Free Fairchild's Lady (Culper Ring Series) by Roseanna M. White Page B

her to him, Fairchild stepped into range and leveled a well-aimed punch at his nose. Eyes glazing, the guard opened his mouth…and then crumpled before he could make a sound.
    “Well, you are handy to have around.” The countess grinned at him and pulled opened the door, the females moving en masse with her through it. No one needed a reminder to move quickly.
    Another of the men had caught the first guard and made to pull him off to join his compatriot, but Fairchild shook his head and positioned himself against the door frame, listening. Sure enough, theinterior guards asked a question at the women, and Lady Poole insisted the doormen had given their approval.
    Careful to stay out of sight, Fairchild lifted the guard’s arm and gave it a little shake to make it look as though he were waving his agreement.
    “Fine, fine. But be quick.”
    A sigh of relief wanted to well up within him, but he didn’t dare release it. Instead, he eased the door mostly closed and handed off the unconscious man to the waiting servant. From within the apartment he could hear the incessant chatter and laughter of the ladies, nothing within it to grab any particular attention.
    Not until he heard the words he had been waiting for, rising above the rest. “Hush, ladies. Let us leave my daughter to nap. You get your rest, ma chérie , and that headache will leave you. I shall return to check on you in a few hours.”
    The click of an interior door sounded, and then there was a chorus of whispers—the kind that would require young women to put their heads together and so obscure their faces with the brims of their hats.
    Fairchild pushed the door all the way open for the group, each heartbeat a prayer that the men inside would not bark out a sudden, “ Arrêtez! ” That they would not notice there were now seven young ladies instead of six, two in a neutral cream dress rather than one.
    But they all exited without garnering such a command, and the marquis pulled the door closed with visible relief.
    Fairchild scarcely noticed the crowd. His gaze homed directly in on the new addition, even as those unforgettable glacier eyes lifted and found him. Only when he felt her fingers in his did he realize he had stretched out a hand. But once he held hers, he saw no reason to let go. Nay, rather he lifted it so he might kiss her knuckles even as he pulled her down the hallway. “We must hurry.”
    As soon as they gained the out of doors, the maid who matched Julienne separated from them and headed back for Lady Poole’s rooms. The rest headed for the stables, where the marquis’s carriage waited.
    Julienne squeezed his hand a little tighter with each step. She, like him, must fear that at any moment the duc or his men would jump from the shadows with a gun aimed at her heart. But they made it to the carriage with no surprises.
    One of the servants opened the door for them and helped Julienne up. Her mother quickly followed, and Fairchild took the seat across from them.
    Lady Poole leaned out, her brows drawn. “Père, are you certain you will not join us? Please. I fear the duc will know you helped us.”
    The marquis smirked. “I imagine he will. And I imagine he knows there are some yet in the court he cannot touch, lest he lose all the power he holds so dear. I am safe from him, ma chérie . I’m only sorry I have not better kept my two most precious ones safe as well.”
    “Promise.” A tremble quivered her lips. “Promise you will visit us.”
    “I will try, ma fille , if the king can spare me.” His eyes, only a shade darker than Julienne’s, moved to Fairchild—and hardened. “If a hair on their heads is harmed, I will kill you myself.”
    He sent the man a rueful smile. “If a hair on their heads is harmed, monsieur, it will be because someone else has already beaten you to it.”
    “We will be well, Grandpère.” Julienne leaned over her mother to press a kiss to the man’s weathered cheek. “ Je t’aime .”
    “ Je