Chapter 1

'The Devil himself must be rubbing his hands with glee to witness this display of sinfulness amongst his enemies!'

Miles Talbot, who had been leaning against the wainscot chatting with his friend Robert Peyton, turned round. The words had been muttered close to his ear, so he expected to discover they had been addressed to him. The only person near enough to have given expression to such thoughts, however, was turned away from Miles, and all he could see was a sober black suit and a close cropped grey head.

Miles glanced back in some amusement at Robert, but his friend had not heard the remark and was continuing his own discourse. Miles shrugged, and transferred his attention back to Robert. He was not to be left alone.

'God in His righteousness will punish the evil doers!'

This prophecy had been uttered in a louder voice and Robert heard it, and grinned at Miles, raising his eyebrows.

'Your first Saint,' he whispered softly, and Miles nodded slightly as he turned to the man behind him.

This time the sober suited one was facing Miles, and viewed him with intense displeasure. Miles noted the thin straggly hair receding from a narrow brow, pale grey eyes that matched the hair, and a gaunt face, with pale, unhealthy skin stretched taut across prominent bones, apart from where there were deep lines of displeasure round the nose and mouth.

The frown deepened as this individual looked back at Miles, noting the long curling locks, the width and strength of the shoulders under the brocade coat, and the wide lace collar and cuffs adorning it.

'Were you addressing your remarks to me, sir?' Miles enquired courteously.

'Aye, and to any of them that can hear, when they are not deafened by the seductive screeches of the fiddles!'

'Did you not appreciate the entertainment?' Miles asked, raising his eyebrows.

'It is an invitation to lewdness! Men should have a better care for God's wrath than to tempt the Devil with such trumpery entertainments that do them no good.'

'Would you ban all music?' Robert asked, and received a fanatical glare from the prophet.

'Aye, along with many other of the wicked temptations that abound, and that are seen here, even in this godly house!'

'Have a care, neighbour,' interrupted another man seated nearby, who had overheard the conversation.

'Why indeed should I have a care? Are you threatening me? Or insinuating that I am afraid?'

The newcomer to the conversation laughed. 'No, indeed, Faithful! No one who knows you would ever accuse you of timidity or dare to threaten you. I but point out to you that you are in danger of insulting our hostess if you condemn her entertainments in such fashion.'

The man addressed as Faithful pursed his lips, and drew himself up to his full height, still scarcely reaching Miles' shoulder.

'I say no word against that gracious lady! You malign me to read such into my remarks. Mistress Weston is pure and innocent, and as such too like to be led astray by evil counsellors!'

'Come, Faithful. There is nought sinful in a gathering such as this, where we but eat and drink and talk, and listen to a little music!'

'It is an occasion of sin,' Faithful asserted stubbornly. 'We are told that such merrymaking, the wearing of indecorous clothing, and immoderate laughter, lead only too easily to sinful thoughts, and from them 'tis a simple step to sinful actions, both hateful in the eyes of God and all godly men.'

'I wonder then that you venture yourself into such danger!'

'You scoff, Dick Ashford, but your sins will be noted and you will in good time be punished for them.'

'No doubt,' Dick Ashford agreed amiably. 'But I would prefer you do not accuse Mistress Weston of providing occasions of sin!'

'She is unaware of the dangers, she is so pure and untouched herself.'

'I do not think you need to concern yourself on her behalf.'

'She has no one else to warn her. These folks who take so lavishly of her hospitality, her generosity, they do not care they may be guiding her into wicked ways. You taunt me for venturing myself, but I am in no danger. I will not fall from the path of righteousness. I but seek to aid others who are in danger from the ungodly company they are forced to keep!'

With a fierce glare at Ashford, and then a scowl at Miles Talbot, he swung round and stumped away to the far side of the large room, and Ashford chuckled gently to himself.

Miles looked across the room to where the hostess they had been discussing, whom Faithful was so anxious to save, was talking animatedly to others of her guests.

Mistress Weston was a tall woman, fair skinned and dark haired. Miles guessed her age to be early twenties. She had large dark eyes that had appraised him frankly when he had first been introduced to her earlier in the evening. He could see now the dark lashes curling onto her delicately shaped cheeks, and the full mouth he had wanted to kiss the instant he had set eyes on it. She was wearing a simple dark blue gown with moderate amounts of lace at the cuffs and neck, and it could not have been called indecorous. But the way she wore it, so that it displayed her full breasts and narrow waist, and suggested supple limbs beneath the full skirts, could well, Miles conceded, distract men into sinful thoughts.

He was not allowed to indulge in them for long.

'Methinks we have not met before? Allow me to introduce myself. Dick Ashford's the name.'

