Chapter Nine

O 'Malley could not believe that not one of the lasses would leave their homes. Even with the threat of that bleeding bugger Anderson headed their way! Had they lost the good sense the Lord gave them? Did they not remember what they'd gone through? He shuddered, recalling the detailed report Garahan and O'Ghill had relayed to the baron. Every word had felt like a knife slashing deep. No woman should ever have to face what they had. How could they have forgotten so quickly?

He struggled not to shout that their fathers should have laid down the law and made them leave with O'Ghill. A glance around the room at those gathered and he sensed he was not alone in his opinion. "What of Miss Gillingham?" he asked. "Surely the only reason she stayed behind was because of her cousin."

O'Ghill shook his head. "Ye would have thought with all she'd encountered at the pawnshop, and then faced when the blackguard falsely accused her of stealing to the Watch, that she would have come willingly. But she refused, too."

O'Malley could not hide his surprise. "What did she have to say?"

"She would not leave her aunt and cousin to handle all of their duties without her. They were her family now, and she would stand strong with them."

O'Malley cursed beneath his breath.

Summerfield nodded. "I heartily agree."

The baron's even tone surprised O'Malley. "Are ye not in the least upset that the lasses refused to leave their homes?"

"If it was your mother, would she have left?" Summerfield asked.

O'Malley snorted. "Not on yer life—begging yer pardon, yer lordship."

"No need, O'Malley. You are always free to speak your mind and do not have to continue to beg my pardon," the baron replied. "You and the others have earned my respect, and that of my cousins, along with the right to speak freely."

As one the group nodded, and Flaherty sighed. "'Twas a heavy burden constantly worrying I'd be saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, yer lordship. I'm not used to dealing with Polite Society."

Garahan agreed and thanked the baron. "'Twill make our job easier if we did not have to constantly watch what we say to ye."

Summerfield's eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me that you haven't been speaking freely since the day you accompanied Phoebe and me here?"

O'Malley shrugged. "Flaherty's right. We aren't used to mingling with the ton . We were born and raised to work our family's farms back home. Each of us has a talent that we used, hoping to lighten our parents' load, but in the end, we had to no choice but to come to England. The promise of coin to send home to ease our family's burden was a lure we could not refuse."

The baron met O'Malley's gaze first, then that of Garahan, Flaherty, and O'Ghill. "My apologies, men. I would not have purposely made your job protecting my wife harder than it already has been."

"Ye haven't—well, except for yer strict order to set a specific time when we practice to keep our bare-knuckle skills sharp." O'Malley glanced at his cousins. When each one of them nodded, he told Summerfield, "As Irishmen, 'tis ingrained in our blood to watch what we say and to whom we speak. But we have never been treated with anything but respect since we were hired by His Grace. We're thankful, and grateful."

"Aye," Garahan said. "And we will do whatever necessary to continue to protect his family."

"Do not forget that ye are included in our protection, yer lordship," Flaherty said.

"Even though I'm not employed by the duke," O'Ghill said, "ye have me word of honor to protect yerself and yer family with me life, yer lordship. Me cousin's vow to the duke became me own when I showed up on yer doorstep, and ye treated me as if I were a part of their number."

"Ye are, ye bleeding eedjit ," Garahan reminded him. "Ye're our blood, therefore a part of us."

O'Ghill snorted and locked gazes with O'Malley. "Even the sainted O'Malley clan?"

O'Malley shook his head. "Aye, ye bugger, or have ye forgotten me ma was a Garahan before she married me da?"

"Distant cousin," O'Ghill reminded him. "Being as that is the case, I'd best hang around and lend a hand until Anderson shows his ugly mug." He cracked his knuckles, then turned and met the baron's steady gaze. "That is, if it is acceptable to ye, yer lordship."

"More than," Summerfield replied. "I'm glad to have you back, O'Ghill. Now that that has been settled, what are we going to do to protect the vicar's family and the blacksmith's daughter?"

O'Malley said, "We need a man in the village to protect them. As the lasses trust Killian, and Garahan's needed here, O'Ghill should be the one to guard them."

Summerfield agreed. "Excellent notion. With the added number of our footmen, and the sharpshooters from our tenant farmers, we shall be ready to fire the first volley across Anderson's bow."

Garahan chuckled. "I'm thinking ye mean over his horse's head, as we aren't at sea, yer lordship."

The baron frowned. "It is a figure of speech."

"Faith, we know it. But none of us are seamen," Flaherty added. "We're tied to the earth."

Summerfield shook his head, chuckling. "I did encourage you to speak freely, didn't I?"

"That ye did," O'Malley reminded him.

"Fair enough," the baron said before turning back to O'Ghill. "I'll pay for a room for you at the inn."

"Not necessary, yer lordship. Coleman offered meals and a bunk to bed down on at his shop anytime, if I lend a hand when he needs it."

"I'll also send you with enough coin to eat during your stay," Summerfield said.

"Thank ye, but again, 'tisn't necessary," O'Ghill told him. "Mrs. Chessy said I'm welcome to eat with them any time, as she can never repay me for bringing her daughter back safe and sound."

"Well then, it appears I have picked the man for the job. Is there anything you can think of that you need before you leave?"

