Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

In moments of unpainted self-honesty, Daniel had to admit that his unusually informal relationship with Samuel was the result of his own reluctance to curb the young man's outspokenness. In a most surprising turn of events, he'd come to look upon him almost as a younger brother. Certainly he felt closer to Samuel than he did to Stuart and George. Neither of his two dissolute younger half brothers had any use for him-unless they needed money or assistance in getting out of some scrape or another.

No, since Samuel's arrival, Daniel could no longer claim his life was boring or lacked challenge. Indeed, things around the town house-as well as his country estate in Kent-more often than not bordered on disorder, thanks to a habit of Samuel's Daniel hadn't anticipated.

As if the mere thought of Samuel's habit conjured up a physical reminder, Daniel was yanked from his reverie when a ball of pure black fluff jumped onto his lap. He looked down and found himself the object of a one-eyed feline stare.

"Ah, good morning, Blinky," he murmured, scratching the cat behind her ears. Blinky immediately narrowed her one topaz-colored eye and leaned into Daniel's touch. A deep purr vibrated in the animal's throat and she kneaded Daniel's linen napkin with her front paws.

Samuel set Daniel's coffee on the table in front of him, after which he gave Blinky's head a quick pat. Then the footman straightened and cleared this throat.

Uh-oh. Daniel pressed his lips together to contain the half groan, half laugh that threatened to escape. He knew what that throat clearing meant. Knew that Ye'll never guess wot, milord would be the next words spoken.

"Ye'll never guess wot, milord," Samuel said, as if cued to do so.

It had taken a bit of getting used to, hearing those words, coming to know what they meant, having his normal routine disrupted. But he couldn't deny that he now anticipated that sentence from Samuel. Of course, he dared not show too much enthusiasm, lest his entire household be overrun.

Daniel stared down at Blinky, whose one-eyed, nose-twitching interest was currently fixated on his untouched plate of eggs and bacon. "I can't imagine," he said blandly, as if after a year with Samuel in his employ, he knew didn't know damn well "wot."

"'Tis a puppy, milord." Samuel said the word puppy with a hushed reverence normally reserved for members of the royal family. '"Bout six months old, I'd guess."

"I see," Daniel said with a somber nod. "And what malady has stricken the animal?"

"Abandoned, milord. Found 'im, last night, half starved, huddled behind some trash in an alley."

Daniel no longer admonished Samuel about roaming London's dark alleys, as he knew his warnings would fall on deaf ears. Nor was he concerned that Samuel was relieving anyone of their purses. No, his footman was looking for another sort of victim.

"And what do you suggest we call this abandoned canine?" Daniel asked, knowing the name would give a true clue as to the animal's… problem.

"Baldy, milord," Samuel said without hesitation.

Daniel considered the ramifications of that while breaking off a bit of bacon for Blinky. The cat gobbled up the morsel then promptly batted at his hand and yowled for another. "Shaved?" Daniel finally guessed.

Samuel nodded. "Had to, milord. To get rid o' the matted hair and fleas."

"Ah." Blinky yowled again, and Daniel absently fed the impatient beast another bit of bacon. "And where is Baldy now?"

"In the kitchens, milord. Asleep. After I shaved and bathed 'im, Cook fed 'im good. Then the wee beastie curled up by the hearth. Probably sleep most of the day, I'd wager."

"Who? Cook?" Daniel deadpanned.

"Baldy, milord." Samuel hesitated, then asked, "So… can we keep 'im?"

It never failed to amaze Daniel that after all these months and all these animals, Samuel took nothing for granted and still asked. "I suppose we have room for one more 'wee beastie.'"

Samuel's broad shoulders, which only a year ago had been bony and narrow, sagged with obvious relief. "I were hopin' so, milord. I told Baldy wot ye'd done fer me, wot a fine, decent man ye are."

Bloody hell. A humbling wave of something that felt precisely like embarrassment swept through Daniel, and he found himself at a momentary loss for words, a state of affairs Samuel's gratitude always managed to reduce him to.

"A man shouldn't be praised for doing the right thing, Samuel. For simply helping an abandoned creature."

"Ye're wrong, milord," Samuel replied in his non-kowtowing manner. "Ye may think that kindness is easily found, but I'm tellin' ye, it ain't. And when yer lucky enough to find it, it needs to be recognized. 'Tis a good thing yer doin'. More so 'cause ye don't have to do it. And most likely will end up with more chewed furniture for yer trouble."

"It's actually your act of kindness, Samuel."

"'Tis true I find the lost and abandoned, milord, but 'tis you who has the means to help 'em. The means and the heart. I couldn't do nothin' if it weren't for you." His quick grin flashed. "Definitely not, as I'd be in the dirt, pushin' up petunias, that's where I'd be."

"Well, we couldn't have that," Daniel said, forcing a wry note into his voice. "Who else would disrupt my formerly well-ordered household with irreverent conduct and an assortment of mangy animals?"

"No one, milord," Samuel said without hesitation.

True. And that would be Daniel's very great loss.

"No one," he agreed with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. He shot Blinky a wink. The cat responded with a one-eyed glare that she pointedly shifted from Daniel to the bacon.

Samuel smiled, showing off his slightly crooked front teeth. "How's yer headache, milord?"

"It's…" Daniel considered for several seconds, then huffed out a surprised laugh. "Gone."

"Hate to say 'I told ye so…'"

Daniel shot the young man a mock scowl. "No you don't. In fact, I believe that that is one of your favorite things to say."

"Glad ye're feelin' better, because…" Samuel cleared his throat. "… ye'll never guess wot, milord."

