“Unless you’ve come to beg my forgiveness—which I am not inclined to grant at the moment—I have no idea why you have come.” She glared at him. She could only think of one other reason he would be there—and it seemed the most likely, considering what she knew of Flint. He was there to warn her off Lord Cunningham.
Flint resembled his namesake in that he could be quite intractable, so him relenting on their split was highly unlikely. And, all in all, she refused to make this easy on him. If he had something to say, he could bloody-well spit it out.
He sighed and gripped the back of his neck with one hand. “You must stop associating with Lord Cunningham.”
She snorted. She knew he would say it, and yet it was still absurd. Had the man gone barmy?
“Ros, I say this in all earnestness. I fear he is using you to attempt to hurt me.” His voice sounded wretched and worried, but she refused to take his words at face value.
“I must say, you have quite a high opinion of yourself if you think Lord Cunningham finds you worthy of his attention. Beyond that, how could he use me to hurt you? We are no longer associated. You have no feelings for me, or at least none strong enough that I might be useful in striking out at you. Certainly, any fool, let alone a man of Lord Cunningham’s intellect, could determine that.”
He growled as his gaze snapped up to the portico’s ceiling as though he might find some guidance there. “I promise you, he is aiming at me. I’m sorry to upset you with that notion, but I could not in good conscience allow his pursuit of you to continue.”
“Have you gone daft? You have no say in who pursues me or not. You surrendered any right to speak on that topic the moment you walked away from us. Now, if you are finished, I must get dressed to go out.” She pushed the door closed but found it stopped abruptly.
A glance downward for patience revealed that Flint’s foot blocked the door’s progress along with his hand. “You must heed my warning. That man is out for revenge, and he will use any avenue afforded him, including you.”
“Have a care for the wood.” She glared down at his foot and then up to his hand. Perhaps it was instinct or simply ingrained manners, but he drew his appendages back across the threshold, which allowed her to neatly slam the door in his face.
The nerve of the man, to come to her door and insist she stop seeing a man she barely knew. It was too much. It wasn’t nearly enough.
With a sigh, she trudged upstairs. Men were tiresome creatures. Her life had been so much calmer the last few years since her husband’s passing. No strife. No one snapping orders at her or making demands. No warm embraces…tender kisses….
She harrumphed and strode into her room. A glance at the clock told her she needed to hurry. She was due at her parents’ home for dinner within the hour.
~
Ros hated fidgeting. Inevitably, when she was with her mother, she wound up fidgeting. Which led to her mother scolding her—as if she were a girl still—for fidgeting. And like the vicious circle it was, she then fidgeted even more. It was a tiresome yet unstoppable loop.
Determined to break the pattern, Ros rose from her chair in the front salon of her parent’s home and paced.
“Ros, that is a most unladylike habit. How are you going to attract a man of any quality if you choose to lumber about like a dockside floozy?” Her mother’s pinched face and sharp tone brought Ros to a stop.
Had she truly just compared her to a whore? Worse yet, she’d commented as though someone stuck in those circumstances had a choice about it.
“If I were attempting to garner someone’s attention, I promise you I would not pace as a means of doing so. There are far more effective means for a motivated young woman.” She dropped enough innuendo in her comment to stop a horse. Surely, her mother would understand her point.
Her mother gasped. “That is outside of enough, young lady. Such vulgarity.” Her mother paused—for dramatic effect, no doubt. “I blame your sister for this. Her hoydenish ways have tainted you.”
“I dare say it’s more likely that the years spent near a battlefield following my husband is the culprit. You do realize that other than wives, the only women in a military camp are the women who service the men’s carnal needs, don’t you?”
Her mother turned red, like a ripe tomato, yet persevered nonetheless. “Wherever the behavior came from, you should be doing your best to cease it at once. What would Lord Cunningham think if he saw such a display?”
“I should think he would assume I had something on my mind.” Ros stared at her mother.
Drawing a deep breath, she suspected the direction this conversation would veer was not one she preferred. Her mother had pushed Lord Wallthorpe on her sister until she’d married Lord Wolfington in order to escape the former’s clutches. It appeared her mother was fixating on Lord Cunningham in a similar fashion, which had the opposite effect of her mother’s intention. Had she learned nothing from her dealings with Julia?
“I should think he would find such behavior unbecoming of his Viscountess.” Her mother let one brow drift up in punctuation.
Ros snorted. “Well, lucky for him, I do not have my sights set on his person…or his title.”
Her mother gave a short, sharp bark of disbelief. “Foolish, foolish girl. I have seen how he looks at you. For some benighted reason, that man has his sights set on you. You would do well to cultivate his attentions. I assumed after you broke with that hideous Lord Flintshire, that you had grown wiser when it came to choosing your next husband.”
Stiffening at her mother’s obvious glee over her break with Flint, Ros drew a deep calming breath and counted slowly to ten. “When I broke with Lord Flintshire, I did so because he wished it. I still care a great deal for him, though I am smart enough not to pursue a man who does not want my attentions. So, please do not take my current state as indicative of my being in need or want of a husband.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course, you are in need of a husband. However will you live now that you are no longer able to live off your sister’s largess?”
