by Suzi Love
“Well, two men, terribly unsavory sorts, one of whom has a French background–”
“How do you know that?” Richard asked.
“The poor man had dreadful oral hygiene, and reeked of garlic; the strong sort of odor which only comes from daily consumption of large quantities of garlic in his cooking. Oh, yes. Mark my words, his family is French, and every night he partakes of a large meal cooked in traditional French style. Also, for his luncheon, he’d eaten heavily spiced sausage, such as the butcher in our little village concocted in his smoking room. Or at least, until it became terribly disloyal to eat anything with even a…whiff of the French clinging to it.” She smiled. “If you will pardon the pun.”
“Good grief. You recorded all those facts, from only a moment’s sniff of his breath?”
“Oh, I’m nowhere near as skilled with odors as our dearest Laura, but I do have a nose for food. When I was younger, well, of course it was between wars, so we were able to travel about more freely, and so as girls we sampled many, many Continental cuisines.”
She clasped her hands over her ample bosom, gave a long mournful sigh. “Oh, how I miss the food the French served in those days. Things were still allowed to err on the side of extravagance, and therefore were a little more special. Our Queen, God bless her, though she has some wonderful ideas, doesn’t have the soul of a gourmet. If left to her own devices, she’ll soon have us eating only the most staid of foods, ones from the Continental countries with the most boring palates. Countries in which she has relatives.” She shuddered. “German cabbage every day of our lives.”
Laura burst out laughing, then turned to him. “I do apologize for my family’s un-Victorian sentiments, in some cases at least. Food being one. We do love our country, and are all loyal subjects of Her Majesty, but....”
“But?” With a raised eyebrow, he prompted her to divulge the rest.
“But, in this case, I agree with Auntie. Some of the things we are being forced to give up…well it seems un- English.”
She gave a little self-conscious laugh and ran her hands down the sides of her already straight skirt. “Still, we have no time for that. Continue with the story.”
“I’m afraid we were too distracted by other things to even notice when those two dreadful men appeared from behind that tree. They took hold of us, one each, and pushed cloth–”
Aunt Aggie shuddered and gave a loud groan of disgust. “Their cloths were of good quality, but they had wiped their hands on them while they waited for us and impregnated the fabric with their dockside odor, their grime and their warehouse dirt, and then when the one who held me expected me to calmly hold still while he inserted such a thing into my mouth…well, of course, no lady would stand still for that.”
Aunt Aggie seemed oblivious to the stunned looks she received from the three onlookers, and continued ranting and raving about the inconsideration of the man who expected her to cope with a dirty rag, even if the quality of the fabric was high.
He looked at Lottie propped on pillows, holding her stomach because she’d laughed so hard. He glanced at Laura who had collapsed in a hiccoughing heap at Lottie’s feet, having laughed so much tears were streaming down her cheeks. He opened his mouth but could think of no suitable comment, so he returned to his own contemplation of the scenario Aunt Aggie had described for them, and once again he too started to chortle. His low chuckle escalated into a laugh, until he joined the girls in insane and uncontrollable laughter.
After several minutes of this, they quietened and calmed.
“What is so amusing in that sordid tale? Auntie Aggie asked in a puzzled voice.
Laura stood and crossed to perch on the arm of her Aunt’s chair. “Your recall of minute details amazes us and makes us feel inferior.”
“It is true, Lady Jamison. We laugh at our own youthful ineptitudes, when thrown into comparison to someone of your years and abilities. To be blunt, you just made the three of us feel inadequate.”
“There is no talent to what I notice, you know. Simply years of practice mixing amongst people of all classes and observing what occurs around you.”
“No, no, my dear lady. You underestimate such talents. Most ladies pay no attention to the world around them. But to return to something you mentioned; the cloth smelled like their hands. And their hands carried the odor of the docks.”
“That unmistakable odor of mud, fish and barrels of produce, and whatever else one may find at a dockside warehouse area. The sort of places where ships unload their cargoes.”
