by Stella Riley
* * *
After Lydia went back to Bishopsgate escorted by Peter, Eden poured every ounce of skill and concentration he had into revealing the contents of the encrypted page. He’d already established that the code was a variation on one of the previous ones in that it used three numbers to each consonant, four to each vowel and larger numbers to denote names. But all the combinations were different and, even beginning with those which, due to their repetition, he believed to be names, it still took him well over an hour to decipher the first one. Until that moment, he’d been increasingly conscious of how tired he was and had needed to continually remind himself that he was doing this for Lydia. After it, triumph sent renewed energy surging through him, making it easy to re-double his efforts.
He was vaguely aware that, from time to time, someone came in to light candles, make up the fire or bring food … but he had eyes only for the task in front of him. So the broth went cold and the ale remained untouched. By the time he had the whole page laid out in plain English, his shoulders and neck were aching and his fingers, stiff with cramp but he didn’t care. Tossing down the quill, he stood up and stretched his arms to loosen his protesting muscles … and then dropped back in the chair, silently blessing Stephen Neville.
It was all there; everything he’d hoped for and more. Detailed evidence of the most damning kind, complete with names, dates and locations and signed at the bottom of the coded sheet in Neville’s own hand.
It began with the firm assertion that Edmund Wakefield was his own son by Arabella, Lady Northcote. Then came shocking details of the depths of depravity to be found in the brothel known as the Painted Angel, located on the corner of Seething Lane and Crutched Friars. This was not owned, as was apparently the case, by the man who ran it but by Edmund Wakefield himself – whose property it had been since April, 1648. After this, Stephen listed the names of four gentlemen he believed might be persuaded to admit having submitted to extortion by Edmund Wakefield, now Lord Northcote; and finally, a high-ranking Naval official who had been blackmailed, not for money, but for information about the Fleet which Stephen believed had played a part in Admiral Blake’s defeat at Dungeness in November of ’52.
There was sufficient here, Eden realised, to put Northcote in prison. If a charge of selling information to the Dutch during the recent war could be made to stick, it might even send him to the scaffold. But that meant handing everything over to the proper authorities … and he didn’t want to do that. Northcote had been hounding Lydia for months. He’d hurt her and those belonging to her; he’d frightened her, caused her endless anxiety and made it impossible for her to live her life as she chose. So although Eden knew what he ought to do, he also knew that leaving Northcote’s fate up to magistrates and judges was never going to be enough. He wanted the satisfaction of looking the bastard in the eye and meting out his own justice.
And Quinn, he thought grimly. Once I’ve dealt with Northcote, I’ll find a way of getting my hands on Quinn as well. And won’t that be enjoyable.
~ * * ~ * * ~
NINE
Lydia awoke slowly to the unfamiliar sensation of a warm body pressed against her back and an arm around her waist.
Eden.
She smiled, luxuriating in the feel of his skin against hers … and then smiled a bit more as she remembered the piercing sweetness and overwhelming pleasure of the night before. He’d told her he loved her over and over again, both in whispered words and with the skilled worship of his hands and mouth. It had been so perfect that, had he not still been here, holding her to him even in sleep, she might have wondered if it had really happened.
She found herself recalling the moment he had emerged from his self-imposed seclusion and walked in holding his translation of Stephen’s coded notes. Just for a second, his expression had remained one of sustained concentration. Then his eyes had found her and filled with warm appreciation as they travelled over the décolletage of the watered-taffeta gown … and his smile had made her blush.
After that, the evening had been one of mingled celebration and argument. Eden had read out his transcription over supper and, once the natural euphoria had passed, this had naturally led to a debate on how to proceed. Gilbert favoured handing the matter over to the appropriate authorities; Eden, seconded by Nicholas, had flatly refused to do so. Then, when Gilbert had reluctantly agreed to leave the matter in Colonel Maxwell’s capable hands, he admitted that he had no idea where his brother might be found. There were obvious places where he might be, of course; Northcote Park in Sussex or the family house on the Strand … or as Nicholas distastefully remarked, the brothel. But if he wasn’t currently in any of those places, Gilbert’s opinion was that he might be anywhere.
