‘Are you sure my bonnet looks nice?’ Lizzie almost tripped up as she twisted round towards Sarah too quickly. Sarah put out a hand to steady her friend.
‘That is the third time you have asked!’ She could not keep the exasperation out of her voice. ‘Why is it so important? You look absolutely charming.’ She turned her head to give Prue a smile. The sturdy maid nodded a little grimly.
‘Give over, Miss Lizzie. There’s no more fashionable hat in town. Not even that lady who spoke to you yesterday in the library, Miss Sarah, has anything so smart – and she was fine as fivepence, I must say.’
Lizzie did indeed look elegant in her fur-trimmed blue pelisse, and the blue bonnet with its new ribbons and three ostrich feathers. Prue and Sarah had worked all the previous evening to get it ready.
In the sharp wind Sarah was thankful that her own pelisse of dark-green velvet was edged with fur and that she had an enormous matching fur muff to keep her hands warm. She wore a neat little hat with a turned up brim and green ribbons to match her pelisse. This outfit had been bought in preparation for her comeout two years before but due to her father’s ill health, she had spent only a few weeks in London. At least now she had these good quality clothes for the winter weather. As she always preferred very simple styles, they were easy to bring up to date with fresh trimming according to the latest edition of La Belle Assemblée that Lizzie purchased each month.
They reached the Pump Room and began their daily promenade round the large room, exchanging greetings with a number of other visitors. It suddenly occurred to Sarah that there was an air of excitement about Lizzie. She had definitely become more insistent about going to the Pump Room over the last few days. Perhaps she was hoping that Greg would be there. Maybe they planned to announce their engagement soon.
The idea made her heart sink like lead. She wondered how she could face the future without any further contact with either of them. Lizzie was more of a sister to her than Alice had ever been. But it would be impossible to stay close to Lizzie when she became Greg’s wife. The attraction between herself and Greg was too strong for her to fight. She grew hot at the memory of how easily she had kissed him … and he had been quite unrepentant. Yet he did not seem to be a rake, so he could not resist the attraction either! So, to avoid further temptation and scandal, she would have to disappear from their lives.
The prospect made her feel desolate – even more so than becoming a teacher – but she was sick of always rebuffing him, of fighting herself to hide her attraction to him. And even if there were no Lizzie in the equation, how could she honourably accept any proposal from him or hope for acceptance from his family, when her brother had done them such wrong? They would never forgive James for hiding the truth about the accident to Greg’s brother. Sarah sighed, remembering how much they were still grieving.
It was difficult to attend to Lizzie’s chatter as they paced the Pump Room in search of their friends. There was no sign of Greg again today. He had not said anything about going away on business but he had been absent for six days now. As usual, they walked around until they met up with Richard. The first question was always where his brother had gone. Richard did not know. Each time they asked he grinned at them and demanded to know if he was not an acceptable substitute.
‘We have to remember that someone is very ill-disposed towards us,’ he reminded them when they protested. ‘I cannot let anything happen to you on my watch.’
Well, I suppose that at the same time, we are keeping a check on you,’ teased Lizzie, smiling back at him. He was now looking like his old self and was once again a lively member of their group of friends. This morning they all collected in a corner and discussed plans for activities to mark Lavinia’s last few days in Bath. Sarah was still preoccupied with her melancholy thoughts and scarcely heard the lively chatter.
She jumped when someone laid a gloved hand on her arm. It was John Keating. ‘Come, Miss Davenport,’ he said in mock reproach, ‘surely you are not too busy to join in our schemes for the next few days? We want to take away fond memories of our time in Bath.’ His face grew serious. ‘Although I fear I shall have some regrets … unless….’ He gave her a speaking look and seized her hand. ‘Excuse me, but there is nowhere else where I can ask you this—’
Sarah withdrew her hand. ‘Pray do not, Mr Keating,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I am deeply honoured but … I cannot return your regard.’
He drew in a deep breath. After a pause, he said: ‘Well, I have always known that I am not first with you, but if ever—’
‘Oh, this is wretched,’ she exclaimed, looking at his white face. ‘You are most obliging, sir and I am truly sorry I cannot do other than say no. We shall all miss you and your sister a great deal.’
His mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Damned with faint praise.’
She shook her head, swallowed and turned away. Before she could examine her feelings at this declaration, she found herself face to face with Mrs Bourne, who stopped and greeted her smilingly. Sarah was struck by the extreme elegance of the lady’s clothes and her look of such decided fashion. She wondered if Mrs Bourne had a very wealthy husband.
