Excerpt: The Duke’s Rapier

Excerpt from Chapter 3
The Duke’s Rapier (TDG, Bk 10)
©C.H. Admirand May 2024

 

“Welcome Mr. O’Malley. Mr. O’Ghill is expecting you.”

“Thank ye, Mr. Black. I have no doubt he is. I’m after speaking to our Miss Caroline Gillingham as well. Where would I be finding the lass?”

The couple exchanged a glance and gave him the room numbers for his cousin and Miss Gillingham, advising that she had already retired for the night.

He nodded. “Thank ye.” Mumbling to himself as he ascended the stairs, he wondered what in the bloody hell to say to the lass that would not frighten her. O’Malley hadn’t had the time to request a note from the vicar explaining the situation or introducing Thomas. Mayhap just a quick conversation about the vicar and his family, and the baron and his, might be all that she needed as proof of who he was.

So as not to disturb the other guests, he knocked quietly on his cousin’s door. No response…of course. Knocking harder, he ordered in a firm, even tone, “Open up, O’Ghill.”

He heard movement in the room where Miss Gillingham was staying and her reply through the closed door, “Even if he was inside, he only answers if he wants to.”

That certainly sounded like O’Ghill. “Miss Gillingham?”

“Who is it?”

Her voice sounded wary, hesitant. Good, the lass was sensible enough not to open her door to strangers. “Me name’s O’Malley, I’m here to fetch ye to yer uncle.”

“What makes you think I have an uncle.”

He didn’t have time for long-winded explanations. “Vicar Chessy is worried sick about ye.” That should convince the lass to open her door.

“How do you know the vicar?”

Cagey lass, had yet to admit the vicar is her uncle. O’Malley heartily approved. “He and Baron Summerfield insisted I come after ye when ye did not arrive on the mail coach as anticipated.”

There was a long pause…with the door still closed…before she asked, “How do you know Mr. O’Ghill?”

O’Malley scrubbed a hand over his face. “’Tis me great misfortune to be distantly related.” He was listening carefully for the sound of the key turning in the lock, instead he heard her soft laughter.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. O’Malley.”

“Would ye open the door, I need to speak to ye without a door between us.”

“I… er… I would like to comply, however, your cousin locked me in my room.”

O’Malley’s frustration shot straight to boil. “He what?”

Silence behind her door. Had he frightened the lass? “Forgive me, Miss Gillingham, I should not be shocked as it does sound like something me cousin would do. I’ll ask the innkeeper for the spare key to yer room.” He put his hand to the door when she did not respond. “Lass?”

“Very well,” Miss Gillingham responded. “When you unlock the door, it is with the understanding that you will not enter my room, and will allow me to precede you to the common room, where there are plenty of witnesses, while you remain here and count to fifty before joining me.”

He dropped his hand to his side and swallowed a chuckle. “Well now, lass, that sounds intelligent and is agreeable to me. I’ll be right back.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Begging yer pardon, Miss Gillingham for asking, but the innkeeper’s wife said ye had retired. Do ye need time to dress?”

She sighed. “No. I’ve been waiting for Mr. O’Ghill to return and unlock the door.”

“Fine then. Ye’ll be presentable when I open the door, no doubt the innkeeper and his wife will be counting the minutes to see how long it takes ye to appear downstairs after I let ye out.”

“Whatever for?”

Her softly asked question had him adding innocent to intelligent. “Ah, lass, if ye don’t know, I’m not the one to be explaining it to ye. Though if ye ask the innkeeper’s wife, I’m certain she’ll be happy to tell ye.”

“Why would she?”

“Do ye intend to spend the next hour asking questions, when I could be fetching the key and unlocking yer door?”

“Forgive me, Mr. O’Malley. When I am unsettled, I tend to ask questions.”

“I’ll be right back with the key…. Better yet, I’ll return with the key and Mrs. Black.”

“Thank you, Mr. O’Malley.”

As he reached the bottom of the staircase, the innkeeper was waiting for him. “What can I do for you, Mr. O’Malley?”

“I need the key to Miss Gillingham’s room.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Our inn has a rule about visitors, especially in the rooms of our female guests…even if she is your cousin.”

Thinking quickly, O’Malley replied, “Apparently there was a mishap. Me cousin changed her mind and was coming down for a pot of tea and a bite to eat. She explained that she was in the hallway with her key in the door, locking it, when she realized she’d forgotten her reticule. She rushed into her room and stumbled, knocking into the door which closed and locked her in.”

The innkeeper’s wife joined her husband and placed her hand on his arm. “Poor woman, she must be desperate for a meal and that pot of tea by now, it has been a few hours since she went upstairs.”

“If the key was in the lock—”

“It wasn’t just now. Must have fallen to the floor and someone picked it up.”

“One moment, Mr. O’Malley,” Mrs. Black said. “I’ll get the spare key and accompany you upstairs.”

“I’d be grateful. Thank ye.”

A few moments later the innkeeper’s wife had the key in the lock and opened the door. Miss Gillingham rushed out, tripped, and nearly plowed into the woman. O’Malley was quick to react. He reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, steadying her. “Easy, lass.”

She tipped her head up and stared at him. Wide eyes the color of morning mist were magnified by her spectacles. Her red head and sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, dotting her cheeks—as if painted by a wood sprite—charmed him, capturing his interest. The lass reminded him of home.

When the innkeeper’s wife cleared her throat, he dropped his hand. “Ye’ll need to mind yer step.”

“Thank you so much for bringing the key, you see, I was afraid—”

“That someone ye did not know would find the key and open the door while ye were sleeping. Understandable. I’ve explained how ye locked yerself in yer room by accident.”

“I have done that myself more than once changing the bed linens,” Mrs. Black admitted. She linked arms with Miss Gillingham and proceeded toward the stairs. “Mr. O’Malley mentioned you were hungry. You missed the evening meal, but there is plenty of stew left over. Would you like a bowl.”

“Yes, thank you,” the lass answered, “I am hungry.”

“Mr. O’Malley, I’ll bring you a bowl, too.”

“Thank ye,” O’Malley said. “And the pot of tea?”

“Of course,” the innkeeper’s wife replied. “I will be happy to bring a pot to you along with cream and sugar. Would either of you like something sweet to go with the tea? I baked tarts earlier.”

O’Malley noted the hint of moisture pooling in the lass’s eyes. Before the first tear could fall, and splash on her spectacles, he chuckled. “Ye sound like me ma. Always offering something sweet with tea. Thank ye for yer kindness, Mrs. Black.”

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