Chapter Sixteen

He loved her!

Draco loved her.

“What have we missed?” Imogen’s uncle strode forward to greet Draco, who managed to return his greeting with a politely bland expression that revealed nothing of his admission of a moment ago.

Imogen scampered to her feet and ran to her aunt’s side. She did not know why she had skittered away from Draco, because all she wanted to do was run into his arms and kiss him fiercely.

But he was all business once again.

He winced slightly and rose to offer Phoebe his seat. She waved him back down and settled in one of the chairs around the wrought-iron table where they usually took their tea in the afternoons.

Imogen sat beside her. “The mystery of Mrs. Halsey’s shattered window has been solved. We also received word from Mr. Barrow, who has ruled out Lord and Lady Trewick as suspects.”

Uncle Cormac turned to Draco. “You never really thought the Trewicks were involved. What happened with the tea shop incident?”

Draco quickly repeated all he’d learned and what he had done to secure the horse.

“Bloody little prick,” Uncle Cormac muttered, looking truly incensed.

Phoebe gasped. “Cormac! Your language!”

“What? His careless shot would have struck Imogen and killed her if Woodley hadn’t pulled her out of the way in time. Thank you, Woodley. Truly, you have my lifelong gratitude.”

Draco nodded. “I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her.”

Her uncle gave a grunt in appreciation. “I’ll see him hanged. I’ll do it myself, with my own two hands if I—” He stopped suddenly, glanced at his missing arm, and then gazed at his wife in utter frustration. “What am I saying? I’ll do it singlehandedly.”

“Cormac, honestly.” Aunt Phoebe strode to him and melted into his embrace.

Yes, this was what Imogen wanted so badly to share with Draco. Love, concern, hope, fears. Trust. Support. All of it.

Draco cast her a soft look. “Imogen also received a letter from her sister.”

Phoebe turned to her and smiled, but still remained nestled against Cormac. This was more to keep him calm than anything else, for he was still incensed over the Walter incident and frustrated because he only had the one hand to strangle the man. He always felt powerless and hated the feeling. Only Phoebe knew how to soothe him.

Imogen wanted to have this same special intimacy with Draco.

Her uncle glanced at the letter resting atop the table. “What did Ella have to say?”

They all took seats around the table as more refreshments were brought out and Imogen read the news aloud. By this time, Deandra had come down to join them. She sat beside Draco and fussed over him because she needed to stay close to him.

Imogen knew she was still overset about the incident. No one had any idea where Deandra’s father was, so Melrose was sent off to find him and inform him tea was served on the terrace. He returned a short while later to announce that Albert had taken the rig back to Woodley Hall to retrieve some books.

“My rig?” Draco frowned. “Will you loan me a horse, Burness? I’ll go after him.”

“I think you have done quite enough today,” Deandra said, taking hold of his hand and refusing to let go. “Are you afraid he will get lost? He isn’t completely absent-minded. I’m sure he will return in time for supper.”

“Fine.” He wasn’t in any hurry to move now that he had made himself comfortable.

To everyone’s relief, Albert strolled in well before supper. Imogen could see a lightness wash over Draco’s face.

“I would have brought you whatever you needed,” Draco told him.

“I know, nephew. You treat me and Deandra like royalty. It is quite unnecessary, but much appreciated. It was a simple chore, and one I was well able to do. You did not mind that I took your rig, did you?”

“No, not at all. Whatever is mine is yours to share.”

A curl of warmth spread through Imogen’s body. She loved Draco’s tender regard for his family.

She smiled at him.

He winked back at her.

She melted completely.

They all had supper together, and had just finished the soup course when they heard a distant bark. Draco heard it first and shot to his feet. “Burness, please excuse me. That is Parrot. Constable Angel must be with him.”

Uncle Cormac set down his spoon and rose along with him. “Of course. I’ll join you. Let’s hear what the constable has to report.”

Imogen set aside her table linen. “I’m coming with you.”

“We may as well all go,” Phoebe muttered.

Albert looked at them as though they had all gone mad. “Why? Has something happened?”

Deandra shook her head and sighed. “Oh, Papa. I do wish you would take your nose out of your books once in a while. Draco was wounded, and it was all a terrible accident. Did you not even notice?”

Supper was set aside while they all greeted Constable Angel with much relief.

