A Wicked Entrapment Part One

By Karolyn Cairns

On the run and in fear for her life, Rose Dunleavy finds herself championed by an honorable British officer assigned to protect her. Lieutenant Michael Halloran is also running for his life, carrying a damning letter that changes everything in regard to Jaime’s tragic death.
Rose seeks her half sister in Belfast for assistance, only to learn Portia and Lord Yarborough are now estranged. She reluctantly agrees to pose as her nephew’s nurse as Portia faces cruel banishment for betraying her husband. Pretending to be an Irish servant, Rose is tasked to dig up something damning on the disreputable Lord Yarborough in order to stall his annulment efforts.
In her grief, Rose turns to Michael, seeking to save her from herself and her disturbing new awareness of her mysterious employer. Michael promises her much but soon disappears, making her believe he was caught by the men who pursue him for the letter.
By a twist of fate, Rose is summarily dismissed, sent away from Yarborough’s estate. She arrives penniless to the city, taken to her former employer’s townhouse. In exchange for her discretion, she is offered a place to hide to become Riordan Shelby’s newest mistress.
With no choice but to appeal to the man’s every wicked desire, Rose falls headlong into another vicious web. Hiding behind her enigmatic protector, she gives herself up to his darkest passions. Looking to dull the pain of Jaime’s loss; she spirals ever downward, nearly losing her soul.
Cullen is stretched in too many different directions. He searches for Rose while desperately trying to find his brother’s abducted son, all while maintaining his dangerous disguise as an Irish rebel. Soon he arrives in Belfast, seeking The Brotherhood’s henchman who ordered the executions of his parents.
Bitter and disillusioned over Rose’s abandonment, he turns to a beautiful Irish spy for comfort. Isla Downey is helping him to find the man who ordered his family’s deaths for a price. Isla’s innocence and fiery passion appeal to Cullen in every way but his heart remains steadfast to finding Rose.
After near tragedy, Rose has to finally face Rory with the truth of who she is. Heartlessly, he forces her to remain with him while playing a vicious game of cat and mouse with her hated half brother Jonathan Bane.
Refusing to reveal his feelings, Rory is disheartened to learn her identity. He risks her life and his if The Brotherhood should ever learn she is the widow of the man who betrayed his organization. Falling for his beautiful mistress more by the day, he tries to find some way for them to remain together.
Meanwhile, Cullen is working to turn The Brotherhood against itself from within, knowing he runs out of time. Always one step ahead and one away from discovery, he unleashes his fury upon the underground rebel organization who wronged his family long ago, only to discover the woman he loves now resides in the center of it all.
Released in two continuing parts back to back, follow the turbulent continuing saga of The Dunleavy’s until the epic conclusion this summer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karolyn Cairns
• Release date: Jun 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463980248

Karolyn Cairns

Karolyn Cairns-Black lives in West Virginia with her husband Adam and three rescue dogs. She's busy at work. Its been a great year. She just wrapped up the fifth and sixth installment of The Wicked series in two parts, both available now.The follow up novels in The Viking Horde series are underway. Collin and Meghera's story titled A Viking's Heart is in works, the third in the series. The fourth installment about Joran and Allisande's son Storm is finished, to be published on the heels of A Viking's Heart. Two more novels are intended about their daughters Star and Wynter.Karolyn also writes suspense thrillers under the pen name KJ Black. The Gift Horse, her second novel was a finalist winner in the Greenlight Award Contest.Karolyn enjoys reviews and comments from her readers. She thanks you for all your encouragement and support!

Book preview

Prologue

The crew of The Dubliner was kept in a dank, cramped cell together. They slowly began to rouse that morning, hearing the eerie echoes of the call to prayer, hauntingly beautiful if not for the stark reality of their situation.

The sound also heralded the young boy’s arrival. He would come to distribute water and a bucket of food to them each day.

The food was so fouled only a starving man would eat it without becoming ill. Those who wished to avoid illness picked out only the wriggling worms.

