The Irish Devil by Diane Whiteside Page B

ground. “I believe I would be more useful as a groom, my lady.”
    Her eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed. Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed as well, but he remained silent. “How old are you, lad?”
    “Seventeen in November, my lady.”
    “And you believe sixteen years of life qualifies you to tend my horses?”
    “Yes, my lady,” William said stubbornly. His jaw set hard. A few years of a groom’s tips should be enough for passage to America. Even if his audacity cost him the money, he’d be no worse off than he’d been this morning.
    She surveyed him for a long minute, a stare that might have quelled even the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Her lover was silent, watching her more than William.
    Finally she looked over her shoulder at Jocelyn, who nodded slightly. Her gaze returned to William, bearing a hint of a smile.
    “What’s your name, lad?”
    “William Donovan, my lady.”
    “Then you may be my fourth undergroom, William.”
    “Yes, my lady. Thank you, my lady. And you, sir.”
    “And here’s my thanks for protecting my wife,” the man added, finally dropping the coins into William’s palm.
    He was her husband? Then why was he dressed as a servant?
    William bowed again. “Thank you, my lord.”
    “Mr. Fitzgerald to you, William.”
    “Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
    “William.”
    “Yes, my lady?”
    “How many men have you killed?” Her voice wavered for the first time on the last word.
    “Do you truly want to know, my lady?”
    “No need to say more, William. You have given me the answer.”
     
    He’d reached Lyonsgate, and a new life, within days. Lady Irene had also given James and his family a cottage on another estate. When William left in 1855 after three years’ service, Lady Irene and Mr. Fitzgerald had given him the money and contacts needed to smooth his way in San Francisco.
    William considered his time there, pondering what could be used in his present situation. What would Lady Irene, the daughter and widow of earls, expect to find for her comfort? Clothes, certainly, and good food. A maid. What else?
    Viola shifted against him. William froze. She muttered something in her sleep, then relaxed again.
    He exhaled slowly and kissed the top of her head. He hadn’t known he was holding his breath.
    What trinkets could aid his dalliance with Viola? He’d brought only a few gewgaws with him, preferring to keep his favorite trifles at home in San Francisco rather than use them to titillate courtesans. Now he wished he’d brought his entire collection with him, just to see Viola’s face when she opened the first chest. Would her eyes widen in shock or close in rapture the first time he teased her with a bit of jade?
    He choked as his cock jerked at the thought.
    William carried Viola to the settee in the corner, mercifully free of the paperwork that cluttered every other surface. Her fingers slid down his arm as he stood up, evoking a frisson that ran all the way to his head and groin. He took a deep breath then moved away. There’d be time enough to savor her touch later.
    He found Abraham sweeping the colonnade outside the office. Morgan was in the side yard, checking the fittings on the ammunition wagon, while all his other men were too distant from the office to have heard much. Unless, of course, he’d shouted louder than he had thought.
    “Yes, sir?” Abraham asked politely as he set aside the broom.
    “There are a few matters needing your immediate attention, Abraham.”
    “Sir.” Abraham came to full attention.
    “Mrs. Ross will be my chère amie for the next three months. She will share my quarters and be under my protection at all times. Your first duty is to guard her as you would me.”
    The former enforcer bowed deeply. “My pleasure, sir.”
    “Mrs. Ross will also require a personal maid. Please ask Sarah to attend her. Ah Lum can cook for the household, as he did before our arrival. If necessary, ask China Mary to send additional help. Everything must flow as