O'Ghill frowned. "A note from yerself stating I'm temporarily on assignment working for ye, and that the lasses need to obey me." He rubbed his chin and continued, "There's a slight chance they may take umbrage at the fact that while they're under me protection, they need to listen to me."

O'Malley listened to the exchange and felt his temper simmering. He should be the one to protect Miss Gillingham—not O'Ghill. The vision of the feisty lass at the hands of the kidnapper, should he return, had him curling his hands into tight fists. When he realized it, he relaxed and flexed them. Now was not the time to feel territorial where the lass was concerned. Her safety was as important to him as that of the baron's family and the others who would be in Anderson's sights. The fecking bastard!

"Can you think of anything I have forgotten, O'Malley?"

The baron's question brought his thoughts back to where they should be, focused on the volatile situation about to explode, if and when the kidnapper returned to attempt another abduction. The blighter should have remained in custody and never been allowed to leave with Prinny. The ramifications of the man having been released, and solely because of his position in the bloody ton , weighed heavy on O'Malley. "I'm thinking O'Ghill may need assistance."

"In yer dreams," O'Ghill grumbled. "I'm well able to handle four women."

Garahan snorted with laughter. "Aye, but none of the ones ye're to protect have set their sights on marrying ye…except for one."

O'Ghill's face lost all expression as he grabbed for his cousin, but Garahan was quick on his feet and evaded him. "Ye'll want to watch what ye say, Garahan."

"And ye'll need to watch what comes out of yer gob around that lass," Garahan reminded him. "She's too young for the likes of ye."

"Have I said I'm interested?" O'Ghill demanded.

"Not in so many words." O'Ghill nodded, and Garahan added, "'Tis in yer eyes every time ye look at the lass."

"She's too young!" O'Ghill shot back.

"Aye, glad to hear ye realize it," O'Malley said before their words could escalate into something more. "Now then, I'm thinking we can either send one of the footmen with experience helping our guard, or one of the tenant farmers."

"I have heard that Stanbridge's eldest son is handy with a short-barreled pistol and rifle," Summerfield said.

"'Tisn't saying much, yer lordship," O'Ghill mumbled. "Anyone can fire a blunderbuss."

"Ah, but a rifle takes more skill, wouldn't you agree?" the baron asked.

O'Ghill grudgingly agreed. "Very well. Where do I find the man?"

"The Stanbridge family works his lordship's tenant farm closest to the village," O'Malley answered. He slowly smiled. "I heard recently that Melanie Chessy was enamored of the lad."

He was pleased to see O'Ghill's reaction—the fierce frown and the tightly balled fists at his sides.

O'Ghill ignored him and turned to Summerfield. "I'll be needing another missive from ye then, yer lordship, as I'm not an official member of yer guard and not every one of yer tenants knows me."

The baron returned to his desk, sat down, and penned the missives. He blotted and sanded them, and handed them to O'Ghill. "If you run into any problems, although I cannot imagine that you will, send word."

"Aye, yer lordship." O'Ghill stalked from the room without a word to his cousins.

"Is his anger a concern?" Summerfield asked O'Malley.

"Nay. 'Twill ensure that he keeps his mind on his duty and not the lass."

The baron frowned. "She is only six and ten."

"Aye," O'Malley replied.

"And well he knows it," Garahan said.

"Ye can trust O'Ghill," Flaherty added.

Summerfield drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Anything else we need to plan for?"

"There is one more thing," O'Malley said.

"Oh, what would that be?"

O'Malley glanced at Garahan, who nodded—they'd spoken of it earlier. "Ye may want to ask King to have one of his men on hand at Newgate, watching to see who, if anyone, visits the squire or his wife."

"Is that all?"

"Nay," Garahan said. "Ask King if he can have someone watch me wife's family. After how they treated Prudence all of her life, I wouldn't trust her sisters or her da."

Summerfield digested the suggestions before agreeing. "Let Timmons know that I have an urgent missive to send to London."

"Aye, yer lordship." O'Malley strode from the room. He was confident that they had considered every possible aspect to control a situation that could very well blow up in their faces.

As his ma had taught him and his brothers when they were small to never underestimate the power of a simple prayer, he said, "Lord, it's O'Malley again." He paused and could not remember if his ma had reminded them to be specific when praying. After all, he had three brothers and four O'Malley cousins. He started over as he covered the distance from the baron's study to the entryway where Timmons would be found this time of day. "Lord, it's Thomas O'Malley, the one with the eedjit twin, Eamon. Please watch over those we're guarding with our lives."

Timmons looked up at the sound of O'Malley's footsteps, and O'Malley thought of one more bit to add to his prayer: "Especially the feisty redheaded lass with the freckles and spectacles."

Satisfied that he'd remembered everything, and that the Lord would watch over the innocents they were protecting, he passed along the baron's message to the butler. O'Malley thanked him, then retraced his steps to the study, where the footmen were due to report momentarily.

With reinforcements, the duke's guard would be ready, prepared to stop Anderson once and for all! 'Twas a pity, O'Malley thought, that the duke had forbidden the men in his guard to kill those who preyed on His Grace's family. The duke believed in justice and relying on the British courts to handle matters.

But O'Malley believed in a much older form of justice… An eye for an eye .