They were all ragged, emaciated with hallowed cheeks, and blank expressions. Some gave up within just a few months, aimlessly muttering in corners. Others died of disease, their bowels exploding from acute dysentery. These foul conditions reduced their number from forty-three men to twenty-seven in just months. They learned to avoid watching the bodies being dragged out by the Egyptian guardsmen, knowing the next one could be them.

A young boy soon arrived in long flowing cotton robes he wore over loose cotton trousers, called a gallibya. His dark eyes filled with resentment, his nostrils flaring from the stench. He was responsible for replacing the over-flowing waste buckets daily.

Foul English pigs! The boy muttered sourly under his breath. Come get your slop!

Two hulking Egyptian guards arrived to open the cell, allowing him inside to feed the prisoners. He dumped the large bucket of food scraps directly onto the sand, scrambling away as the prisoners descended upon it like frenzied animals.

His name was Jahal. He turned twelve the day before, considered a man in his faith. He didn’t feel like one. He wished only for the carefree days of kicking a cloth ball outside his parent’s modest home in Alexandria, not having the present worries that changed his life forever.

His father Ali Amin Abdullah, a revered Muslim cleric, had been taken prisoner here five years previously for dissidence. His father’s only real crime was shielding the local Buddhists and Orthodox Jews who refused to join the Egyptian Army in the ongoing conflicts within the Ottomans.

Sultan Mahmud II ordered the arrests of all those who refused to join the war effort. Clearly if the groups refused to fight in the country in which they lived it was considered an act of treason.

Forces under the direction of the man placed in charge in Alexandria, General Farouk, began rounding them up, in addition to many Christians and other religious groups. They soon ran out of prison space to house them in the city. Those kept in this desert prison outside the city walls were considered the country’s most dangerous of all detractors.

In order to see to his father daily, Jahal and his mother left the city and became nomads living in a tent in the desert, herding sheep to survive in order to be closer to Ali.

In exchange for rations of water, Jahal had to commit himself to caring for those inside the prison. He did it to see his father. He was warned to never talk to anyone about the Westerners who were kept here, threatened of what would happen to him and his mother if he spoke out. He already feared them learning that his father was imprisoned here. They would deny him entrance if they knew.

Jahal didn’t know what the Westerner’s crimes were. It was not his business. He didn’t care. He came here only to keep his father’s spirits up, to report back to his mother that her husband was doing well.

Jahal removed the dozen over-flowing buckets of sloshing waste within, grimacing as he put them in his cart, bringing back clean ones. He had the odious task of digging the holes to bury the waste in the desert.

It was something he felt beneath him. He scowled all the while, a cloth tied around his mouth and nose, silently reciting a lengthy list of gifts he would demand of his father when he was released.

The guards chuckled in amusement to see Jahal’s mutinous expression, jesting among themselves that morning. They were distracted by their own churlish bantering. They didn’t see the three men standing away from those crouched upon the floor, all conversing behind their hands.

If the guards had seen them they would have clubbed them apart for talking amongst themselves. It was forbidden to speak the English tongue, so the prisoners did so in muted whispers.

The men all sported full beards now that covered their dirty faces, the whites of their eyes the only thing that stood out within their ragged countenances. One of the men was easily discernible by his flaming red hair.

Captain Nathanial Snow’s lip curled in disgust as he watched his crew eating for the entertainment of the guards. Their captors made crude swine noises, laughing amongst themselves.

The three remaining men would wait, let the others eat their fill, and as always, they would pick out the many worms discarded within the pile.

They got over their aversion to the worms quickly after seeing how the others sickened. The worms were always the safer option. They couldn’t tell that to starving men. The crew often ignored their former captain’s advice, blaming him for their sad plight.

The crew had broken apart into two opposing factions since arriving here after their arrest. Captain Snow’s former first mate Mr. Turley and a dozen men occupied the other side of the cell.

Turley often taunted the other side to fights to ease his boredom. He hardly cared if the guards came and beat the men worse than they beat each other.

The boy comes late today, Nathanial groused under his breath. Do you think it means anything?

