Shannon Drake - Beguiled

“Brian,” Camille implored. “Please tell our young gentlemen that they must not crawl all over Ally right now.”

“They’re fine,” Ally insisted. She wanted the boys there to distract her questioners.

“Boys, Ally will be along to play with you after you are bathed and settled for the evening,” Brian said, picking up the children, one beneath each arm. They giggled as he walked them to the hallway. “Up to the playroom, my loves,” he commanded. “And no dismantling the new telephone today, eh?”

“No, Father,” William swore. He was still laughing.

“Really, this is not insignificant,” Camille said softly. “What if the children had been in the carriage? What if…if they had tried to run? Or fight?” she asked worriedly.

“The children weren’t in the carriage, Ally was, and she apparently handled herself quite well,” Brian said, releasing the children and turning back. “My dear, we’ll see that two men ride with the carriage at all times now,” he told Camille. “Will that make you feel better?”

Camille nodded. “Yes, it will. Until the rogue is stopped. Anyway, Lucy has run a bath for you, Ally, and taken out your clothing for the party tonight. I do wish your aunts would have agreed to come…well, I can’t make those darlings do a thing they don’t want to do. But it’s disturbing that this should happen on such a day, when we’ve guests arriving so soon.” She smiled at her husband. “But then, I suppose people would be quite disappointed to come here without some excitement going on.”

“Ally must go up right now and refresh herself,” Brian said. “I’ll ride out, and, Camille, you must speak with the inspector first when he comes, and by then, perhaps Ally will have remembered more about what happened.”

“What exactly is going on tonight?” Ally asked, glad that they seemed to be putting her “adventure” into some sort of perspective. “Your summons was quite mysterious.”

“Something terribly exciting,” Camille assured her. “So, as Brian suggests, perhaps we should start preparing while we await our policeman.”

“Yes, a bath would be lovely,” Ally agreed. She didn’t add that she would also dearly love a few minutes of privacy. The earl’s eyes had seemed to look into her soul, and she was very afraid that she was giving away the fact that she felt as if she’d had an adventure. She was stunned by the way she had felt, talking to the man. The thief.

Was her life so truly sheltered and dull that she could be so easily swept away by such an encounter?

Sadly, that answer was yes.

“Come, Ally. Brian, perhaps she should have another brandy in the bath, a bit more to steady her nerves?”

“I rather think her nerves are quite steady already,” Brian said. “But she’s more than welcome to another.”

He turned, shaking his head over the fact that highwaymen could be terrorizing the countryside in this modern age. Theodore was already pouring out a new measure of brandy.

Ally murmured “Thank you” as she hurried after Camille, lowering her eyes to keep the earl from seeing so much.

“I’m off in search of this brigard. I’ve read that he rides with three companions, Ally. Is this true?”

She nodded. Shelby would tell him anything she didn’t, anyway. He would no doubt be riding out with the earl, as well. “Yes, there are four in all,” she said.

“And you can tell me nothing else?” he pressed.

She shrugged. “They wore cloaks, hats and masks. I’m afraid there’s very little I could say that would help.”

“Could say? Or would say?” Brian murmured very softly.

“Brian! The men are criminals,” Camille said.

“Yes, they are,” Brian said firmly, staring at Ally.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I can’t even tell you their height or hair color. I’m sorry.”

“When this fellow took you off…what happened?” Brian demanded.

“I was angry. We walked and talked in circles until I gave him my name.”

“And then?” Brian demanded.

“He returned me to Shelby, and we drove straight here,” she said.

The earl nodded and headed toward the door as Camille took her by the arm. “Come along, your bath will grow cold.”

“THERE’S FLORENCE,” PATRICK said cheerfully as they entered the smoky miasma of O’Flannery’s Pub.

Florence Carter, the barmaid, was busy at work behind the taps. She was in her mid-thirties, a woman who had fallen on hard times but found her calling at O’Flannery’s. Here she worked very hard for hours a day, but never found herself reduced to prostitution, a common fate for poor and uneducated women in the East End. She was attractive, with red hair and bright green eyes, and a fierce attitude that warned her customers to have fun but behave. Robert O’Flannery, the big Irishman who owned the place, knew that he had found a gem in Flo. She could move like lightning and easily handle the university students who habituated the pub after classes. Florence could tease, she could jest—but she could also stop a brawl before it ever got started, though she was slim and appeared somewhat delicate. She was possessed of a fierce and wiry strength that had taken many a man by surprise.

“What will it be, boys? A pint apiece?” she called out to them.

“Aye, Flo,” Mark called. “And have you seen—”

“Your partners in crime are in the booth,” she teased back lightly, pointing.

“A bit too close to home, eh?” Patrick murmured.

“Not at all. She merely jests,” Mark said.

The pub was crowded, with most men grouped around the bar. Mark and Patrick wove their way through people—workers, fresh from their jobs in the city; students, some laden with books; soldiers; and a few young members of society, sons who would one day claim their fathers’ titles—and found Geoff and Thomas.

“Any problems?” Geoff asked.

“Not a one,” Mark said, waving at Flo, who was already on her way over, balancing a tray of pints. She dropped off a few en route, easily avoiding the pats that would have fallen upon her posterior, and came to their booth. As she set their pints down, Mark said, “Did you hear? We passed a fellow on the road who heard that the highwayman has been busy again. Apparently he had the audacity to hold up a carriage belonging to the Earl of Carlyle. Luckily, he let the lass within it go her way, unscathed and unrobbed.”

“I heard,” Patrick said, leaning closer, “that he isn’t usually so merciful.”

“The newspapers downplay his exploits. The people are up in arms as it is,” Geoff whispered.

“They can downplay it all they like,” Flo said, whispering as well. “But I’ve heard he’s murdered a victim or two and hidden the bodies, weighted down with bricks, in the lakes and streams.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that, too,” Mark said. “If the people in the carriages give him no trouble, he robs them and sends them on their way. But if they protest, fight back…It must be true. You’ve heard it…we’ve heard it. He is savage in response to those who fight back. Flo, you must take care.”

“Well, now, O’Flannery can be a hard taskmaster, but I have the room above the taproom, you know.” Flo shivered. “I need not travel the roads.”

“You should be drinking up and heading home,” Patrick reminded Mark. “Don’t you have a soiree to attend this evening?”

“I do,” Mark murmured. “But with Flo here, I’ve no desire to be heading anywhere.”

“You’re a flatterer, Sir Mark Farrow, you are. And an earl you’ll be one day. You’ll be having your way all the time, so it’s a good thing for you to be learning a bit of humility now. So, you’ll be attending the gala at the Earl of Carlyle’s castle, then, will you?”