“I will ensure you hang for killing Lord and Lady Montgomery, Lord Lionel, and likely Lord Peters,” Monty snarled. “You will be nothing by the time I am finished with you, and your family will carry your shame for years to come!”
“You have nothing on me.” Picton would not be cowed.
“We have just spoken extensively to Buford,” Nathan said. The man flinched at the mention of his friend. “Ackland was also one of you, and it’s fair to say our monarch is not happy about what his advisor has been up to. He wants this nasty business dealt with before his fete, so I think it will, in fact, be you who pays for parading about in a red dress—”
“Robe!” Picton roared.
“With the mask of a pig on your face,” Zach added.
“Goat!” Picton yelled.
“Was it really? Well, I never. It definitely looks more piggy.”
Gabe barked out a laugh. There was absolutely nothing humorous in this situation, but he heard a giggle behind him and found Iris. She wore his cloak, hair loose and hanging in a tangled mess to her waist. Her lips were bruised and swollen, but she was giggling.
“Who did that?” Monty growled as he pointed at her lip.
She shook her head, which told him nothing.
“Move them into the room next door. We’ll lock them in, and Geraint can deal with them,” Gabe said.
“I am a peer of the realm!” Picton cried. He was the only one still making a noise. The others were silent, understanding their fate. Renton, Monty was pleased to see, was still weeping; clearly, unlike his leader, he knew the game was up.
They dragged them all into the room. Monty counted twelve men. They’d removed their masks, and all were noblemen. He used Picton’s face to open the door, hard enough so he would be seeing stars for a while.
“Who are you?” Picton asked Monty after he’d thrown him to the floor.
“One of the king’s guards,” Zach said.
“Alexius.” Picton spat out a mouthful of blood. “The king’s puppets. We know about you.”
As one, they all bowed, except Mary, who dropped into a curtsy. These men were of noble birth and now knew exactly what the Devilles did. However, Monty doubted they’d ever have the chance to tell anyone.
“He looks like Plunge and yet less silly,” one of the men whispered.
Stepping out and slamming the door, Monty lowered the bar and turned the key in the large, sturdy lock.
“Your parents will be avenged now,” Michael said.
He nodded and then reached for Iris. She’d stayed outside the room and was leaning on the wall, clearly exhausted and still battling to rid her head of the drug they’d given her.
“Come.” He lifted her into his arms and started up the stairs. Her feet were bare, and she was still shivering.
“Henry. He saw me—”
“He alerted Norman, who then spoke with the man I had watching your house. I intercepted them on their way to see me. Norman and Henry are now with Dimity.”
“Thank God,” she whispered.
They left the church and made for their horses. Once there, he put Iris up in front of him and climbed on behind. They then rode for London.
She turned and laid her legs over his thighs. Her arms went around his waist. When she pressed her head to his chest, Monty kissed the top.
“I care about you, Iris,” he whispered into her hair.
“I care about you too.”
And for now, that was enough.
