?" O'Malley asked.

"Her aunt and uncle will have to answer for those charges," O'Ghill answered. "'Tisn't up to the likes of us to pass judgment."

"If her aunt and uncle are found guilty, they could hang," O'Malley remarked. "I cannot feel sorry for either of them. Lady Phoebe could have lost her babe."

"But she didn't," O'Ghill reminded him.

"She could have suffered a loss of memory, or been killed!" O'Malley said. "What kind of a world do we live in when members of the ton can kidnap someone and not face the consequences? Time and again those that we've captured, after they've attacked the duke and his family, or libeled them publicly by spreading falsehoods, have gotten off with but a warning."

"Ye should not be surprised, Thomas. 'Tis the same back home in Ireland," O'Ghill quietly reminded him.

"Da and Uncle Patrick should have never been tossed into prison for a crime they didn't commit. There was no bloody proof!"

"Aye," O'Ghill agreed. "None of us will ever forget what happened to Uncle Patrick."

O'Malley nodded. "I've an errand to see to and should be back shortly. I left the lass in the care of the innkeeper and his wife. They will not let her out of their sight." He stared hard at his cousin, warning him, "Do not even think of leaving without me."

O'Ghill narrowed his gaze at O'Malley. A moment passed before his eyes widened and understanding of what his cousin intended dawned. He grunted and jabbed O'Malley in the shoulder. "Bloody hell, Thomas! Ye cannot take out yer frustration on the pawnbroker. He didn't harm her, he just—" He clamped his mouth shut.

"I don't have time to ask what happened now. Do not leave without me."

"God help me," O'Ghill mumbled, "the sainted O'Malley has spoken. I heard ye the first time." When O'Malley continued to hold his gaze, he sighed. "Ye have me word on Uncle Patrick's soul."

O'Malley grunted in answer. He knew O'Ghill could be trusted, but that didn't mean his cousin did not irritate the shite out of him.

Following the direction the hostler had given him, O'Malley found the shop, and the owner. He locked gazes with the man as he crossed the threshold. "I understand ye have a locket and pocket watch in yer possession that ye didn't pay for. I'll take them now."

The rotund man's eyes narrowed. From the time it took for the shopkeeper to respond, O'Malley knew the man was preparing to lie and reach for whatever weapon he stashed beneath the counter.

"You're mistaken," the man replied. "But I do have a selection of necklaces and watches that you are welcome to look at."

O'Malley held on to his temper, knowing it would not help the situation if he let it loose. "O'Ghill advised that I should bring the Watch when I came to retrieve our cousin's locket and pocket watch." He looked over his shoulder at the doorway and then back. "The watchman will be here in a moment."

The pawnbroker's face paled as sweat beaded on his brow. "Now that you mention it, I…uh, do recall a young woman who came into my shop earlier. She was—"

O'Malley growled, leaned across the counter, and grabbed the man by the throat. "Did ye touch her?" Incensed at the very idea that they gray-eyed lass had suffered the man's touch, O'Malley fought the need to squeeze on his larynx.

The shopkeeper held up his hands. "Nay. I didn't touch her."

"No one would ever find yer body if ye had." O'Malley let go of the man with enough force to have the shopkeeper smacking the back of his head against the wall behind the counter. Holding out his hand, O'Malley said, "I'm waiting."

Frantic to comply, the pawnbroker reached into his waistcoat pocket, pulled out a locket and pocket watch, and dropped them into O'Malley's outstretched hand.

Without a word, O'Malley spun on his heel and left, retracing his steps to the inn. His head was at war with his gut, which told him to go back and beat the ever-living shite out of the pawnbroker. His head reminded him that the duke would not tolerate such actions taken by any of the men in his guard.

Grinding his teeth, he increased his stride, arrived at the inn yard, and made a beeline for the stables. He found O'Ghill speaking with the stablemaster and said, "I'm ready to leave. I'll fetch the lass and be right back."

O'Ghill didn't bother to ask if he had retrieved the lass's belongings. He would know without asking. "I'll have the horses brought around."

O'Malley entered the inn and, as hoped, found the lass waiting. The size of the satchel at her feet wasn't what he'd expected. Was that all she had brought with her? What of the rest of her belongings…her worldly goods?

"I see ye're ready to leave. O'Ghill's taking care of the horses." He turned to the innkeeper's wife. "I cannot thank ye enough for watching out for our cousin, Mrs. Black. Please extend me thanks, and O'Ghill's, to yer husband as well."

"You are welcome, and I'd be happy to tell him. Safe journey."

With his hand to the small of the lass's back, O'Malley guided her outside to the waiting trio of horses, and his irritating cousin, who stood there with a knowing grin on his face. Bugger it. O'Malley realized that he had yet to remove his hand from the small of Miss Gillingham's back. He dropped his hand, took her bag, and pushed it at his cousin, then nodded to the lass. "Let me help ye mount yer horse."