Laura questioned their aunt. “How do you know so much about the smell of the docks?”
“Two of my relatives, distant cousins, were ships’ captains, and as a young girl I was fascinated the entire area. I begged them to take me there frequently. Over the years, I have revisited upon occasion.” She smiled. “I enjoy the excitement one feels around ships and sailors. The constant coming and goings of the carriages and the traders.”
She patted her niece’s hand. “And do not fret, my loves, as I never go alone. There are always gentlemen who are eager to escort me on any little adventures I which to experience.” Her smug smile had her two nieces groaning in unison and shaking their heads.
“Michael thinks you are chaperoning us, yet I often feel you are the one who needs more closely watching.” Laura smiled as she said it and leaned forward to hug her aunt.
“Now, I am afraid all the excitement has wearied me. I shall retire to my bed, as you should be doing too, Lottie. Winchester, delighted that you are here to lend assistance. Please, please, take care of my precious girls.”
She rose and walked to the door, as stately as ever, asking the footman to call her maid and to then send assistance to help Lady Charlotte to her chamber.
While they awaited, Lottie continued where her aunt had left off with their story from the park, filling in minor details Richard questioned her about. The more he knew about these men, the better chance he’d have of tracking them quickly. Hopefully, they could lead him to their employer. For he didn’t doubt for a moment that someone with a larger intelligence than theirs was the puppeteer behind this attack.
“They attempted to thrust those foul cloths into our mouths, so we couldn’t make a noise while they tied our hands behind their backs. They already held the ropes they intended using, so they only had one hand free each to subdue us. They assumed we’d be so overcome with an attack of the vapors, their work would be easy.”
Laura shook and head and sighed. “I’ve no idea why men continue to underestimate the abilities of women in this day and age. One would think we still lived in feudal times, the way we are treated.”
Richard held up a hand to the two women, as he said, “I swear when I catch these two reprobates, and catch them I will, I’ll allow you to lecture them about the emancipation of women until their ears ring.” He chortled. “Might even be a way to induce them to give up their information faster, if they are beset by lecturing females for hours at a time. Newgate may appear the better option.”
As he said it, he backed two steps away from the girls, who both directed scowling looks at him. “Simply jesting, my dears,” he managed to get out between bursts of laughter.
“Your wit remains a source of constant amusement to us, Winchester,” Lottie conceded with a grin.
At least one Jamison sister saw no problem with his sense of humor, although some labeled it a little lop-sided. And many women of his acquaintance never laughed at his off-handed witticisms.
Recently, he threw out such quips to attract a smile to Lovely Laura’s face. To remove the all-too frequent worried frown marring her features and contorting her brows. Ludicrous to admit, but he assumed a role of court jester, indulging in small nonsenses to bring her momentary joy.
“… Who held me,” Lottie was saying, when he refocused on her, “had a problem with his hand. He seemed to not have maximum strength in his wrist so, thankfully, I twisted sideways in his grip and swung my reticule at him. I was
annoyed that I caught him a glancing blow on side of head, nothing more, though it did loosen his hold.”
Lottie, blue-eyed, blonde-haired, and with the look of an angelic cherub, was treating her attack as if grappling with unknown assailants was an everyday occurrence. Unfortunately, it probably was for these ladies. No wonder Michaels and Jonathon worried every time they had to return to their university studies and leave the ladies here. And no wonder they prefer to employ men who were more hooligans than servants.
“… Pulled out the gag. I did what any lady would do. Screamed. Loudly. Then I used my heeled walking boots to stomp as hard as possible on his foot, though I do hope I haven’t done any permanent damage to my lovely new boots. And when Dirty-hair jerked forward, I hit him again with my reticule, though I am sorry I lost several beads from it. And I do so love that bag.”
Richard waved a dismissive hand and answered, absent-mindedly, while he considered the possible reason for the attack. “Please allow me replace your reticule, a gift to celebrate your courage.”