The older man snorted. It means he wasn’t lookin’ forward to cleanin’ up our shit and piss, Snow! Who could blame the lad?

Snow scowled. Do you realize how long we’ve been here, Dunleavy? Where is the bloody ambassador? I scratched off one hundred and eighty-two days on the wall this morn! The boy has failed! His letter never made it out! Pip was caught, I tell you!

The ambassador isn’t comin’ back for us, Snow! Ye can scratch away at that wall all ye want! Nobody is comin’, the man snapped, his lips twisting bitterly. As for Pip. We don’t know if he got the letter off.

Pip didn’t fail! The third man whispered harshly, his green eyes narrowed upon the guards. By now all are aware of our plight. Be patient! For all we know the British government is actively negotiating for our release.

Devlin Dunleavy treated his nephew to a rare grin. Who would have thought ye’d be the voice of optimism, lad? I didn’t know ye had it in ye. But Snow’s right. It’s takin’ too bloody long! I don’t need ta count the scratches on his wall ta know that!

Jaime sighed wearily, rubbing his sunken abdomen beneath his tattered shirt, ignoring the fierce growling within his belly. This country is at war with the Ottomans. Perhaps that is the issue that delays the ransom.

Devlin scoffed angrily. Ye had papers signed by the Sultan granting us amnesty to make port! We were ta be given passage into the horse auctions! The general who showed up to the docks claimed they were forgeries, Jaime! That bastard Sutterdale was behind it! He set ye up, lad, knowin’ the ambassador would look away!

Jaime eyed his uncle in annoyance. I realize Arthur was behind this, Uncle Devlin. It could have been no other. Even in death he has had the last word. We do ourselves no good turning upon each other. We must figure a way out of this. On our own, if need be.

Devlin sighed depressively as he watched the men eat. I should have written a letter to your Aunt Luce, Jaime. She would have stormed these bloody walls to rescue us!

Jaime frowned. Even as formidable as my Aunt Lucinda is, she cannot get us out of the country, Uncle Devlin. We know not what direction to seek the port. We face miles of desert, with men already half-dead, and no water. You know why I chose Pip to leave the ship. Colonel Sheffield is his father. The British government cannot ignore the matter. His son is involved. They would be forced to see our situation handled.

Snow rolled his eyes. How long before you quit believing that, Jaime? The boy failed! It’s the reason we’re still here!

Devlin watched as Snow hobbled away. Ye did the right thing sendin’ the boy off, Jaime. Don’t listen ta Snow. He’s losin’ hope. We all are.

Jaime’s eyes glittered with sudden moisture, looking away, shamed by his emotions as he rubbed at his eyes. By now Rose has had our child. I have reason enough to hold onto hope, Uncle Devlin! Cullen will not rest until we are freed! My wife will go to Lord Iverleigh. Gabriel will handle the negotiations for the ransom. I have to believe that! He will not leave us here to die! They will not abandon us! We have to believe that. We have to stay alive.

Devlin frowned as his green eyes took in the guards. I’m startin’ ta think these jabberin’ sand devils don’t want a ransom, Jaime. If they did, they’d take better care of us. We’ve lost nearly half the crew!

Jaime closed his eyes in dread, unable to deny his uncle’s logic. Something is wrong. I agree. It’s taking too long. I only admit that to you. Nathanial and the men don’t need to hear of it.

Do ye have a plan, lad? Devlin watched as the young boy finished his duties. I’m not willin’ ta make Luce a widow without tryin’ ta get back ta her!

Jaime watched the boy too, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. The boy lives close to the prison. He comes here every day at the same time. We need his help if we are to escape. We need to find out where the ship is, if it’s even still in the harbor.

Ye saw all the guards on the docks that day! There are too many against us few! Do you think Turley and his group will help? Or do ye see them helpin’ the bloody barbarians cut us all down? Devlin eyed the men in question with a look of disgust.

Jaime shrugged. We only need a distraction to draw the Egyptian guards away from the harbor, giving us time to board and cast off. We may get out of range of the cannons before they know what’s happened.

