Page 53 of Vying for a Viscount
Down the street stood an unmarked black carriage. Greyson hurried toward it, opened the door, and climbed in to find Knight waiting for him. “What happened?” he whispered.
“When the stones were thrown at Prinny’s carriage back in January, it was bad, but this time someone shot at him as he exited his coach around one this morning. The bullet grazed a footman’s arm. Both were fortunate.”
“Thank God no one was killed,” Greyson spat.
The carriage came to a stop. “Come, the Prince is waiting.”
They approached the entrance to Carlton House and were met by four guards, who let them pass. At the main door, two more guards stood watch and, upon recognizing them, let them pass. Inside, another two guards met them and escorted them to Prinny’s private residence, where he sat at his desk in his study, looking weary.
“Your Royal Highness,” both Knight and Greyson said, bowing.
“Please take a seat.”
Once Knight and Greyson sat in leather chairs facing the desk, Prinny said, “What a night. Will this madness ever end? It’s been going on too long. One of these days or nights, I’m going to get hurt.”
“Was he caught?” Knight asked.
“Oh, yes. He’s in the Tower as we speak. You can both question him when you leave.”
“Good,” Knight added.
The Prince Regent let out a heavy sigh. “I’m frightened for my family. What if someone goes after them next?”
“We will do everything in our power to make sure it doesn’t happen,” Knight said.
“Princess Charlotte is at Claremont House in Surrey and due to have my grandchild soon.”
“Send some of your Dragoons to Surrey,” Knight recommended.
“I already made the arrangements. They leave at first light.”
“Good.” Knight touched his mask, which hid his burned face, a gesture Greyson knew he made when frustrated. “Where are your Dragoons?”
“Some are out scouring the streets, questioning anyone they see. Others are here, protecting those in residence. I’m quite convinced this person didn’t act alone. He’s a poor farmer and should’ve wielded a pitchfork or some such tool, not a pistol beyond his means.”
“We will find out what we can,” Greyson said. “Forgive me, Your Highness, if this is the wrong time, but there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.”
“Go on.”
“With the Home Office, the Bow Street Runners, and your Dragoons, I don’t understand why you created the Black Knights.”
“Because I don’t trust anyone! There could be spies anywhere. Your job is to keep me safe and alive, weed out any spies, and keep my subjects from marching on London with any weapon they can find to protest government laws. And most importantly, keep England from having a bloody revolution.”
“We will try,” Knight said.
“You’d better do more than try, Knight,” Prinny bellowed. “I expect you and your men to succeed in curbing all this unrest.”
“Pardon me, Your Highness,” Knight said. “But we are only eight Black Knights, five of whom are out on assignment.”
“Yes. Eight men you handpicked with my approval. Now is not the time to expand the Knights. I will, however, for the time being, turn over to your command six of my most skilled and trusted Dragoons.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. Please tell them to bring their weapons, but leave their uniforms behind. The Black Knights need to blend in. As regal as their uniforms are, they have no place on Black Knight assignments.”
“Understood. I expect an update by ten.”
After being dismissed, Knight’s carriage took them to the Tower, where they were met by a guard who escorted them to the farmer’s cell. The guard unlocked the gate and handed Greyson a lantern, then they entered the small chamber, where a middle-aged man sat huddled on the cold, dirty floor, shivering.
“What is your name?” Knight demanded.