“Goodness, Richard. I couldn’t possibly accept such a personal gift from you,” Lottie said, her glance flicking back and forth between him and her sister.
“I fail to see any impropriety. After all, we are now related.”
Lottie frowned. Her gaze fixed on Laura, she said, “I still fear some may think it inappropriate to accept your gift. Though I thank you for the offer.”
“If not a new reticule, I will find another way to make amends. I dread explaining to Sherwyn how you came to be attacked, when I was supposed to playing sentinel in his absence.”
Lottie shrugged again in her dainty and feminine way. Her shawl slipped and his eyes were automatically drawn to the pale and elegant slope of her shoulders.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Laura said, moving to stand directly in front of her younger sister. “Not you too, Winchester.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Laura rolled her eyes. From behind her back, he heard Lottie snort and chuckle, though she tried to smother the sounds.
Laura said, “We all accept that Lottie is beautiful. And we’ve all seen men turn into tongue-tied nincompoops around her. However, I refuse to watch you pant like a rabid dog in our own drawing room. Please refrain from embarrassing yourself, and Lottie, in my presence.”
Her caustic set-down brought a rush of heat to his face, yet he would not allow Laura’s misconstrued ideas to embarrass either him, or poor innocent Lottie, who was peeking around Laura’s shoulder and watching him with keen interest. He sensed that Laura was testing him, and if he failed, would enjoy berating his male stupidity. Lottie seemed fascinated with the interaction between him and Laura and was waiting, wide-eyed, for his reply. He had a dreadful feeling he would be dammed by one of them, no matter how he reacted, and though he didn’t want Lottie to ever feel uncomfortable in his presence, he also didn’t want to provide Laura with any more reason to mistrust him.
“Every man is bound to notice your loveliness, Lottie.” He smiled. “I apologize for my gender if it discomforts you, but men are never going to stop admiring beautiful women. That said, and with no insult to your angelic looks, not every man prefers blue-eyed blondes. Or green-eyed red heads like Becca.”
Laura stared, a small frown furrowing her brow, the workings of her mind almost visible to him as she struggled to understand his meaning.
“Personally, my preference leans towards dark-haired vixens whose eyes spit fire at a man.”
Laura put her hands to her hips and continued to scowl at him. “Oh, really. Then explain about your countess. You know the one. Hair dyed using barrel after barrel of flowers in a futile attempt to make herself look younger and mousy hair appear golden blonde.”
Richard battled the urge to burst out laughing at Laura’s scathing, yet apt, summation of his former mistress. The countess had frequently declared, with dramatic flourish and usually while they were in bed, that her many assets were due to a benevolent God. He’d long suspected it was more a case of the lady fibbing in public and used beauty aids in private.
Perhaps he could ask Laura which flowers the Countess used to color her locks, because he hated not knowing facts. To accuse his previous lover of telling lies would have been undignified, but Laura, being a distiller, could at least give him the truth. Or perhaps not. She was glaring at him as if mentally painting a target on his chest and priming her pistol to hit him dead center.
As a distraction, he threw his hands in the air and said, “Can you not forget the Countess?”
“Not until she has forgotten you, which seems unlikely judging by recent events.”
Lottie’s laughter bubbled up and Laura shifted her scowl to her sister. Lottie held up a hand and said, “I shall leave and allow you to finish this round of your battle without me.”
Two burly footmen were summoned to assist Lottie up the steps without her putting weight on her injured foot.
When Richard was alone with Laura, he encouraged her to continue their story. Though he needed to hear more about the attack, he also wanted to prolong their time together. The arrival of the messenger at his house had scared him so much he’d lost ten years off his life span. He listened, not so much to Laura’s words, but to the inflections in her voice. Before he left, he needed to be sure Laura had recovered from the shock of seeing her beloved family members injured.
If she’d let him, he wanted to be the shoulder she cried on, and provide solidarity in the place of her brothers, or Sherwyn. If she didn’t boot him out of her house, he’d happily watch her pace around and around this room, for as long as it took for her to walk off her agitation. Even anger pleased him. If Laura was feeling herself enough to fight him, it meant she lived and breathed.
