by Beth Elliott
Theo’s lips thinned. ‘Thank you for the warning.’ By this time he had reloaded his pistol once more and he slipped it into his belt.
Johnny eyed him warily. ‘Do you always go around with a loaded gun? Makes you look like a pirate.’
Theo shrugged into his greatcoat and took his hat from the attendant. ‘I always keep my gun loaded,’ he said, ‘wherever it is.’
There was a moment’s silence, while the other man digested this.
‘I fear I have offended you,’ persisted the sweating Johnny. ‘Pray let me make amends. A glass or two at Brooks’s will soothe your feelings.’
They walked along the street together. Theo did not tell his companion that he was on his way to Brooks’s in any case. He was seeking a certain person and had not found him at Manton’s Shooting Gallery. It was obvious that Johnny was going to stick close to him. He frowned thoughtfully; he had never heard Johnny spoken of as an agent for any political group. But an instinct for danger warned him that this sudden friendliness had a hidden reason.
Once in Brooks’s they made their way through the crowd to a table in an alcove, a little apart from the clusters of gentlemen discussing the topics of the day. A bottle of port and glasses were set before them. Johnny poured the ruby wine into the glasses. ‘A toast to your skill, Weston.’
Theo raised his glass and sipped. He watched as Johnny downed the contents of his own glass and picked up the bottle again.
‘Oh.’ In the act of pouring, Johnny checked himself. He stared at Theo’s nearly full glass. ‘I say, is there something wrong with this bottle?’
‘Not at all. It is excellent. But I have to make a visit to a friend of my father’s shortly. I must keep a cool head.’ Theo stretched out his long legs, schooled his face into a bland expression and looked casually round the room. It was crowded and there was some matter causing a lot of laughter near the door.
‘I think they are placing a bet on something.’ Johnny followed the direction of Theo’s gaze, ‘Must be a new heiress in town or some such stuff.’ He sipped his wine again, then turned his rather protuberant eyes back to Theo. ‘Is it true you sold your matched bays recently?’
‘And my curricle.’ Theo’s voice was hard.
Johnny hesitated for a moment. ‘Heard you lost a large sum at play last month.’ He stopped, quelled by Theo’s forbidding scowl. He gulped some more of his wine then cleared his throat. ‘Fact is, Weston, if you need more cash, perhaps you would consider selling me that black stallion of yours? Just name your price.’
Theo set his glass down sharply. ‘Never.’
Taken aback by the fierce tone, Johnny blinked. ‘Well, then, I would wager you for him. A hand of piquet, say?’
Theo gave a bark of laughter. ‘You must know I have no luck with any games of chance. I have been physicked enough at the tables.’ He looked at Johnny’s red and anxious face. ‘I do not play cards. And thank you, but I have settled my debts.’
Johnny’s expression was dismayed enough to make Theo wonder just what the man’s plan was. Perhaps he was one of those who drew wealthy newcomers in to be fleeced at the card tables. But that would not happen in a club like Brooks’s. The only other possibility was that someone was already aware of Greg’s presence in London.
Another gentleman came up to them at this point and chatted a little. This gave Theo an opportunity to look round the room again. At last! The man he was seeking was seated at a table in a corner nearby. He wore spectacles and was reading the newspaper. Theo considered how to shake off his companion. When the other person bowed and left them, he raised his glass.
‘Come,’ he said with a smile, ‘you cannot have Nimrod, but let us drink to you finding a splendid horse anyway. Maybe at Tattersall’s next sale.’
Johnny brightened, he raised his own glass eagerly and gulped down the contents. He called for another bottle. They discussed the good points of hunters and carriage horses. It was not long before Johnny was beaming happily and propping his head up on one hand.
Meanwhile, Theo discreetly observed the gentleman reading The Times. Eventually, he shook out the paper and folded it neatly, then took his spectacles off his nose, polished them carefully on his handkerchief and tucked them into a case.