Devlin raked a hand through his tangled, thick raven mane. What of Snow and Turley? The men don’t know which of them ta listen to half of the time!

We are every man for his self until we get out of this. Snow and Turley can mend their differences when we are out to sea. We need every man here to sail the ship. For now, we have to figure out how to eliminate these guards without drawing attention to what we do, Jaime whispered low.

Devlin’s green eyes lit up. Only two guards against all of us bag o’ bones? I like the odds. We could take them. Get their weapons. The boy could lead us out. But what’s waitin’ out there? We don’t know how many men guard the place. It’s risky, lad.

Jaime’s eyes hardened as the cell door shut. We need the boy! He’s our only means to escape. We might learn all that we need to know from him. He speaks good English. I’ve heard him cursing enough when the guards are late opening the door for him.

They also watch the lad’s every move! How do you think ta get him ta help us?

Jaime frowned. I see no other way, Uncle Devlin. I have to try.

Devlin sighed, nodding. We can goad the men to start a fight. While the guards are breaking it up, you get close enough to the boy. Promise the lad whatever ye have to! We run out of time, Jaime!

It would be better if the others don’t know our plan, Jaime warned softly. Don’t even tell Nathanial. The guards might retaliate against the boy. Than we have lost all hope.

Devlin’s lips tightened. What do we do if we manage to escape, cross the desert to get back to the port, and the ship isn’t there?

Jaime smiled slightly, shrugging. We simply steal another ship in the harbor. We are leaving here one way or another, Uncle Devlin.

Jaime watched the boy pull the cart away. He missed nothing in the routine as the guards opened the outer door beyond the cell. Everyone shielded their eyes before the door slammed shut.

He counted every step made upward until he could no longer hear them. Five steps they made. He could hear their sandals crunching upon the sand as they walked away.

As always, Jaime closed his eyes, catching the scent of fresh air, his head falling back upon his shoulders to take it all in. It was the sweetest scent of every day.

It smelt of freedom, a no headier perfume. For the first time in his life he didn’t squander it, holding it fast.

Today he smelled something different in the air, something familiar. Growing up in Ireland, one became accustomed to that smell. Suddenly he stiffened, looking towards the door intently.

Devlin eyed him curiously. What is it, lad?

Jaime’s eyes filled with urgency. Do you smell it, Uncle Devlin?

The older man sniffed, frowning, shaking his head. I can’t smell anything but my own rotten stink!

That’s rain I smell, which means its winter here. I studied the climate of this region. If Snow’s scratches are accurate, it’s early October. It accounts for how cold it is getting at nights, more bearable during the days. A storm is coming. It’s thick in the air which tells me we are not that far from the coast, Jaime told him under his breath. That door leads directly to the outside. How else could I smell it otherwise?

Devlin grimaced, gesturing to the decimated food pile. Ye might want ta shut your nose for a time. Get some breakfast, lad. Let’s get at it before it all crawls away.

Later the men grumbled in surprise as the first storm they experienced since they arrived rumbled through, bringing a short, steady downpour of rain flooding under the door before the water receded quickly into the sand.

The two men conversed quietly among themselves, making plans in the event the opportunity to escape arose, agreeing the door led to a compound beyond, an inner courtyard within the main prison.

It accounted for how they never heard other prisoners beyond it. They were kept separated from the rest of the prison population, as if the guards were hiding them from everyone here.

They argued over the exact location of where they were being held. Captain Snow insisted that they were taken five hours due west of Alexandria the day they were arrested, placing them closer to the Sinai Peninsula, while Devlin insisted the opposite was true.

Jaime surprised them both, pointing out the directional winds blowing sand under the door, indicating they were south of Alexandria. He estimated they travelled nearly six hours in the prison wagons. He believed they were somewhere in the vicinity of the Giza province.

They saw no waterways along the route. The Nile River was due west, but would be heavily patrolled by Egyptian soldiers. They had no choice but to follow the same desert terrain north to get back to Alexandria. The boy could draw them a map.