Her mother was going all in, it would seem. “I am well enough off on my own that I am not in need of either funds from my sister or a husband. I live as I do because I am an able-bodied woman with a modicum of intelligence. Were it not for my guidance, my husband would have spent us into the poor-house. I am the one who not only stopped him from wasting his monthly pay but took what was left after our meager expenses and multiplied it through smart investments.”
Her mother possibly looked more shocked by this revelation than when Ros had informed her that she previously associated with camp prostitutes.
“Well, I never. A daughter of mine engaged in business?” Her mother pressed her handkerchief to her lips and then to her forehead as she sank back into her chair and moaned.
Ros’s father strode into the room, apparently having heard the commotion. “What is going on in here?”
Fed up with her mother’s pressure as well as her theatrics, Ros sailed toward her father. “You chose to marry her; you deal with this. I’m quite finished with her histrionics.”
With that, Ros left her parent’s home and went in search of her carriage. It was past time she went home and achieved a sliver of peace and quiet. Her day had been one stressful encounter after another. She wasn’t sure which was worse, dealing with Flint’s ridiculous demands that she stop seeing Lord Cunningham, or her mother’s insistence that she cultivate the man’s attentions. And the thing of it was, she was damned if she wanted to make either one of them happy. But what was she to do?
Chapter 13
Flint was doggedly trying to move on. Some—mostly his friends, and most certainly their wives—would have said he was in denial. He preferred to think of it as shaping his destiny. In either circumstance, he was not allowing himself to think about Ros. Mostly.
Instead, he was out running a few errands and doing his best to stay focused on his own agenda. He first stopped by his haberdasher and picked up a new b
rown felt riding hat, then he was to swing by his club for lunch with Stone, Cooper, and Wolf. After that, he was off to his solicitors for his dreaded monthly update.
By the time he was settled in Mr. John G. Brown, Esquire’s office, it was mid-afternoon. With the sun weakening and his belly full, he was already feeling drowsy. Of course, Mr. Brown woke him up immediately. “My lord, it seems your…uh…rather particular investment has experienced some difficulties.”
Flint tried to imagine what the man was referring to. “Do stop with all the vague euphemisms. Which investment of mine are you referring to?”
The tall thin man peered down at Flint from behind his spectacles. “The one you wished to remain extremely private.”
“Ah, I see.” Flint looked around. “I believe we are the only ones in the room unless you are hiding someone beneath your desk.”
The lawyer looked rather startled at the notion, even bending down to peer under his desk. Once he straightened back up, he looked as dour as ever. “No, my lord, there is no other individual in the room. We are quite alone.”
Flint managed to suppress his sigh. “Then, please feel free to discuss the topic openly.”
“Very well. It seems the boy’s home in Flintshire has a well that has gone dry. In addition, coal supplies are looking bleak this coming winter, and most, if not all, of the boys are in need of new clothing.”
Confusion slithered through him as he tried to reconcile his lawyer’s words with what he believed to be true. “Do we not send them monies in accordance with their requested budget each quarter?”
Mr. Brown looked distinctly uncomfortable. “We do, my lord. However, the headmaster has indicated that he never received last quarter’s funds. This is impossible as I have the receipt for the quarterly allotment right here. It was dispatched at the end of the previous quarter via courier, and received a few days later.”
Flint considered the situation. Perhaps he was due to take a break from the city? It would certainly give him time to clear his head and put one strawberry blonde from his mind.
“There is also the matter of the dwindling funds in the particular account you fund the home from. We have not seen the usual frequency of deposits of late, my lord.”
Too true. Flint hadn’t fought much while he had been busy paying court to Ros. Though he was certainly making up for lost time of late. “Yes, well, I’ll take the necessary funds from my personal account when I head to Flintshire to see what has occurred. If you will send me the details of how much is required, I shall ensure all is on the up and up.”
Mr. Brown inclined his head. “As you wish, my lord. Might I suggest you have someone accompany you in case something foul is afoot?”
Flint laughed. “I believe I am quite well equipped to protect myself should the need arise. But thank you for your concern, Mr. Brown. Now, on to the rest of the business.”
An hour later, Flint stood and stretched the first vestiges of stiffness from his back and shoulders. While important, he did not find these sessions to be overly interesting.
Two hours later, he gratefully exited his solicitor’s office and headed toward home. It was a fine summer day, which put him in mind to walk since his home was not far. Clearly, he was not alone in his inclination since the sidewalk was full of people walking to their destinations in lieu of a cab ride.
Anxious to make arrangements to travel home so he could deal with this unexpected problem with his boys’ home, he considered what Mr. Brown had been able to tell him. By all accounts, it would seem that either the courier or his headmaster was proving to be dishonest. He had vetted the headmaster’s credentials and references when he’d been hired two years earlier. The courier came from a bonded and licensed firm. In either case, it was a truly disappointing turn of events.
Puzzled by the whole thing, he was lost in thought when he was suddenly pushed into a dark alley. The two buildings creating the narrow throughway rose so tall that the summer sun was nearly blotted out. He quickly recognized one of the three men currently surrounding him, the ringleader from the first message he was given.
