Greg felt Sarah’s arm stiffen as she looked at Lord Percival. Damn that arrogant swine, glaring at them! Why was he standing in a pose suggestive of drawing a sword? Greg was now certain that Sarah’s distress had a lot to do with this man. And her brother seemed to be adding to her problems. He felt an instinctive urge to protect her, so delicate and lovely a creature, from the web in which she was caught.
He kept his grip on her hand and steered her towards Lizzie. As usual this lively young lady had managed to assemble a group of friends around herself. Greg’s mouth quirked as he saw his brother by her side. Lizzie was introducing Richard to everyone. Greg winked at his brother and was rewarded with the lopsided grin. Richard’s eyes moved to survey Greg’s companion. His eyebrows lifted, but he made no comment, merely exchanging a bow.
‘I have discovered that your brother is a notable whip,’ began Lizzie, fixing Greg with her most appealing smile.
‘Did he tell you so?’ Greg raised one eyebrow.
Richard grinned. ‘Don’t let me down, Brother. I have promised to drive her to Wells.’
Greg stared at both of them forbiddingly. ‘As I said, Lizzie, you are a minx. We will go to Wells when I can organize a proper party for the journey. Please be a little patient.’ He waited until she nodded, then turned to Sarah. ‘I take it you would join the party?’
‘Certainly,’ she said in her usual voice. ‘I should very much like to see the cathedral.’ Greg noticed the shadows under her eyes. Again he felt the urge to smash his fist into Lord Percival’s hard, sneering face. The man was sauntering past, in company with a fellow dressed in an extremely tight-waisted jacket and with shirt points touching his cheeks. This had to be the Lord Montallan the others had been laughing about.
Lord Percival caught Greg’s eye and then he stared pointedly at the bruises still so obvious on Greg’s face. He curled his lip and moved away. Greg’s various aches all throbbed as he remembered the moment he had been hurled against the tilbury. Was the man threatening him? He glanced round at Sarah but she had gone.
Then he saw her with her brother. James had a hand on her back, pushing her towards Lord Percival. Greg manoeuvred himself so that while he talked to the others in the group he could see what would happen. He saw Lord Percival take Sarah’s hand and bow deeply over it. He held on to it for far too long. Greg clenched his teeth.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ asked Lizzie, breaking in on his concentration.
‘Mmm? Er … yes,’ he answered vaguely. Now the blackguard had pulled her arm through his and was strolling round the vast room with her by his side.
‘… so that is agreed,’ Lizzie’s voice broke in again. ‘Perhaps we should go this afternoon. The weather here is so unsettled, if we wait for tomorrow it may rain….’
Greg grunted and gave a nod. He shifted to keep an eye on Sarah but the crowd now hid her from sight. He gave an impatient sigh and looked down at Lizzie. She eyed him severely. ‘You were not listening,’ she told him, ‘but it is no matter. You said yes.’
‘Did I?’ He looked at his brother in appeal.
Richard laughed. ‘You agreed to let me drive Miss Elizabeth round the town in your curricle. We are going this very afternoon.’
Sarah walked unwillingly round the room side by side with Lord Percival. He had drawn her hand to rest on his arm and she felt she was his latest trophy being put on display. The contrast with Greg could not have been brought home more strongly. Then she had felt his warm concern and attention to her welfare; now she had the distinct feeling that she was a prisoner.
She was aware that Lord Percival was scrutinizing her closely.
‘You have changed your style of dress, Miss Davenport. Permit me to tell you that it is not becoming. A little more dash would suit you far better.’
She looked away. It was not his affair. A tiny smile tilted her lips at the knowledge that her clothes displeased him.
‘I cannot wait for the day when I will decide what you wear,’ he continued in his rich drawl. ‘I prefer to see a woman displaying her charms.’ His eyes went insolently to her bosom. He gave a bark of amusement as she tried to jerk her hand out of his arm. He caught her wrist in a vice-like grip and forced her hand back into place. His expression changed, warning her not to defy him.
‘Your pardon, sir,’ she said coldly, for all her voice trembled. ‘Mrs Keating is signalling that she wishes to speak to me.’
‘Then we will go together,’ he hissed. ‘We are going to do everything together from now on. You know that.’
‘I cannot imagine where you got such a notion,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Have the goodness to let me go.’ She stopped walking and pulled against him, trying to free her hand.
He swung round towards her. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His thin lips compressed. She thought he would strike her, he looked so furious. Then his friend Lord Montallan appeared and Percival turned the glare on him instead.
‘Thought I recognized you, George – and Miss … ah … er….’ The dandy’s eyes kindled with pleasure. ‘By Jove!’ He gave Lord Percival a meaningful look, then swept off his hat with an exaggerated flourish. Lord Percival loosened his grip to bow in his turn.
Sarah seized her chance and pulled her hand free. She stepped back out of reach. ‘Gentlemen,’ she said icily, with a brief inclination of her head. She whisked herself away, darting through the many groups of people, back towards Lizzie and Greg.
But, as she approached, she saw Lizzie, with a hand on Greg’s, looking up at him and saying something with a winning smile. Then Greg laughed and nodded. Sarah’s heart, already bruised, seemed to wither inside her chest. She lowered her head, afraid her face might betray her pain and so she failed to see another gentleman who was quietly observing her from a short way away. John Keating raised his brows and sighed heavily.