‘I am so glad to have found you again, Miss Davenport,’ said the lady, extending one languid hand in its expensive kid glove. ‘My sister was delighted by the tale I told her yesterday. She longs to meet you, the daughter of her dear schoolfriend.’ Mrs Bourne sighed. ‘But she is unable to walk, although the hot bath is providing much relief from the rheumatic pains she suffers.’
Sarah made a polite reply. Mrs Bourne waited for a moment, then gave Sarah a hesitant look. ‘I do not suppose—’ She broke off, glanced away then nodded resolutely and began again. ‘Would it be too much to ask— My dear Miss Davenport, it would give Henrietta so much pleasure to make your acquaintance. Is there a day when you could take tea with us?’
This was a little sudden. However, Sarah understood the lady’s anxiety to keep her sister in good spirits. She had nursed her own sick father and knew how much a visitor meant to someone unable to get out into society. Moreover, it was a way of avoiding a further conversation with Mr Keating. So she smiled politely at the elegant Mrs Bourne.
‘I believe my friends have made plans for every day this week. But I can excuse myself from their schemes for this afternoon, if that is acceptable?’
A gleam showed in Mrs Bourne’s eyes. ‘I knew I could depend on you. Thank you, indeed we will be most happy to see you this afternoon.’ She gave Sarah her direction. It was at a house in the Circus. When Sarah heard that, she felt her heart thump uncomfortably. But James had said Lord Percival was out of town, so there could be no risk of running into him.
There was an assembly that evening and when she returned to her friends, Sarah found that they had all firmly agreed to be there. Lavinia was to dance every dance.
‘That way, she will be perfectly ready to take her place at any London ball,’ said Mr Lucas Wilden cheerfully.
‘I shall be returning to London soon,’ said Richard, ‘and if we meet at any balls, we may stand up together if you wish.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ breathed Lavinia. ‘It is so much more comfortable to know I shall have some friends in Town, especially at the beginning.’
‘But no waltzing!’ said her brother, poker-faced. ‘You should keep practising the steps but never dare to dance it until a dowager gives you permission.’
Lavinia’s eyes opened very wide as she looked round the circle of faces, all frowning sternly at her. She went pale then she saw Richard’s mouth twitch. Her expression changed to one of indignation.
‘You are being horrid,’ she laughed, ‘you will drive me to distraction with all this advice.’
Sarah happened to be looking at Lizzie when Richard made the comment about returning to London. She saw a change come over Lizzie’s face, as though she had been struck a physical blow. Her eyes darted to Richard. Now he was looking at Lizzie with a question in his eyes. Sarah put up a hand to twist her curls as she began to make sense of Lizzie’s recent behaviour.
She thought of the jokes and the dancing they had shared, how they often had their heads together; Lizzie’s pleasure in riding round town with him; all things she had assumed were just agreeable novelties after Lizzie’s strictly chaperoned years in Lisbon. Then there had been the panic when he was so ill. The scales fell from her eyes. She drew in a deep breath. Her heart beat so fast that she was dizzy. There was a buzzing noise in her ears.
Like a bucket of cold water came the realization. Even if Lizzie now understood that she loved Richard, it changed nothing in her own situation. James had made it impossible for the Thatcham family to want a link with the Davenports. Lizzie’s voice broke in on her whirling thoughts.
‘Oh, Sarah! You have quite spoiled your hairstyle by making all those ringlets. Let me put it right.’
At that very moment, Greg was descending the stairs in the house in Sydney Place. He was freshly shaved and immaculately dressed but his eyes were heavy and his face bore the signs of fatigue from several nights of watching and riding. The smell of fresh coffee tempted him into the parlour. He found his father there, reading the paper and with the coffee pot on the table in front of him.
‘Ah!’ said Greg with satisfaction. He poured himself a cup and downed it in two gulps. Sir Thomas raised his brows but made no comment. He continued to watch as Greg poured out a second cup. The brew had an immediate effect. Greg looked up, met his father’s eyes and smiled.
‘Everything well here, sir?’
Sir Thomas nodded. ‘I am pleased to say that Richard seems fully recovered. And we have been spared any further incidents.’ He looked under his brows, his face impassive.
Greg swallowed some more coffee. ‘Which would indicate that I am the prime target.’ He saw the flash of alarm in his father’s eyes. ‘Be easy, sir. I think we are reaching the end of this story.’
They looked at each other. Eventually Sir Thomas nodded. He sighed. ‘I know you cannot speak of your work. We agreed on that long ago. But I mislike the situation. These attempts to dispose of you – or by default, your brother – are becoming tedious.’
