Judith sprang to her feet at once, scattering the spillikins in all directions.
Beside her Dan rose to his full height, as the Reverend Charles advanced towards them. With punctilious courtesy he bowed first to Prudence, and then to Elizabeth, not forgetting a proprietorial smile for Judith.
“Lord Wentworth, will you forgive me for intruding upon such a happy family scene? I am come to escort my little Judith to her home.”
“I…I thought you were much occupied today,” Judith muttered wildly.
“But never too occupied to consider my beloved.”
Beside her, Judith felt Dan stir. Unconsciously, she drew a little closer to him.
Sebastian rose to greet his visitor. “Why, sir, you are welcome,” he said smoothly. “We have been wishing for some time to make your better acquaintance. You are already known, I think, to Lady Wentworth and to my brother’s wife, Mrs Peregrine Wentworth?”
The preacher bowed his acknowledgment.
“Pray allow me to present her husband. And this, my dear sir, is my adopted son, Daniel Ashburn.”
“And this pretty little miss?” Truscott bent a benevolent eye on Kate, but the child darted behind her mother’s skirts.
“My niece. She is somewhat shy with strangers.”
This assurance was belied when a childish voice piped up. “I don’t like that man. He looks like a black stick.”
Perry made a choking sound, attempting unsuccessfully to turn it into a cough, but Elizabeth was equal to the occasion.
“Forgive my daughter, Mr Truscott. She is but a babe as yet.” Her expression indicated that she was uninterested in his forgiveness.
Truscott gave a hearty laugh. “Pray don’t apologise, ma’am. We hear the truth from the mouths of babes and sucklings. In my clerical garb I must appear formidable to a little one.”
Elizabeth gave him a perfunctory smile. She was undeceived. Left to his own devices the child would have received a beating. She rang quickly for the nurse.
“Such forbearance!” Sebastian said lightly. “My dear sir, pray sit down. You must allow me to offer you refreshment. A glass of wine, perhaps?”
Any thought of protesting that liquor never touched his lips died away as the preacher saw Sebastian’s bland expression. He understood at once. These people hoped to trap him in some way. He smiled inwardly. It would not be with a simple lie.
“Thank you, my lord,” he said. “A glass of wine would be most welcome. Then, I fear, that we must trespass no longer on your hospitality.”
It was a test of sorts and it succeeded. Perry drew forward a chair.
“Nonsense!” he uttered in jovial tones. “Now that you are here, we shall not allow you to escape.”
A glance from his brother silenced him, but the Reverend Charles appeared to have read no sinister meaning into his words. He glanced about him at the assembled company.
From the moment he’d entered the room he’d been aware that this aristocratic family had closed ranks against him. A quick assessment of any situation had always been essential to his survival. He wondered if they had the least idea how much he despised them and their kind. How he resented that inborn air of self-assurance, and their calm assumption of authority.
What gave them the right to think themselves superior? In his experience most members of the ton led lives which were notable only for folly and extravagance, protected by their wealth and their positions.
Could any of them have matched his own achievements? He’d dragged himself from the depths of squalor to the point where he was at least on speaking terms with the leaders of Polite Society. Given one half of their advantages it would not have taken him so long.
And even now, what was he, after all? A preacher, however fashionable, would not receive the invitations for which he craved. Not for him was membership of White’s, or any of the other gentlemen’s clubs which lined St James’s Street. He would receive no cards for routs and balls, nor be asked to make up a party for the Vauxhall Gardens.
Envy welled up in his heart as he looked at the Wentworth brothers, noting the perfect fit of their attire, and the fashionable haircuts. They seemed unconscious of the splendour of their surroundings.
Truscott himself was not. He’d never entered a more magnificent room, with its pastel-coloured walls, fine pictures and elegant furniture. The house in Seven Dials, of which he’d been so proud, now seemed to him to be furnished in tawdry fashion. All that would change, he vowed, once he was in possession of Judith’s fortune.
Now he leaned back, apparently at ease, and sipped at a glass of wine which was most certainly of excellent vintage.
