“No, you will not,” Mr. Liddle declared calmly.
“Whoever you are, get out of my way!” Edmund blustered.
Mr. Liddle smiled at him. “No. I am a thief-taker, hired by Lady Darkford and Lord Lakehurst to recover the funds and the goods stolen from the castle. Right now, you look to me like a thief, so I will take that pouch from you and turn you over to the magistrate as I have turned over the Gallaghers,” his voice low, dark, and menacing.
Cassie’s eyes opened wide at Mr. Liddle’s change in manner. He looked like a feral wolf, quite unlike the man she’d had dealings with. She blinked. This must be why he was a successful thief-taker.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Edmund said.
“Oh, but I would,” declared Mr. Liddle softly.
Cassie could see his shoulders bunching under his jacket.
“Would you care for proof?” he asked silkily in his dark, rumbling bass voice.
“I will be discussing this with the magistrate,” Edmund declared, handing him the pouch.
Mr. Liddle bowed his head. “From you, I would expect nothing less. But remember, the magistrate is local. You are not.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I thought I’d already done so,” Mr. Liddle told him. “Did I not, Lady Darkford?”
“I believe you did, Mr. Liddle.”
Mr. Liddle stepped aside and allowed Edmund to leave the study.
“Best lock this away, my lady,” Mr. Liddle said.
She nodded. She took the pouch from him. “Thank you,” she said.
He waved her thanks aside. “I know his type,” he said. “That would-be lion possesses neither teeth nor claws, just weight to throw around, and not even much of that.”
* * *
Lakehurst heldthe bucket of oats for MacKenzie after rubbing him down. His Uncle Griffin gifted the horse to him the last time he’d been in Scotland. He snorted as he thought of that. It was eighteen months ago, about the time of Darkford’s murder. The chestnut had the size and stamina of a war horse. His uncle had claimed he was a horse well up to Lakehurst's size and weight. Lakehurst agreed.
MacKenzie could take the abuse Stillworth had shown him; however, that was not what Lakehurst wished for him to endure. Stillworth was a handsome ass, not worthy of Cassie.
What had made him admit he loved her? He did, but he knew his timing was wrong. That he loved her surprised him. He didn’t know when it happened. It had caught him off-guard.
He wanted her for his wife, his future duchess, and for him to be a father to Alex and to however many other children they might be blessed to have. She certainly fit in with his eccentric family and never batted an eye at their machinations. His grandmother already loved her—not that Grandmother’s approval mattered.
He knew Cassie was afraid. Not like the debutants were afraid. She wasn’t afraid of him.
She was afraid of herself, afraid she had somehow been the reason Darkford had not loved her. That there was something about her that was ultimately unlovable.
The fool idiot man.
He needed to prove to her he loved her and would always love her. The fault in her first marriage had been with Darkford, not her.
With the bucket of oats empty, Lakehurst patted his horse's neck and left the stable.
* * *
Upon his returnto the castle, Lakehurst asked a footman to find his valet and send him to him and went immediately upstairs to the rooms he’d been assigned. He’d just removed his waistcoat and shirt when Gwinnie barged into his room.
“Gwinnie!” he protested.