Beside her, Eden stirred slightly, one of his legs tangling with her own and sending an unexpected flare of heat into the pit of her belly. Her breath caught and she forced herself to lie still. He wasn’t awake yet and he’d been so tired last night she wondered now how he’d had the energy to … well, to do what they’d been doing. It was a little disconcerting, however, to discover that if he woke wanting to do it again, she’d be more than willing.
‘Why are you pretending to be asleep?’ asked a voice in her ear.
Startled into a tiny gurgle of laughter, she said, ‘Because I thought you still were.’
‘I think, if you were to take a brief inventory, you’d swiftly realise that I’m not.’
Just for a second, his meaning escaped her. And when it didn’t … when she felt the evidence of it pressing against her, she was incapable of saying more than, ‘Oh. Yes.’
Laughing, he turned her to face him, his thigh still distractingly between hers.
‘Good morning.’ He kissed her and then, glimpsing her expression, said gently, ‘Don’t be embarrassed, Lydia and don’t ever feel you have to hide it. I’m happy that you want me as I want you. Marriage wouldn’t be much fun if you didn’t.’
‘No.’ A tremor ran through her when his hand slid down the curve of her spine to her buttock; and when that same hand travelled up and around to caress her breast, the tremor became a gasp. ‘I suppose not. It – it’s just that I didn’t know it could be like this.’
‘No, darling. Neither did I.’
* * *
After joy and the lassitude that followed it, came practicalities.
‘Much though I regret the necessity,’ said Eden, ‘I think you should go home today. Mr Wakefield doesn’t know where you spent the night and, as far as Nick is concerned, it may be possible to maintain the fiction that you slept in the next room. But until we can marry, I want to safeguard your good name.’
‘Since we will marry, does that matter so very much?’ she asked, whilst tracing lazy patterns on his chest. ‘Who will care?’
‘I will,’ came the firm reply. Then, softening the blow with a kiss, ‘I’d like to delay announcing our betrothal until Toby gets back. If Tabitha’s safely delivered of her infant, it should only be a couple of days now – and then we can give the glad tidings to both of our brothers at once.’ He grinned. ‘I suspect Toby will be happier about it than Aubrey.’
‘You had him arrested and then interrogated him.’ Her hand explored his rib-cage and started to drift lower. ‘Is it any wonder you make him nervous?’
Eden trapped her wandering hand beneath his own.
‘Since it’s high time we got up, may I regretfully suggest that you save where that was going until later? We have to plan.’
‘Yes, Colonel.’
‘Hussy. Now … with regard to the wedding, I’d like to do it as quickly as possible which, with things as they are and no bishops to grant licences, means I need a vicar who’ll waive the reading of banns if I pay him enough. We can have a proper and more elaborate ceremony later when I take you to Thorne Ash to meet my mother – and please don’t worry about that. Aside from the fact that she’ll probably fall on your neck with gratitude, she’ll love you. But that, since dealing with Northcote has to come firs
t, may have to wait a while – hence my desire to tie the knot sooner rather than later. Will that be all right with you?’
‘Yes. I’ll marry you tomorrow, if you like.’
‘I would like. And but for Toby and a cooperative vicar, we could. Damn.’
* * *
Dealing with Viscount Northcote was dependant on finding him and it came as no surprise to any of them that this proved next to impossible.
Mr Wakefield visited the house on the Strand only to be told that his lordship was not presently in residence. He sent his servant hot-foot to Sussex and got the same result. In a note informing Eden of this, he added, I believe he once mentioned having business premises in the City but have no idea where these might be. If I learn anything further, I will send word.
Nicholas, who happened to be with Eden when the note arrived, said, ‘Business premises? That probably means the brothel. Are we going to have to try there?’
‘No. Aside from the fact that I don’t want to, the chances of any of us getting past Quinn’s bravos are more or less non-existent – though if we can’t get hold of Northcote, we’re going to have to try hooking Quinn instead. And to be honest, I doubt Northcote spends any time at the brothel anyway. If he did, his nice cloak of anonymity wouldn’t have lasted long.’
