Chapter Seven

O 'Malley tossed and turned for the few hours he was able to be in bed. The image of the red-haired lass with the spectacles kept him company through the sleepless night. Her thick-lashed, wide gray eyes and feisty nature had him wondering if there would be a suitor following after her to Summerfield-on-Eden. Humbolt, was it? And just how did the lass feel about the man? Had she loved him? If the man loved her, he would never have abandoned her in her time of need. O'Malley would never have, and nor would his brothers or cousins!

One question had him wrestling with his conscience off and on, disturbing what little sleep he had: should he have brought the lass to the baron's home, where she would be well protected? Knowing how worried her uncle was, and considering the probability that she would balk, he had ignored the urge to head directly to Summerfield Chase, and delivered her to the vicarage as promised.

O'Malley had been awake for a few hours by the time it was his turn to man the post on the roof, but it was not an uncommon occurrence. He had gone with little to no sleep many times before. The most stressful were the times the duke or his family had been under attack. The other instances were not concerning—when he was in the middle of an investigation, meeting contacts on the docks or in the stews during the midnight hour.

He had been stationed at Wyndmere Hall after the duke married, until he was tasked with the assignment of escorting Lady Phoebe, and the duchess's mother Lady Farnsworth, to London. Guarding the duke and earl's younger sister had taken every bit of his patience and cunning. When Lady Phoebe married Marcus, Baron Summerfield, O'Malley had been assigned as head of the duke's guard at the baron's home. He enjoyed living in the Borderlands, and it had been relatively quiet…until two recent events: Garahan's wife and two lasses from the village being abducted, and the squire, or his wife, clubbing Lady Phoebe on the back of her head. The baroness was seriously injured, requiring round-the-clock protection. The men were constantly rotating their positions and patrols more frequently now, catching an hour or more of sleep when they could.

He wondered if the circumstances surrounding Miss Gillingham's ill-advised stop at the pawnshop would have trouble coming to their door. He patrolled the rooftop, scanning the wooded area surrounding the estate. It may seem like one of the easier posts to man, compared to the patrols on horseback. However, it required a sharp eye. There were numerous places attackers could hide and capture their unsuspecting victims. A sharpshooter needed a steady hand when wielding their weapon of choice. His was the Kentucky long rifle.

As the sun's rays shone through the trees, O'Malley remembered the first time he'd fired one. It had been a gift their cousins living in America brought with them on their last visit home, a year or so before the O'Malleys, Garahans, and Flahertys left to find employment in London. The Kentucky long barrel fired a .50-caliber lead ball and had a barrel length that varied between forty and forty-six inches. What had impressed him, his brothers, and their cousins was the ease loading the smaller lead ball, and its accuracy at a range of up to four hundred yards. They all preferred it to the British Baker rifle.

O'Malley smiled, recalling the reply his cousin Patrick had received after writing to their cousins, telling them of their new positions as the Duke of Wyndmere's private guard. Patrick had mentioned how useful the rifles were during an attack on the duke and his family at Wyndmere Hall. Patrick, being Patrick, explained in detail. Their cousins' reply had been to ship four more of the rifles with the caveat that they send details of the skirmishes fought, and the number of men the guard had wounded—or, preferably, killed. Time had not tainted the warrior blood running through the O'Malley, Garahan, and Flaherty clans, though it had been tempered with a reserve their ancestors had not had.

The Irish were a fierce, fighting people. Time had not changed that. Those that had gone before them had instilled the same pride and loyalty their ancestors had had. Those inherent skills had enabled the men of the duke's guard to react quickly and decisively, which had saved the day more than once since they had been employed by the Duke of Wyndmere.

O'Malley had not admitted it to anyone, least of all Garahan or Flaherty, but he still woke up in a cold sweat from the reoccurring nightmare of the time Lady Phoebe slipped out of Lady Farnsworth's town house on his watch, intent on rescuing the man she loved. His heart still shuddered at the memory of following Lady Phoebe and discovering her armed with a handful of ribbon-wrapped hatpins and a brass paperweight, instead of the ransom demanded in exchange for the release of Marcus. Alerted by one of the footmen, O'Malley had followed her to the docks. Had the duke or the earl caught wind of her leaving without O'Malley hot on her heels…they would have skinned him alive.