“Did you get him?” Imogen’s uncle asked.

“Aye, my lord. Thanks to Lord Woodley’s dog. He’s a good tracker. Walter’s locked up in the fort prison under Major Brennan’s care. He’s too slippery a character to leave to my woeful gaol. The cells are little more than guest rooms for locals to sleep when they’re drunk.”

They invited the constable to dine with them, but he politely declined, since his wife would have a meal waiting for him and he was eager to get back to his family. “Then I shall not delay you,” Uncle Cormac said.

Draco did not return to the table. “Parrot must be hungry and exhausted. He also smells a bit…ripe. Who knows where he finally found Walter? I had better get him home and bathed.”

“Let us take care of it here,” Imogen suggested. “Cook will have scraps for him, and I can wash him right after we finish our supper.”

He laughed. “You, Imogen?”

She nodded. “Yes, why not?”

Melrose cleared his throat. “Might I suggest I tend to it? Parrot is quite used to me.”

Deandra clapped her hands. “Thank you, Melrose. It is no wonder everyone adores you. May we finish our supper now?”

Imogen was not surprised when Draco went along with Melrose, but he soon returned to the dining table in good spirits. “Burness, your staff is treating Parrot like a prince,” he said with a jovial chuckle. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“It is nothing to what you have done for us. Imogen is our sweetheart, and you protected her.”

Draco smiled at her.

Imogen could not wait for his assignment to be over. He claimed to love her to the depths of his soul. Her heart had yet to stop fluttering.

But there was still business to accomplish. They had not had a chance to review the books of horse sketches and London scenes she had brought down. Imogen had brought them back up to her bedchamber before supper, but resolved to look them over tonight and let Draco know if she found anything of interest.

When the meal was over, everyone retired to the parlor. Imogen tried to stifle her yawns, but she was exhausted, and it was obvious to everyone. Draco seemed to be holding up better, but it was not long before he bade everyone a good evening and left with Parrot on his heels.

Albert retired to the library to read. Imogen could not keep her eyes open and excused herself, too.

Deandra went upstairs with her. “You poor thing. I slept away the afternoon, but you kept busy and have yet to recover from your ordeal.”

The only ordeal for Imogen was worrying about Draco. That had taken so much out of her that she forgot about her own wrist sprain, which really was nothing and did not hurt at all. She could have taken off the bandage around her wrist at any point in the day and not felt any discomfort. Draco, however, had an ugly row of stitches along the upper part of his arm that had to be sore and throbbing. She knew he was too stubborn to take the laudanum he had been prescribed.

She washed up, changed out of her gown, and donned her nightclothes. A book of horse sketches was on her bed, so she scampered under the covers, intending to peruse this book.

Deandra was chattering away, happy that Walter had been captured. Imogen merely nodded and gave an occasional grunt while looking through her sketches. She must have been more tired than she realized, because the next thing she knew, the sun was shining in her face and all her books were on the floor.

Deandra plunked herself down on Imogen’s bed. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she crooned in a merry singsong that made Imogen roll over and bury her head under her pillow.

“Ugh, how can you be so cheerful? What time is it, Deandra?”

“Almost ten o’clock. Phoebe said I ought to let you sleep, but I wanted to make certain you were all right.”

Imogen sat up in alarm and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “You should have awakened me earlier. Has Draco come by yet?”

Deandra pursed her lips. “Is he expected?”

“No.” Imogen sighed and fell back against her pillow. “I just wondered if he would.”

“Perhaps he will stop by later this afternoon. What shall we do today? Your uncle said we are not to leave Westgate Hall. I suppose he just wants to be sure that horrible Walter is still locked up and not able to cause more mischief. But I do feel bad for the injured soldiers who are expecting us to visit them. They’ll be terribly disappointed.”

Imogen patted Deandra’s hand. “We will make it up to them tomorrow. I’m feeling a bit lazy today, anyway.” She was not going to mention Draco’s meeting with the Irishman, but it was on her mind, and she would not stop worrying until he stopped by to see her afterward. “Deandra, I think I am going to lie abed a while longer. I’ll ring for Betty to bring me up a cup of tea.”

“Your aunt is taking her boys over to Chloe’s. They’ll probably have a picnic on her beach. Would you mind if I joined them? Moonstone Cottage is such a lovely place. No wonder Chloe and Fionn love it there. And how convenient that it is just next door to Westgate Hall.”