‘So how do we find him?’
‘We can’t. The only solution I can think of is to somehow lure him to us – but so far I haven’t figured out a way of doing it. And in the meantime,’ he sighed, brandishing a second note, ‘I’m ordered to report to Lambert’s office; something, just at the moment, that I could well do without.’
The day wasn’t destined to get any better.
‘There is an uprising in Hampshire – one of several but the only one with teeth,’ said the Major-General tersely. ‘The latest intelligence says that some four hundred Royalists under Colonel Penruddock assembled at Winchester two days ago, planning to capture the assize judges. However, the Winchester garrison was reinforced a week ago and this seems to have caused Penruddock to change his plans. The next assize court is at Salisbury so that is probably where he’s currently headed. Major-General Desborough is preparing to take command in the West but won’t be ready to move for another three days so I’ve mustered two hundred Horse to assist the local Militia temporarily – and I want you to lead them.’
‘No.’ Eden heard the word come out of his mouth before it had gone through his brain.
‘What?’ Lambert both looked and sounded stunned.
It occurred to Eden that, in the thirteen years since he’d enlisted under the Earl of Essex, this was the first time he’d refused an order. True, he’d adjusted a few from time to time – but never actually refused one. Then a dozen other thoughts replaced it. First and foremost were Lydia’s safety, their wedding and the search for Northcote. After them came, If Desborough’s been given command, why the hell can’t he go and get on with it? And finally something completely radical that he hadn’t previously considered at all but suddenly knew to be right.
He said, ‘My sincerest apologies, sir – but I can’t leave London now. In fact, I believe it’s time I gave you my resignation.’
If possible, the Major-General looked even more disbelieving.
‘Your resignation, Colonel? Isn’t that a trifle extreme?’
‘No, sir. And this isn’t a matter of some temporary inconvenience. Indeed, I think it’s been inevitable for some months now – although I hadn’t recognised it until today.’
‘This sounds like a spur of the moment decision you may come to regret.’ Since he did not want to lose one of his best officers, Lambert chose to be conciliatory. ‘If the problem is that personal circumstances require your presence here at the moment, so be it. I can send another officer to Salisbury. In return, however, I would ask you to reconsider resigning.’
Eden stood up, smiling faintly.
‘Thank you, sir. But my life is about to change in ways incompatible with my military duties – such as they are. I’ll remain in my post at the Tower until the current situation is resolved and if you still need a go-between with the Cavaliers, I’ll do that, too. But I must ask you to regard my decision as final.’
Lambert also rose, his dark gaze inscrutable as ever. Then, to Eden’s surprise, he held out his hand and said, ‘I don’t pretend I’m not disappointed. But you’ve given exemplary service over the years and are entitled to know your own mind. I wish you the best of good fortune, Colonel. But should circumstances change, I hope you will come to me.’
‘You may rely on it,’ said Eden, gripping the Major-General’s fingers. ‘And thank you.’
* * *
On leaving Lambert’s office, Eden paid a flying visit to his former clerk and informed him that he could tell the agent in Cologne to cease wasting his time on Ellis Brandon.
‘I no longer need him. What I need now is to find Viscount Northcote. To the best of my knowledge, he’s somewhere in England but I have no idea where. Any help you can give would be greatly appreciated.’
‘Certainly, Colonel,’ said Mr Hollins calmly. ‘I will do my best. Is there anything else I can do for you?’
‘Not unless you know a man of the cloth who’ll perform a marriage ceremony without banns,’ said Eden, not holding out much hope.
‘The Reverend Dawson at Saint Michael’s in Cornhill,’ came the calm reply. ‘Since the episcopacy was abolished, he has been making a very comfortable living supplying that particular service. We have known about his activities for some time, of course … but have chosen to turn a blind eye. Am I to understand that felicitations are in order?’
Eden grinned and grasped the man’s hand.
