by Beth Elliott
In All Honour
Beth Elliott
For Andrew
With grateful thanks to Dr Ian Kemp, who patiently supplies advice on suitable wounds and ailments.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
By the Same Author
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
From the doorway Sarah could see that he was a tall gentleman. His figure set off the dragoon’s uniform to perfection: such broad shoulders in the blue jacket and such long, powerful legs in their white breeches and highly polished black boots. Sarah admired the back view and felt a stir of interest. She advanced a couple of steps into the drawing-room, her eyes fixed on this stranger. He moved his head and she saw the copper gleam of his hair. It was all very appealing – but, no doubt, when he turned round, he would be disappointingly plain. So why did she feel such a pull of attraction?
The gentleman had his right arm in a sling. He was talking to General Gardiner, her friend’s uncle and guardian. Sarah moved forward into the room, looking round for Lizzie. As she advanced, the general spotted her and raised a hand in greeting. The tall gentleman stopped what he was saying and turned towards her. Sarah realized with a stab of pleasure that he was handsome. In fact, she could happily spend the rest of the day gazing at his face.
‘Welcome, welcome. So you received Lizzie’s letter from Portsmouth?’ The general struggled to his feet and winced. ‘Afraid my gout is bad again.’ He took a hesitant step forward. ‘Pleasure to see you, my dear.’
Sarah dragged her eyes away from the stranger’s face and hastened towards the general. ‘Please do not trouble to stand, sir. I can greet you well enough seated. It is fortunate I was still in Town when your letter arrived.’ She smiled up at his weather-beaten face, ‘But you are very grand! Full dress uniform! Do you have to attend a ceremony?’
He nodded and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. ‘Off to Carlton House within the hour. Oh, but you are a sight for sore eyes, my dear girl. Pretty as a picture. Lizzie is impatient to have your company. She has been talking of you this age. Where is the girl?’ He sat down again thankfully as Sarah urged him back into his chair. He settled his sore foot on the stool she placed in front of him and glanced up at the young man with a chuckle.
‘See what happens when you let the females take charge? Oh, but I am forgetting – you have not met. This is Major Gregory Thatcham, my dear, just returned from Spain’ – he waved a hand towards the sling – ‘and, as you see, he is a hero of the battle of Salamanca last July. This is Miss Sarah Davenport, my little Lizzie’s best friend.’
Sarah returned Mr Thatcham’s bow and feasted her eyes once more. Yes, he was handsome. He had a striking face with high cheekbones and a wide, sensual mouth. His nose was straight and his jaw firm. The whole was set off by thick, copper-coloured hair, neatly brushed back from a wide forehead. His large amber eyes seemed almost to glow in his tanned face. There was a pleasant, open look about him, but there were lines round his mouth and a hint of sorrow in his expression. Then she noticed the black armband.
He was looking at her keenly, a smile twisting his lips. His eyes moved to linger on her fair hair. Sarah quelled the urge to put up a hand and smooth her curls. She turned her head towards General Gardiner. ‘Did you have a good voyage, sir?’
‘Tolerable I suppose, but I am no great sailor. Lizzie looked after me. Where has she disappeared to?’
Before he could add more, they were interrupted by an exclamation of delight from the doorway.
‘Sarah, dear Sarah – at last.’
Sarah did not even have time to turn round when she was enfolded in a tight hug and Lizzie was laughing and exclaiming at her. ‘So sorry I was not downstairs to greet you when you arrived. I was putting on my pelisse. We must go shopping at once – but let me look at you – yes, you are just as I remembered you. What a long time it has been. How I wish you could have come to Lisbon with me.’ She danced across to her uncle and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Poor Uncle Charlie has an attack of gout and he has to go to Carlton House to deliver Lord Wellington’s dispatches. But our kind friend Greg is here to help him.’
Sarah felt a pang. Lizzie was on first name terms with this gentleman. That meant she must suppress her own interest in him. In amazement she realized that it would be difficult – and they had only exchanged a murmured word of greeting so far. How could she be so fascinated on such a short acquaintance? She glanced at him again. She saw his lips twitch as Lizzie explained to her uncle that she could not wait another moment for new clothes.
‘You must have noticed, Uncle Charlie, that I do not have a stitch to my back.’
‘I have noticed no such thing! And I seem to recall you said much the same when we were in Lisbon,’ grumbled her uncle. His attempt at severity was ruined by the twinkle in his eye. Lizzie adjusted the lace at his cuffs and tweaked his sash into place.
‘Yes, but the fashions are quite different in London. Would you have me a laughing stock, Uncle? And you so fine with all this gold braid.’
‘Well, I suppose you know what you need, miss. Off with you then to get your falderals – and do not ruin me.’
Lizzie laughed and kissed him.
Sarah noticed that Major Thatcham watched with an indulgent smile. He was obviously familiar with their joking ways. The two girls exchanged a bow with him and then they hurried out of the house and set off in the direction of Bond Street.
‘Now, then,’ said Lizzie, tucking a hand in Sarah’s arm, ‘we can have a comfortable chat and catch up with our news.’
