The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

“Ah, glorious Charlotte. Knock again, Rohan.”

He did. Then he turned the knob. Both expected it to be locked. It wasn’t. Rohan looked over his shoulder at his friend, a blond brow raised.

The men entered a long, narrow hallway. On the right was a small drawing room. No one was in it. At the back of the apartment was the bedchamber. The door was shut.

It was then that they heard a woman’s giggle.

“I was getting worried,” Rohan said quietly. “At least now we know the bastard isn’t dead.”

“You were thinking that as well?”

“As I told you, that villain Lambert had no scruples. Where there’s one villain, there are usually more waiting in the wings.” Slowly, Rohan turned the doorknob. The door was well oiled and eased open soundlessly. The two men stood just inside the room, their eyes on the big bed opposite them. A red-haired woman was astride a man, both of them naked, the man obviously inside the woman.

“Hello, Reverend McNally,” Rohan said, jovially.

The woman twisted about, stared at the two strange men, and shrieked. She jerked off the man and scrambled to grab a blanket to cover herself. As for the man, he was obviously dazed, but he was quickly getting his wits back together. He shook his head as he sat up.

He looked at them, heedless of the fact that he was naked. He said to the woman, not looking at her, “Do go make us all some tea, Lynnie. Ah, and dress yourself, for I fear there is nothing much else for us today.”

His voice was deep and mellifluous, its timber soothing and confident. He then said, “Baron Mountvale, I believe. And you as well, Lord Derencourt?”

“You are not a particularly pleasant specimen,” Rohan said as he strode to the bed. He threw the man his dressing gown. “Cover yourself. Come to your drawing room. We will await you there.”

“I suppose there’s no choice,” McNally said, looking thoughtfully from the baron to the viscount. “No, I didn’t think so. It’s a pity that the only way out of here is through the front door. You would spot me for sure, wouldn’t you?”

“Spot you and then shoot you,” Rohan said. “With a good deal of pleasure, I might add.”

Not ten minutes later the Reverend Bligh McNally sauntered into the drawing room, Lynnie at his heels carrying a tea tray that badly needed polishing.

“Please be seated, gentlemen.”

“Set the tea down and leave,” Rohan said to the woman.

“Yes, Lynnie, you may leave now. Ah, you will also keep a still tongue in your head, won’t you? No need to raise any eyebrows.”

“Aye, milor’.”

Phillip Mercerault raised a brow at that. “Milord? She thinks you’re a milord? Good God, don’t tell me that actually works?”

McNally shrugged. “Sometimes. Money

isn’t always necessary. Lynnie isn’t very shrewd, poor little love. It’s a pity, but she will require money from me as soon as she becomes wiser in her business. Now, what may I do for you gentlemen? I don’t suppose either of you wishes to wed in that very special sort of way I have? I have had new licenses designed. They would fool even you for a good minute or two.”

Rohan just smiled at the man, who was about the age Rohan’s father had been when he’d died in that wretched carriage accident. He was thin as a stick, and wore a thick beard. He looked like a Methodist. That was probably why young girls trusted that he was indeed a man of the cloth. Rohan walked to him, took his wrist in a fast, smooth move and wrenched it up high behind his back.

McNally moaned, tried to free himself but couldn’t manage it. “Wha—what is this, my lord?”

“This is to gain your attention, McNally. Now what I want is for you to cast back your marvelous memory to five years ago. You performed one of your sham marriages for my brother George Carrington to a young lady named Susannah Hawlworth.”

“That is a very long time, my lord. I am not a young man. You must understand that it is difficult—”

Rohan twisted the arm higher and McNally groaned in pain. He whispered in his ear, “I will break it if your memory doesn’t make a brilliant recovery. Immediately.”

“All right. Please, release me. I’ll tell you all I know.”

McNally rubbed his arm as he spoke, “What happened, my lord? After your brother died, the young woman came to you? You, naturally, knew that there had been no marriage? She wanted money? Did she still believe herself wedded to your brother, or had he left her long before?”

“It is none of your concern, McNally. Tell me what you know, now.” Rohan made a move to take McNally’s arm again.