“Your husband,” responded Allan, his voice huskier still, “was a fool.”
“Must I beg?” Mel asked.
Allan did not reply. Or perhaps his actions spoke for him, for he bent to the spirit lamp under the percolator and turned a wheel until the flame went out. Then he held out his hand, and she put hers into it.
“Are you certain?” Allan asked, and she assured him that she was.
“Your bed or mine?” That was the next question. She chose his, for it was larger. As he led her in that direction, he added, “You can stop me at any time. Just say ‘stop’, and I shall.” That required no reply, but was good to know.
Allan was right about it taking more than ten minutes. And those at The Golden Adonis who enjoyed the activity were right, too. It was neither boring nor uncomfortable. Her husband really had been a fool.
*
The marquess hadmen watching Clara’s. The leader of the guard assigned to Mel and Allan this afternoon had received a note from his colleagues explaining the likelihood of ambush and proposing a strategy for avoiding the risk points.
He sent notice of their arrival by one of the myriad street boys that Moriarty Protection used to run messages, and they waited for the planned commotion to draw the marquess’s men away.
The plan worked like clockwork. They were climbing the steps at Clara’s when they heard a shout from the roof above, followed by the sharp bark of a rifle. In the next moment, simultaneously, Allan shouted, “Get down!” and a yell of pain sounded across the street. Something fell to crash into the street. Feet scrabbled on tiles. A voice called from Clara’s roof. “Sniper, sir. Neutralized.”
Mel and Allan had both turned to look at the roof across the street. As her gaze fell to street-level, her eyes met Farnham’s. Teign’s steward was glaring at her as if attempting to incinerate her on the spot. She gave him a wave and a grin, just as Allantouched her arm and said, “It would ease my mind if you did not stay any longer on these steps, Melody.”
She took his arm and allowed him to escort her inside as he scolded her, “I know we agreed that angering the marquess would encourage him to rash behavior, but you must not make a target of yourself. Farnham is a soulless bully, and you have already provoked him once.”
“Twice, at least,” Mel corrected. “I shall be careful not to go unprotected, Allan. I am not a fool. But I am not going to let him or anyone else frighten me into scurrying around like a mouse.”
It was unusual for anyone to be concerned about her safety. Even her sister Harmony, who loved Mel and relied on her for protection, seemed to think that she was made of iron. Mel was torn between being annoyed at Allan for ordering her around and being touched by his evident concern.
At least he didn’t compound his error by arguing. “I know you are competent, my dear lady. You know more than me about intrigue and derring-do, and I suppose you are going to tell me you have been shot at before. But please allow me to worry about you.”
He was evidently teachable. “Very well, since you said ‘please’,” she said, smiling to indicate she was joking.
They had been escorted into the drawing room while they were talking, and most of the other couples were already there. “Has he been ordering you about, Mrs. Blackmore?” asked Donald. “He does that.”
“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Frank assured her. “It is just that he is the eldest, and used to being in charge.”
“It is damned annoying, though,” said Baldwin.
Their sidelong looks at their brother indicated that they were teasing, and he knew it, for his only reaction was to say, “Leave off, brats. I’m sorry, Melody. I tend to order, but I shall try toask. Do you think you could be kind enough to just assume the ‘please’ if you are actually being shot at?”
The brothers and their wives gaped at Mel. “You were shot at?” Cornelius asked.
“Actually, the sniper could have been aiming at Allan,” she told them. “Either way, Moriarty Protection had put a man on Clara’s roof, and the sniper was shot before he could carry out his commission. Only wounded. He ran off. I don’t know whether our guards caught him.”
“Farnham was in the street,” said Allan.
“We saw him, too.” It was a group of four new arrivals, the twins Gerard and Hudson and their wives.
“Did you have trouble with him and his men?” Allan asked. He was leaning forward on the balls of his feet, his fists clenched, as if he was ready to rush to the rescue.
“Not at all,” said Gerard.
Hudson continued the explanation. “The Moriarty bodyguard said the marquess’s men had all rushed off to the way you came in, Allan.”
“So, our carriage came straight down the most direct way,” Gerard continued.
And Hudson finished. “Nobody knew it was us until we started up the steps to the front door.”
“Our brothers and sisters may have some difficulties leaving, Clara,” said Baldwin, seriously.