‘They are indeed, Mr Hollins. And thank you.’
* * *
The Reverend Dawson promptly agreed to unite Colonel Maxwell and Mistress Neville in holy matrimony as soon as the Colonel’s brother returned from the country and for the trifling sum of ten pounds. Eden didn’t think the price trifling at all but would have happily paid it twice over for the privilege of being able to call Lydia his wife.
He set off for Bishopsgate with a spring in his step to give his love the glad tidings. Henry greeted him imperturbably as ever and informed him that Mistress Neville would be very happy to see him since she was currently engaged in repairing the household linen. Eden surrendered his hat, refrained from remarking that he hoped she’d be pleased to see him regardless of her occupation and strolled into the parlour.
Lydia promptly stabbed herself with the needle, tossed her sewing aside and got up saying, ‘Eden! Between the hunt for Lord Northcote and your duties at the Tower, I didn’t think you’d have time to come here today.’
‘I missed you,’ he said, catching her around the waist and licking the spot of blood from her injured finger before plunging headlong into a deep, lingering kiss. Then, ‘I particularly missed that. And I have at least one bit of good news.’
Lydia let him pull her down on to the settle and nestled into the curve of his arm.
‘Oh?’
‘I’ve given Major-General Lambert my resignation.’
‘What?’ She turned to stare at him. ‘Why?’
‘He wanted me to go racing off to Salisbury to put down an insurrection that the local Militia have probably already dealt with by now. For obvious reasons, I refused. Also, I’m tired of being a glorified errand boy and thought you might be able to find better uses for me. Can you?’
‘I daresay I’ll think of something, if I put my mind to it. But are you sure you want to quit the Army?’
‘Perfectly sure. Peacetime soldiering doesn’t suit me. Neither does it belong in the future you and I are going to build together. And speaking of that … we can get married the instant Toby drags himself back here.’
A flush of pleasure touched her skin. ‘You’ve found a vicar?’
‘Yes. I’d like to pretend it was an arduous task but it was actually very simple.’ And, having explained, added, ‘In the hope of
word not reaching Northcote or Quinn, I’d have liked to keep it very private; just you and I with Toby, Aubrey and Nick. But I have the strangest presentiment that isn’t going to happen.’
‘Not unless we continue living in separate houses,’ objected Lydia. And then, with a touch of consternation, ‘We won’t, will we?’
‘Absolutely not.’ He toyed with an errant lock of her hair, waiting with some amusement for her to realise what he’d already foreseen. ‘I recognise that Henry and the rest of your household will have to know. But it’s not going to end there, is it?’
‘I don’t … oh.’ She stared at him helplessly. ‘Even if I swear Nancy to secrecy, she won’t be able to resist telling her sister and in a matter of hours all the women will know and they’ll tell the men. And they’ll all want to come.’
‘I know.’
‘They’re – they’re like family, Eden. How can I tell them I don’t want them?’
‘You can’t, darling.’ He smiled and dropped a fleeting kiss on her brow. ‘You can’t. And I wouldn’t ask it of you. But because, at present, I can only think of one ruse that might tempt Northcote out of the woodwork, I will be demanding another oath of silence.’
* * *
On the following afternoon, Tobias walked in, windswept and lightly mud-spattered.
Eden said, ‘Finally. I was beginning to think you’d decided to stay until Easter. How’s Tabitha?’
‘Well and blissfully happy. It’s a boy. Richard Tobias.’ He tossed his bags in a corner and threw his hat after them. ‘As for what took me so long, we had word that Kate and Luciano were on their way so I waited to see them.’
‘Kate’s at Thorne Ash? Now?’
‘Yes. Tab wants her to be godmother.’
‘How long do they intend to stay?’
‘Until after the christening, obviously. And since, for some peculiar reason Ralph wants you to be the boy’s other godfather, you’ll see her then.’ Tobias poured a tankard of ale and downed half of it in one gulp. ‘God – that’s better. My throat was full of dust.’ He dropped into a chair and took a long look at his brother. ‘All right. Clearly something’s happened. What?’