So it was yes. Greg would be granted an audience with the Prince of Wales. Now to find out when and where. The gentleman rose, picked up his hat and coat and made for the door. Theo leaned forward. ‘It is high time I went to pay that visit to my father’s friend,’ he said softly, ‘You will have to excuse me now.’ He pushed the bottle towards Johnny. It was doubtful if the latter even noticed that Theo had picked up his own coat and hat as he moved away.
Theo came down the entrance steps and proceeded as fast as he could along St James’s Street. His limp was pronounced and he walked slowly. At the corner with Jermyn Street, he stopped for a moment. He leaned against the wall to rest his leg. The evening chill was penetrating. A slight fog that smelled of soot was dimming the outlines of the buildings. A number of well-dressed men went by, making for their clubs. Some coaches rumbled past. A few clerks and errand boys, all muffled up against the cold, hurried along without a second glance at him.
At last Theo felt satisfied that he could move on. He walked faster now, crossed Piccadilly and soon reached a covered arcade, where the lamplight welcomed him in. The bow-fronted shop windows displayed elegant wares. He halted outside the second shop, which sold tasteful ornaments and items such as brushes, tiepins and fobs.
Inside, a respectful salesman was showing a middle-aged gentleman a selection of seals. Theo pushed open the door and stood at the counter, apparently absorbed in inspecting a tray of snuffboxes. When the customer had made his choice and the salesman was wrapping the parcel, the gentleman turned towards Theo.
‘I trust I have not kept you waiting too long, sir?’
‘Not at all,’ responded Theo politely with a slight bow, ‘it gave me time to make my choice.’
The salesman now returned with the package. The gentleman took it, raised his hat to Theo and left. A tiny slip of paper had changed hands meanwhile.
Theo breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way back to the main street. The audience would be granted in ten days’ time, after the much publicized prizefight at Richmond. Not the best of times, he thought but that could not be helped. Greg was to wait in the Tower Inn at Weybridge until summoned by a member of the Prince’s staff. With any luck, Greg would have received all his other replies by then so he could set off for Portugal immediately afterwards.
It was quite dark now and a drizzle held the fog down between the houses. The streets were emptying. Theo decided to return to his lodgings. He had no wish to run into Johnny Denton again. Who had sent the fellow to keep him under supervision? He was still pondering the question as he emerged into Bond Street. He was recalled to the present by a child’s voice addressing him.
‘Spare a penny, mister?’
Theo blinked at the ragged urchin. She did not look more than seven or eight years old. Her face was sharp and sallow but the eyes were still those of a small child. He dug a hand in his coat pocket and fetched out a sixpence.
‘Why, Theo Weston, I declare it is you!’ said a feminine voice behind him. ‘It has been an age since I saw you.’ The speaker was a bold-eyed young lady, fashionably dressed and holding out both hands to him.
Theo remembered her name with an effort. ‘Miss Harling.’ He bowed formally, avoiding taking her hands.
The lady darted him a sharp glance. She took in the tiny beggar and recoiled. ‘Oh, do tell her to go away,’ she exclaimed in a tone of disgust. ‘It is quite shocking the way these creatures intrude even into Bond Street. It makes me nervous.’
Theo handed the coin to the child, with a wink. The grubby little claw closed fast around it. ‘Thanks, mister,’ and the urchin ran off.
‘How can you encourage such vermin?’
Theo gave her a freezing look. ‘We are fortunate not to be so poor.’
Miss Harling gave a tinkling little laugh. ‘Your pet subject, is it not? But why so cold? You were eager enough for my smiles when you were last in London.’
‘That was a long time ago. I trust you are well, ma’am? Excuse me, I cannot stay.’ He raised his hat and walked on. Perhaps Johnny was right about these feather-headed females. Had he really been on good terms with this artificial creature in that time before the fever? Nowadays he would only associate with ladies who showed some genuine understanding for the problems of the real world.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kitty felt quite breathless with excitement as she entered the ballroom on Thursday evening. After all, she reminded herself, it did not go against her principles to enjoy a party. Her eyes searched the crowd for Etienne de Saint-Aubin. Would he be impressed? She had taken great pains with her appearance.
