Page 70 of Unmasking the Earl

Wycherley stood watching the scene, his previous anger turning to wry amusement.

“Captain, do something!” she said in frustration. “Tell the constable it was all a horrible mistake, I beg you.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he looked at Ned, whom she was still struggling to support. “But that wouldn’t be the truth, would it? I swear I saw murder in his mien.”

“Facial expressions are not illegal,” Cassie said. “He didn’t lay a finger on Julian, and all he’s done to you is crumple your coat.”

“The intention was there,” Wycherley said coldly, giving Ned an inscrutable look. “Not to mention him lurking in my household, spying on me. I’m sure there’s a law against that.”

“But he’s Georgiana’s brother! How will she feel if you bring charges against him? She’ll be mortified.”

“I’ll take that chance,” was Wycherley’s response.

Ned shook off Cassie’s support and stood up, swaying slightly. “Damn you, Wycherley,” he said hoarsely, “You have dishonored my sister and ruined her life. You don’t deserve to live.”

“That sort of talk could land you on the gallows,” proclaimed Achilles Marsh, coming up behind them, a group of doughty-looking laborers in his wake.

No. This was ridiculous.

“Captain Wycherley,” she snapped, “if you do not stop this nonsense now, I will go straight to Lady Georgiana and tell her she’s in love with a heartless rogue who’d rather see her brother thrown in prison than tell the truth.”

He folded his arms. “Miss Blythe, you are in no position to dictate to me. What I know about you would curl the pages of the Gazette—”

“How dare you insult Miss Blythe like that!” Ned stormed, lurching unsteadily forward.

The mass of men brought by the constable halted just inside the lych-gate, apparently unwilling to intervene in the drama before it had played out.

“Ned, don’t make things worse,” she begged, clinging onto him.

“I may as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb,” he growled. “First he insults my sister, and now he insults the woman I intend to make my own.”

She had no time to react to that unexpected declaration because at the very same moment, the constable signaled the villagers forward. In seconds, both Ned and the barely conscious Julian were in irons.

“Mr. Marsh!” she said, taking the constable by the arm and drawing him aside, thinking furiously.

“What is it, miss?”

“I really don’t think putting the two gentlemen in the Blind House is a good idea,” she said in a tempered tone. “When the earl is freed, which we both know he will be, he can make life very uncomfortable for you.”

“The law is the law,” the man said, tapping his baton against his thigh. “I can’t change it, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“Stranraer is very well connected,” she said conspiratorially. “He probably rubs shoulders with the local magistrate. I have it on good authority that he dines with the king, and numbers the Duke of Paxton among his best friends.”

The constable shot a sideways look at the gaggle of men waiting to haul his captives away. It would not do to make him lose face in front of them.

“I have a solution,” she said, “which might serve. Put the two gentlemen under lock and key at the Rose and Crown. And if the doors there cannot be locked, then station yourself or one of your assistants outside. The prisoners can remain manacled, but they will at least get to lie in decent beds and can be tended to while they recover from their injuries. Accidental injuries,” she added meaningfully, “to which Captain Wycherley will attest.” When she got him to see sense.

“The third gentleman, you mean? The one with the splendid cudgel?”

“Yes.”

Marsh pressed his plump lips together and pondered a moment. Cassie held her breath.

“Very well. But I’m not paying for their keep. Landlord will want his fee.”

“The earl will pay for everything.”

“He doesn’t seem that obliging—”