In All Honour

by Beth Elliott

  Greg knew that any day now there could be a message about the arrival of the cargo ships. He needed to get to the agreed place where the signal would be given to say the convoy had been sighted. Then he would have to keep Lord Percival under close observation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Why do you keep giving me those considering looks?’ Lizzie enquired, without looking up from the trimming she was sewing onto her sprigged muslin gown.

  ‘What looks?’ Sarah asked. She put her book down and wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her head on them. A few curls tumbled down but she left them hanging loose.

  ‘As if you are waiting for me to say something surprising.’

  Sarah hesitated before replying: ‘Perhaps I am.’ Her heart beat faster in suspense.

  Lizzie adjusted the blue satin ribbon and frowned at her stitches. ‘Yes, that will do.’ She glanced across at Sarah. ‘Are you wondering what news I have for you?’

  Inwardly, Sarah quaked at what she might hear. She dreaded the announcement that Greg and Lizzie had agreed to get married, but she preferred to know the truth. Then she could discipline her own wayward thoughts. The memory of that kiss set her lips tingling again. She pulled herself together. ‘So what do you want to tell me?’ She was proud of herself. Her voice was steady and even casual. She kept her head on her knees and watched Lizzie through a screen of hair.

  Lizzie snipped off another length of ribbon. ‘Well, maybe you will be excited’ – she bent closely over her work as she pinned the trimming against the top edge of the dress – ‘as you like music so much.’

  Sarah’s eyes opened wide. ‘Music?’ she echoed faintly.

  ‘Yes, there will be a concert next week. Sir Thomas came to tell me. He feels certain you would enjoy it. He will get tickets for us all – except Uncle Charlie.’ She laughed. ‘He claims his gout is still too painful.’

  There was a silence as Sarah considered all this. So Lizzie was not going to say anything just yet. This brought her mind to her own situation. ‘Was James in the Pump Room this morning?’

  Lizzie was struggling with the ribbon. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I have not seen him since he called here yesterday afternoon.’

  Sarah raised her head. ‘Yesterday? But I did not see him….’

  ‘It was after you rushed back upstairs.’ She glanced round with a gurgle of laughter, ‘Actually, it was quite funny. He did ask to see you but Greg and I both snapped “No” at him at exactly the same time. You should have seen his face. He just walked out. And then Greg ran off after him,’ she added.

  Why would he do that? But of course, it was obvious! A cold shiver ran down Sarah’s back. James was afraid of Greg because of the ‘accident’ that involved Lord Percival. That was why Greg kept asking questions. Her eyes widened in horror. Greg’s brother was dead and James was concealing information about the matter, information that Greg desperately wanted to know. And, yet again, she was tainted by association with the wrongdoer.

  She pressed a hand to her mouth to stop herself from groaning out loud. How could she ever look Greg in the face again, now she realized what her wicked brother had done. If things had seemed bad earlier, they were a hundred times worse now. Her head drooped and she twisted absently at her hair.

  ‘Sarah! This is the third time I have spoken your name. Wake up!’

  Slowly, Lizzie’s voice penetrated Sarah’s thoughts. She cleared her throat. ‘What? I beg your pardon. My mind drifted away….’

  ‘Can you help me? This ribbon just will not lie flat against the curve of my dress. I shall never finish it in time for the assembly this evening.’

  Sarah got up and examined Lizzie’s handiwork. ‘Give it to me.’ She seated herself in the window and set to work with tiny, exquisite stitches. Lizzie came to watch. Without looking up, Sarah said, ‘I have not apologized for walking in on your private conversation with Greg yesterday.’

  When there was no answer to this, she raised her eyes. Lizzie’s cheeks were red and she looked uncomfortable. She was fiddling with a skein of silk. Sarah waited, dreading but wanting the news of her engagement to Greg. She had finished sewing the length of trimming and still Lizzie was silent. Feeling a little hurt, Sarah held out the dress.

  ‘There. But surely you have other evening dresses to choose from.’

  ‘Oh, I particularly wanted to wear this one. I want to look my best and this is such a delicate muslin.’ She held it up in front of herself and studied her reflection from all angles in the mirror. ‘I do think I look nice in white.’