It was not much to latch onto but it lifted their flagging spirits to think of something besides the vicious sand fleas that bit at their flesh, the never-ending ache of hunger within their bellies. Escape was becoming more than just a possibility. They need only stay alive to seek it.

Chapter One

The passengers were wedged tightly in the back of the mail coach. An elbow jabbed into Rose’s side, jostling her awake. The old woman next to her snored loudly. The flatulence of a nearby man made her grimace, covering her nose with her hand.

Her swollen breasts began to ache. The need to expend her milk once more this day made her eager for the next stop. She feared she would begin to leak through the padding within her bodice.

The passengers were all noncommittal throughout. Most of them ignored her. Few met her eyes or commented on a woman travelling alone. She found herself looking backward often during the coach’s progress, expecting to see the conveyance pursued.

She looked back just then, frowning worriedly. A lone rider trailed the coach. The man stayed behind these last miles, making no move to approach. She swallowed hard, forcing back her fears. He stayed his distance during the few stops made, encouraging her that he wasn’t following her.

When the coach stopped in a small fishing village an hour later, Rose immediately sought the privacy of a women’s retiring chamber within a local taproom to evacuate her breasts, in relief after it was done. She came up short upon her return. The man who had been following them was questioning the other passengers amid the main thoroughfare.

Rose hefted up her satchel, eyes wide with fright to see him looking around. Their eyes met. He was tall and lean, dressed simply in a dusty traveling suit. He had close-cropped brown hair peeking beneath his bowler hat. He had rugged features, handsome, but not riveting enough to earn a second look.

At a glance, one would believe him a clerk in the service to a gentleman. If one looked further, they would note those steely hazel eyes missed little if anything. He had an air of danger that she more than sensed.

Rose backed away as he was walking towards her. She needed no encouragement to run, turning and scurrying back the way she came. She wasn’t surprised that he caught her on the walkway, grasping her arm, dragging her into a nearby alleyway.

She swung her satchel at him wildly with a cry of outrage, lobbing him in the side of the head. The man yelped in pain, holding up his hands to ward off her attack.

Don’t you bloody think to scream! He warned her in a low growl, seeing her eyes widen, her lips part in fear. You will only draw further attention to yourself! The man pointed towards the crowd forming around the coach They will look over and have cause to recall both our faces when later asked.

Who would ask? Rose backed away from the man warily, blue eyes filled with unease.

Mr. Putnam hired men to find you, Lady Dunleavy. They are only hours behind me. It is the reason I decided to approach you now. You cannot remain on the mail coach, my lady. They will catch up before you reach your destination.

Who are you? Rose stared up at the stranger, seeing no menace in him now, but hardly relaxing her stance, holding her valise up threateningly.

I was hired by your father. To protect you, he replied shortly, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. It appears you are not as helpless as what was purported. What do you carry in your bag, Lady Dunleavy? Rocks?

Rose glared up at him. If that is true, you have done a horrid job, sir! And he is not my father! You have been misinformed! Who are you?

My name is Lieutenant Michael Halloran. I am an intelligence officer working for Myron Chumley, he offered tersely, his hazel eyes flaring with annoyance. I was hired in London by Lord Iverleigh to see to your protection. Perhaps I might have sought my own? You didn’t have to hit me!

Rose colored under his resentful regard, chin rising. You accosted me, sir! How was I to know you were friend or foe? Why did you not approach me sooner?

Michael ignored her question, looking back towards the coach. Where are you going, Lady Dunleavy?

It’s none of your concern!

He scoffed at that. You left Dunleavy Hall before dawn two days ago. You are either extremely afraid, or rude to have made your brother-in-law worry as he has. The man is also scouring the countryside for you.

Rose glowered balefully. How do I know you were hired by Lord Iverleigh? What proof do you have besides your word?

Michael removed a letter from within his vest, handing it to her. This is from your father to confirm my appointment should I run into trouble. This must qualify as such.

Rose snatched the letter, recognizing Lord Iverleigh’s distinctive scrawl, breathing a sigh of relief. She handed him back the letter. If you paid any attention at all in the last few weeks, you would know I had no choice but to leave! Lord Wingate’s man in Dublin has ordered my removal after my son disappeared.