Greg’s hand clenched into a fist. ‘They will pay for that,’ he muttered. He stared moodily out of the window, reliving the past few nights of hard riding and surveillance. Together with Preston, he had joined Josiah Whitby and his Riding Officers as they observed the theft of supplies from the cargo ship. The evidence was there now to incriminate the whole gang, including Lord Percival.
Greg’s lips thinned. There were witnesses to the man’s involvement in the planning and execution of the crime – and therefore, it was certain that he was the person passing on information from his friends in the government. He would not escape being arrested as soon as Josiah Whitby could obtain a warrant. But in Greg’s opinion, this was still a risky business. He wanted swifter justice on this murdering villain.
For one thing, he did not want to wait for a lengthy trial, and for another, he feared that with such powerful friends, Lord Percival might simply be allowed to slip away to start his criminal activities elsewhere. Greg was not prepared to risk that. His eyes narrowed as he checked through the steps of his scheme. It should work. He would have justice for all his family and for Sarah as well.
He brought himself back to the present and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Almost noon. Where is Richard?’
‘At the Pump Room I assume, together with his friends. I have insisted that Jenkins goes with him everywhere.’ Sir Thomas made a little gesture, which showed more than words how much it mattered to him. ‘I could not bear another crisis like the last one.’
No indeed,’ agreed Greg. ‘But he should be safe enough at present.’
Sir Thomas gazed at him fiercely. ‘He has to be safe enough at all times.’
There was a pause. Greg sat waiting, aware that there was some important news to come. His father kept turning his quizzing glass over and over in his hand. Finally he raised his brows, grimaced and looked directly at Greg.
‘Obviously, over these last few days, I have made it my business to – ah – be present when Richard went to any social event.’ He dropped the quizzing glass and fumbled as he tried to pick it up again. Keeping his eyes on his son’s face, he continued, ‘From what I have observed, it seems to me that Richard has become very fond of Charlie Gardiner’s little niece.’
Greg noticed the underlying question in his father’s steady gaze. He raised his own brows and smiled. ‘I rather thought that was the way the wind was blowing.’
Sir Thomas sat up straight. ‘You do not mind?’
‘Not at all. Why should I? She is a delightful young lady.’
‘You did not … er … ah….’ Sir Thomas cleared his throat. ‘You did not rather like her yourself?’
Greg threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, I like Lizzie, very much. She is a pearl. And she is the sister of a good friend of mine. In fact, I see her as a sister already. So….’ He raised both hands in a fatalistic gesture.
‘Egad, that makes things seem more hopeful,’ said Sir Thomas, brightening. ‘Well, well, I seem to have been somewhat behind events there.’ He looked at Greg through narrowed eyes. ‘It seems to me that both you boys should be thinking of settling down and the sooner the better.’
Greg could scarcely hide his astonishment. ‘Father, what in the world has provoked this notion? I go away for a few days and you are suddenly full of matrimonial plans for us. Has Grandmama been writing to you again?’
Sir Thomas was watching him closely. Under that unwavering gaze, Greg became slightly self-conscious. He turned away to pour more coffee.
Thought you preferred tea,’ chuckled his father.
Greg was tired and flustered by his father’s insight and he was not going to discuss this matter any further yet. He took a sip of his drink but suddenly, he just wanted to be alone. He stood up. ‘Excuse me, sir, I think an hour’s sleep will do me more good than this.’ He pushed his cup away.
‘Very well. You certainly look as if you have not slept for a week.’ Sir Thomas reached for his newspaper. A thought struck him. ‘Ah, before you do go, I recall that there is an assembly tonight. I would be much obliged to you if you would attend it with Richard.’
Greg mumbled something and closed the door softly. He found a yawning Preston in his bedchamber, tidying away the discarded travelling clothes.
‘Wake me by five o’clock,’ said Greg, pulling off his jacket and cravat and casting them down carelessly, to his valet’s displeasure. ‘No need to look so pained, man. Go and get some sleep yourself. God knows we both need it. And I shall require you to undertake some more gambling again this evening.’ He yawned. ‘Let us see if we can catch Lord Percival cheating.’
When Preston had gone, Greg threw himself on the bed and laced his hands behind his head. He frowned up at the ceiling. Now he must plan every detail if he was to succeed in his schemes. But he kept seeing a pair of green eyes and a lovely face framed by golden curls, her features pale and strained due to problems she could not resolve. Greg heaved a sigh. If his plan worked – no, not if, when his plan worked – he would be free to do something about that.