“Madam,” Ralston addressed Shanna directly. “Are you aware Sir Gaylord’s father is a lord and magistrate of the English courts?” He cast a glance awry to Trahern to see if the man was listening and grew piqued that the squire should appear disinterested in the conversation and, instead, savor his favorite dish.
“Indeed?” Shanna presented an inquisitive gaze to the man on her left. “Lord Billingsham? I never heard his name mentioned while I was in London. Has he been a magistrate long?”
Gaylord daintily dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin before looking at her earnestly. “I can think of no cause, madam, that might have presented such a fair lady as yourself before him. He judges evil men, murderers, thieves, miscreants of all kinds, and you are far too delicate a flower to be found where those would roam. He has sent many a scoundrel to Tyburn’s triple tree, and for the sake of caution he has elected to be known to those rogues only as Lord Harry.”
Ralston watched Ruark closely, expecting some reaction from him, as he guessed it may have been more than coincidence. His target only met his gaze for a moment, shrugged casually, and continued with his meal.
Pitney was giving careful attention to his food, and Shanna was as intently studying her own. She remembered too well when Mister Hicks spoke of Lord Harry and his secret handling of Ruark’s hanging orders and wondered what game Ralston played.
Only one as familiar with Ruark Beauchamp as Shanna would have noticed his sudden preoccupation with the meal and the gradual hardening of his eyes. His nostrils flared slightly each time the hated name was mentioned, but otherwise he executed well his role of bondsman, and it seemed as if this exchange were simply over his head.
With very great care Shanna questioned, smiling gently at Gaylord, “Lord Harry? ‘Twould seem I’ve heard that name before.” Her brows drew into a puzzled frown. “But for the life of me I can’t remember—”
Pitney’s comment was grunted. “I’ve heard of him. Some called him Hanging Harry. Got that with his liberal use of the triple tree.”
Gaylord was offended. “A malicious rumor!”
Shanna seemed bemused. “I’ve often wondered how a man must feel after he has sentenced another to be hanged for some offense. I’m sure your father sent only the well-deserving to their end, but it crosses my mind what a terrible burden it must have placed upon him. Had you knowledge of his affairs? I suppose he spoke often of them.”
“My father’s affairs were much beyond me, madam. I gave them no heed.”
Shanna brightened. “Oh? What a pity.”
They adjourned again to the drawing room after dinner, and there Shanna was beset by Gaylord’s close presence on the settee beside her. Over her fan she watched Ruark light his pipe by the French doors and, meeting his eyes, caught the almost imperceptible inclination of his head toward the portico. Fanning herself, she rose and complained demurely.
“ ‘Tis a bit stuffy in here, papa. If you’ve no objections, I’ll take a stroll along the porch.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Trahern nodded his approval, and Ruark was quick to offer.
“Madam, since the pirate’s raid ‘tis not safe for a lady to go about unescorted. I beg—”
“You’re quite right,” Gaylord interrupted and, to Shanna’s consternation, took her arm. “Please allow me, madam.”
Gaylord had turned the tables deftly, and this time Ruark was left standing while the other man smugly stepped past him with Shanna. As the knight closed the doors behind them, he sneered in the bondsman’s face.
Pitney’s huge arm halted Ruark before he could lay a hand on the latch, and he was shoved gently backward. Ruark was not in the mood for foolery. The muscles in his lean jaw flexed tensely as he lifted his gaze to find a gentle smile on the older man’s face.
“Easy, lad,” Pitney rasped in a low tone. “If there comes a need, I will see to it.”
His gray eyes flicked toward Trahern in a silent warning, and Ruark glanced behind him to see the squire turn away from the cupboard with a glass of rum and draw out his pocket watch. The man considered it a moment before looking at Pitney.
“Five minutes?” He left the comment hanging, and Pitney drew out his own timepiece.
“Less, I’d say, knowing the eager knight.”
“Bitters to an ale?” Trahern wagered.
“Aye,” Pitney answered and tucked away the pocket watch as he considered Ruark.
“You have not seen Shanna at her best.” He gave a nod toward the French doors. “Better men than he have tried. If you must fret, have a pity for Sir Gay.”