“That is a lovely idea. Enjoy the day.” That would leave Imogen free to review her sketches. “Aunt Phoebe and Chloe will love your company. Where is my uncle?”

“I think he rode to St. Austell Grange again today to meet with the Duke of Malvern and his estate manager, Mr. Weston. But he was most insistent that we were to stay close to home. Oh, should I stay with you?”

“No,” Imogen said. “Chloe’s place counts as staying close to home. He only meant we weren’t to take a trip into Moonstone Landing.”

Deandra shrugged. “I suppose he knows best. Besides, where are we to go now that Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop is closed for the next few days?”

“She’s arranged for space at the Kestrel Inn,” Imogen said. “But it isn’t the same. The inn is nice, though. We can complete our volunteer work tomorrow morning and stop there afterward for a bite to eat.”

“And strawberry tarts for dessert.” Deandra cast her an impish grin then ran off to join Phoebe.

Imogen never lazed abed, but she felt awfully cozy now that Betty had brought her a pot of tea, marmalade, and scones. While munching on her breakfast, she perused her sketches. Nothing of interest cropped up in the first book, nor in the second. But she leaped out of bed after looking at the third, which contained sketches of London in the late spring. She had drawn these at the end of May, a few weeks before her annual summer visit to Moonstone Landing. “Betty! Betty! I need to get dressed!”

Betty ran in, breathless. “Lady Imogen, one would think the roof were caving in. What’s the matter?”

Imogen undid her braid and tossed off her nightgown. “Is my uncle back yet?”

“No, I don’t think he will be back until suppertime.” Betty hastily withdrew fresh undergarments and a pretty yellow morning gown, but Imogen grabbed another gown instead, an ocean-blue muslin suitable for a day in the village. More important, it picked up the blue tones in her butterfly hair clips, and she meant to add a few of those to hold her curls in place.

She was off to find Draco and wanted him to notice the hair clips.

Not that it mattered, because he was going to be furious with her for disobeying her uncle’s order. Sticking a few hair clips in her hair that he had bought her as a love token was not going to calm him down.

She hastily washed, donned her shift, and then sat impatiently while Betty styled her hair and added a few of those clips. “Quick, the gown next, and it needs lacing.”

Betty worked as fast as she could, chiding Imogen when she would not stand still. “I’m going to poke you with this pin if you don’t stop fidgeting. Hold still while I attach the fichu to the collar. Honestly, Lady Imogen. You are as jumpy as a frog.”

She frowned when Imogen ignored the slippers she had set out and put on her walking boots instead.

“Your uncle gave strict instructions you were not to leave home today,” Betty warned.

“I am merely going for a walk. What is so wrong with that?” Imogen grabbed her sketchbook and tore out of her bedchamber, ignoring Betty’s shouts as she chased after her.

“You cannot disobey your uncle’s instructions! He will sack me, Lady Imogen!”

“No, he won’t. I won’t be long! If he returns early, just tell him I am out for a walk. But he won’t be back early, and I will return even before my aunt and Deandra finish their picnic at Moonstone Cottage.” Fortunately, Melrose was not at his post, for he would have stopped her for certain. But the young footman who had momentarily relieved him was not as secure in his authority and allowed her to pass when she tipped her nose into the air and, in her most condescendingly commanding tone, ordered him to step aside.

She asked for a horse to be saddled, but the stable hands had also been instructed not to let her off the property and refused her request. “Sorry, Lady Imogen. His lordship was quite clear.”

Ugh!Her uncle meant to keep her locked away. At Draco’s insistence, no doubt.

But it was vital she speak to Draco before he held his meeting with the Irishman.

Since Betty had also followed her out, she realized a bit of subterfuge would be required. “Fine,” she muttered within Betty’s hearing. “I’ll be spending the day in my bedchamber, and I do not wish to be disturbed!”

She marched back inside, felt the staff’s gaze on her as she stomped up the stairs, and made a point of slamming her door. Since the staff had never seen her throw a tantrum before, it left them confused, uncertain, and they all scurried for cover. This allowed her to skitter unseen down the back stairs and slip out of the house.

