“You’re too late. They’re dead,” Robbi’s voice held a glee he should be worried about. Except he was feeling more than a bit of it himself.
“Are you sure you want to be a part of this tempest?” she asked.
“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he confessed.
“Foine. I’ll help Payne with the dead bodies in the drawing room and rescue Charlotte from the garden, but just so you know, my sister’s going to need to give a statement, so don’t distract her by baring that handsome arse of yours.” She mocked him with a wink.
“Take this, brat. I have no use for it now.” He discreetly handed his pistol to her. “Make sure you lock up all the guns in my study.”
Robbi saluted him and ran back down the stairs, and Simon joined his family on the floor as baby Dorian serenaded the entire household.
Epilogue
WHISPERS OF THE TON
Heroes in Gowns
Dearest Reader,
‘It seems The Whispers of the Ton has made the betting books of Whites once more as to which lady of the ton will be exposed next within our pages. Contrary to the gentlemen’s beliefs, we do not condemn the bold spirits of women who aren’t afraid to seize a happily ever after. That particular ending for a woman in our society is a rare gift. Indeed, most of our female readers are subjected to the unwanted, unappreciated, and despicable attentions of the very men who placed bets. The men who judge them for working or surviving horrendous attacks, have too much power over their lives and deaths. The moral turpitude of those men will be exposed. So, gentlemen of the ton, line up and place your bets as to which of you will grace our pages next.
As for the lady we celebrated within our recent reports, we have it on good authority the new Countess A, is a true heroine. With the assistance of several young misses (we will not mention by name for fear of negative societal judgements they do not deserve), she is responsible for thearrests of numerous men in the East End who have been kidnapping young women of every societal rank for over a decade. It is also said Countess A not only protected her family and servants from the villains who entered her home uninvited; she dispatched several to Pluto for judgement of their corrupt souls.
To the gentlemen who participated in this dastardly scandal who have not been identified, fear the mighty pen that will expose your use and abuse. There will be no ransom demand from us. Nor will there be mercy for the families who refused to allow their sisters and daughters to return home because they were somehow deemed less worthy after being victimized.
While some gentlemen may be quaking in their boots, our illustrious Sir W, who lent a helping hand in the rescue of thirteen young ladies, was observed enjoying a glass of port and a cigar while taking his bath after a long hard night. How much more enticing can the man be? Rumor has it, his investigation continues. Whether Sir W is a protector of the innocent, or a deceiver for the powerful, remains to be seen. We shall celebrate the hero for now and expose his best side. If there turns out to be another side deserving further inspection, you shall be the first we tell.
—The Whispers of the Ton publication one month after the warehouse raid. Within the pages of the paper was a graphic etching of Sir Williamson in his copper tub taking a bath while enjoying a glass of port and a cigar. His long legs were crossed at the ankles and stretched out over the rim of the tub as he leaned back in repose. The etching caused much laughter among those in the ton. Sir Williamson read the article and seethed.
“Are you suggesting,” Robbi asked, “that a woman cannot be as good a spy as a man, Mr. Payne?”
Ailsa rolled her eyes. The poor man had stepped in it as soon as they walked out of the house to take the children to the park. Robbi was going to eat him alive. Ailsa wasn’t sure who was more taxing to be around, the two of them, or the three younger children.
“Robbi, stop vexing the poor man and help me get our naughty nieces and nephew under control before they find another bit of trouble they don’t need.”
“Might I have a word, Miss Blair?”
All three of them startled, including Mr. Payne, when a man stepped from the shadows and took hold of her arm as if he had a right to put his hands upon her person. She looked up…and up and immediately knew the identity of her attacker by his mere size alone, despite his face being obscured from view by his hat.
“Sir Williamson, I would kindly ask that you unhand me as I have children to attend to.”
“Mr. Payne and your sister will handle the children.” He nodded at her sister and Mr. Payne, and they scurried off like obedient little dogs.
“What just happened?” She asked.
“I got rid of prying ears and eyes.”
“We’re on a public street in the middle of summer. There are eyes and ears observing everything about us. Besides which, you’re as big as a horse, and since you’re the only horse-sized creature walking on the sidewalk, you tend to attract every eye on the block.”
As if to prove her point, two young boys pointed out the window at him from their library window across the street. She raised her brows as if to say,See? I told you.
“Smugness, doesn’t become a lady.”
“I’m not a lady. I’m a mere Miss.”
“A naughty miss, at that.”
“I beg your pardon?”