Miles turned to him with a smile lingering on his lips. 'Miles Talbot. Your service, sir.'

'I have seen you here before,' Ashford went on, turning to Robert.

'Indeed yes, I come to visit Mistress Weston whenever the opportunity arises. I remember you, but we were not introduced. There were far more people here on that occasion. Robert Peyton, sir.'

'You cannot come often, or I would have met you before.'

'Unfortunately not. My estates are in the west, and I do not come to London more than once or twice a year.'

'And you, Mr. Talbot?'

'I have but recently returned from the Low Countries. I have been in the armies there for some years.'

'Indeed? Then we must compare notes. I was until recently a Colonel in the New Model. What campaigns were you in?'

'I was engaged for most of the time in Flanders. But after we captured Hulst, there was little fighting. I was unwilling to join either France or Spain at that time, and remained in Holland, but the situation in this last year between the States and England caused me to return here.'

'You did well. If you have a mind for more, we could use your experience in the Army here.'

'I thank you. To be honest, I have had enough of the army life.'

'Aye, you seem to feel as I do. There is little excitement or chance of advancement in the army now.'

'I was hoping to buy a small estate. I have some small inheritance, and intend to look around me.'

'Well, if I can be of any assistance, should you change your mind, I will speak for you to one of our commanders.'

'You appear to have much influence.'

'The Colonel has other tasks now, in Parliament,' Robert put in.

'Indeed? You are in this new Parliament then?' Miles queried.

'I have indeed been so honoured by being called upon to help govern the country.'

'It is an unhappy country in many ways, since the rebellion.'

'Aye, and the inefficient Parliaments we have had to suffer have made it worse.'

'The General was supported by most people then, when he dissolved the Rump? Forgive my ignorance, but I have been so long away from English affairs, I know only the merest details and nought of the truth of matters.'

'The General will ensure for us good government. This present Parliament was selected by him and the Council. We know what needs to be done, and intend to do our duty.'

Miles nodded. 'From the little I have seen of you, Colonel, I feel confident that England is in good hands.'

The Colonel bowed graciously. 'We could do with some purging, I will confess,' he said, glancing across the room.

Miles followed his glance, and saw that Faithful was standing aloof from the rest of the company, glowering at them.

'You mean our recent friend?' Robert asked.

'Surely he is not of your company in Parliament?' Miles said in surprise.

'Unfortunately, yes.'

'Who is he?'

'His name is Denham. Dare-to-be-faithful-to-God Denham. Usually known as Faithful.'

Miles grinned. 'I wondered at the appellation. I thought it might have some earthly connection.'

'Not so. I believe he was named Francis by his parents, but no one has ever known him as aught other than Faithful.'

'How comes he to be selected by the General?'

'He needs to gain the support of the City for his new measures, and Faithful, though he does not look it, is an exceedingly wealthy man. He is one of the Skinners' Company, and that is one of the most influential Companies in the City.'

'I see. What does he here, though?'

'He seeks to turn others from sin! You heard him declare that was his object!'

Miles laughed. 'Is he serious? One of the Elect?'

'I do not in truth think he is concerned with me, or with you. No, 'tis the attractions of our hostess draws him, like a moth to a candle.'

Robert smiled. 'Even such as he,' he murmured. 'Did I not promise you Mistress Weston was greatly to be admired?' he asked Miles.

'You did indeed. I grant she is all you say of her.'

Dick Ashford nodded. 'There are few to compare with Mistress Weston. She is beautiful and charming, and an accomplished hostess.'

'She entertains a great deal?' Miles asked curiously.

'Indeed yes. She is generous, and extends her friendship even to such undeserving boors as Faithful Denham. There are gatherings here most evenings, sometimes just a few friends, sometimes a goodly number, as tonight, and on occasion so many one can scarce move through the rooms for the crush!'

Miles looked across the room at the object of their conversation. She was moving about competently amongst her guests, unobtrusively making sure they all were supplied with the plentiful food and wine, and were not neglected. As Miles watched, she moved away from one group, throwing a laughing remark over her shoulder, then moved to Faithful Denham's side.

He was apparently surly. Miles could distinguish his frowns and imagine the protestations he was making. Dick Ashford's attention had been claimed by another guest and Miles was free to watch the woman, who was indeed little more than a girl, gradually charm the ill humour out of Denham's face, and then lead him over to a group of men and women who were seated round a table talking earnestly. Leaving him there, she circulated again, and Miles stood watching, leaning back against the wall, knowing she would eventually approach him.

