Lord Fool to the Rescue by L. L. Muir Read Free Book Online

as his peers, he’d likely not be foxed at all. But there it was. And there he was, swaying his way toward the activity of the house, which at present seemed to originate at the head of the stairs.
    He climbed those stairs quietly, and since his knees never actually touched the steps, no one could claim he crawled up them, though it probably appeared so.
    Once at the top, he realized the voices were coming from further down the hall, inside the open doorway at the end.
    “‘At’s right now, govna. ‘And it over easy-like.”
    A man whimpered.
    “Let go, ye blimey bastard!”
    The man whimpered louder.
    Leland couldn’t think of anything more clever at the moment, so he walked into the middle of the room before he stopped to look about him. It wasn’t as if the room would be filled with guns pointing at him.
    Only it was. And there were.
    The surprise of the situation hit him as humorous—so humorous in fact, he started laughing.
    Sitting in the bed, exactly as the rat had described him, sat Baron Ledford in all his bandaged glory. No less than three empty flagons sat on the table beside him and it appeared as though the man might actually be deeper in his cups than Leland himself!
    The baron clasped a leather satchel as if his very life depended upon it—the last reachable bit of rope dangling from a ship, and he drowning and being followed closely by sharks. He looked to Leland and whimpered. Then he looked to the masked man pulling on the opposite side of the satchel and whimpered. It became readily apparent that the man was whimpering each and every time he exhaled.
    Leland laughed anew.
    As did the gang of black-cloaked and masked thieves surrounding him.
    The thought of Miss MacIntyre at the mercy of those thieves sobered him instantly. Well…partially. But looking about, he saw only three women, all on their knees with their hands behind their backs. Next to them knelt that John Cosgrove fellow. A small thief stood nervously by with a pistol aimed at the man’s head.
    Clever, thought Leland. Shooting a bugger that size in the chest might not slow the man a’tall.
    Finally the tug of war ended with the baron flying back against his pillows and crying like a spoiled child. The winner quickly tucked the satchel inside his vest, which was temporarily visible beneath his long black cloak.
    Leland had seen that vest before.
    “You, sir.” The man had suddenly lost his cockney accent. He pointed no gun but commanded just the same. “Down on your knees if you please. Right where you are will do nicely.”
    “My knees?” That sounded like trouble. What if he couldn’t get to his knees? “What if I can’t manage it?” Leland looked down and was surprised to find he was already slipping to the floor. He couldn’t maneuver his knees beneath him, so his derriere would have to do. He crossed his ankles and folded his arms. No need to be a hero if the damsel was not around the save, eh?
    He nodded at his own reasoning.
    In his current position, he had a clear view of that bossy thief’s boots. He’d seen them before as well. He studied them, committed them to memory, and by God when morning came, he’d remember, so help him.
    Boots. Vest. Good.
    A taller, thinner thief whispered in the leader’s ear. He nodded and addressed Leland.
    “Your Grace, we have need of your carriage. Is it at the front of the house?”
    “No, sir,” he said firmly.
    “I’m afraid I must insist, Your Grace. I swear upon my honor we’ll return it.”
    “You may borrow my carriage,” he clarified. “But it is out behind the garden. But you must do me a favor sir, as I am currently inebriated and unavailable for heroism.”
    “What might I do for you, Your Grace?”
    “If you see Lady Aphrodite, would you make certain she is safe?”
    “Lady Aphrodite ?”
    “Yes, sir. If you would, sir.”
    “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll see she is safe.”
    “Thank you, sir. You are a thief and a gentleman.”
    “I’ll remind you of