A thief wouldn’t even need to break the glass.
Which was more unacceptable-being untitled, adopted, or American?Īs the squire led his elderly guest away, O’Toole shifted his attention to the weapon cabinet. Savages were more polite than to insult guests, O’Toole mused, unoffended. “The Marquess of Effingham? The American? He’s little better than a savage himself,” the baronet replied with scorn. “He’s the brother of a marquess,” the squire whispered back, “Or the adopted brother. Why was he invited?” a particularly loud, querulous baronet asked. “The man’s got no title and little name to speak of. He listened to the whispers about him but gave no indication that he heard, or cared. A fourth coin materialized amid the ones spinning between his fingers. Collectors did not use their collections. O’Toole curled his lip in open derision as one of the guests asked if he might test a fowling piece. “If a man surrounds himself with friends instead of enemies, he would have no need to protect himself.” Idly, O’Toole juggled silver pieces between his fingers, assuming interest in coins and gamboling lambs.Ī smart man would have heeded Michael’s warning rather than his aloofness.īeyond the high hedge shielding the lambs stood tenant houses with leaking thatch and mildewed walls and children running barefoot wiping runny noses-while the owner of the houses stood in his elegant room, bragging of his expensive weaponry. “A man has the right to protect himself in these uncertain times!” his portly host blustered as he passed his newly-acquired weapon to a more appreciative guest. “Prélat’s newest percussion pistol might kill a man at fifty paces, but it’s useless for shooting fowl.” “Owning the most extensive pistol collection in the world won’t feed your tenants, Aubry.” Bored, Michael O’Toole leaned against a window frame and shifted his attention from Squire Aubry to a lamb gamboling in the field.
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