Rescuing Mr. Gracey by Eileen K. Barnes Page A

will prosecute any native who trespasses or poaches on my lands. I have hired a reliable man to monitor all the popular shortcuts used by the residents of Dolly’s Brae until the marching season has ended. Those who break the law will suffer the consequences.”
    Alec jolted to his feet, knocking into a side table. The room’s attention turned. Managing an apologetic smile, he straightened the table. Roden’s gaze briefly flicked at the disturbance before, folding his arms, he continued. “I will offer clemency if the offenders forfeit their property and leave my district. Otherwise, they will face imprisonment. I anticipate my financial burden will be greatly reduced within the month.”
    Alec’s chest ached; his stomach turned with nausea. It was very likely that Mary Smyth used the earl’s property every day. Worry ate at him. Was Mary bathing now? Had she already been arrested?
    Sauntering casually toward the window, he tried to maintain a relaxed poise, but unreasonable urges made his hand tremble. He lifted the corner of the curtain and sighed with relief. Rain leaked from the skies. At least she would not be at the lake today.
    “In addition to protecting our investment in this nation, we must also groom a new generation of leaders. We must flood the House of Commons with like-minded men.” Roden walked to the middle of the room and turned so that he faced the prime minister and then surveyed the entire room. “Sirs, I propose support of a young, educated, and loyal leader.”
    Roden waited for the perfect climactic moment. Pointing to Alec, he said, “I put forth Mr. Alexander Gracey, a highly educated and respected leader in the agricultural world whose father rose from poverty, making his fortune in linen production.” He smiled warmly, but Alec saw the steel within the cold eyes. “In Gracey, we have the perfect spark and balance for Parliament.”
    Bitterly, Alec now understood why he had been chosen. A token Anglo-Irishman, son of a lowly, uneducated man who pulled himself from the streets toward prosperity was, indeed, the perfect banner to wave while in the throes of a blight.
    Hesitancy hung in the air as the two sides measured Alec’s worthiness. Roden continued, “I give you Mr. Gracey, the hope for the common man, the leader for our unsteady nation, and a candidate for the by-election to replace Mr. Everstone after his unfortunate accident.”
    Roden slung a heavy, oppressive hand upon Alec’s shoulder. Stunned silence followed. A singular clapping sound from James Bender at the back of the room forced others to politely, forcibly join the applause.
    So…it begins.
    His heart thumped, his body recoiled. He smiled, false but confident.
    Hope of the nation, indeed. He was nothing short of confused, caught between opposing sides. Most of all, he was worried about the bathing habits of a native girl. How was he to be both enemy and protector to a lovely lady who lived a mile from his home? More important, how could he keep his distance yet still ensure her safety?

~ 7 ~

    “And the tune we played was
      ‘The Protestant Boys’ right over Dolly’s Brae.”

    Within the waning light of day, the three-wheeled cart—already protesting the terrible condition of the road by clattering and squeaking like an unhappy piglet—suddenly wobbled, then tilted into the black muddy soup.
    Quaking with exhaustion, Mary closed her eyes, pleading with the holy angels to assist her feeble human effort, then heaved her trembling weight sideways, then backward, pulling and twisting until the mud, with a sloppy sucking sound, relinquished its prisoner.
    A tired sigh puffed from her lips as she steered the cart to a safer, grassier spot. Bracing against the blustery wind, she clutched her meager cloak tighter around her shoulders and surveyed the darkening clouds that threatened more rain. Would the trials of the endless day ever cease?
    Her gaze shifted toward the forest. Last night, a Ribbonman rebel had