Michael’s expression became somber. I am sorry about the child, Lady Dunleavy. I was not there during the rebel attack, but away in London on official business.

Rose looked away from his compassionate stare. Without my son, Jonathan Bane will force me to go back to London. You know what will happen to me then. I had no choice but to run. My brother-in-law was determined to fight Lord Wingate in the courts. I knew he couldn’t win.

Michael’s eyes filled with concern. Where are you going, Lady Rose?

Rose bit her lip, forced to trust this man. I go on to Belfast. I seek out my half sister Portia. She is married to the Earl of Yarborough now. She came to me many months ago. She offered her assistance should certain matters present. I have no choice but to trust her.

Michael cursed softly, shifting uneasily on his feet. She is Lord Wingate’s sister! How could you ever think to trust her?

Rose bristled at his condescending tone. Portia warned me of what was coming! She gave me funds and a place to run if needed. We can agree it be needed? She is not a part of Jonathan’s schemes!

You would trust Lady Yarborough with your life, my lady? Michael raised a dark eyebrow, unimpressed.

Rose sighed sadly, biting her lip. I have no place to go, Lieutenant. I cannot go back to England. I cannot stay at Dunleavy Hall. Where do you propose I hide?

Michael grimaced. She could only be seeking to trap you, my lady!

Rose made a face, withdrawing the note from within her valise, handing it to him. Fiddlesticks! If Portia wanted me dead, she had ample opportunity some time ago. She took the time to warn me! She left her father’s book with a message hidden inside. She also included monies to see me on my way. That is not the action of an enemy, Lieutenant Halloran.

He regarded her skeptically after reading the note. It is not the action of a friend either. Why would she not just tell you all of this while there? Why resort to such secrecy? You cannot think to trust her, my lady!

Rose looked away, closing her eyes in anguish. My husband is dead! My son is missing! I have no monies of my own! I have two years until I can legally manage my own affairs, Lieutenant. I must hide until then. If Portia offers me a means, I must consider it.

And if she betrays you? Michael stared at her grimly, taking in her pale features. She could easily notify her brother of where you are. What then?

Rose cringed slightly. Jonathan would only find me if I sought out Lord Iverleigh for protection. I dare not go to them.

They are your family, Lady Dunleavy, Michael reminded her quietly, only to see her scowl.

They are not my family! And I refuse to leave Ireland until my son is found! Lady Yarborough will assist me! Rose despised feeling her eyes brim with threatening tears, but they hovered, making her withdraw a handkerchief from her bag.

Michael regarded her gravely. I was ordered to protect you by Mr. Chumley. I would be remiss in my duties by not accompanying you on to Belfast.

Rose rolled her eyes in annoyance. I release you from your duty, sir. You need not accompany me.

I do not work for you, but the assistant director of the Home Office, my lady, Michael inserted coolly. You remaining on the mail coach will only ensure you are caught. I will see you on to Belfast.

That is not necessary!

Michael snorted derisively. I can be certain Putnam’s men came to the same conclusion as I did. You left enough of a trail! You left Dunleavy’s horse at the livery in your haste. You were likely seen getting on the mail coach. They will find you, Lady Rose.

Rose grudgingly allowed him to lead her back to where he kept his horse tethered, saying nothing as he secured her bag and pulled her up in front of him. They left the village quickly. He looked back often to see if they were pursued.

After an hour, she spoke. Lord Iverleigh…is he well? Did you see Lady Iverleigh while there?

Michael smiled faintly to hear how casual she tried to sound when inquiring after her parents. I met with Lord Iverleigh in London at Mr. Chumley’s offices. He is very worried about you, my lady. He seemed genuinely concerned, like any father. I did not have the pleasure of meeting Lady Iverleigh.

Rose scowled fiercely, reminded of their many lies. Quit referring to Lord Iverleigh as my father! Any other father wouldn’t have lied as he did!