Sebastian took a seat beside him. “We are most anxious to get to know you better, Mr Truscott,” he said pleasantly. “Your reputation has preceded you. You have blazed like a comet across the London scene.”
“And so unexpectedly,” Perry intervened. “With your gifts I wonder that we had not heard of you until a year ago.”
The preacher bowed his thanks for the compliment, but he was tempted to laugh aloud. So that was to be their game? Did they not realise that they were fencing with a master of deception?
“My early years were spent among the heathen,” he replied. “Alas, it was poor health alone which caused me to return to England.”
“How interesting! You must tell us more about your travels…” Prudence was moved to engage their unexpected visitor in conversation. She’d sensed that Judith was struggling to regain some semblance of composure after the shock of Truscott’s sudden appearance. Now the girl was on pins, knowing the family’s opinion of him.
Truscott himself was equal to the occasion. A fluent command of language was part of his stock in trade, and he’d taken good care to verse himself to perfection in every detail of his story.
Elizabeth could only marvel as his tales of distant lands poured out. She didn’t believe a word of them, but she kept her opinion to herself.
Dan was of the same mind. Aware of Judith’s pleading look, his bow to the preacher had been courteous, but he had taken no part in the conversation, and nor had she.
Truscott glanced at his betrothed. He favoured her with a loving smile, though briefly. Then he turned back to Lady Wentworth. He’d taken great care not to stare at the man who stood so close to Judith. There was little need. He’d taken in every aspect of the fellow’s appearance at first sight.
His inward amusement grew. How like the stupid girl to give her heart to this nonentity! And given it she had. He’d known it from the moment that he’d seen her sitting on the rug, her face alight with pleasure. No childish game had caused the change in her.
The fellow was a blockhead. He hadn’t uttered a word for the past hour. Handsome, perhaps, in a fresh-faced guileless way, but that flaming head was an offence to any man of taste. So Mrs Aveton had been right in her suspicions. He’d determined to find out for himself, and when her note arrived he’d made it his business to pay a visit to Mount Street.
Well, they were certainly well-matched, those two, with not an ounce of character between them. If he’d needed any further confirmation of their feelings for each other, he saw it now in Judith’s face. She looked as guilty as if she had spent the afternoon locked in her lover’s arms.
Upon reflection, he thought it unlikely. Judith was far too much the lady to allow the fellow any liberties. In any case, he doubted if she had any notion of the passions which were his own besetting sin. Cold as ice, he thought gleefully, but he would melt her.
For just a second his expression was unguarded, and he felt Dan’s gaze upon him. Looking up, he felt the full glare of those bright blue eyes, and was shaken out of his composure. He rose to his feet.
“My lord, you have been most kind.” He bowed to Sebastian. “Will you forgive me if I take my little Judith back to her mama? At this present time Mrs Aveton is much in need of her assistance.” He couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Wedding preparations, you understand?” He sensed Dan stiffen, and was satisfied.
With one of the Wentworth carriages placed at their disposal he handed Judith up, and waved a farewell greeting to his host.
“Such condescension!” he murmured as they drove way. “My love, I don’t know when I’ve spent a happier afternoon. Your friends are charming.”
“Sir, I hope that you were not offended by my goddaughter—”
“The little Kate? Great heavens, no! I confess I was surprised to find her allowed so much latitude.”
He was quick to notice the frown on Judith’s face.
“Mr Truscott, she is just a child…”
“Of course, my dear. I meant only that it is not usual to find the young in adult company at that time of day. Perhaps these are the latest ideas. Do you approve of them?”
“Perry and Elizabeth love their children, as do Prudence and Sebastian—”
“Naturally, Judith. That is not in dispute. I understand, however, that it is more usual to have one’s offspring brought down by their nurse at a certain time each day, both for correction and chastisement.”
Judith was silent as a strong sense of rebellion seized her.
Truscott knew that he had said too much. Incautiously, he had exposed the iron hand beneath the velvet glove. Immediately, he sought to reassure her.
“Those were the bad old days,” he said cheerfully. “Now we must move with the times. I cannot fault your friends as parents. What a happy family they are!”
