Twice Tempted by Eileen Dreyer

father to protect and a blackmailer to catch. He had a nation to protect. And she had the right to a more honorable friend.
    It didn’t matter. He didn’t seem to have a choice. He would protect Fiona Ferguson whether she wanted it or not.
    “’Lo, gov,” a cracking tenor voice broke into his reverie. “Lady Bea says as ’ow you might want to see me.”
    Startled, Alex looked up to see a lanky, towheaded lad leaning against the library doorway. Perfect timing, he thought, considering one of the tools he’d decided to use in keeping watch over the Ferguson girls.
    “Thrasher,” Alex greeted the boy, turning away from the window. “I’d ask how you got into my father’s house, but I assume it would be pointless. Are you off duty, or is this your new livery?”
    Grinning like an imp and clad in a set of tattered woolens, a grimy kerchief tied about his neck, the boy tipped a jauntily-perched bowler. What was it with scrubby slum brats and unique headware? Alex wondered.
    “Off duty, aren’t I?” The boy sauntered in, scanning the library as he came. “Caught me in a…private interaction with the stable lads, Lady Bea did.”
    As typical of her rather eccentric house staff, Lady Kate had hired the young urchin to be her tiger when he’d tried to pick her pocket. Thrasher had answered by being the house’s best source of information, shady connections, and shadier pastimes.
    Alex nodded wisely. “How much did you take off the lads?”
    The boy’s grin was as brash as a gypsy with a bad horse. “Three crowns an’ a month’s ridin’ lessons. Paltry lot. Can I do f’r ya, gov?”
    “A couple of things. Sit down.”
    Thrasher looked as if Alex had offered him the house silver. Flipping off his hat, he plopped into one of the leather armchairs and crossed his legs.
    “I need someone to do some babysitting,” Alex said. “Probably only a few days until I can make better arrangements. In Blackheath.”
    Thrasher focused on tossing his bowler onto a bust of some long-dead Knight in the corner. “Not my lay, gov.”
    The bowler spun through the air with deadly precision and landed on the bewigged relative at a stylish cant.
    Alex smiled. “No, I wouldn’t think so. Besides, no offense, but I’m thinking of someone bigger. Someone who might defend the ladies if necessary. Do you think Finney might be able to help?”
    Finney, being an ex-boxer and Lady Kate’s butler, was certainly a better option than using anybody in Sir Joseph’s house. If Alex asked Soames the butler to intercede, that worthy would swoon right along with Alex’s valet, the ever-pristine Mr. Marsh.
    “Finney?” Thrasher said. “’e just might. Knows a lotta big coves, does Mr. Finney. She in trouble, this gentry mort?”
    “No, not at all. She is just a woman on her own, and I’d rather not have to worry. She is being a bit stubborn about moving someplace safer.”
    A rush of longing slammed through Alex, distracting him from the lengthening silence. He could watch her, he thought, close up.
    And then her brother would have another reason to shoot him. If she didn’t first.
    “Ya want I should scare ’em out?” Thrasher finally asked. “I could do that.”
    Alex’s head came up. “What? Good God, no. I don’t want you to do anything. I especially don’t want her to know anybody is there.”
    Thrasher gave him a look that spoke of a street child’s impatience with toffs and shrugged. “Just a thought.”
    “I’ll need a daily report, Thrasher,” he said. “Does Finney read and write?”
    Thrasher let loose a disdainful snort. “In Lady Kate’s house? Even the potboy writes. Daftest thing you ever seen.”
    Alex nodded. “Have Finney come by. We need to begin soon.”
    Thrasher was getting to his feet when Alex straightened. “One more thing.”
    The boy stopped.
    Alex considered the thinning fog outside for a second. “Have you ever met a lad named Lennie Wednesday? Resides somewhere in your old