Page 3 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

“Or removing their balls.” Evan shivered.

Unfortunately, even chaining their sister in anoubliettemight not keep her under control.

“It may be best to keep this from her until they are back in prison.” Stephen hated to keep things from his sister, but this was in her best interest. Besides, the men were such fools they would not be free for long.

Since Evan was often distracted by whatever sparkly or curvaceous thing stood before him, and he was currently sending side-long glances to the widowed Clara, Stephen pinned him in his most serious gaze.

“Evan, I have been assigned to a diplomatic mission that I must see to for the next week.”Assignedwasn’t quite the correct word, Stephen had insisted he attend Sir Elias Saxton’s business house party for the sennight. He fluttered his hand in front of his brother attempting to capture his wavering focus. “You must keep Alistair from going after the scoundrels on his own. I fear someone of importance has seen to their defense because the judge determined there was not enough evidence to detain them any longer.” Probably the no-good traitor, Pierre Dupont.

“But they are shit-sacks,” Evan said.

Stephen exhaled disgust.

“Bloody hell.” Evan guzzled.

“Keep everyone calm until I am finished with my mission at Sir Saxton’s. I am counting on you. Can you do it?”

“Do I have any other choice?” Evan asked.

“Not if we are to keep our siblings and brother-in-law from ending up in prison.”

With his fists still clenched, Alistair approached the table and dropped his giant physique onto his chair. “I am going to kill the cockchafers.”

“Nay. At least not on my watch,” Evan said. “We are leaving for the East-Midlands in the morning to seek out Harrington, and we need to ask him to keep the news from Georgie for the time being.”

Evan balked. Probably because he and the Duke of Astleyshire, William Harrington, spared no love for each other following a card game gone bad and a widow who had tried to bed them both at the same unfortunate ball. Ironically, Lady Hemmingsworth had once upon a time been Stephen’s secret lover. But that had been long ago and was neither here nor there.

“Alistair, are you listening to me?” Evan asked.

By Jove, the irony of the last few minutes.

“Then we are going home. You are going to devote yourself to Evangeline, Grandmother, and Jimmy,” Evan said.

Stephen smiled at his younger brother, letting him know he was proud of him. “Once I leave Sir Saxton’s, I will straighten out this jumble.” At least, he would do his best to keep everyone safe. “I’m afraid I must go now.” He needed to seek out a quiet place and reflect.

“Can you stay at Knightmoral House with us for the evening?” Alistair asked. “We know how much you love it there.”

He should return to his unit. However, he had the evening off, and he adored their peaceful Mayfair house with its extensive gardens and boxwood maze. ’Twas one of the special places in the city where nature thrived.

“That sounds delightful.”

“I could use another drink before heading home,” Alistair said.

Evan held up his empty tankard. “It’s even worse than Sampson’s ale. Still, I could use two more.”

“How about I meet you at Knightmoral,” Stephen said. Walking at night was a perfect opportunity to be alone with his thoughts. And, oh, did he need to think.

The steadyclonkof footsteps on cobblestones was comforting, and Stephen found it easier to solve problems when he strolled.

He should stop fretting. Myrle and Diggins would not be foolish enough to show up at either Trent Castle, or his sister’s new home, Hockley Castle. Why did he worry so? He’d upset his brothers for nothing.

On to his next problem.

After he’d found out that the duplicitous Pierre Dupont was to attend a weeklong business meeting at Sir Saxton’s estate, he’d been terribly aggressive about seeking an audience with the secretary of state. He’d tromped into Lord Fudgie’s office to declare, “Pierre Dupont is a sly-boot. Why do you trust him? He will have us in another war within a year.”

The exhausted secretary of state had sighed. “I am of the opinion that you are one of the Crown’s finest soldiers, so why do you insist on making these accusations against Monsieur Dupont?”

Because the wealthy Frenchman had sold secrets to the Crown. They had helped Stephen’s regiment defeat Napoleon, but the positive outcome did not negate from the fact that Dupont could be bought. The man had no honor, and his hands were dirty as they came. Moreover, Stephen was certain Dupont had been in league with the men he and his siblings had escorted to jail a few months prior. He wasn’t much of a braggart, but his instincts were rarely wrong. Adding insult to injury, if he couldn’t get the secretary of state to acknowledge Dupont’s duplicity, the people of England would continue to refer to him with the negative soubriquet,Lord Fudgie.