Back in Mount Street, the Wentworth family was looking far from happy.
“What a creature!” Perry said with feeling. “He’s much worse than we thought, Sebastian, you must agree?”
“I found his conversation interesting,” Sebastian said slowly.
Elizabeth looked ready to explode. “You won’t say that you believed him?”
“I used the word interesting, rather than believable, my dear. Some of his stories were familiar. He seemed to be quoting word for word from some of the travel books I’ve read.”
“The man is a villain,” Dan said savagely. “My God! Did you see the way he looked at Judith?”
“I did. It confirms my belief that we must go carefully.” Sebastian looked across at his wife. “My dear, you should rest before we dine tonight. Then we shall spend a quiet evening on our own.”
“Shall you mind?” Elizabeth asked anxiously. “Darling Prudence, we seem to be having all the fun, whilst you are tied indoors.”
“I am content, my love. A Government reception would not be my chosen entertainment at the present time.” Prudence stretched out her hand towards her husband and he kissed it tenderly.
Elizabeth nodded. She had decided upon a certain plan of her own.
Later that evening she left Perry’s side to go in search of his formidable eldest brother.
The Earl of Brandon greeted her with a show of affection which he reserved for her alone. Elizabeth held a special place within his heart, and had done so since the time when she had so nearly been lost to them.
“Well, Puss?” he said kindly. “I hadn’t thought it possible that you could grow more lovely, but you succeed in doing so.”
Elizabeth brushed aside the compliment. She wasn’t vain, regarding her startling beauty as an accident of birth, for which she could take no credit.
“Frederick, will you spare me a few moments for a private conversation?” she murmured.
“Certainly, my dear.” He led the way into a small anteroom. “How may I serve you?”
“It isn’t for me,” she told him quickly. “You remember Judith Aveton?”
“Indeed I do. A quiet girl, with a beautiful speaking voice, as I recall…So different from that Aveton creature who is never out of my home.”
“Quite! Frederick, we fear she is in trouble. You have heard of her betrothal?”
“It has been brought to my attention,” he said drily. “Why are you so concerned?”
“It is this man, this so-called Reverend Truscott.”
“The preacher? I know of nothing against him.”
“You would not,” she told him bitterly. “He has all the cunning of the devil which I believe him to be.”
“Strong words, my dear! Have you any proof?”
Elizabeth hesitated. The Earl had always stood her friend. Now she must trust him. “I can’t tell Perry,” she murmured in a low voice. “But the loathsome creature has made advances to me…”
The Earl’s face changed. “A man of the cloth?” he said in disbelief.
“It’s hard to credit,” she agreed. “But if you don’t believe me you should speak to Prudence. She caught him out in his own church.”
Frederick laid a hand upon her arm. “I do believe you,” he said quietly. “Have you told Judith?”
“Not in so many words. She knows, of course, that we dislike the man, but we cannot sway her. It is hardly to be wondered at. Marriage must seem to her to be the only alternative to a life of misery with Mrs Aveton.”
“Scarce a fate which one would wish upon one’s worst enemy. Judith may be right, my dear. Men have strong passions. Marriage may prove to be the cure for those.”
Frederick was a man of the world. He was well aware of the adulation which a fervent orator could arouse in the female breast. Possibly this Truscott had allowed his admiration for the ladies to go too far upon occasion, but doubtless it was no more than a foolish attempt to cling to a hand for longer than propriety allowed, or to indulge in a few glowing words.
“Frederick, you disappoint me!” his tiny sister-in-law said sharply. “Truscott did not pay me idle compliments. He was importunate. Perry would have killed him had he known of it.”
“And who, my dear one, is to be the object of my retribution?” Perry strolled towards them. “What mischief are you planning now?”
Elizabeth coloured and looked confused, wondering how much of the conversation he had heard. Perry was not the mildest of men, and any insult to his wife would not be overlooked.
“We were speaking of Charles Truscott,” Frederick replied easily. “Not one of Elizabeth’s favourites, I hear.”
