A bit farther along, he entered a narrow passage between the card room and the tearoom, used primarily by staff. The faint sound of a minuet accompanied him to the end, growing louder as he walked. He drew a frown from one elegantly suited waiter, but he ignored it and continued under the stairs to the musician’s gallery to the end of the passage where it opened out into the Octagon where he paused, reluctant to go out into the brightly lit portion of the Assembly Rooms where he would be noticed.Where is Esther?
The footman he remembered from this morning came toward him, his tray empty now, and entered the passage. “Can I help you, Mr. Marsh?” he asked politely enough.
Feeling foolish, he blurted out, “Have you seen Mrs. Linder?” There seemed little excuse for a tradesman with no real purpose for being in the Assembly Rooms during a ball to ask about an employee. Doug felt his face burn.
“Ah.” A knowing expression came over the young man’s face. “Is there a problem?”
He thought quickly. “Her son has taken ill.” It was all he could think of.
“Sorry to hear that,” the man said. “She seems to love the little nipper. She’s in the cloakroom, I think, or the closet behind. Mr. Fowler sent her there to fetch ink. No idea why he needs it. There’s a door to the left, just outside the Octagon.” He pointed toward the front corridor. “You best move quickly to avoid the guests—and I best move on, too. The toffs won’t want us standing here.” He went on his way.
The secret to success, Doug knew, was to look like you knew what you were doing. He took a deep breath, stood straight, and walked with as much confidence as he could muster across the room. Luckily, most of the guests were in the ballroom or card room, and only a few bucks stood languidly about, cultivating a fashionable pose of boredom. The music soared in the ballroom, and he could see elegantly dressed dancers through the doors.
He reached the main corridor and spied the door his young friend described. He opened, entered, and closed it in a swift, silent movement. A single candle in a holder placed on a bracket for that purpose lit the closet, a small rectangle lined with shelves to store supplies. He was not alone.
Esther had her back to a wall at the far end of the storage room. He could see her face over Fowler’s left shoulder as the toad advanced toward her.
“Come now, Mrs. Linder, or whatever you choose to call yourself. Surely you can spare a bit for a man who decides your wages, can’t you?”
“I owe you my diligent labor, Mr. Fowler. Nothing more!” Esther didn’t see Doug step toward them.
“You can give me more than that—Esther is it?”
Fowler reached for her, and a red haze clouded Doug’s vision. Before he could reach them, Fowler let out a howl of pain and toppled to the floor from what appeared to be a well-aimed kick to his private parts, bringing Doug to a shocked stop. Esther stood over Fowler, her breath heaving. “I do not owe you any such thing,” she spat through clenched teeth.
Fowler rolled to his side, clutching his privates and began to stand, a string of curses fouling the air. Esther sidled around, avoiding Fowler’s grasp, and bumped into Doug, leaning her back against him and facing her tormenter. Doug stood close enough to see the pure hatred pouring from the ferret’s eyes.
“You’ll pay for this, you whore!” he roared. “You owe me more than a cuddle and a kiss for that one.” He lunged at Esther, only to be brought up short by a heavy wooden cane shoved crosswise into his middle like a battle staff.
“I believe it is you who owes the lady,” Doug spat through gritted teeth, pushing the little man unrelentingly back to the wall. If Fowler thought Doug’s limp meant he was weak, he knew better now. Doug’s grip on his throat proved it; seventeen years of war had taught him innumerable efficient ways to kill a man. “Start with an apology.”
“Doug, no! Don’t kill him.” Esther’s voice cut through Doug’s savage instincts. He slammed Fowler’s head against the wall and stepped back. Into Esther’s arms.
“Don’t,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “Don’t get into trouble for me.”
“You best listen to her, Marsh. You’ll get no further contract from me. I can ruin you.” Fowler rose unsteadily to his feet, “And that whore and the earl’s by-blow can starve in the street.”
Doug’s fist snapped Fowler’s head back before he could blink. “That is for the lady,” he said. He followed it with a swift cut to the man’s midsection that doubled him over. “And that is for the earl, as honorable a gentleman as you could hope to meet.”
Fowler clutched his midsection and glared. He opened his mouth to speak, and Doug’s entire body stiffened. He felt Esther’s hand, gentle on his arm. “Easy, Doug. Mr. Fowler is going to leave now, and we will never speak of this. He will tell no one what happened here.” Fowler managed a sneer, and Esther poked her index finger into his chest. “He will never speak of this because, if he does, the Earl of Chadbourn will have words for the Master of Ceremonies and the Assembly Room committee about the slur to his good name.” Fowler’s eyes widened.
Doug stood rigid at her side, hands fisted, eyes fixed on Fowler, wanting to pound the miscreant to the floor but helpless in the face of this courageous woman’s stand.
Her next words improved his disposition. “Besides, if he were to try to touch me again, he will face the wrath of Sergeant Douglas Marsh and come away a battered man—if he comes away at all,” she said with bloodthirsty glee.
“He will face it if he so much as opens his pathetic mouth to defame the lady’s name,” Doug ground out, his eyes never leaving Fowler, who could do no more than fire hateful looks in their direction as he waddled toward the door.
“Smile, Mr. Fowler. You don’t want to alarm the guests,” Esther called after him.
She clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh; the hand shook violently.
She turned to Doug with wide eyes, her hand fluttering down to her side. He reached out and cupped her cheek to sooth her. “He’s gone,” he whispered.
She nodded, a swift bob of her head, and he worried for a moment she might fall to pieces.
He kissed her brow and the spot next to her eye, murmuring reassuring nothings. Her hands slipped up to his shoulders, and she clutched him as if she feared he would go away.
Never, he thought.Never.