‘Two whole years,’ said Sarah thoughtfully. ‘Have you been in Lisbon all that time? What an adventure.’
‘No, not really,’ said Lizzie with a laugh, ‘Life is very restricted in Portugal you know. Ladies are strictly supervised at all times.’
‘What, even you?’ exclaimed Sarah. ‘The madcap of the school…?’
Lizzie sighed. ‘I had a very strict duenna. And Uncle Charlie wanted to be sure I could be put on a ship if the French Army should break through our defences.’
‘Well, that was exciting!’ Sarah looked at her, round-eyed. ‘Were you scared?’
Lizzie stopped to examine a bonnet in a milliner’s shop window. ‘No….’ she said at last. ‘I fear the brim is too wide for my face— What were you saying, Sarah? No, we never doubted that Wellington would keep the French ou
t.’
‘We have heard of many battles in the last two years,’ said Sarah, lengthening her step to keep up as they headed for the next milliner’s display. ‘Are your brothers both well?’
‘Yes, thank heavens!’ said Lizzie fervently. Then she gave Sarah’s arm a sympathetic squeeze. ‘I was so sorry to learn of your father’s death.’
Sarah just nodded. Impossible to say what changes that had brought about in her life.
‘Oh!’ Lizzie jumped excitedly, ‘I do believe I can see the very thing. Come on.’ And she led the way inside the shop.
Ten minutes later they emerged again, Lizzie triumphantly carrying a bandbox.
Sarah shook her head and smiled. ‘The bonnet you have on is very smart.’
‘Thank you, but this one’ – she gestured at the box – ‘is just what I have been looking for. I look best in a small brim. Now you, Sarah, can wear anything and still look lovely – it is not fair.’
‘You are not exactly ugly yourself,’ retorted Sarah. ‘You are fashionably dark-haired and I, alas, am a blonde. And my clothes are not in the latest fashion.’ She could not help a tiny sigh.
Lizzie looked at her closely. ‘You did write and tell me that there were problems with the estate. Things have not improved then?’
‘Alas, they are far worse now that James has inherited.’ An embarrassed look flitted across Sarah’s lovely features. She fixed her green eyes on her friend and continued awkwardly, ‘That is why I am in Town. My sister is trying to find me a husband before the family is quite ruined. But, let us leave such details for the moment. It is such a pleasure to escape for a few hours and enjoy your company.’ Sarah gave a bright smile. ‘Where next?’
‘Gowns,’ said Lizzie. They both laughed and hastened on their way.
‘Well,’ exclaimed Sarah when they had finally selected two new day dresses and an evening gown, ‘I do not think you can now say to your uncle that you no longer have a rag to your back. That sky-blue silk will set off your dark hair marvellously. How fortunate they had a dress made up in your size.’
‘Yes, and I mean to wear it tonight. Will your sister chaperon me? Uncle Charlie will no doubt want to stay at home and nurse his gouty foot.’
‘Of course she will.’ Sarah devoutly hoped her older sister would not make too much fuss about the extra journey to collect and return Lizzie to Green Street. ‘Do you think your friend, Major Thatcham, will want to join us as well?’
‘I expect he will make his own way, if he attends the function. Perhaps you noticed that he is in mourning?’ Sarah nodded. ‘He looked so sad.’
‘Yes, he has lost his older brother. Ashocking accident, I believe. And naturally he is desperate to go home and see his father, but he had to deliver Lord Wellington’s dispatches to the Prince Regent first – together with Uncle Charlie of course.’
Sarah did not reply to this. It seemed that Lizzie and Major Thatcham were very close. She hid a sigh. The first man for whom she felt a real attraction was already attached – and to her best friend. How ironic!
CHAPTER TWO
The orchestra struck up for the next dance. From the side of the room Sarah watched the couples take their place in the line. Thankful for a respite, she walked towards her sister who was seated by the wall. Lady Tarrant raised her beaky nose and fixed a stern glare on her younger sister.
‘Why are you not taking your place on the floor?’
Sarah stifled a sigh. It was humiliating to be treated as a piece of merchandise. She sat down beside Alice, carefully smoothing her pink muslin gown as she did so. Alice had bought it for her and expected it to remain like new. Sarah opened her fan and wondered if anyone could see that it had been mended more than once.
‘Well?’
Sarah smiled ironically. ‘Nobody asked me. Perhaps they prefer fresher meat.’
Alice glared even harder. ‘Nonsense! You are but one and twenty.’ She looked her sister up and down. ‘And even if it turns your head, I must say that you are as pretty as any girl here this evening. Particularly,’ she added, her sharp eyes flashing, ‘with that emerald clip I have lent you in your hair.’
‘Yes, thank you, Alice, you are most kind. But, no matter how you trick me out, you know as well as I do that what matters is not appearance but money.’ She paused a minute and sighed. ‘And they are aware I have none of that.’
For a moment, Alice slumped.