Once away from the house, she broke into a run. She could make it to the village in less than twenty minutes at this pace. The air was stifling and the sun beat down on her, but it was only a couple of miles from here to there, and she could cut across the Duke of Claymore’s meadow to trim a little off the distance.

Goodness, it was hot. Of all the days to have no wind.

But she pressed on, because showing Draco what she had found would not take long to do. Afterward, it would not be difficult to have one of Mr. Matchett’s grooms hitch a rig and drive her home. Indeed, she would return in plenty of time to greet Deandra and Phoebe when they returned from their picnic at Chloe’s.

Her boots were sturdy, and she was used to taking long walks, but Imogen was completely out of breath by the time she reached the high street. Draco was to meet the Irishman at the Three Lions within the hour, but she did not know if he would be at the tavern yet.

She decided to stop by the Kestrel Inn and ask Thaddius if he knew of Draco’s whereabouts, since the innkeeper was as curious as she was and seemed aware of the comings and goings of everyone in the village. If Thaddius hadn’t seen him, then she would stop by Constable Angel’s office and inquire of him.

Thaddius, as hoped, had the answer she sought. “I noticed him walking to the tavern with Parrot not five minutes ago.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and hurried across the street.

Her next problem was how to sneak into the tavern without being noticed. William Angel was a very nice young man, but he would refuse to admit her if she attempted to walk in on her own. Proper young ladies were simply not allowed in the tavern without an escort, and there was not a man in town who would dare escort her for fear her uncle would run him through with a sword blade.

She ambled past the tavern then circled around the back, creeping close enough to peer through one of the rear windows. It was early yet, and the tavern was just opening up. Was anyone in there besides Draco?

“Drat,” she muttered, for the place was dark and there were too many nooks where men could sit and not be seen.

She hoisted herself up against the window, pasting her nose to the glass. “Parrot.” She whistled softly. “Show yourself.”

She was about to give up and simply walk in through the kitchen when someone suddenly grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth to muffle her screams. She tried to kick her assailant and managed two feeble kicks to his shin before she noticed Parrot watching her, a smile on his face and his tail wagging.

Of course.

Draco.

She relaxed against her captor’s broad chest and breathed in the clean scent of bay spices on his skin. Oh, thank goodness. She held up her book and began to talk into his hand, which was still covering her mouth. “Look at the book,” she tried to tell him as she waved it back and forth.

His heart was pounding against her ear, a strong, rhythmic beat to indicate he was furious. His body was taut, all those hard muscles needlessly tense as he held her against him.

She tried to remove his hand from her mouth, but his blood was still in a boil, and he was not ready to accommodate her yet. He continued to hold her embarrassingly close, all that male heat and seething tension pressing against her skin. “What did you not understand about staying away from Moonstone Landing today?” he asked, his growl deep and sensual.

She waved the book in front of him again. He finally eased his hand off her mouth to allow her to speak. “Just look at these drawings and you will understand the urgency. Do you think I would ever disobey you if it wasn’t a matter of life and death?”

“You disobey me all the time.” But he eased his hold and held her in a delicious embrace instead of a captive grip.

She relaxed against him. Oh, he felt so good.

“I only disobey with the best of intentions.”

He groaned and turned her to face him. “What did you find in that book?”

“Do you mind if we move away from the tavern’s outhouse while we speak? The odor is pungent, to say the least.”

He wasn’t budging.

“Very well, be stubborn about it.” She opened the book to the sketches she had done in May of the riders on Rotten Row. “Most of my time was spent with Ella and my little nephew. But my sister and Caden also needed their privacy, so I did not visit them every day, even though they love me and are always happy to see me.”

“Imogen, get to the point.”

She quickly leafed through the pages until she got to the right one. “Since the weather was unusually pleasant, I set out my supplies near the children’s play area by the Serpentine in Hyde Park. I could easily watch the riders on Rotten Row and the carriages on the lane beside it without being noticed. Look.”

“What am I looking at?”

“A rider on a chestnut Friesian talking to two men in an open carriage. Look closely, Draco. Don’t you recognize them? Could this be Lord Eldridge talking to Healey and Burke?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Blast it, Imogen. I don’t know. I have no idea what Lord Eldridge looks like. Why did you not ask your uncle first?”

She frowned at him. “I would have, but he rode to St. Austell Grange to meet Cain and his estate manager, and will not be back before supper.”