Michael shrugged dismissively. From what little I know of this whole affair, I cannot blame Lord Iverleigh for staying silent. Many people are dead who knew far more than you do.

Rose looked away. I read that Lady Lyndon was executed in the newspapers out of Dublin. They were vague of what she was charged with.

Michael nodded somberly. Lady Eugenia was found guilty of murdering the book publisher Mr. Samuels. All those who could speak out against Lord Wingate’s involvement in this are now dead.

Did Jonathan have anything to do with Aidan Dunleavy’s death? Rose swallowed hard, craning her neck upward to see him frown.

I was only appointed after that incident. I have learned nothing of it. The authorities still believe it was committed by an area poacher, though we can agree it too coincidental to dismiss.

Rose’s face reflected renewed panic. Don’t you see that there is nothing for me to do but hide?

Michael nodded. I think you have the right of it, but realize that even when you come of age he will not stop trying to harm you, my lady. Unless you marry and have an heir, from what I was told.

I was married and had a son! I was no safer for it, Rose replied in disgust.

Michael made no comment to that. I will see you on to Belfast. We will have to rent rooms until I’m satisfied Lady Yarborough can be trusted. Then I must leave you. I have no choice.

Rose grimaced. You have few qualms in casting aside your duty when it suits you, sir.

Michael stiffened at her impertinent jibe. There are things you need to know before I leave you. I have reason to believe your husband’s ship arrived at its destination.

Her eyes widened, turning about in the saddle. The Admiralty in London concluded the ship went down in a storm!

My mother received a letter from my brother Phillip several weeks ago. He was stowed away aboard the vessel. He claimed the crew and your husband were all arrested by the Egyptians when they reached Alexandria. He sought amnesty aboard a French vessel.

Where is this letter? Rose sat forward, her face animated.

It is in my possession. You can read it when we reach the inn.

Was your official business taking this letter on to London?

He answered readily. My stepfather was Colonel Sheffield. I accompanied him on to London with the letter. It is the reason I was not here during the uprisings. The men seated for the inquiry wouldn’t allow it to be admitted as evidence, claiming it didn’t disprove what the Royal Navy determined.

Rose gasped in dismay. But…if your brother was on The Dubliner…and witnessed all, why wouldn’t they consider it?

Michael grimaced. My little brother signed the letter using the nickname we gave him. For that alone, they said it doesn’t prove the letter was written by him, even if my stepfather verified his handwriting. They said it is not enough to launch a new investigation.

Rose was aghast. What of the consulate in Egypt? Surely they were notified when the arrests were made?

"The British ambassador is denying the ship ever arrived to port, Lady Rose. They are all a part of this. Whatever this is. You would not convince me it was not contrived, but by whom, I do not know. Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to make it appear that your husband and the crew was lost at sea," Michael explained quietly.

Rose gasped in outrage. Surely Lord Iverleigh can get someone to look closely at this letter?

Michael’s expression darkened. There was no time to get it to him! All I could do was run!

What happened there? Rose regarded him fearfully.

Michael’s expression turned grim. My stepfather wasn’t feeling well after the inquest. I dropped him at our inn to rest. I went on to a pub. Before he left me, he gave me Pip’s letter. He was attacked in our rooms. He was killed. The room was ransacked, He paused, seeing her face grow paler. The authorities now seek me for his death. It is why I came here. I have no choice but to look for Pip. He is the only witness The Dubliner ever arrived in Egypt, and now they look for him too.

"Who are they?"

Michael shrugged his broad shoulders. "I don’t know who they work for. They are not agents of the Crown, my lady. Whoever they are, they are quite determined to make sure that letter is never seen."

Rose’s heart clenched, knowing the proof that her husband and his uncle were alive when they arrived in Egypt was never given to the authorities. She felt suddenly uneasy knowing this man was blamed for Colonel Sheffield’s death.

Michael acknowledged her sudden look of fear through narrowed eyes. I know what you’re thinking! I didn’t kill the man! I might have disagreed with Sheffield most of my life, but we were in agreement on finding Pip for my mother’s sake.