‘It is common knowledge that our brother is running through the Davenport fortune as fast as he can,’ continued Sarah. ‘You were lucky to be married while our parents were still alive, but I am dependent on James’s luck – or lack of it.’ In spite of herself, her voice was bitter. How she hated being so helpless in this matter.
For the past year, since her father’s death, she had had to watch the new Lord Davenport squander his inheritance. He was a weak character and had fallen under the influence of wild friends. The estate simply could not support his expensive lifestyle and moreover, he showed no interest in managing his affairs. He was wholly given over to a life of dissipation. Even the money that should provide Sarah with a dowry had been gambled away.
When her married sister became aware of how serious the problem was, she had summoned Sarah to London. Sarah, struggling to hold the family estate together, had accepted with reluctance.
‘I can only spare one month,’ she told her sister.
‘A month should be enough,’ Alice replied decisively. ‘In any case,’ she warned Sarah, almost as soon as she arrived at the rather narrow house in Benton Street, ‘I am in an interesting condition again. In another month, I shall be disinclined to be gadding about to balls and routs.’
Sarah knew that Alice was doing her best according to her own notions. She already had four young children and the arrival of yet another infant was an expense that would set Alice scrimping and saving even more than usual. Sir Walter Tarrant, her husband, was comfortably off but Alice carefully counted every penny. Her current efforts to find Sarah a husband were no doubt motivated by fear of having the expense of her unmarried sister living with her permanently.
It soon became obvious that Alice determined that in four short weeks she would find a husband for her younger sister. Sarah closed her eyes briefly at the memory of the hectic routine. She was heartily sick of meeting the same, empty-headed young ladies and their eagle-eyed, haughty mamas. To her dismay, many of the young gentlemen were as empty-headed as their sisters. The conversation generally was mere gossip about the latest scandal or the next entertainment.
In short, there was nobody who caused the slightest flutter in her heart. Used to her own father’s scholarly mind and his keen wit, Sarah knew she could only marry a man with intelligence and a conscience – as well as being agreeable to look at. Someone like the magnificent Major Thatcham. He had made her heart flutter! In fact, it was fluttering now as she recalled his face. And he was unavailable, especially because his attachment was to her dearest friend.
But who else was there? Sarah looked along the line of dancers and pictured the men as they would be in another ten years. A depressing number of them looked as if they would be like Sir Walter, given over to drinking and dining. Alice’s husband had quickly lost his youthful figure and looks.
A few seemed to be more dynamic and would be conscientious landowners and politicians. Then there were some very handsome young bucks and several of those looked dissolute. Her sister had warned her about them. Most were fortune-hunters, said Alice, and their attentions could only give a girl a bad reputation. They should be avoided at all costs if Sarah wished to make a respectable match.
But I do not care for a respectable match, thought Sarah, pressing her lips together tightly; I want to be able to respect the man I spend my life with. In fact, I will not accept anything less than that.
She turned to her sister again. ‘How many assemblies will it take before you admit that the men want money rather than a pretty face?’
Alice hunched a shoulder and look
ed away without answering.
Sarah fanned herself. Why could Alice not admit the obvious fact? Sarah had dutifully gone walking in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, attended various exhibitions and lectures, taken tea with friends of her sister and accepted all invitations to dancing parties.
She attracted plenty of admiring glances, for she was extremely pretty, her green eyes lending expression to a perfect oval face and rose-like complexion, framed by silken fair hair. Her smile was very lovely and her figure tall and graceful. But, as she had told her sister, once the gentlemen heard the name of Davenport, they backed away.
All except one man … and he certainly was not a person Sarah could envisage as her husband. George Percival, Earl of Ramsdale, was one of those rakes about whom Alice had warned her. He had a most unsavoury reputation, if even just half of what was whispered about him were true. But from the first time he had been introduced to Sarah, he had shown a tendency to admire her.
Sarah wondered why her sister should encourage her to be on good terms with him. Surely he would never consider marriage to someone without a dowry, when it was known that he was both expensive and calculating. He was also a man with powerful friends in the government. Perhaps that was what inspired Alice’s admiration for him.
She glanced around the room, hoping that he was not here this evening. But, alas, that was too much to wish for. Her heart sank as she caught sight of him. That rich golden hair, carefully arranged into the windswept style, that rather pink complexion and the head tilted back so that he looked down his prominent nose at everyone. He was stopping to greet various acquaintances as he moved along the room. Was there time to slip away? No, Alice had seen him as well and she laid a hand on Sarah’s arm.
‘I believe you have one admirer coming to ask for a dance. You see, I knew you would attract attention … and he is very wealthy,’ she hissed, with a meaningful nod.
He certainly cut a fine figure in his expensive evening clothes. He was handsome, in a florid way, Sarah had to admit, but there was something unpleasant in that haughty expression and his eyes were always watchful. His mouth, too, was thin-lipped and habitually set in a sneer. In short, she did not care for him, especially as he had far too much influence over her brother’s new way of life. He was James’s hero, leading him into the most expensive of gaming hells and encouraging him to live beyond his means.