“And your aunt?”

“Well, she was at Moonstone Cottage visiting Chloe.”

“Which is within spitting distance of Westgate Hall. You could have walked over there to ask her.”

“I considered it and immediately rejected the idea because she rarely goes to London now, and—”

“She would have figured out your intention and held on to you so that you could not run to Moonstone Landing to find me.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes, utterly and completely. Any footman could have delivered this book to me.”

“Would you have bothered to look at it before you met McTavish?” She cast him a knowing look. “This was too important a discovery to trust to anyone else.”

He would not stop frowning at her. “I have to get you home.”

“You mustn’t worry about me. I’ll make my own way home.”

He held her back when she attempted to hand him the book of sketches and leave his side. “Not on your life.” He took gentle hold of her arm. “The Drogheda has sailed into harbor and docked. I cannot leave you to walk around town searching for a ride home while the Irishman and his crew are walking about. Wait here. Let me see what I can arrange. Do not move a muscle. Parrot, guard her.”

Parrot trotted over, gave her hand a goopy lick, and then sat on her feet. “Good dog.” Draco ruffled the tuft of hair atop Parrot’s head. “Don’t let her move.”

Imogen tried to take a step forward as soon as Draco left her side.

Parrot surprised her by taking hold of her ankle between his jaws. His grip was light, but Imogen realized he meant to do exactly as Draco commanded and keep her in place. As sweet as the dog was with her, if she took another step, his grip would tighten. “Fine, I won’t budge. But I do not appreciate being forced to remain by the tavern’s outhouse.”

Draco returned within a few minutes, his expression grim. “Too late,” he grumbled. “They are everywhere. When I went to the stable to arrange for a rig to take you back home, Matchett, the idiot, was already talking to one of the Drogheda crewmen. He noticed me and immediately asked if Lady Imogen had found me. Thaddius obviously blabbed that you were looking for me.”

“What is wrong with that?”

“Did you not hear what I just said? One of the Drogheda’s crewmen was standing right there and overheard. He left to report to the Irishman. They now know your name.”

“But they do not know me or what my connection is to you. I could be a sixty-year-old dowager looking to invite you to one of my teas.”

His frown deepened. “No one in this village knows how to keep their mouths shut. Within five minutes, the Irishman will know every detail of your life. He will have a complete description of you and will be told of the Walter incident.”

“And how you were with me and protected me?”

Draco nodded.

She nibbled her lip. “What are we going to do?”

“Stay here and keep you out of sight. I’ll see if any of the tavern’s guestrooms are empty and then sneak you into one of them.”

This was not at all what she had planned. “Oh, that is not a good idea. I had better get back to Westgate Hall before Aunt Phoebe notices I am missing. Take me to Fort Arundel and leave me in Fionn’s charge. He’ll get me safely home.”

“Imogen, we would have to walk past the harbor and more of the Drogheda’s crewmen.”

“Then let me walk to the fort on my own.”

“Are you mad? A dozen fishmongers will point you out as you stroll by.”

“So what? Your Irishman won’t dare abduct me. In broad daylight? In front of everyone? He would have an entire army regiment down on him and his crew if they tried anything untoward.”

“I am not willing to take that risk. They will have seen you, and that is enough to worry me.”

“Draco, I have to get back home or my uncle will never forgive me or trust me ever again.”

“You should have thought of that before you came tearing down here. Did you not hear what I just said? The Irishman and his crew are crawling all over Moonstone Landing. You’re to stay hidden in one of those upstairs chambers until I am done and can escort you home. Must I chain you to the bedpost? Because I will do whatever it takes to keep you out of trouble. Bind you. Gag you. Chain you.”

She blushed. “Ella and I once read a book about bondage. Secretly, of course. Our father would have had an apoplexy had he known about it. A friend of ours had a brother who—”

“Gad, I do not want to know,” he said with exasperation and a hot release of breath. “You already rouse improper thoughts in me. Do not even encourage my mind to… Forget it. Wait here. Don’t move. Don’t talk. And don’t breathe.”

He stalked off and returned not a minute later with a dark cloak that must have been a man’s, because it was much too big for her. He wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled the hood over her neatly fashioned hair. “My clips,” she cried softly as one caught on the wool of the hood. “I don’t want to lose them.”