*

Cherry Weston was conscious she was performing her duties as hostess somewhat mechanically that evening. She was tense, and found it unusually difficult to concentrate on what her guests were saying to her. She smiled and praised, asked interested questions about their families and friends, exchanged quips with the younger ones, pressed them to take more wine, or sample some of the many dishes laid out for them, but all the time she knew she was performing. It was with great difficulty she drove the image of a young man's face from her mind.

When she found a moment not occupied with attending her guests, she allowed her thoughts to wander back, and wondered why that image, which had not recently troubled her, should be so insistent this evening.

There were not many such moments. She moved round the room, taking care not to offend any guests by ignoring them, or spending too little time with them, and eventually, with a quickening of her heartbeats, approached Robert and Miles.

'I hope you find our little gathering to your taste, Mr. Talbot?' she said, smiling up at him, then turned a little hastily to Robert.

'And you, my friend? How are things with you? Your wife? When are you going to bring her to see me again? We enjoyed our meetings last year enormously.'

'I would have brought Jane, but she is breeding, and has been advised to stay at home.'

'Oh, give her my very best wishes. I do hope this time you have a son!'

'I will tell Jane, and she will do her best to satisfy your wishes!'

'Do so! Mr. Talbot, do you know Robert's wife?'

'I have not yet met her. '

'She is delightful, he is the most fortunate man alive to have her. I do not know how he can bear to leave her, but I will be selfish, and say I am pleased he did so, for he brought you here.'

Miles looked at her, and after a while smiled, an intimate smile deep into her eyes. With an effort she broke her gaze away from his, and laughed a little breathlessly.

'I hope you will come here again, when Robert has deserted us to return to Jane. He never remains long enough in London. But you will be welcome here. Do you stay long?'

Miles shrugged. 'I have made no definite plans as yet.' He smiled again. 'But I will most decidedly accept your kind invitation and visit you again.'

After a few more general remarks, Mistress Weston left and passed on to others of her guests, leaving Miles to chat with some of the younger men Robert had introduced him to. It was growing late, and soon the guests began to make their farewells.

The older people went first, apart from Faithful Denham, who lingered until only a few others remained. Then, seeming to despair of his vigil, he left in a great hurry, sparing his hostess but a few words as he went.

Robert and Miles were almost the last to go, with another pair of young men. Ashford was still there, but shook his head slightly when Robert asked if they were going in the same direction, and was rising from the settle where he had been sitting only as the others left the room.

Mistress Weston bade them all farewell, and laughingly declared she expected them to be at her next gathering a few days hence. It came to Miles' turn to speak with her.

'When shall I come back?' he asked softly.

She looked quickly across at Ashford, then smiled brightly.

'I shall be here tomorrow evening, if that is not too soon for you to come again,' she answered quietly. 'It has been my pleasure to meet you,' she went on in a louder voice, and Miles nodded, then turned away.

Later that evening Cherry tossed restlessly in bed, unable to sleep. The face she had been refusing to see in her thoughts was now allowed to emerge from whatever regions it had been banished to, but it was overlaid by another face, that of the newcomer to her house, Miles Talbot.

She struggled with her confused thoughts, her memories, and her present and past feelings. This man was so very like that old, long-lost love of hers, that her emotions on seeing him had distracted her all the evening and now most of the night. Even while Dick had been with her she had thought of them both, the young Harry and the older Miles confused in her thoughts.

She forced herself to compare them calmly. This man was much taller than Harry, almost half a head so. And his eyebrows, with a slight quirk that gave him a laughing expression, were not the same as Harry's straight thick ones. They had the same vivid blue eyes, but Harry's face was rounder. It was after all a superficial resemblance. Why then, had the man Talbot brought back the memory of Harry so intensely? She had not thought of him romantically for many years now. Why should she be so bedevilled by thoughts of him now, induced by a stranger?

She wondered who the stranger was. Not a country friend of Robert Peyton's, that she was certain of. But he had not seemed to know any of the other people there. Why had he come? And why had he made such immediate use of the invitation she had extended to him? It could simply be that he was attracted by her beauty. Or he might be an adventurer searching for a rich widow. She had met many of both kinds. Yet some instinct told her there was some deeper reason. She determined to make enquiries about him.

Having decided on this, her thoughts drifted back to Harry, and the time, nearly ten years ago, when they had been so happy together planning their lives. It was a long time since she had railed against the cruel fate that had parted them when her parents had refused to consider him, despite his knighthood, and preferred the rich James Weston instead. If only she had been allowed to marry him, she would have been leading such a vastly different life now.

Giving way to one of her rare moods of despondency, she reviewed her life, and wondered what there was still in store for her. At length, as the dawn crept through the cracks in the shutters, she fell asleep, tears on the long lashes, and the images of Harry and Miles in her mind.