‘Sarah! Where are you going in such a hurry?’
That peevish voice could only belong to James. Reluctantly, Sarah stopped and waited for him to cross the street. It was busy with carriages and he had to dodge and run to get across, which did not improve his temper. His face was just as pale and haggard as when she had last seen him.
‘You have scarcely tired of the shooting at Russeldene so soon?’ she asked, by way of greeting.
A passing coach threw up a spray of water. James cursed and moved away, brushing at his greatcoat. ‘Just look at that. What a damn— dashed place Bath is for weather.’
‘Well, you should have stayed in the country, then.’
He scowled at her. ‘George took a fancy to come here. Thing is, Sarah, he wants to pay court to you. And there is no need to look like that!’ he added explosively.
‘Like what?’ she challenged.
‘As if you had seen something disgusting. George is a great fellow and my particular friend, y’know. I insist you give him a chance.’
She shook her head.
‘Sarah,’ he pleaded, ‘dash it, Alice thinks he is suitable—’
‘Alice does not want the expense of an unmarried sister living with her,’ she flashed. ‘And she knows I am soon to be a pauper if you go on wasting all our inheritance.’ She turned away, took a deep breath and set off again in the direction of Milsom Street.
‘Hey!’ James came scurrying after her. He took her by the arm and forced her to stop.
‘Let – me – go!’ she said through her teeth. She tried to pull away but he kept a firm hold.
‘I mean it, Sis. You must make yourself agreeable to George. Thing is, I owe him the devil of a lot of money. He will not heed it, however, if you let him pay court to you.’
Sarah gave him a withering look. ‘How dare you! How could you sink so low as to gamble even your sister. Have you taken leave of your senses?’
He blinked at her. ‘It is not like that. Why do you put it in such a way? George is—’
‘Spare me,’ she interrupted. ‘He is ruthless and people hint at very dark things in his background. But are you so deep in his debt you have bribed him with me? James, is there no end to your gambling fever? You were not like this before you got drawn into this man’s circle.’
Under the fire of her gaze, his bloodshot eyes sank. He shuffled his feet then jerked his shoulder and shot her a quick glance. ‘There is no other way now. He could turn us out of our home if he wished. It all depends on you to save us.’
It was a clear statement of how matters stood. The blood turned to ice in Sarah’s veins. The horror must have shown in her face because James shifted uncomfortably. Then, as usual, his temper snapped. Sarah knew from experience that if he could not easily gain his own way, he would resort to threats and bullying.
‘You might at least give him a fair hearing,’ James continued. ‘Dash it, he is very well set up. Most of the ladies are falling over themselves to be noticed by him. What ails you? Come on! Let us get out of this curst wet.’ He forcibly pulled her in the direction of the Pump Room.
They were attracting glances and some whispered comments. Sarah allowed herself to be walked back down Union Street. The rain was falling heavily and the hem of her dress was soaked. It clung unpleasantly to her ankles as she hurried to keep up with her brother’s long strides.
Her umbrella wobbled due to her hasty steps. The drips landed on James and made him curse. He swept her up the entrance step and into the wide hall that she had left so short a time before. There she stopped and wrenched her arm free of his hold.
‘James, just look at me. My gown is sodden from the knees down. I can feel that my hair is damp. Even the ribbons of my bonnet are dripping. I am in no state to be exchanging social chitchat. I shall catch an inflammation of the lungs.’
He scowled. ‘Deuce take it, Sarah—’
But she was no longer listening. She had spotted Greg walking in her direction. He had an unusually grim frown on his face. She felt a little shiver down her back that had nothing to do with the cold and damp. Here was another side to this man’s character. He was dangerous in his anger.
When he noticed her he stopped in his tracks, made a visible effort to adjust his expression and then came up to her.
‘Whatever has happened, Miss Davenport? Have you fallen in the river?’
‘It feels like it,’ she admitted. ‘Oh, this is my brother, Lord Davenport. James, this is Major Thatcham.’
In the act of bowing, James jerked upright again. ‘Thatcham!’ he ejaculated. ‘Oh, Lord!’
Greg looked at the dissipated young man. He was tall and slender, with regular features and dark, curly hair, at present rather flattened by the rain. He could be handsome if he did not have that unhealthy pallor and irritable expression. He was almost as wet as his sister. Only ten minutes ago she had been desperate to get away from the Pump Room. Why had her brother forced her to return here?
Greg strove to calm his own inner turmoil in order to concentrate on this problem. It was strange that in the space of a mere ten minutes, he had met the two men he most needed to find. And it seemed that his instinct was right. On learning his identity, this young man immediately betrayed a consciousness of something. Greg eyed him keenly. ‘You already seem to have heard of me.’
James opened and shut his mouth. His hat dropped from his hand. ‘Er … no, no – that is, believe you have a brother in Town….’
Greg nodded. He would pursue this later. At present, if this creature could not see that his sister was shivering with cold, Greg could.
‘Miss Davenport, this time I insist on calling a chair for you. You need to change those wet clothes.’
The look she gave him was thanks enough. In a very short space of time, Greg had summoned a sedan and handed her carefully into it.
‘Be sure to hurry,’ he urged the porters as he closed the door. He nodded to her and watched her on her way before turning back into the entrance hall. He shook the raindrops off his face. Now for a word with her negligent brother, but, not entirely to Greg’s surprise, the wretched fellow had disappeared. Greg’s lip curled. How typical. No doubt James Davenport had fled to his crony, Lord Percival.
His face hardened as he saw again the moment Lizzie had presented him to that man. The arrogance seeped from every pore. Here was a man who trod over the feelings and lives of others for his own selfish gain. The sneering voice, the hint of contempt and yet – and yet, Greg mused, the eyes were wary, defensive, watching him for any sign of weakness or emotion, or could it be that Lord Percival had something to conceal?
Greg puzzled to understand why Henry had ever consented to play cards with this type of gamester? Why, Theo had said that Lord Percival was well known as a deep player. After seeing James Davenport, Greg suspected that Lord Percival was the type to lead young men into gaming hells and relieve them of their fortunes.
He would test that theory when the right opportunity offered. For now, he must observe the habits and favourite haunts of his quarry. He strolled back into the Pump Room and made his way slowly across to the long counter where the girl was serving glasses of the spa water. Greg took a glass and leaned his back against the counter. He looked at the gently moving crowd while he sipped the foul tasting stuff.
Across the room Lizzie was still chatting in her lively way to a group of young ladies. A smile curved Greg’s lips as he watched her. Such vivacity and sweetness. She was a pearl. His expression changed as he made out James Davenport in the group surrounding her. So he was interested in Lizzie, was he? Greg determined to increase his guard on her.
His survey continued. The room was definitely more crowded today. The people were still mainly elderly and infirm. Groups formed and then drifted on, so that there was a continual murmur of voices and footsteps, together with the clink of glasses. At length he saw his quarry. Lord Percival was with a couple of other overdressed gentlemen. Their dandified appearance was earning them many glances. Well, it would be easy to pick out the fellow at any function.
Satisfied, Greg set down his half-full glass on the counter. But he had forgotten that his arm was weak and a spasm of cramp seized it. The glass wobbled and tipped over. Recollecting his surroundings just in time, he swallowed down the curse that rose to his lips. It was time to find a sporting salon and start strengthening his arm again.