  ‘Vanity!’ said Sarah, wondering if this was for Greg’s benefit. Then her smile faded as she wondered which of her few evening dresses she could wear.

  Her pink muslin was getting rather shabby, in spite of the new trimmings she had carefully stitched on. She decided it would have to be the jonquil yellow sarsenet with puff sleeves. It was over two years old, but as it was very simply cut, it was still sufficiently fashionable. She had some yellow and white ribbons to make a sash for it and if she dressed her hair carefully with a piece of the same yellow ribbon threaded through her curls, she should look smart enough.

  It was drizzling when they set off for that evening’s assembly, walking beside General Gardiner’s sedan chair. In the entrance hall they changed their shoes for satin dancing slippers and bade farewell to the general as he made for the card room. He inspected both of them before he went off.

  ‘You girls are getting so dashed elegant, my compliments to you both.’ He shook his head. ‘Who would have thought my little Lizzie would turn into such a pretty young lady.’ He smiled at her fondly. She put a hand on his arm.

  ‘Thank you, Uncle Charlie. I knew this dress would suit me. But Sarah sewed on the braid.’

  ‘Well, be good girls now. Who is chaperoning you?’

  ‘Greg,’ said Lizzie with a giggle. Seeing her uncle frown, she amended: ‘Mrs Keating kindly looks after us.’

  The general’s brow cleared. ‘We are indebted to her,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we could invite her to tea. Naturally, I shall be there to thank her.’

  He waved a hand to quell Lizzie’s protest and limped off. Sarah smiled. ‘He is a very tolerant uncle, let us be a credit to him.’

  ‘We always are.’ retorted Lizzie, rushing off along the passage. Her eyes were sparkling in a way Sarah knew well. Lizzie was plotting something – or could it be the idea of seeing Greg that had made her so happy? She quickened her steps to keep pace. A moment later they entered the ballroom. The number of people visiting Bath had been growing steadily these past two weeks. Tonight it seemed they had all come to dance. The huge room was full. It was a seething mass of dancers and groups of people watching them and trying to make polite conversation above the sound of the music.

  ‘Can you see Mrs Keating?’ Lizzie was looking from left to right eagerly.

  ‘Let us try this way.’ Sarah moved down to the bottom of the room. A smile here, a word of apology there, she worked her way along and sure enough, there was Mrs Keating, fanning herself, seated in a corner. Richard Thatcham and John Keating were standing by her.

  ‘This is how I like to see things,’ announced Mrs Keating, smiling at the girls. ‘Lavinia is dancing with Mr Wilden.’

  ‘If you can call it dancing in this crush,’ remarked Richard. ‘However, perhaps you are willing to take the risk?’ He raised his brows to Lizzie and she at once she placed a hand most correctly on his arm.

  ‘Well, perhaps we should venture to try as well,’ John Keating said to Sarah. She looked a little doubtful. ‘I think we should stay and bear Mrs Keating company for now.’

  He gave his mother an apologetic glance. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Not at all,’ protested that lady, ‘here comes my friend, Lady Broome. We shall enjoy a coze while you young people dance.’

  Her son laughed. ‘What you mean, Mama, is that we would be in the way while you exchange scandalous gossip. Well, enjoy yourselves. We certainly shall,’ he
announced, smiling warmly at Sarah as he pushed a way through the crowd for her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  From his seat at the back of the taproom Greg surveyed the other customers in the dark and smoky little alehouse. It was a very mixed company around him, everything from poor labourers to gentlemen. From habit he examined them all. If he was being followed, his arm was now strong enough for him to defend himself. They would not catch him again as they had with the carriage accident in Union Street. But nobody took any special notice of him. For them he was just another gent who liked to mingle with the lower orders.

  By now Richard would have pointed out James Davenport to Preston. Greg smiled briefly at the thought of Preston in his disguise. He certainly would be enjoying the adventure. And then he could judge the young man’s ability with the cards. If that damned Percival was there, Preston could observe how he treated Davenport and if there was any attempt to doctor the younger man’s drink.