The lass, Miss Gillingham, reminded O'Malley of Lady Phoebe. Neither one had listened to him. Thank God O'Ghill hadn't been in London at the time Lady Phoebe had slipped out of the town house, or else he'd have locked her in her bedchamber…and that would have not ended well for him.

A movement to the south near a copse of fir trees caught O'Malley's eye. He lifted the rifle, aimed it at the trees, and waited patiently. A fawn pranced out of the grouping of trees and lifted its nose toward the warmth of the sun, scenting his freedom. A doe followed closely behind her young, nudging the little one on the hindquarters to get him moving back to the protection of the trees.

"Protective, just like Ma," O'Malley murmured. He lowered his rifle, slipped it over his shoulder, and proceeded to check the four corners of the rooftop. He could see in all directions for at least a mile, though not as deeply into the heavily wooded areas.

His mother had reminded him in her most recent letter that it was still her job to worry about him and his brothers. He didn't mind her telling him what to do from a distance and smiled every time he answered her letters, enclosing the money he'd set aside from his wages to help maintain their family's farm. His brothers and cousins all did the same. 'Twas the only reason they had left home—looking for a way to earn enough coin for their families to hold on to land that had been in their families for generations. Blood, sweat, and tears had never been enough to hold on to it. 'Twas coin that made the difference.

O'Malley was surprised to see O'Ghill climbing up the ladder to the roof, near the end of his shift. "Nice view ye have up here." O'Malley grunted, and his cousin grinned and held out his flask. "Have a nip of the Irish—ye'll feel better for it."

"Later. I need to be alert."

"When has a sip or two of whiskey ever made ye slow-witted?"

O'Malley chuckled. "'Tis best not to speak of it until I am in between shifts and grabbing a bite to eat."

O'Ghill shrugged. "Don't say I didn't offer to share me flask with ye. By the by, his lordship wants to speak to ye."

"Why didn't ye say so right off?"

He shrugged. "Ye looked as if ye could use a drink."

O'Malley sighed. "Did his lordship ask ye to take over me post? Otherwise, I cannot leave until me relief arrives."

"Not exactly."

"Well then, I'd best wait until—"

A short, sharp whistle sounded—the signal every man in the guard knew and used to warn of danger or an emergency. O'Malley tightened his grip on his rifle, then sprinted for the ladder, climbed halfway down, and jumped the last few feet to the ground. O'Ghill was hot on his heels. Running full out, they rounded the corner of the house and skidded to a halt. Garahan and Flaherty were waiting for them.

"What's wrong?" O'Malley demanded.

"His lordship received a missive from Bow Street," Garahan answered. "King advised that Anderson has left the sanctuary of Prinny's household and was observed leaving his home by carriage, headed for North Road."

He did not need to elaborate on the situation. The general consensus among the duke's guard was that Anderson would seek revenge against Garahan and O'Ghill for the social embarrassment he'd suffered being questioned for a crime that would soil his reputation. O'Malley's temper erupted with the thought that the bloody bugger would never have to pay for his crimes.

O'Malley and O'Ghill agreed with Garahan when he told them what he feared most: Anderson would come after Prudence. Garahan suspected Anderson was still livid that she had married Garahan and slipped through his fingers before he could fulfill his part of the bargain, collecting the rest of the coin Prudence's mother and aunt had promised the bleeding bugger.

"We'd best not keep his lordship waiting." O'Malley didn't bother to wait for the men—he knew they would be right behind him.

The group entered through the back door, making their way along the hallway and series of rooms before reaching the kitchen and the door to the main part of the house. Each man wore an expression of determination as he strode down the marbled hallway to the baron's study.

