Chapter Seventeen
Despite all the madness and turmoil of the last few weeks, Joseph felt as though they were closer than they had ever been to thwarting Montrose as he, Ellen, and Francis made their way across London to Danny Long’s house. For once, they knew Montrose’s plans before the man was able to fully execute them, and they knew that a precise blow to the blackguard’s finances would ruin him for good. All they had to determine now was how to prevent Montrose from profiting off the building scheme and how to keep him from earning the money he needed to continue his reign of destruction.
“And you believe this Mr. Long will have the answers as to how you can foil Montrose’s financial state?” Francis asked as their carriage let them off at Darlington Gardens in Earl’s Court.
It was a strange place for a man as wealthy as Long to make his home. Most of the high and mighty of English society preferred the likes of Mayfair or Kensington. Long was not like other wealthy men, though, and as Joseph understood it, he had built up Darlington Gardens and all of the surrounding squares himself, so it stood to reason that he would live there as well.
“Long has means and methods of discovering the truth about the sort of men Montrose has dealt with that I am not certain I wish to think about too deeply,” Joseph said as they strode into the mostly enclosed square that made up Darlington Gardens. It appeared they had been let out on the wrong side of the square and would have to cut through the cozy neighborhood to reach Long’s house.
Francis frowned and let out an impatient breath. “If that is the sort of men Mr. Long is associated with, you should have waited for my return from Lisbon before becoming involved with the man.”
Joseph stopped where he was in a fit of frustration and turned to face his brother.
“I have handled this matter on my own with great efficiency and, might I add, a good deal of success,” he said. “More success than you, Sam, or Dean have had. I have not needed your fraternal hand to hold throughout any of it, and I will not require your oversight going forward.”
“Or, as we’ve been known to say in Haskell,” Ellen added with a wily look, “Back the hell off, Lord Cathraiche.”
Francis’s jaw dropped at Ellen’s addition—likely for several reasons—but he was interrupted before he could say anything further.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
The three of them turned to find a small group of fierce young girls approaching them from the large garden in the middle of the square. Two of them were dressed in what appeared to be a lovely school uniform of some sort, and the other two were dressed in stylish frocks.
“I beg your pardon?” Francis asked, reeling back a bit.
“This is our square,” the eldest-looking of the girls, one of the ones in a fashionable frock, said. “Intruders are not allowed.”
Joseph exchanged a look with Ellen. She was suppressing a smile. It was exceedingly difficult not to at least grin when faced with such a formidable foe.
“We are not intruders,” Ellen explained. “We are on our way to visit Mr. Long.”
“You should have gone around the other way,” one of the uniformed girls said. “Sir always says to be careful of anyone we see in the square who does not belong here.”
“And how does one know whether they belong here?” Joseph asked, humoring the girls.
The girls stared flatly at him, as though Joseph were dim.
“We know you belong here if you live here,” the uniformed girl said. “Everyone knows that.”
“And might I have the pleasure of your names?” Joseph asked.
“I thought we didn’t have time for things like this,” Francis murmured, seeming to writhe with impatience. “Run along and play,” he told the girls.
All four of the girls, and now Joseph and Ellen as well, shook their heads at him and sighed as though Francis were thick.
“I am Lady Margaret Evangeline Olivia Williamson,” the eldest girl introduced herself with all the airs and graces her name implied. “You may call me Lady Greta. This is my sister, Lady Jessica Williamson, and our friends, Katie and Jane. They are from the orphanage over there,” she turned and pointed to one of the buildings on the square, “and Jessie and I live with Papa and Niall over there.” She pointed in the other direction.
Joseph suddenly knew precisely who the girls were. Rumors were rampant all over London that Blake Williamson, the Duke of Selby, had vanished somewhere in London where he was living with his male lover, the famous playwright, Niall Cristofori. Joseph hadn’t spared much thought for either man, not since his father had expressed decidedly derogatory opinions about such men, but seeing the happy, strong, and obviously well-cared-for girls in front of him made him smile.
He'd also heard rumors about neighborhoods in London that were considered safe areas for men like Selby and Cristofori. Apparently, those rumors were true. A fact that made Joseph smile. Long built and owned the entire square and several streets around it, which meant he was the sort of man to give shelter to the persecuted. And if he had that sort of generous spirit, he would most definitely be able to concoct some sort of unusual scheme to defeat Montrose.
Francis continued to look frustrated and uncomfortable, but Joseph stood straighter and addressed the girls with all the seriousness that he would have wished for when he was a child.
“As the four of you are clearly the ones protecting and overseeing this square,” he said, “might I request that you escort us to Mr. Long’s house?”
The girls looked delighted to have been asked.
“We don’t have to do that,” Katie, the girl in the uniform who had spoken before, said. “Mr. Long is out with his son in the garden.”