“Nor mine. He is a shabby fellow, with an unknown background. Do you know anything about him?”
“No more than is common knowledge. He has enjoyed a sudden rise to fame, I believe.”
“Too sudden!” Perry stepped upon the hem of his wife’s gown, and then looked down in horror. “Damme! Now I’ve torn your dress. I’m so sorry, dearest. Shall you be able to pin it up? Blest if I ain’t grown clumsier than ever!”
Elizabeth looked at him in mock reproach, and then she gave him a rueful grin. Gathering up her skirt, she departed in search of a maid.
“Clumsy indeed, my dear chap! Sometimes I wonder that your wife does not see through you.”
“Most of the time she does…”
“Well, then, since you wish to speak to me alone, you’d best tell me what is on your mind.”
“It’s this Truscott creature. I tell you, Frederick, there is something smoky there. Sebastian had him followed into the stews, and again to Seven Dials. We haven’t told Prudence and Elizabeth.”
“I should hope not, Perry. Knowing your wife, I believe she is more than likely to tackle him direct when he might simply be abroad on errands of mercy.”
“Mercy? You don’t know him,” Perry said darkly. “I, for one, trust Elizabeth’s judgment.”
“Quite right!” The Earl gave his youngest brother a slight smile. “It was always better than your own.”
Perry ignored the gibe. “Call it feminine intuition if you like, but the girls were appalled when they heard of the betrothal. We…I mean Sebastian…thought they were being fanciful at first, but now even he is worried.”
The Earl of Brandon made a steeple of his fingertips.
“You both believe you are right to interfere?”
“Frederick, you know old Seb. He ain’t one to tilt at windmills.”
“Unlike yourself?” came the mocking answer. “Well, what would you have me do?”
“You have sources which aren’t available to the rest of us. Will you not ask around? Discretion will be necessary, of course.”
The Earl was not often heard to laugh aloud, but now he did so. “I think I can promise you that,” he said. His discretion was a byword in Government circles.
“Yes, I know it,” Perry said earnestly. “I wouldn’t ask except that Judith is a friend of ours. We can’t have her made into a human sacrifice.”
“Dear me! You are growing quite poetic. Now tell me, is the lady herself happy with her choice?”
“She is, but, you see, she is an innocent. This clever scoundrel has deceived her.”
“You seem very sure of that. Let us hope that you are mistaken. Leave it with me, Perry. You will forgive me, but I must rejoin my guests.”
Perry was not entirely satisfied, but was forced to be content with his brother’s promise of discretion. He decided to add a last clincher to his argument.
“We ain’t mistaken,” he muttered. “Never think that Truscott visits the stews for charitable work. He spent the night at Seven Dials.”
The Earl raised a quizzical eyebrow. “As a well-known parson, would you expect him to visit the more fashionable ladies of the town?”
He moved away, leaving Perry feeling like a foolish schoolboy. His brother might be right. It was possible that Truscott visited the slums simply to slake his lusts. In a man of the cloth it was not admirable, but it was understandable.
Perry himself had had high-flyers in his keeping before his marriage. Since then, he hadn’t even been tempted. Compared with his ravishing Elizabeth, all other women were pale shadows.
Now she returned to join him with a smile upon her lips.
“Need you have sacrificed my gown?” she teased.
“Is it ruined? I’m sorry, love—”
“Sorry about the gown, or sorry for attempting to deceive me?”
He gave a reluctant laugh as he tucked her arm through his. “Shall I ever be able to do that?”
“I doubt it. You need only have asked me to go away if you wished to speak to Frederick alone.”
“And would you have gone?”
“Only with the greatest reluctance.” The lovely flower-face smiled up at him. “I wanted to hear your secrets.”
“Secrets, my darling?”
“Yes, my darling. You have been big with news for at least two days. I think it time you shared it.”
“Trust me! You’ll hear the whole quite soon, I hope.” Taking her arm, he led her back into the ballroom to take part in a quadrille.
From across the room Elizabeth was soon aware that she was under scrutiny. She nodded pleasantly to her sister-in-law, who was sitting with Mrs Aveton.