  He sat frowning into his beer, oblivious of the noise. At last the various strands of this mystery were coming together. Perhaps now he would get the evidence that Lord Percival was a cheat and a trickster. Then he would have the truth from James Davenport about those card games in Hazelwick’s library. His jaw clenched. At this point, a female voice interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘All alone, mister?’ A painted and scantily clad girl slid on to the seat next to him. She pressed her leg against his from thigh to knee. Greg raised his frowning gaze from the contemplation of his tankard. He inspected her. She was thin and pale under her paint, her eyes shadowed and fearful. ‘Mister.’ she said again in a pleading tone.

  Greg signed to the boy at the counter. ‘Bring her a drink,’ he ordered, ‘and something to eat.’

  He sat on and watched as the lad slapped down a glass of wine and a plate of stew. The girl pushed back her hair and looked at the plate. Her eyes flickered to Greg’s.

  ‘It is for you,’ he said. He stayed until she had finished the food. Then he rose. She stood up as well, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. ‘No,’ he said firmly, ‘you stay here.’ He placed a coin on the table and it disappeared at once into the front of her dress. Greg judged that it was well after nine-thirty. He left the tavern and threaded through small alleys going north and east towards the Circus.

  There was still no news of the convoy arriving but he would use the opportunity to check on whether Lord Percival was at home. As soon as news did come that the boats were approaching, the man would be off to supervise his share of the booty. Greg would then have to follow discreetly.

  At intervals, lamps lit the wide expanse of the Circus. Even so, Greg was all but invisible as he passed along the street in his dark evening cloak. In spite of the darkness, he knew exactly where to look to see Lord Percival’s house. There were lights showing in the windows. There was another shadow walking along the pavement at that point so Greg paused.

  A moment later he heard a sharp rap on the knocker. The door of Lord Percival’s lodging opened. Against the light from the hallway, Greg saw one figure on the pavement and another one come out of the house. He stayed where he was until they set off. He did not want to come close enough to be recognized, but as they sauntered along in front of him, he could hear every word spoken.

  ‘…certain to get her.’ It was the unmistakable drawl of Lord Percival. He sounded very pleased. ‘Gad, but I enjoy taming a spirited filly.’

  There was a snigger at this point. ‘Spices the game, hey?’ From the lisp, Greg recognized Lord Montallan.

  ‘Quite so! Teaching ’em to obey is half the pleasure.’

  They paced on in silence for a moment. Then Montallan’s voice came again. ‘You are taking more time and trouble than usual, George.’

  ‘She is worth it. But I warn you, Monty, she is mine. I want her – no sharing.’

  ‘Dash it, George,’ spluttered the other man. ‘Have I not helped you with the brother?’

  There was a cold laugh. ‘What a fool. And now that pigeon is well and truly plucked. But if he should win money from anyone, I will have it from him. He must be kept in a state of fear. It makes him – how shall I put it? – more eager to help me catch the sister.’

  Greg was wrestling with a tide of anger. He wanted to punch and stamp them both into pulp. It was only the years of diplomatic work that made him keep his self-discipline. Later, he told himself, later, they will pay. Now you need information. He was so intent on discovering all their evil plan that he did not notice they had stopped walking. He was almost upon them when he checked himself. He turned his back so they would see only the dark shadow of his cloak. But they were still talking and did not see him.

  ‘So, will I not have my turn with her?’

  Greg’s fists clenched and his jaw set hard. What kind of depraved gang was operating here? That callous remark made him want to throttle both of them. The blood was pounding in his ears and by the time he was calm enough to listen again, the voices were fading. They had walked on. Drawing a deep breath he turned round and continued to follow. But now there were lights ahead at the entrance to the Assembly Hall. Greg stood in the shadows for a while longer.

  His rage made him all the more determined to expose Lord Percival in all his illegal and immoral pursuits. Greg swore to himself that he would bring the swine to justice. Meanwhile, he now had a clear idea of why Sarah was so often uneasy. He would keep a stricter watch on her – and on Lizzie. Greg remembered that Lizzie seemed to like Lord Percival. He sighed. Looking after young ladies was hard work. Perhaps he should give General Gardiner a hint. He had not intended to go into the ballroom but after what he had just heard, he had to see that the girls were safe and well. He drew a calming breath and strode in.