Chapter Ten
Richard understood Laura’s distress, knew why she still paced the circumference of the drawing room. She blamed herself for allowing her family to be harmed, although the incident in the park and their injuries were his fault. He’d let them down, all of them.
“Our aunt is a most intrepid lady,” she said with a fond smile, “despite all her nonsense about needing a strong man to protect us.
“While Lottie was distracting her assailant, Auntie extracted her bonnet-pin and stabbed her captor in the face. From the way the thug screamed, she thinks she injured his eye. Two men on the other side of the gate noticed the uproar and ran to assist. Fish Fingers, as Auntie dubbed him, swung up one of his hands towards her face after his associate, Weak Wrist–”
He spluttered out his uncontainable mirth over their names, but at Laura’s exasperated glance he encouraged her to continue with a hand wave.
“–called to him they must run. Not wanting Fish Finger to punch our aunt, Lottie fought. Kicked out at Weak Wrist. That’s when he grabbed her ankle and twisted as hard as he could. He threw her to the ground and then they ran back to the trees. Auntie threw a rock and hit Weak Wrist a good blow on the back of his head. It knocked him off balance and he fell to his knees. But before their rescuers arrived, his mate doubled back and dragged him down an alley.”
“An incredible tale. Grown men would take to their beds for days after being attacked that way. Where did you all learn such fighting?”
“You know Cayle taught us to shoot?” He nodded. “Michael frets about us while he and Jonathon are away studying. So they’ve taught us how to defend ourselves. Lessons my brothers learned from a Chinese instructor near the university.”
“Thanks be to brothers with such foresight. Perhaps I should engage an instructor for my sisters, also.”
“A good idea for any young lady about to be launched into a world of rogues and scoundrels. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve used some of the simplest maneuvers on supposed gentlemen of the ton who overstep the boundaries of propriety at social occasions.”
“Tell me their names and I will ensure they never bother you again.”
“Your interference is unnecessary. I repeatedly inform yo
u that I am not your responsibility. I can defend my own virtue.”
“You shouldn’t have to. No young lady should be left in such an untenable position. I’ve been consigned to protect you.”
“You make me sound like a ship’s cargo. A barrel of rum, and you’re my guard.”
He ignored her. “I’ve let your brothers down and broken my vow to watch over all of you. Two of your family are injured, and the possibility hangs over our heads that a madwoman is on the loose, with a grudge to bear against all those who helped in her previous capture. Mainly you and I.”
“You’re overreacting. It is impossible for you to be in every place at once. Neither I, nor my family, blame you in any way for this mishap. Jamison women are well used to incidents of this sort. We are also well equipped to handle them.”
He narrowed his gaze and fixed her with his fiercest Earl of Winchester look. The one that sent gossiping servants scurrying back to work, and trades people to amend their overinflated bills to truer prices.
“What exactly do you mean by that? What do you intend doing?”
“We have guns in this household, Richard. And we know how to fire them. Even Auntie. Her late husband, our Uncle George, used to say, and I quote… ‘My adorable Aggie is a much sharper shooter than most of the idiots I’m forced to hunt with in duck season.’ Our uncle was a darling man, who preferred the time he and Auntie spent on our estate hunting together, without outsiders interfering and getting in the way, than City seasons.”
She paced across the room, fidgeting as she was wont to do when thinking. By now, he’d come to identify all her idiosyncrasies and label them correctly. This procrastination, not normal for head-long, rash Laura, led to a problem she didn’t want to share with him, he was certain of that. In all likelihood, because it involved danger to her person, something she knew he would expressly forbid her doing.
“The biggest problem we’re now facing…” She touched at least a dozen items with her fingertips while she dawdled in telling him. “Is that Lottie is now unable to accompany me tonight to Lord Hetherington’s old warehouse, where we intended searching his discarded paperwork together.”