Elizabeth looked for Judith, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. As the dance ended, she drew Perry towards the two ladies. Perry was surprised. Neither he nor his wife were favourites with these malicious gossips, although it was clear that they had both been under discussion.
Even as he bowed to the Countess and her friend, he found himself wondering at Elizabeth’s object. She was more than capable of issuing a crushing setdown, but to his astonishment she favoured Mrs Aveton with a dazzling smile.
“Are we not to have the pleasure of Judith’s company this evening?” she asked sweetly.
“Madam, you saw her earlier today, I believe. Did she not explain that she isn’t well?”
“On the contrary, we thought her looking better than in recent months.”
“Quite possibly. Her forthcoming marriage must be a source of joy to her. However, the dear child has been overtaxing her strength with all her visiting, which I consider quite unnecessary. Tonight she has the headache…”
Elizabeth murmured a brief expression of sympathy to which Mrs Aveton paid no attention. Instead, she turned to the Countess.
“It is no bad thing that Judith was unable to be here this evening, your ladyship. Her way of life will be very different after she is wed.”
Perry was quick to remove his wife before she could speak the words which he guessed were already upon her lips.
“Let’s find Dan,” he suggested as they moved away. “He knows few people here. He must be feeling out of things…”
As he expected, Dan was looking disconsolate.
“I thought she’d be here tonight,” he murmured. “Did that creature forbid her to attend?”
“Nothing of the kind,” Elizabeth said briskly. “Judith has the headache, that is all.”
“Is it serious?” His voice quickened with alarm. “Could it be a fever, or worse?”
“Great heavens, Dan, you saw Judith yourself today. Was she not looking positively blooming?”
“She was…at least until Truscott arrived. Perhaps he has upset her.” Dan’s face grew dark with anger.
“Unlikely! He’ll take good care to keep on good terms with her.”
Perry’s prediction wasn’t much consolation, and for the rest of the evening Dan’s thoughts were with his stricken love.
Judith herself was feeling wretched. The Reverend Truscott’s visit to her friends had not been a success in spite of his assurance otherwise.
Always sensitive to tension, she was well aware that the atmosphere at the house in Mount Street had changed with his arrival. Until then it had been the happiest of gatherings, and in playing that childish game she had forgotten all her present worries.
The next hour had been an agony, and she’d been on pins in case the volatile Elizabeth should be tempted to speak her mind. Beside her, Dan too had been bristling with antagonism. Only a promise not to distress her had ensured their civility.
She would not put them in that position again. Her visits to Mount Street must stop. They were naught but self-indulgence, although to be in Dan’s company again was rather an exquisite torture.
In accepting Charles Truscott’s offer she had sealed her own fate, believing that her decision was for the best. Now she felt ashamed, suspecting that she herself was playing with fire. Was she guilty of deceit and double-dealing? He did not deserve such treatment.
Tomorrow she would go to him, and ask to be given some useful work.
The decision cost her a sleepless night and many bitter tears. She couldn’t even be sure of the purity of her own motives. Had she made it simply because she knew beyond all doubt that Dan was lost to her for ever?
How cold he’d looked when he’d spoken of refusing charity, even when that charity might consist only of a recommendation from his highly placed connections to the unapproachable Lords of the Admiralty.
Judith had known then that even had he loved her, her fortune would have proved a far more insurmountable barrier to his pride than any previous opposition. He was lost to her, and she must face the truth.
With a heavy heart she rose next day and announced her intention to visit her betrothed.
“Well, miss, I’m glad to see that you are come to your senses at the last,” Mrs Aveton snapped. “As I told your precious friends last night, it is high time that you gave up all this gadding about. Most unsuitable for the wife of a man in holy orders—”
“Which friends were those, ma’am?”
“Have you so many? I refer to the Honourable Peregrine Wentworth and his wife…pert baggage that she is! I declare that I was ashamed to see the exhibition which they make of themselves. Why, the man never takes his eyes off her. He must be always holding her hand, or dancing with her…”
“She is very lovely. She is also his wife,” Judith observed quietly.