“I’ll buy you more,” he replied, his voice tense as he ushered her through the tavern’s kitchen, up the narrow back stairs, and down an equally narrow hallway whose old wooden floorboards creaked with every step they took.

She would have tripped several times along the way, since the cloak was too long and she could not hold on to it and her book at the same time. But Draco’s strong arms came around her each time she faltered. He still smelled like fresh bay spices, and she probably smelled of stale ale because the stench had gotten into the wool, and she would now reek of it, too.

He opened the last door at the top of the stairs, drew her inside, and then shut the door and latched it while he remained in there with her. “Um, Draco?”

It was a small room. He was a big man, and seemed even bigger as he towered over her with that fine body of his oozing tension and danger.

After a moment, his expression softened.

“You look like a little gnome in that cloak,” he said with a light chuckle, and took it off her to hang it on a peg beside the hearth. He then took the sketchbook out of her hands and set it atop the bureau for now. “Keep away from the windows. Securely latch the door once I’ve gone downstairs. Stick that book in a bureau drawer or under the mattress, anywhere it is not immediately visible should anyone break in… No, just put it in a drawer. That mattress cannot be very clean.”

Imogen had just sat down on the bed and immediately leaped up and began to brush off the backside of her gown. “I’m sure you are only saying this to rile me. William Angel runs a proper establishment.”

“Yes, for the most part. But these rooms are not only used to accommodate guests who wish to sleep.”

“What do you mean?”

He strode to the window, opened it a crack to allow in some air, and then drew the drapes closed so that only minimal light came in. “Sometimes these rooms are let by the hour. Do you understand what I am saying?”

She put a hand to her cheeks because her face was suddenly on fire. “Yes, I understand. How long did you secure use of this room for?”

“Six hours.”

She gasped. “Six! I cannot possibly stay here that long!”

“Hush, keep your voice down. Yes, six it is, and I am not changing it. I do not want you sticking your nose out of this room until my meeting is over and the Irishman has sailed away. Have a seat on that stool beside the hearth. Make yourself comfortable. You are not going anywhere for a while.”

She spread her handkerchief over the stool and sank down on it with a huff. “Does William know it is me you’ve brought up here?”

“Not yet, but he knows it is not one of the usual doxies who frequent his establishment. He’ll figure it out fairly soon, I suppose. Probably within five minutes, I’ll wager. Who else knows you are in town?”

“Thaddius is the only one I approached,” she said, now feeling quite miserable about this idea of hers. “Others may have seen me. It matters little now that Mr. Matchett is aware and telling everyone about me.”

Draco stared at her. “I have to get word to your uncle before he tears this village apart looking for you. Blast that idiot Matchett. He does not know how to keep his mouth shut. Nor does Thaddius, for that matter.”

“Yes, um…everyone gossips around here. Perhaps get word to Mrs. Halsey’s husband. He’ll be making his deliveries and can let my uncle know I am safely tucked away and he should not worry.”

“Not worry?” Draco laughed. “Oh, yes. He’ll be in excellent humor when he hears I have you locked in a room at the Three Lions tavern. No matter what we do, everyone will know it was me who brought you up here and kept you entertained for six hours.”

“Good grief. Surely everyone will realize it was all an innocent misunderstanding and nothing improper occurred. You’ll be seen downstairs talking to the Irishman. They cannot think… They cannot possibly imagine we were doing that all the while. In broad daylight, no less.”

“Does it matter whether the deed is done in day or night?”

“It feels more decadent in daylight. I’ll be ruined either way, I suppose.”

“Who’s fault is that?” He came to her side and knelt beside her. “Butterfly, you know I intend to marry you. I do not need to have you compromised to offer for your hand.”

She threw her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. “You would still marry me after this?”

“There’s no one else for me, sweetheart.” His arms closed around her, wrapping her in his protective warmth for a long moment before he released her.

She sighed. “Uncle Cormac will be so disappointed in me. By the time I am returned home, he will have heard some completely distorted version of the facts, of course.”

“I will straighten out any misunderstanding. I’ve warned William that I will break his nose if he lets slip I have a woman up here. I’ll break his leg if he dares come up here to find out who I’ve smuggled in.”

He looked fierce enough to be believed. But Imogen knew he would never harm William. Besides, William was a smart young man and would figure out she was the woman without need of ever coming up here.