“This is a rather unfortunate state of affairs, my lord.” He sounded truly sorry, which instantly raised Flint’s hackles. “It seems you did not take my first message to heart. My employer is rather displeased by this.”
Flint snorted. “Well, he should accustom himself to such feelings as I don’t suspect I shall be any more apt to heed your warnings this time around.”
Flint warily eyed the two hulking giants on either side of him. Up to that point, they’d made no move to lay hands on him, but he suspected that would change shortly. The question was, should he wait until they made their move or make one of his own?
The leader sighed. “We were afraid you might feel that way.” He gave a short nod to one of the men.
Flint knew his time was up; he had to make a move or choose to take another beating. The man on his right stepped in and reached for Flint’s arm. He jerked away from him and used his elbow to crack the man on his left in the nose. He’d been caught with his hands down, reaching for where he’d expected Flint’s arms to be, which left his face vulnerable.
With the man on the right off-balance, Flint shifted toward him and jabbed him in the face. The brute grunted and kept moving toward him.
That was unexpected.
Stepping backward, he let the big man slide right past him, allowing him to place his foot on his arse and give a mighty heave. This sent the man from his right side careening into the man from the left who was still howling about his broken nose.
Flint turned and sprinted toward the alley, but then suddenly, everything went dark.
Lying on his back on the sodden cobblestones of the alley, he blinked as a dull ache rolled through his head. Abruptly, he was heaved to his feet.
“My apologies, my lord. I didn’t mean to crack you so hard, but I was aware from our last meeting that you have a penchant for fighting and a rather thick skull.” Apparently, he had not been out for all that long since his assailants were still with him.
“Bloody hell. Couldn’t your employer simply send round a note?” Flint’s head felt like it had been split open.
“Well, since you barely seem to listen to these messages, I rightly suspect you’d simply toss a note in the fire and keep moving.”
He was likely spot on, Flint had to concede.
“At any rate, you’ve not heard the new message,” he started and then paused.
Annoyance and a worsening headache made Flint even more impatient than normal. “Do get on with it.”
The ringleader laughed. “Very well, then. My employer highly recommends you reconsider his previous offer.”
“No, thank you. I shall still decline. Are we quite done here?” Flint straightened up, regaining some of his own power.
“Here now.” The man shook his head. “You haven’t let me finish.”
Flint stood with the two thugs hands firmly gripping his arms, which allowed him no opportunity to move away.
“If you continue to be stubborn about this, then I am to point out that if you do not do as we ask, your lady friend—Mrs. Smith—shall suffer the consequences.”
Fury, sharp and bright, shafted through him. With a surge of energy he could not credit, he lunged toward the ringleader dragging the two very large brutes holding him along the way. “If you should dare to lay a finger on that lady, I shall hunt you and your employer through every gutter, turn over every rock, and search every stinking tavern in London and beyond until I end you. Do not make the mistake of believing I would sit idly by.”
The messenger looked rather taken aback by the whiplash of anger Flint had unleashed. Though, he seemed undaunted. “You would do well to heed this warning, my lord. The only way to protect her is to do as my employer wishes.”
And with that dire warning, the man turned and dashed down the alley and out onto the streets. The thugs shoved Flint to the ground and followed suit. By the time he’d scrabbled
to his feet and made his way to the busy street, the trio had melted into the crowd and disappeared.
Fear and anger thrummed through his veins, making his head pound all the more. They had threatened Ros. Despite his best efforts to separate himself from her, he had failed. His mere association with her had put her in danger, and now, he had no choice but to protect her as best he could. It was quite obvious that leaving her alone was not working from any perspective. It had left her vulnerable to both Cunningham and now these thugs.
Still gripping his head, he staggered into the street, ignoring the shocked looks he received as he made his way home.
An hour later, he sat in his study with two of the Lustful Lords, Linc and Arthur. And despite his throbbing head, he found himself focused and ready to take action. “Gentlemen, I thank you for coming so quickly. It seems I have a situation on my hands that requires your assistance. As you both know, I have long been involved in the dockside fight circles. Somehow, I have garnered the attention of an unsavory sort who has requested in no uncertain terms that I throw my next fight. I, of course, refused this request. As a result, I have received a couple of beatings—little did they know how ineffective that sort of persuasion would be with me.”
“Bloody hell!” Linc growled as he sat forward. “Do you know who is behind this?”
“I do not. Not yet, at any rate.” Flint paused. “The situation grew more dire as of today’s message cum beating, which included a threat against Ros.”
Both of the men cursed at once.
Flint gave them a moment to settle back down. “David, one of my footmen and occasional sparring partner, is watching her home as we speak. Considering she is as likely to shoot me as listen to me if I tried to speak to her at the moment, I believe having someone watch her is the best way to keep her safe. I am hoping that you two will be willing to assist with that.”
“Of course, we are happy to help.” Arthur looked at Linc, who nodded in confirmation.
“Thank you. If one of you two could relieve David later on, I would greatly appreciate it. I have a call to make to try and get to the bottom of who is behind this mess.”
His Not-So-Sweet Marchioness: A Steamy Victorian Romance Page 10