The door was open, but O'Malley knocked on it anyway. Summerfield looked up from the bit of foolscap he held in his hands. "Good. You're all here. O'Ghill, I will need your help, too."

"Ye have it, yer lordship," O'Ghill replied.

"Excellent." Summerfield turned to his men and told them, "King has had men shadowing Anderson since he was questioned, expecting the lord to be released."

"'Tis what we feared as well," O'Malley said. "Do ye want me to speak to the footmen we recruited a month ago?" He did not need to explain their duties to them. The footmen temporarily assigned as guards had been performing them since Lady Phoebe was injured. The baroness was three months along with their first babe, complicating her recovery. Summerfield had asked their physician to extend his order that her ladyship remain in bed as a precaution to ensure she would not miscarry their babe. Dr. Higgins had readily agreed.

"No need. I have already spoken to Timmons," the baron replied. "He is speaking to the footmen now. The extra men guarding her ladyship are essential, as her medical confinement will be up in a few days." He met O'Malley's direct gaze and added, "Given my wife's propensity to jump before carefully considering the ramifications, I don't need to remind you that she will be poking her nose into the situation."

O'Malley's lips twitched. "Nay, yer lordship."

"Prudence, and our young wards, will be spending their time with my wife. It will be easier to protect them if they are all in one place." The baron slowly smiled. "Besides, those scamps make her laugh. They adore Lady Phoebe and feel as protective of her as they do Prudence."

Summerfield's smile faded. The bleak expression on his face was telling. He was preparing for attack. O'Malley did not disagree with him. He was pleased that the baron had the foresight to plan for the worst. They would be prepared.

"Have ye sent word to His Grace and the earl?" Garahan asked.

"Just now," the baron said. "I can think of three of our tenant farmers who are excellent shots. Timmons sent one of the footmen to summon them here."

"What about Miss Chessy?" O'Ghill asked.

Flaherty, who had been silent up until now, asked, "And the blacksmith's daughter?"

"They'll be targets as well," Garahan said, "seeing's how they were abducted along with me wife."

"I'll have Timmons—"

O'Malley interrupted the baron. "Begging yer pardon, yer lordship, but the vicar and the blacksmith may be more willing to listen if ye send one of us."

Summerfield nodded. "Excellent point, O'Malley. O'Ghill, the young women trust you, as you and Garahan were the ones to rescue them. Speak to their fathers, see if they will agree to allowing me to shelter their daughters here."

Flaherty cleared his throat. When all eyes turned to him, he said, "Don't be forgetting Mrs. Chessy and her niece Miss Gillingham. They should not remain behind. Anderson has no conscience, nor respect for women. He may retaliate and try to get his hands on both of them if he cannot find Melanie and Olivia."

The baron raked a hand through his hair. "Of course—see that they come along, too. We need to spread the word while there is still time to ensure that everyone in the village and our tenant farmers know of this volatile situation and take precautions."

"Aye, yer lordship," O'Malley answered for the group.

"Uncle Baron!" a youthful voice called from behind them.

"Uncle Baron!" a second voice echoed.

The men turned as Squire Honeycutt's twin sons raced toward Summerfield but rocked to a stop in the doorway to the study. "Can we… May we come in?" one asked.

"Aye, boys." Summerfield waved them in.

"We heard the bast —er, blackguard who tried to steal our cousin is coming to try again," Percy blurted out.

"And we want to help stop him!" Phineas said.

When the baron did not answer right away, Percy looked at his brother, and when he nodded, Percy added, "Phineas and me have a plan."

"Do ye now?" O'Malley asked.

"Lady Phoebe and I are so proud of how well you have adapted to living here at Summerfield Chase," Summerfield said. "You are a huge help in the stables with our horses."

"Don't forget how hard the lads have been working training with wooden swords and rope climbing," Flaherty reminded the baron.

"All the while continuing their studies with Prudence," Garahan added.

"Our cousin is a wonderful teacher, and not squeamish at all," Phineas said.

