Earl of Shefford

shoulder, before being dragged to the door.
“Well, that did not end too well,” observed Colin, quietly. “I hope he finds his way home.”
“Without his horse,” sneered Bergen.
“Do you think he will try to take his horse? He lost it to you,” Colin added wryly.
“I conjured that he might and removed the horse to the stable across the street, with ours, when I took a break from the tables earlier. I am glad I insisted on a signed bill of sale.”
“Ah. Yes, that was probably wise,” Colin quipped.
“Faro does not appear to be his game, Shefford,” Bergen said, taking the last sip of his brandy. “Mm, I think this must be French brandy. How unusual to find it at a gaming hell.” He sniffed the rim of the glass and smiled, as if confirming his point.
“I feel the need for more salubrious surroundings. What say you we head to the club?”
“That is funny! I am right behind you, my friend.” Bergen sniggered. He picked up his coat and followed Colin.
As the two men approached the stable, a young man jumped up from where he was sitting, beneath a tree near the gate.
“M’lords,” he started, brushing off his breeches. “Can I bring yer horses to ye?”
“This is the young man who has been taking care of my winnings tonight,” Bergen said, chuckling.
“Me name’s Danny. I’m glad to see ye, m’lord,” the young man rejoined. “A shorter gentleman came fer that horse, just like ye said. I ’ad placed her in the back, in case I was with another when ’e came. He was really mad when I told him ye had taken her.”
“That was good thinking. Here is a little something extra for watching our horses and being so thoughtful, Danny,” Colin said, withdrawing the money from his waistcoat.
“Get away! A crown. You gents are the dog’s whiskers!”
“We had a run of luck at the tables tonight and our good fortune has become your gain,” Bergen added, grinning.
“Thank you,” the lad said with gusto. “I’ll be back in a jiffy with the horses.” He pocketed the coin and hurried into the stables.
“It is interesting how Whitton’s demeanor changed so rapidly,” Bergen remarked thoughtfully. “You should beware. A loser’s remorse can do strange things to a body. Perhaps I should apologize for talking you into one more game.”
“There is no need. I won.” Colin grinned. “Although I will admit I do not understand the building’s worth. It could have the walls eaten through and be overrun with rats, for all I know. I plan to take a look in a day or so—if he does not find the readies for his debt.”
“That was a very generous offer. You were more than fair.”
“Here come our horses.” Colin never felt comfortable with compliments, no matter how sincere. “I merely gave him an opportunity. The old codger seemed abnormally worried about the loss of the building.”
“What are you thinking to do with a building you have yet to see, Colin?” Bergen asked, his tone one of amusement.
“Ah! Here are the horses,” he said again in an attempt to deflect his friend’s attention. He had an idea for the building but preferred to speak to his brother first. “It would seem our return will be slower… I suspect you will have to pull along the second horse.” He eyed the mare with disfavor. “It was very well of you to move her…” Colin let his voice fade as he noticed the boy’s face. Something was wrong. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He turned around, just in time to block Lord Whitton’s knife as the man thrust it towards his back. Colin’s right arm received the punishing blow instead, but ignoring the pain, he pummeled Whitton with both fists, knocking him off balance. Shouting to Danny to run for help, Bergen joined him, and the two men wrestled Whitton to the ground.
“You should have that looked at,” Bergen observed some minutes later as they watched a pair of constables lead Lord Whitton away in handcuffs to the lock-up. “I have never seen that man so out of control. Attacking a peer—whatever next?” He grimaced. “I cannot imagine what drove him to do such a thing.”
“I will speak with the magistrate on that situation tomorrow. I have a disquieting feeling about that gentleman, and I need to make sure that they punish him for the assault,” Colin muttered. “Can you help me on to my horse?”
“I will. However, I insist you come to my house. I will send for the doctor. The cut is deep and needs to be attended.”
“Very well. However, I wish you will not make too much of it,” Colin returned, grimacing in the other direction. Distraction could help. His arm felt on fire. “I would like to speak with Baxter about Whitton and make sure that he does not escape justice.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Hopefully, the magistrate will send him to gaol, and they keep him there for a goodly while,” Bergen added.
“He can rot there,” Colin returned. “The man is dangerous and should not be among decent folk.”
“He is obviously in quite deep. Unless someone owes him, he is not likely to have enough blunt to grease the gaoler’s fist,” agreed Bergen. “Whitton may be a scoundrel; however, he is also an earl. I will send word to Baxter and Morray once I have you safely home. The sooner he is under lock and key, the better.”

Chapter 2
Honoria Mason glanced about the room, taking in the sleeping faces of fourteen children. My little angels. The room still smelled of paint and lye soap, despite her efforts to air it, yet it was an affirmation of the level of cleanliness she demanded. The school reopened three months hence, and these small children had already claimed their places. All of the children were ten years of age or under, with one toddler—a little girl. Since they did not have older children, they had made the decision to put them all in the largest room,