“Not good enough. Say the words out loud, Monty,” Gabe said.
“Oh, very well. I agree to notify you,” he said with ill grace.
“Excellent,” Michael said.
“And what of Lady Challoner? She said these men—Renton, Lord Picton, Lord Heather, Mr. Clipper, and Mr. Buford—all approached her with the express purposes of going through her husband’s things. Do you believe she is in any danger?” Gabe asked.
“Renton intimidated and hurt her,” Monty growled. “And more than once is my belief. He sees her as his possession now, and Henry. He also sees her as standing in the way of him searching his late brother’s things.”
“She told you that?” Mary asked.
“No, not outright, but I overheard Renton threatening her at your ball, Gabe. There was also a mark on her neck and wrist at the Duchess of Yardly’s birthday that I cannot discount he put there.”
“Then we need to watch over her also,” Forrest said.
“I have someone watching her house, and he will follow her when she leaves,” Monty said.
“We will keep an eye out also,” Gabe said.
He felt relieved about that. The Devilles were honorable people; they would be true to their word.
They talked then. Plotted and planned. Three hours later, they left, taking all the life out of his house. The house he’d once thought he wanted to be a silent haven for when he was not masquerading as Lord Plunge.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Monty didn’t retire immediately after the Devilles left. Instead he wandered the halls of his home, restless. He felt on edge. Everything was changing around him, and then there was Iris.
He’d told the Devilles it was possible she was in danger, but he could hardly ask her to open up to him when he would not reciprocate. But he wanted to know her secrets, and then he wanted to keep her safe.
Monty had kept himself apart from people in every way, but his guard had slipped with her.
Why?
“My lord, Jimmy has arrived with a message for you.”
He’d been studying a painting of his parents. He always saw them just like this, as they’d died a year after the artist painted their portrait.
“Thank you, Haven. I shall come at once.”
Hurrying to his office, he grabbed a coin pouch from his desk drawers, then ran back down the stairs and through the kitchens with blood thundering through his veins. Was Iris all right? Jimmy was watching her and had been for days. He wouldn’t be here unless there was trouble.
“What news do you have for me, Jimmy?” he asked, entering the kitchen to find his man standing tall in the doorway talking to Haven and Polly. Jimmy had been a soldier. He’d returned to London with a limp and shadows in his eyes. No one had wanted to employ him. Monty had stumbled across him one day when he’d been wandering down an alley. The man had stepped in when three men were about to rob him. He’d been working for Monty since.
Always immaculate, even when he’d been desperate and penniless, the soldier bowed better than any nobleman.
“My lord, a boy called at Lady Challoner’s town house. I intercepted him as he walked to the servant’s entrance and paid him money to read the missive he carried. The note stated that if Lady Challoner wished to see her son again, she was to go to the White Swan at midnight.”
“Tell me she didn’t go?” Monty said.
“Lady Challoner departed the house ten minutes later and called for a hackney. I ran here to tell you.”
“The boy, Henry. We need to protect him,” Monty said.
“The maid I have paid for information inside the Challoner household told me he left yesterday to stay with his aunt and uncle. One footman was sent to watch over him. Oscar, the dog, also.”
“Do you know the location?”
“I don’t, but I can find out,” Jimmy said.