‘It will not just be Millie turning heads tonight,’ Caroline had murmured, as she greeted them at the entrance to the ballroom. Kitty was dressed in the sea-green taffeta dress trimmed with lace. She had piled her hair high on her head and clasped the string of pearls around her neck. Excitement had added an extra glow to her cheeks and her large brown eyes were sparkling.
A number of heads turned to stare at two such pretty young ladies as Mrs Warrington led them towards an arrangement of potted palms halfway down the vast hall. A dark-haired gentleman rose from the bench by the plants. Kitty’s heart beat faster – but it was not Etienne de Saint-Aubin.
This young gentleman was taller than Etienne and had a more athletic build. He was elegantly dressed but his handsome face was marred by a decidedly stormy expression. Her eyes widened. Her heart missed a beat. It was the disagreeable gentleman from the inn. And she had thought she would never see him again. She drank in every detail of his appearance. His evening clothes were moulded to his tall form and his hair was swept back. A splendidly tied cravat enhanced his smart appearance.
As Mrs Warrington reached the bench he executed a formal bow and moved aside. He was in such a hurry to get away he did not even cast a glance at the two girls. Kitty felt aggrieved. His leg was still lame but that was no excuse for ignoring them completely, she thought. This was a formal ball. He could have said something – a simple polite remark. Why was he so impatient with everybody – except his horse?
Well, she shrugged, there was another young man who was just as handsome and far more good-humoured. She turned her attention to checking the room. There was still no sign of Etienne, so she kept glancing towards the doorway, while nodding politely at Mrs Warrington’s comments.
‘Do not sit down,’ she was instructing the two girls, ‘you must not crease your dresses.’
Amelia fidgeted with her fan. ‘We do not know a single person,’ she said in a low voice, ‘it makes me feel such an outsider.’
‘Nonsense!’ Mrs Warrington’s tone was sharp. ‘Lady Caroline will perform a few introductions and you will soon make friends. That is what these occasions are for. And hold your head up! Can you not see how many people are glancing at you?’ She smiled with satisfaction, ‘I should not say it, girls, but you do make a striking pair – and so very smart.’ She surveyed her daughter’s pale-blue silk robe with its overdress of spangled gauze. ‘Not even Lady Caroline looks so fine.’
Another gentleman strolled into the room – not Etienne, registered Kitty, looking away again. Then she realized that this man was walking in their direction. He was tall and had a pleasant, open face. Kitty watched him exchange greetings here and there but he kept moving towards them. Suddenly he noticed Amelia and stopped in his tracks. He blinked and looked more closely. Kitty hid a smile. She had seen this happen many times at the assemblies in Cheshire.
He recollected himself and walked past them. Kitty heard him address someone close by. His voice was clear and she could not help overhearing.
‘Hello, old fellow, as you see, I made it back in time.’
A deep voice replied, ‘How did you get on? Everything satisfactory?’
The only answer to this was a grunt. Kitty glanced over her shoulder. The newcomer was talking to the man with the limp.
‘As for the other matter,’ he was saying in that attractive deep tone that sent shivers down her back, ‘you will be glad to hear I have been able to arrange a meeting, but it will not be for another week or so yet—’ His eyes met Kitty’s at this point and he broke off. His brows snapped down over his aquiline nose. Hastily, Kitty whisked her head back. She knew her face was going red. Amelia eyed her in astonishment. Kitty plied her fan and went back to watching the door.
Lady Caroline came up at that moment. ‘Let me introduce you to William.’ Her husband, a tall, fair man, shook hands and gave them a friendly smile. ‘Caroline has talked a lot about you,’ he said, ‘I feel I know you already.’
Caroline brought a couple of young ladies to speak to them and suddenly they were part of a group of friendly young people. Lord William’s easy chatter soon had everyone laughing. All at once he called out, ‘Greg, Theo. Where have you two been hiding yourselves? For shame – talking secrets—’ He stopped abruptly as Greg put out a hand to silence him. ‘Sorry, dash it!’ he muttered, ‘Keep forgetting.’
Kitty, still keeping an eye out for any sign of Etienne, saw the three laugh as the pleasant-faced Greg said, ‘That is why we have to leave you out.’