Daniel froze. Dear God, two guess wots in one day? Since Samuel tended to spring his I've found us another stray surprises according to size, Daniel knew that whatever was coming next was larger than a puppy.

"I can't imagine," he murmured, bracing himself as he scratched Blinky behind her ears. "Horse? Donkey? Camel?"

Samuel blinked. "Camel?"

Daniel shrugged. "Merely a guess. Certainly if an orphaned dromedary wandered about London, you'd find it. And bring it here."

"Naturally, milord. But it's not a camel."

"My relief knows no bounds. Don't tell me. Baldy has five canine friends in tow?"

"No, milord. Far as I can tell, Baldy's all alone in the world. 'Cept fer us now, of course." Samuel cleared his throat, and Daniel noticed that he looked decidedly nervous. And that his skin had taken on a faint greenish cast that matched his livery, although not in a good way.

"It's that… ye've a visitor, milord. A Mr. Rayburn."

Daniel's brows shot upward. "Charles Rayburn? The magistrate?"

Samuel nodded. "Aye. He's awaitin' ye in the drawing room. With another bloke, called himself Gideon Mayne."

"I don't know anyone by that name."

"Bloke didn't say so, but I'd peg 'im as a Runner."

Daniel studied his obviously nervous, green-tinged footman. "When did they arrive?"

"'Bout half an hour ago. I were passin' by the foyer when Barkley were lettin' them in. Overheard who they were. After Barkley showed 'em into the drawing room, I offered to tell ye they were here, seein' as how I were comin' to the dinin' room."

"And you're just telling me now?" Good God, he really needed to discuss Samuel's lack of propriety regarding his duties. He was fortunate he hadn't accidentally strolled into his drawing room three hours from now and discovered the magistrate and Runner still awaiting him.

Samuel shrugged. "We had other business to discuss first, and I wanted to get ye pinkened up before springin' the news that the law were here. Besides, can't say I minded the thought of them blokes waitin' on ye. As they should. Ye're an important man. God-awful hour for them to be disturbin' ye. Especially…"

"Especially what?"

Samuel swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Several seconds passed, then he said in a rush, "Wot if they're here 'bout me?" Before Daniel could speak, Samuel rushed on, "I ain't done nothin', milord. I swear it. Upon me life. I promised ye I wouldn't steal and I haven't."

"I don't doubt you, Samuel."

That seemed to calm Samuel a bit, and he jerked his head in a nod. "Thank ye."

"I'm sure whatever they want has nothing to do with you. And if it does, it's obviously a misunderstanding that we'll work out."

Fear clouded Samuel's dark eyes, a look Daniel hadn't seen in many months. One he hated seeing now. "But wot if it's about somethin' I stole before? Before ye helped me? Wot if they want to take me away-"

"No one is taking anyone anywhere," Daniel said firmly. He gently set Blinky on the floor then rose. "I'll go see what they want."

"Ye'll tell me wot it is?" Samuel asked in an unsteady voice. "As soon as they leave?"

He clamped his hand on Samuel's shoulder. "As soon as they leave. Don't worry. I'm sure it's nothing."

He strode toward the drawing room, praying he was right. And knowing he'd protect Samuel with whatever resources necessary.

When he entered the foyer, Barkley straightened to his full height. "Are you ready to be announced to your callers, my lord?" the butler asked in the same dour monotone he'd used for every one of the ten years he'd been in Daniel's employ.

"Yes. I gather they've been waiting quite some time." He cast the butler a sidelong glance. "But I suspect you knew that would be the case when you allowed Samuel to bring me word that they were here."

"Serves them right to wait, calling at such an unfashionable hour." Barkley hoisted his nose upward and gave an elegant sniff. "Especially if they're here about Samuel."

They'll have a hell of a fight on their hands if they are. "One way to find out."

He followed Barkley down the corridor, and after the butler announced him, entered the room. Charles Rayburn, the magistrate, rose from his chair next to the fire. Daniel judged the tall, robust man to be in his mid-forties. He noted that Rayburn's sharp green eyes took in every detail of his appearance.

"Good morning, my lord," Rayburn said. "My apologies for the early morning call." He nodded toward the other man, who stood near the fireplace.

"This is Mr. Gideon Mayne. Mr. Mayne is a Bow Street Runner."

Daniel's initial impression of Mr. Mayne was that he was very tall, very muscular, and very solemn. His face, which sported a nose that had clearly been broken at one time, looked as if it were hewn from stone. Clearly this was not a social call.

After nodding to both men, he indicated the chairs set around the hearth and asked, "Shall we sit?"

Mr. Mayne looked as if sitting was the last thing he wished to do, but he offered no objection. After they were all settled, Daniel asked, "What is the purpose of this visit?"

"It concerns Lady Walsh's masquerade last evening, my lord," Rayburn said.

Daniel allowed only his surprise-and none of his relief-to show. Obviously this wasn't about Samuel. "What about it?"

"You were costumed as a highwayman, were you not?"

"I was."

Rayburn and Mayne exchanged a quick glance. "You were seen in the company of a particular lady last evening, my lord."

An image of Carolyn instantly materialized in his mind. "What of it?"

"I'm afraid, my lord, that lady's been murdered."

Everything inside Daniel froze. An icy wind seemed to blow through the hole the magistrate's words punched through him. A silent No! screamed through his mind, one he surely would have roared aloud had he been able to draw a breath. An unbearable weight crushed his chest, seemingly collapsing his lungs, shattering his heart. Carolyn… dear God, not Carolyn.