Free Truly Yours by Bárbara Metzger

was not happy at the idea of staying at Royce House.
    “I’m not, either,” Rex said in an understatement. He’d rather have slept on the sagging sofa in Daniel’s sitting room, but neither one of them had a choice, not if they were going to settle the court case as soon as possible. “But I vouched for Miss Carville, so I have to stay close at least until the countess returns.”
    “She’ll be mad.”
    “Miss Carville? How can she complain of another champion? Besides, she is too ill to notice your presence.”
    “No, Aunt Margaret.”
    “What, that you’ve turned into a sot and a brawler?”
    “No, that I broke your damned beak. I promised to look after you.”
    “That was on the Peninsula, not in London.”
    “I promised your father about the army. Your mother about everything else.”
    “Well, I promised your mother and father, too. And I never broke your nose, so you deserve the guilt and the anger.”
    “You couldn’t break my nose if you wanted to.”
    Rex did not bother refuting the boyish taunt as he sipped at the wine Daniel brought. “I did not know you corresponded with the countess.”
    “She’s my aunt, don’t you know. She always wanted to hear about you.”
    “She could have asked me.”
    “Would you have answered?”
    “No.”
    Rex sank into a chair and gratefully accepted the wet towel Daniel handed him to put over his aching nose, and another glass of wine.
    While Daniel packed—if throwing clothing and papers and books into a trunk could be called packing—he wanted to know their plan. Rex always did have a plan, hey-go-mad or hell-born, and Daniel always went along with it.
    “Well, until we know if the lady is innocent or not, we cannot mount a defense. We’ll need to talk to the servants at Hawley’s house, and pick up Miss Carville’s belongings while we are there. And I want to know why the stepsister and -brother never visited the jail, and what man Miss Carville was supposed to be meeting on the sly.”
    “I never heard a name in the clubs and coffeehouses when everyone was talking about the killing. Mostly they were all glad Sir Frederick was gone.”
    “That’s what I heard too, so far. But someone has to know more. Then there is the little problem I might have with the Lord High Magistrate or the sheriff’s office, for nearly kidnaping Miss Carville out of Newgate.”
    “You didn’t go bail for her?”
    “There is no bond set for a killer—an accused killer. I suppose they figure the accused would all scarper off to the colonies or something.”
    “Right. I would be running too, if I had the gun in my hand at the scene of the crime.” Daniel grinned, then found another towel to hold against his split lip. “So you stole the woman like a ravaging Hun?”
    “Not exactly. I paid the guard and claimed I was taking her for medical treatment. So I might have to call at the War Office.”
    Daniel took a long swallow of his wine, deciding that would work better than a towel. “The Aide?”
    Rex nodded. No one voluntarily called on the secretive figure behind the covert operations of the army’s Intelligence division. “I am on sick leave still, so he cannot order me back to the Peninsula. On the other hand, he will not want me arrested for obstructing justice.”
    Daniel put on a clean jacket—cleaner, at any rate—and said, “With friends like that, who needs maggots?”
    “Right.”
    “Tell me about the woman.”
    So Rex told what little he knew. Of course he did not describe the woman’s figure or soft skin, only her condition, the rescue, and the few words they’d exchanged.
    “Have you a guess?”
    Rex knew Daniel meant about the murder, not whether Miss Carville was a virgin or not, which kept rattling around Rex’s brain like a loose shutter on a windy night. “My gut says she’s no cold-blooded killer, and Nanny Brown swears the countess would not have sent for us if she were. Other than that, the lady might have had good reason.”
    “Good