Rose flushed guiltily, eyeing him in apology. What will you do now?

Michael shook his head in dismay. I am a fugitive, Lady Rose, merely for reading that letter. They will kill me if they catch me. Make no mistake this is a far-reaching conspiracy if it has corrupted high-ranking British Naval officers within the Admiralty.

Why would anyone seek to falsify my husband’s death? Rose’s nose wrinkled, shaking her head.

Michael tilted his head, eyes speculative. You are a wealthy heiress with him dead, my lady. You are also at Lord Wingate’s mercy now.

Rose gasped in surprise. You think Jonathan arranged all of this?

No, I don’t. Lord Wingate certainly had the most to gain, but he is not very well-connected in London, my lady. He is also young, only recently coming into both of his titles. He hasn’t the wealth to have bribed such men to swing the inquiry. I can ascertain the men now chasing me do not work cheaply.

Rose swallowed hard, thinking of Lord Iverleigh’s past enemies. What if someone very powerful is helping Jonathan in order to hurt my family?

Michael shrugged. I find that rather unlikely too. With the recent scandals, most of the peerage has publicly distanced themselves from Lord Wingate.

How will you discover who is behind this?

I will only know more once I find Pip, he finished simply.

Do you take your brother to London to present further testimony?

It isn’t safe for him there, Michael responded flatly. These men killed his father just for submitting evidence that contradicted the navy’s assessment. While I never got on with Sheffield, he didn’t deserve to be gutted with his own bloody military sword!

I’m very sorry, Rose offered softly, cringing to think of it. Your mother must be devastated.

My mother only married Colonel Sheffield for the security he offered her, Michael explained stiffly. She was saddened by his death, but hardly devastated. Her only concern now is for Pip.

You believe this letter was the reason Colonel Sheffield was killed? Rose gazed up at him with a troubled expression. Why did you not give yourself up to the authorities? Surely Mr. Chumley and Lord Iverleigh would have come to your defense.

Michael raised a dark eyebrow. You obviously do not know how corrupt the police are in London, Lady Rose. Most can be bought to look away. I was not willing to take the chance they would hand me over to the men chasing me. I promised my mother I would find Pip. I will worry about clearing my name later.

Why would these men wish to suppress evidence in The Dubliner’s disappearance? It makes no sense!

Michael eyed her closely. Suppose you tell me what you know of your husband’s business dealings, my lady. Surely you know more than I would?

Rose stiffened slightly, reminded of the scheme that Jaime and Arthur Findlay embarked upon, committing fraud upon The Peregrine Group before he sailed.

Arthur encouraged Jaime to claim a bogus cargo in order to get the vessel insured to protect the investment. Mr. Armitage, the corrupt agent from The Peregrine Group signed off on the manifest for a considerable bribe. The enormous claim would be paid in light of the ship going down.

To her surprise, Jaime went against her concerns then. Instead of making his trusted steward Brian O’Neil his beneficiary, he kept his brother Cullen listed.

Cullen was a wealthy man now that his brother was declared dead.

She didn’t dare tell this British officer the truth, fearful of the consequences. He would only feel obligated to expose her husband’s crime.

Jaime went to Egypt to purchase Arabian horses to improve his stock, Lieutenant, Rose replied dryly. I can assure you he wasn’t involved in anything illegal.

I only wished to give you comfort, my lady. Your husband was alive the last time Pip saw him. It is all I know, Michael concluded softly, looking away.

Rose was comforted. It was not her imagination or denial to reject Jaime’s loss. He was alive when Pip last saw him.

Chapter Two

They arrived in Belfast a day later. She grumbled over having to use her limited funds to secure them rooms at a modest inn. Michael grinned at her look of disgust over his lack of chivalry, claiming his purse far too light to accommodate them. She despised spending what little she had before she sought out Portia. It was the only monies she had.

They approached the townhouse in the elite district a day later. She was unnerved by the rough-looking guards posted outside the building. They denied her entrance at the front door. Michael remained watching her from across the street. Rose was told the