Sir Robert frowned down at his father. “Do we need to tie him to the bed to keep him from mischief?”
“Not yet,” she said, eyes narrowing at Mr. Benson’s face. He had that look… “Do I need to call Johnny up to assist you?”
“Not with Robbie here.”
“Can you manage?” she asked Sir Robert.
“I spent twelve years in the field. I’ve seen men in any possible condition. I can manage.”
Lucy showed him where they stored the chamber pot and scooted out the door, happy to seek her sanctuary in the estate office. She no sooner sat down than Cilla appeared in one of her nervous fidgets. “Strangers coming!”
“Cilla, you’ve been told to knock. And how to greet visitors. You take their card, put them in the drawing room, and announce them quietly.”
“But, Miss Whitaker. ’Tisn’t none of the Bensons nor the earl. Not even that Spangler person.” The thought of Spangler sent a shiver through the girl. “There’s four of ’em, all on horseback. Do they mean to attack us?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Men on horseback could mean anything.
Cilla followed Lucy to the front to peer out the window and make moaning noises over Lucy’s shoulder. “They look fearsome.”
Lucy’s heart sped up. There had been too many strange imposters, not to mention that surveyor Sir Robert most certainly did not hire. These men—dressed for travel, with saddle bags behind, and carrying obvious weapons—looked like mercenaries. She took a deep breath. A closer study reassured her. Brynn Morgan dismounted at the base of the steps.
She kept her gaze at the window. “Cilla, go ask Sir Robert to join me in the drawing room. Tell him his friends have arrived.”
He wasted no time. She invited the group in and offered refreshments—politely refused—just as he entered. The men all scrambled to their feet and turned his way.
“Well met. Thank you for getting here quickly. We have an injured man upstairs, and a lady—” His hesitation gratified Lucy.The oaf is about to tell them I’m a helpless ninny. She glared back at him.
Rob blinked and cleared his throat. “This lady has generously offered him shelter.”
“Is it your father, Major?” The one who spoke appeared a bit younger than the others, younger than Lucy perhaps.
“Correct,” Rob said, the word almost inaudible. “As I said, the matter is urgent.”
“We came as soon as we could, Major. Robbins here had to get an extra man to stand watch at the Russian embassy. The grand duchess—” The speaker broke off, coloring.
“What did Natalia Alexandrova say?” Rob asked. The twitch in his lips belied the tone of the question.
The men shifted uneasily, and one or two glanced at Lucy.
Brynn Morgan answered for them. “Her Grace believes that she needs two men to make up for her Major Benson’s absence.” He shot a glance at Lucy. “In essence.” His cocky grin implied more had been said.
“Miss Whitaker, these are the gentlemen I mentioned to you. They are the cream of my security forces.” He introduced all but Morgan. Though dressed in civilian clothing, each one answered to a rank like the soldiers they appeared to be. They referred to the young one as Corporal Goody. From the look on his face, Lucy suspected them of teasing.
He said forces…“There are more?” The idea astounded her, but obviously not these men. Her question evoked universal laughter.
“There are twenty of us, ma’am.” The speaker, the one who spoke of the grand duchess, had been introduced as Lieutenant Gibbons.
“And what did Rockford say?” Rob’s question sounded strained. Lucy recalled the urgent message he carried the night of the accident.
Morgan looked around at the men. Gibbons spoke for the group. “We have two weeks. The viscount said, ‘consider it a temporary assignment, but I want you and Sir Robert back here in two weeks, or I’ll have to rethink the entire operation.’”
“Then we best get down to it. Miss Whitaker, they may need to occupy your barn and stables for a period. For now, may we impose on the hospitality of your home for an hour or so? We have assignments to sort, and I need to hear how our units are managing in London. The men—” he spun toward the new arrivals, “I presume you came directly here from London?” Nods.
“I’ll see to tea. Would sandwiches be welcome?” They looked at Rob, but their eager faces indicated just how welcome food would be. She didn’t wait for an answer.
As she left to speak with Agnes, Rob demanded reports, and Lucy paused outside the door, giving into the temptation to listen. When asked about the work they left behind, the men began to answer in turn, revealing a complex and well-managed network of people providing protection to visitors of importance to England, naming a staggering number of titled clients.
She walked softly down the hall.In London he protects princes. Here he’s serving ale and helping in a sick room. No wonder Rob longs to return. Ashmead—and us in it—are a sad substitute for his life in London.