“One might hope that they would observe the proprieties. Amelia has no patience with them. She thinks it affectation.”
Judith was silent. There was little point in arguing.
“I must hope that you will not follow their example. I should not care to see you always hanging about your husband’s neck. Mr Truscott will not care for that, or to see you gazing at him like a mooncalf.”
“There is little danger of that,” Judith replied more sharply than she had intended.
Mrs Aveton stared at her. The girl was not improving. In these last few days there had been more than a hint of rebellion in her tone. She recalled Charles Truscott’s words, and did not pursue the matter, though she longed to do so.
Judith would soon be taught a lesson, if she was any judge of men. Her days of balls, reviews and picnics were now over. She could hardly restrain her glee. Now Judith’s pride would take a tumble, and that cool reserve which she had always found so trying would be shattered for ever by the worthy Truscott.
Worthy? Her lip curled. He was little better than a common thief. She despised him, having taken his measure from their first meeting. What other man would have agreed to pay for her own good offices in helping to win his bride? She knew that her antagonism was returned, but it did not worry her. The preacher was useful. She would keep him to his part of their bargain.
Unaware that he was the object of her thoughts, Charles Truscott had awakened in a better frame of mind. His plans were going well. No strangers to violence, his henchmen at Seven Dials would serve him as they had done before. After all, there was no greater incentive than the sight of gold.
As for Judith? Let her torture herself and her young lover for these next few weeks. It would make his conquest all the sweeter when it came. When the time was right, he would pluck her from the circle of her friends as easily as one might seize a ripening fruit.
He spared no more than a passing thought for Dan. The man was a nobody, unworthy of his consideration, and possessed of neither birth nor fortune. He might dream of winning Judith and her wealth, but he should never have her.
As always, his morning service was well attended, and the sermon held his congregation enthralled. Quite one of his best, he considered with satisfaction, combining as it did the threat of hellfire with the promise of salvation.
When the service ended he followed his usual practice, standing in the porch and smiling gravely at his departing parishioners. A word or two to the wealthier among them brought congratulations and fervent promises of help with his good works.
As he re-entered the empty church he rubbed his hands. That tiresome task was over for another day. It was a small price to pay for what must be a handsome sum, in the collection boxes. He was looking forward to counting it.
Then he saw the child behind the pillar. He hurried forward, anxious to hear the news for which he had been waiting.
“Well?” he asked impatiently.
The boy stepped back, keeping a heavy pew between them. “You’re wanted, mester. There’s a couple of stiff ’uns as needs getting rid of.”
The preacher froze. His hirelings must have botched the affair. Had he not suggested the river, where the bodies would have been carried downstream? But just two corpses? He had to know.
“Who…who is dead?” His throat was dry.
“Friends of yourn, so Nellie says.” The urchin gave him a knowing smile.
Truscott staggered back. He could hardly breathe. A red mist swam before his eyes as an uncontrollable rage consumed him.
At the sight of his contorted face the child began to run, but the preacher was too quick for him. He twisted the stick-like arm behind the urchin’s back.
“I won’t go,” he hissed.
Tears of agony rolled down the starveling’s face.
“It ain’t my fault,” he sobbed. “If you ain’t there by nightfall they’ll come to you…”
It was then that his tormentor lost the last vestiges of his self-control. Something inside him snapped. He wanted to strike out…to injure those who were responsible for the ruin of his plans. Someone must suffer. He began to punch the boy about the head, splitting the thin lips and closing one terrified eye.
“Stop!” The horrified surprise in Judith’s voice reached him even through that bout of murderous anger.
He looked up to see her standing in the open doorway, but this was a Judith whom he did not recognise. Gone was the timid girl who had so little to say. Now she ran towards him with blazing eyes, and caught at his upraised arm.
“Stop, I say! Don’t you see that the child is bleeding?”
Truscott released his victim, but his look was terrible. For a moment Judith thought that he would strike her too. She faced him squarely, fully prepared to stand her ground as she pushed the boy behind her.