Her heart gave a leap as she saw the lame man’s face transformed by his sudden smile. That strange feeling of attraction stirred deep inside her again. Her lips tingled. Then Lord William was addressing Mrs Warrington. ‘May I present two of my oldest friends to you, ma’am. This is the Honourable Theodore Weston. As you see, he is still recovering from injuries received—’
‘That is of no interest,’ interrupted his friend, with more haste than manners. Lord William grinned and gestured to the other young man. ‘And Mr Gregory Thatcham.’
With an effort, Greg turned his gaze from Amelia and bowed to Mrs Warrington. ‘Do I understand there is to be dancing?’ he enquired of Caroline. She nodded. ‘Then, may I beg you to save a dance for me?’ he asked Amelia eagerly.
Mrs Warrington gave her daughter an approving smile. Kitty exchanged a glance with Caroline. ‘The usual Millie effect,’ she murmured.
‘It is always fun to watch their faces when they see her for the first time,’ replied Caroline, ‘and she is so sweet to them all.’
‘Yes, but she never shows any preference for one above another.…’ Kitty shook her head.
Caroline glanced at her but said nothing. Kitty was surveying this group of fine London gentlemen. Secretly she was impressed by their stylish appearance, but she still felt sure they wasted a lot of time in frivolity and idleness. That was a pity, as they all looked fine, strong and intelligent.
During an interval in the dancing, Kitty was sipping a lemonade when Caroline appeared again. ‘I see that Greg Thatcham is totally épris by Millie. That means poor Theo Weston is scowling more than usual. He cannot dance at present, as you can see. So sad for one of our greatest rakes, you have to agree. Would you be a dear and keep him amused for a while when the music starts again?’
‘He most certainly looks like a rake,’ said Kitty, not daring to say she already had experience of his rakish ways. She turned to look at where Theo sat at the side of the room, long legs stretched out, frowning into space. From time to time he rubbed his left thigh, seemingly without realizing he was doing so. She looked enquiringly at Caroline, who shrugged.
‘He is a wounded soldier, darling. Just like the ones you nurse in the hospital in Deneford.’
‘But do you think he will be pleased to talk to me?’ asked Kitty doubtfully, ‘He looks so grim! I would have expected a rake to be more … interested in people. This man seems so moody. And why is he all alone?’
‘I suppose he is looking rather forbidding – but that will not worry you. Darling, he has been through a very hard time. You will … please?’
Kitty let herself be persuaded. In fac
t, she was torn between her anger at his rudeness and the unexplained fascination he exerted over her. So when the dancing started she made her way to where Theo was sitting. He stood up at her approach and bowed automatically. Kitty again registered his height and elegant appearance and told herself that it was no punishment to be obliged to spend a half-hour with such a handsome man.
She sat down and when he had settled himself beside her with his left leg stretched out in front of him, she put on the friendly smile she used when visiting injured soldiers at the hospital.
He glanced at her briefly then looked away again. ‘Has Caroline sent you?’
Kitty’s eyes smouldered but she kept the smile in place. ‘Perhaps she did suggest it, yes. You seemed to be rather isolated.’
He took a deep breath. ‘As you can see, I am not yet able to join in the dancing.’ His left hand began rubbing at his thigh once more.
‘After falling from your horse on the ice, I am not surprised.’
He gave her a puzzled frown. ‘How could you know that? We have not met previously.’
‘Oh, indeed we have, sir. But not formally – and not in town.’
He looked at her more closely and shook his head. His frown deepened.
Kitty detected a strained look on his face. She tried not to take offence at his strange, abrupt manner. It seemed his wound was still troubling him. Then she was glad she had kept silent as he said rather hesitantly, ‘If it was a long time ago, I may have forgotten. You know – I have had a spell of bad health and fever.…’
Kitty’s heart melted. ‘Our previous meeting took place because of the snow last week.’ She watched his dawning look of recognition and hurried on, ‘I trust you had no further problems in reaching town, sir – after the snow at Streatley, I mean.’