“He’s not the one you need to worry about.” As the tavern’s proprietor, he knew to keep his mouth shut about his patrons. “It’s too late now that Thaddius and Mr. Matchett have been telling anyone who will listen.” She groaned, buried her face in her hands for a moment, and then looked up at him again. “I only meant to warn you about Lord Eldridge and his connection to Healey and Burke, then be on my way. You needed a name to shock McTavish into giving up these rebels. Lord Eldridge’s name will do the trick.”

He merely stared at her, obviously not convinced.

“Draco, does it not make sense that Eldridge is one of the rebel plotters? Perhaps their top man.”

“Imogen, it is too far-fetched. More likely, they are mere acquaintances greeting each other in passing, because the ton is a fairly closed establishment and everyone knows everyone else. Family connections. Old school chums. Members of the same elite clubs. Horse enthusiasts. Your discovery could have waited, Imogen.”

“But don’t you see? Now you can mention the stolen chestnut Friesian to the Irishman and see his reaction. Your recovering the horse is the perfect way to mention Lord Eldridge without raising suspicion. If McTavish does not react, then no harm done and you move on to speak of something else.”

He caressed her cheek. “And you think this is worth putting your life at risk?”

His face was close to hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath as it mingled with hers. “The risk to my life is greatly exaggerated,” she insisted. “They want you, not me. You are just being overly protective of me. You are the one at risk, and I will do everything I can to protect you. When are you due to meet the Irishman?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Will you stay up here with me until then?” Her mind was already wandering down an improper path, thinking of how they might occupy their time. After all, she was ruined, and he was going to marry her. Were they not as good as betrothed? It seemed a terrible waste to keep his big, rough hands and beautifully shaped lips idle.

“No, but I’ll be back.” He kissed her on the forehead, rose, stuffed the book into a bureau drawer, then marched to the door. “Parrot, guard her. Imogen, latch the door behind me. When I return, I will knock four times in rapid succession, then count to five and do the same again. Do not respond to any other knock. If someone breaks down the door, let Parrot fight him off.”

Her eyes widened. Why was he being such a prophet of doom?

She began to sputter questions, but he ignored her and strode out.

Parrot growled softly when she attempted to follow him out. He grabbed hold of the hem of her gown. “You are contributing to my ruination, Parrot. I hope you feel some remorse for this,” she said, securing the door as Draco had instructed.

The dog merely turned his head in that parrot way of his.

“Fine, be stubborn.” She sank back down on the stool, but took note of the hearth irons that could be used to defend herself should things go wrong and Parrot could not protect her. “I was sure he was going to seduce me,” she muttered. “Parrot, would you think less of me if I surrendered to his charms?”

Parrot squawked as he stretched out across her feet.

“He really could have kissed me before he took himself off. One scorching kiss. Is that too much to ask? He did not even allow his hands to roam. He has the nicest hands, don’t you think?”

Parrot covered his ears with his paws.

“Fine, I will not speak of him. I am angry with him anyway. I could have been halfway home by now if he hadn’t tossed me up here.”

But her complaint was quite halfhearted, especially now that she heard voices beneath her window and suddenly heard Draco’s name mentioned.

She tiptoed to the window that Draco had opened a crack to allow some air into the cramped quarters. She peered out, careful not to be seen.

Three men had taken seats at one of the long tables outdoors. This guest chamber overlooked the tavern’s back garden and gave her a clear view of these unsavory rogues. The outhouse was tucked in a corner of the garden just beyond the tables.

She watched with growing concern as these grizzled men settled in with their ales. She recognized them as sailors from the Irishman’s ship, the very ones who had rowed to shore along with McTavish that day at the pirate caves. She had seen them through Draco’s spyglass and would never forget their faces.

One of them drew out his knife.

“Put it away, ye arse,” another of them said. “Captain don’t want no killing here. We’re to wait until payment is received before we slit anyone’s throat. Don’t go bein’ a hothead, Lemuel, and ruinin’ it for all of us.”

“I don’t care,” the man called Lemuel said. “I don’t trust that Draco. He’s up to no good, and I’m not waiting around to be caught in a trap and hanged.”

“Ye think he’s setting us up?” the first man said. “Captain trusts him, and that’s good enough for me.”