  The evening seemed to be passing slowly. Sarah had danced most of the dances, as had Lizzie, and she had also enjoyed a pleasant conversation with Mrs Keating. She had been introduced to Mrs Keating’s newly arrived friend, another matron with a pretty young daughter. Sarah sensed that Lady Broome knew all about the Davenport misfortunes from the way she had looked when Mrs Keating presented her. But, after all, Sarah could do nothing about it. She kept her head high and pretended not to notice that Lady Broome was examining her two-year-old dress and her lack of jewels.

  Lizzie was dancing again but Sarah was sitting sipping a glass of lemonade and wishing she did not feel so tired. The constant stress was having a bad effect on her. The crowd seemed to fill the entire ballroom and the buzz of conversation over the music was getting uncomfortable. She stifled a yawn. It was one blessing that there was no sign of Lord Percival or his peculiar friend. James also seemed to have vanished.

  But she would be glad to go home now. Then she turned her head and everything changed as she saw a tall, broad-shouldered figure advancing towards her. He looked so elegant in his dark evening clothes and snowy cravat. To her annoyance, she knew she was blushing. Her heart raced and she tingled all over in anticipation. But it would not do. Had she not seen Lizzie and Greg seated so cosily together only yesterday? And now she knew what James was concealing from him she felt ashamed. It was time to put a distance between herself and him.

  Scarcely had the thought gone through her mind when Greg reached her side. The smile he gave her turned her bones to water. She feasted her eyes on his amber eyes, his tanned skin, his wonderful mouth. His coppery hair gleamed as he bowed and took her hand to kiss it. A thrill of pleasure ran right down to her toes at the touch of his long fingers.

  Suddenly she was refreshed and ready to dance all night. But another look at Greg’s face told her that something was wrong. There was a tension in him and a crease between his brows. Was he worrying about that kiss they had shared? Was she showing too much pleasure in his company? But try as she would to be indifferent, when he turned to make his bow to Mrs Keating and her friend, Sarah had to admire his broad shoulders and his muscled legs. Amazing how such a big man could be so graceful. He turned back to her.

  ‘Are you enjoying th
e ball?’

  ‘Tolerably! It is quite a crush, as you see.’

  ‘Indeed. But I do hope you will be kind enough to stand up with me for the next dance?’

  She should refuse! But when he was close by, her will power vanished. Sarah smiled and watched the worry lines disappear as he smiled back.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said, and led her on to the floor and fifteen minutes of heaven.

  When he led her back to Mrs Keating, his preoccupied mood had returned. ‘What has become of Lizzie?’ he asked. ‘I have not managed to see her yet.’

  ‘She is here, I assure you.’ Sarah’s elation faded.

  Now he was looking around with an air of anxiety. He spotted someone in the doorway and said, ‘Ah! Pray excuse me. I will return shortly.’

  She sat down with a sense of being cast adrift. She saw that Lady Broome was watching her keenly. Recollecting that she must show an indifferent front, Sarah unfurled her fan and cooled her heated cheeks.

  ‘I can see another gentleman looking very particularly at you. Oh, I do believe he is coming over,’ remarked Lady Broome. Her voice was breathless with scandalized excitement. She gave Sarah a catlike smile and nodded towards the doorway. The ostrich plumes in her magnificent purple turban swayed gently.

  Horror of horrors, Lord Percival was making his way towards her.

  Lady Broome’s sharp little eyes were alight with curiosity. It was obvious she knew all about Lord Percival’s bad reputation. No doubt his attentions would provide her with rich material for gossip in the Pump Room. Sarah cast a frantic glance around. None of the other young people had returned to this corner.

  After the pleasure of dancing with Greg, she did not feel able to endure a dance and conversation with this man. Before he reached her, however, Richard Thatcham pushed his way out of the crowd, slightly breathless. He gave her a grin and a bow.