"She digs up worms to bait our hooks, and helps us collect tadpoles and salamanders," Percy added.

Garahan chuckled. "Me wife is a rare woman who enjoys being out of doors almost as much as the two of ye."

The baron knelt beside the twins and asked, "What plan did you have in mind, boys?"

Their chests puffed up with pride as they rushed to tell the baron their plan. "Phineas and I will stick with Prudence all day, every day," Percy informed him. "Until Garahan and the others take care of that bugg —er, blackguard."

Phineas nodded and said, "We were going to split up, and I was going to stick beside Lady Phoebe, but she's been awful sick in the mornings and only seems to get better after you bring her a cup of tea and one of Mrs. Green's scones."

The baron slowly smiled. "Noticed that, did you?"

"We both did," Percy said.

"And we noticed that her eyes turn a really deep blue," Phineas added. "She smiles whenever you walk in the room."

"Uh huh," Percy said. "Garahan said it's 'cause she's partial to you."

"That means she likes you," Phineas told the baron. "A whole lot."

Summerfield pulled the boys into a hard hug before releasing them to stand. "Our lives are richer having you boys living with us. We're partial to you, too."

The twins grinned. "So, do you like our plan?" Percy asked.

Summerfield glanced at his guard. "What do you think, men?"

"'Tis sound," Flaherty replied.

"A good idea," O'Ghill said.

"Well thought out," O'Malley added.

"Ye thought with yer heads and then yer hearts, lads," Garahan said. "Me cousins and I could not have thought up a better plan for guarding me wife."

"You are right about mine, too," the baron said. "Phoebe does perk up when I bring her a bite or two of scone and pot of tea. Knowing the two of you are guarding Prudence is a huge relief. I will be able to guard Phoebe without worrying about Prudence."

"We knew you'd see reason, Uncle Baron," Percy said.

"We won't let you, or the duke's guard, down," Phineas promised.

Summerfield laid a hand on each boy's shoulder. "I never thought you would. Now then, isn't it time for your midmorning visit to the stables to pass out the carrots and apples?"

"It is!" Phineas grabbed his brother's hand and tugged him into the hallway. "Come on, Percy! Bye, Uncle Baron! Bye, Garahan," Phineas called out over his shoulder.

"Bye, Flaherty. Bye, O'Malley!" Percy said.

Both boys paused and yelled, "Bye, Killian!"

Watching the twins race off, Garahan turned to the baron. "Ye've saved those two from a life of unhappiness, allowing them to live here while their parents are in the gaol. Prudence and I are grateful to ye."

Summerfield frowned. "Neither Phoebe nor I could stand the thought of where those two would end up, since your mother-in-law has been detained as well. Phoebe said she wanted to speak to me about their future—there is a chance they could end up orphans. We will not let that happen. No matter what, they are family now."

The men readily agreed, and O'Malley said, "We'll see to it we teach them how to protect and defend the women who look after them."

"From yer wife to the scullery maids," Flaherty added.

"The women in the village," O'Ghill said.

"And the tenant farmers' wives and daughters," Garahan reminded them.

The baron grinned. "That ought to keep those two rapscallions busy for the next few years."

"By then yer babe will be ready for the lessons Percy and Phineas have learned," O'Malley said.

"And they will no doubt be ready to pass on their knowledge," Summerfield replied. "Well done, men." With a nod to O'Ghill, he said, "Report back to me when you return from speaking to Vicar Chessy and Coleman."

"Aye, yer lordship."

Turning back to his guard, Summerfield said, "We may need to increase the number of footmen moving to guard duty."

"Aye," O'Malley agreed.

"Four ought to be enough," Flaherty said.

Garahan shook his head. "I'm thinking six or eight."

The baron looked up at the sound of his name being called. "Mrs. Green must have my wife's tea and scones ready." With a nod to O'Malley, he said, "You know where to find me."

"Aye, yer lordship."

Two hours later, O'Malley was guarding the perimeter when O'Ghill returned with a black look on his face. "I have a message for the baron."