The Gypsy Duchess by Nadine Miller

best-hearted of men; he was never a hen-witted one. With you as guardian, Charles would be penniless by the time he reached his majority.”
    “Mind your tongue, girl. Have you no shame, speakin’ to your father so disrespectful?” He beckoned to the waiting men. “Come on in, boys. I’ve had me usual tongue-lashing from this fishwife I sired.”
    “And with good reason, I’ve no doubt, you old reprobate,” the tallest of the three redheads declared in a deep voice that reverberated like a giant cymbal throughout the small salon.
    He stepped forward. “Michael Keough at your service, ma’am. And these two handsome fellows are my brothers Timothy and James. Young Johnnie here”—he gave John Footman a resounding clap on the back—“has told us a bit about this wicked fellow, the viscount. Will you be wanting him dead or just roughed up enough to put him off bothering you again?”
    “Nothing like that,” Moira said quickly. “I just need you to act as the young duke’s bodyguards for a short time. At the rate Viscount Quentin is racking up debt, he’ll soon be in so deep with his creditors he’ll have to flee the country, and my troubles will be over.”
    “Whatever you say, ma’am. For it’s God’s truth we owe you, and a Keough always pays his debts.” Michael Keough wrapped an arm around John Footman’s narrow shoulders. “If our young cousin here will show us where we’re to lay our heads down of a night, we’ll stow our belongings and look the place over to decide how best to go about this bodyguarding business.”
    “Fair enough.” Moira smiled. “I was certain you would be just the men I needed”
    She watched the men leave the room, then turned to her father with a frown. “I meant what I said, Blackjack. You cannot stay here right now. One whiff of scandal in my background and the earl will take Charles away from me just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “And I cannot let that happen because I love the boy as if he were my own. Not that I expect you to understand that.”
    Blackjack Reardon raised an indignant eyebrow. “Would I not? Then why am I here in your time of trouble if not out of fatherly concern?”
    “Most likely because your pockets are to let. You’ve not shown up on my doorstep for any other reason these past four years.”
    Blackjack rolled his eyes dramatically. “Ah, Moira girl, it’s a cynic you’ve become since hobnobbing with the swells. “ ‘Twas nothing but the love in me heart that kept me rump glued to the saddle for close to twelve hours.”
    His strong white teeth flashed in the wicked smile which for forty odd years had won him a place in the hearts and the beds of more women that he could remember. “However, since I’m here, I don’t mind admitting I am a wee bit short of the ready.”
    “I thought so. What was it this time? Horses or women?”
    “A bit of both actually. Not that any of it was my doing at all. ‘Twas simply the devil’s own happenstance. First I suffered a run of ruinous luck with the ponies; then I gave me protection to an undeserving wench who emptied me pockets while I slept and ran off with a traveling tinker.”
    Moira couldn’t help but laugh. “A traveling tinker! Good Lord, Blackjack, you have landed in the dung heap this time. But don’t look to me for help. I’m at low tide myself right now. I settled up all my accounts before I left London, since I’ve no intention of ever returning to the miserable place—and my quarterly allowance from the duke’s estate is not due until April.”
    “You paid off your creditors?” He shook his head in bewilderment. “What kind of foolishness is that? Don’t you know the titled gentry never pay their bills until they’re dunned; nor are they expected to? ‘Twould be the collapse of the entire British financial system should such a muzzy notion take hold. ‘Twas not at my knee you learned such heresy, nor that of your dear departed mother, for no