Lemuel growled. “Then ye’re a fool, Jake. He’s a bloody earl now. What would he want with the likes of us unless it was to turn us in?”

The third man spoke up. “I’m with Jake. If the captain trusts him, then so do I. He was one of us for years. A fancy title ain’t going to change him.”

“He was never one of us,” Lemuel said. “Aye, he was a privateer. But did he ever maraud on behalf of anyone but the Crown? He’s loyal to England. So what’s he doin’ involved in a scheme to overthrow the monarchy?”

“Hush, ye fool!” Jake said, glancing around furtively. Fortunately, he did not think to look up, or he might have noticed the curtains flutter as Imogen hastily backed away. “Anyone might hear ye. Ye’ve already had too much to drink. Shut up and don’t say another word.”

Lemuel cursed at his companion. “No one’s around to hear us.” He took another swig of his ale. “Captain thinks he’s so smart, but I just heard Eldridge’s prime stud was stolen right out from under his nose, and he’s on his way here to claim him. What I think is Draco’s set a trap to snare us all right here in Moonstone Landing. The Crown agents are onto us, and Draco is working with them to catch us all in one big net, I’m telling ye.”

“Ye’re crazy, Lemuel. Captain’s about to meet with Draco. We ain’t done nothing wrong, and no one’s going to arrest us. Even if they were suspicious, we don’t have the cargo yet. They’ll find an empty hold and have to let us go…unless ye open yer big mouth and give them the proof they need.”

By this time, the three of them had finished their ales and shouted for William to bring another round. When he did, Lemuel tossed him several coins. “Get back inside and mind yer business.”

“I always do,” William said, his voice calm as he took the coins and empty mugs, then stepped back inside.

“Ye really think the Crown knows about Eldridge?” Jake asked in a whisper that carried up to Imogen’s room. He sounded quite concerned.

“How could they?” the third man said. “All contact was made through Healey and Burke, who in turn dealt through those two solicitors, Gray and Sewell.”

“How do the two of ye know so much about the captain’s business?” Lemuel asked. “See, that’s why the Crown agents are on to us. Everyone talks too much, carelessly droppin’ names like that.”

“Captain didn’t tell us nothing,” Jake replied. “You’re the one who talks too much, especially when in your cups. Captain ought to know better than to confide in you.”

Lemuel slammed his fist on the table, making a loud thwuck as his beefy hand struck the weathered wood. “I make it my business to have him confide in me,” he said. “If I’m to be caught and hanged, then I can buy my way free with a few bargaining chips. Just keep yer traps shut and I’ll get the two of ye freed as well. Mark my words, they are onto us, and Draco is the Crown agent who will betray us.”

“Captain put us out here to stop Draco if he tries to escape out the back,” Jake said. “Should we just hold him? Or kill him?”

Lemuel laughed. “Draco’s not going to run. He’s fearless. But I know what will put the fear into him… Something better than our being caught and hoping giving up names will free us. What I have in mind is something that will stop him from ever turning us over to the Crown in the first place.”

“What?” the third man asked.

“Lady Imogen Stockwell,” Lemuel said with a wicked sneer.

Imogen put a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry.

“Word is, he’s sweet on her,” Lemuel continued, his voice as sinister as he looked. “The captain’s a fool if he does not take her hostage. If he won’t do it, then I will. Anyone tries to come after me, I’ll kill her.”

“Ye’d do all this on yer own?” Jake asked. “How? Ye don’t even know what she looks like?”

Lemuel shrugged. “She’s somewhere here in town. Word is, she’s looking for Draco. All we have to do is wait for her to show up here.”

Dear heaven.

No wonder Draco was obsessively determined to keep her hidden away. Was there no honor among pirates? These men were ready to betray their own captain to save their hides.

Lemuel stared at his two companions. “Draco will never allow them to spring their trap on us if we are holding Lady Imogen hostage. Well, are ye with me or not?”

Jake shook his head. “No, I don’t like it.”

Lemuel growled. “And you, Jonah?”

Jonah was the youngest of them and looked quite scared at the moment. “Lemuel, if we steal a woman and harm her, they won’t just hang us quickly. We’ll be drawn and quartered. No, I’m out.”

“Useless pair.” Lemuel knocked over his bench as he rose. “Then I’ll just have to find her myself, won’t I?”