Meg Alexander

by The Gentlemans Demand

  ‘Our truce still holds?’ he asked.

  ‘It does, sir, and I must thank you for a pleasant evening.’ For once, Sophie felt much in charity with him. Entertained by his conversation, she had forgotten all her fears for those few hours.

  She fell asleep almost at once that night.

  By the following morning she was much refreshed. The winter sun was pouring through her windows, but the frost still held the countryside in its iron grip. She could see the starry patterns against the glass.

  Kit’s voice sent her hurrying to look into the stable-yard. Hatton was already with him; as she watched, he lifted the child on to his great stallion, leading the beast with one hand as he supported her son with the other.

  It wasn’t only the Prince who had a great rapport with children, she thought wryly. Not for the first time she wondered why Hatton had not set up his own nursery. He must be in his thirties, but perhaps those years in Spain had given him no opportunity to choose a suitable bride.

  Sophie sipped at her chocolate and nibbled at a roll. Then she went downstairs to enquire about the welfare of her unexpected guests. They were still bruised, but much recovered, and the gentlemen, at least, offered their thanks for all her kindness. Their female companion was anxious to be away, chivvying her husband to expedite the repairs to their coach whilst complaining of a sore head.

  ‘Such an experience!’ she moaned. ‘I fear I have suffered serious injury. My head is like to burst.’

  Privately, Sophie thought it far more likely that the woman was suffering from the effects of the several rum-laced toddies which she had consumed the day before, but she made sympathetic noises.

  Then she looked up as a cheerful party of young bloods erupted into the room. She recognised them at once as previous customers. These were the men who had arrived on the day of her re-opening.

  Now she eyed their costume in amusement. Broad-brimmed hats and long drab coats were, she guessed, intended to mark them out as grooms, rather than the aristocrats they were. Hatton had told her that it was a popular conceit, but Sophie found it something of a mystery.

  Even more mysterious was the fact that they were all carrying skates. Now they clustered about her, vying for her attention, but their leader stilled the clamour with an imperious gesture.

  ‘We are come to beg your indulgence, Mistress Firle,’ he told her with a winning smile. ‘Will you allow us to skate upon your lake? It is the only stretch of unblemished ice for miles around. We’ve tried elsewhere, but Ned here has already come to grief through reeds frozen into surface ice.’

  Sophie glanced at the unfortunate Ned. He certainly seemed to be accident-prone, and was, at that moment, nursing a bleeding nose. It had not dampened his enthusiasm for the sport.

  ‘My lake, as you are pleased to call it, is naught but a large pond swollen by the recent rains, sir, but you are welcome to skate upon it if you wish to do so.’

  ‘Shall you care to join us, ma’am?’ the young man continued as a chorus of thanks rose about her. ‘We carry spare blades in case of breakages. It would be but the work of a moment to fix them to your boots.’

  Sophie was flattered by his offer, but she felt obliged to decline. ‘I have never skated in my life,’ she protested. ‘I should be certain to break a limb.’

  ‘Not with someone to support you on either side.’ The speaker was surprisingly persistent. ‘Do say you’ll come. It is quite the most delightful sensation in the world.’

  Sophie hesitated and was lost. A spirit of rebellion seized her. She was tired of thinking about her present worries. Why shouldn’t she have some fun? Hatton might have offered to teach her, but he hadn’t done so. She would show him that others were not so laggardly. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she hurried away to fetch her boots.

  Chapter Nine

  They heard the others long before they reached the pond. Kit, as always, was talking twenty to the dozen as Hatton helped him into his skates. Then he fell silent, frowning in concentration as they took to the ice with Hatton skating backwards and holding both his hands.

  Sophie watched as Kit made his first attempts, trying to walk rather than to glide. Then he got the hang of it and began to shout with glee.

  ‘Watch me, Mama!’ he cried. ‘I’m skating!’

  ‘There now, Mistress Firle…you see how easy it is?’ The young man, who had introduced himself simply as Wentworth, held out his hands to help her to her feet. ‘Just trust yourself to Jack and me. We shan’t allow you to fall.’

  As Sophie stood upon the narrow blades she was tempted to refuse the offer, but all eyes were upon her, and she could not act the coward in front of Kit.

  Wentworth was as good as his word, so with Jack holding on to her other arm she ventured out upon the slippery surface. It soon became clear that the two young men were experts, and after the first few anxious moments Sophie began to enjoy herself as she skimmed along between them.

  A keen wind brought the colour to her cheeks, but it had no power to chill her as her companions increased their speed.

  ‘Whoa! You will make the lady dizzy!’ Hatton skidded to a halt beside them, with Kit holding tightly to his hand.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Sophie told him. ‘I haven’t had so much fun in years. I won’t stop now, just when I feel more confident.’

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting that you stop, Mistress Firle…merely that we change partners.’

  Sophie’s companions seemed about to protest, but a glance at Hatton’s face persuaded them otherwise. It was, therefore, with good grace that they glided away with Kit between them, and, much to his delight, increasing their speed as they did so.

  ‘You are too high-handed, sir.’ Sophie wasn’t pleased. ‘What right have you to dictate my actions, or the company I choose?’

  ‘None whatever, my dear. I thought merely that you might like to try your new-found skills with a single partner?’ He slid an arm around her waist and, taking her other hand in his, moved across the ice with an ease that communicated itself to her.

  ‘Relax!’ he advised. ‘You hold yourself too stiffly. Put yourself in my hands. I shall not let you come to harm.’

  At the end of a half-hour she had acquired a certain degree of proficiency, helped by his words of advice. Then he led her off the ice. ‘That is enough for today. If this weather holds we shall have you skating on your own.’ Raising his voice, he called to Kit, but for once the child was unwilling to obey his instructions to remove his skates.

  Hatton’s frown was enough to bring the child to his side, though he looked despondent.

  ‘I wanted to practise,’ he complained. ‘Ned says that the best skaters always practise.’

  ‘So they do, but not for so long that their legs grow stiff and their feet begin to bleed. Now sit down, Kit, and let us see what these young men can do.’ He made a place beside him on the fallen log where they had left their things.

  With the ice to themselves the young men treated them to a dazzling display of jumps and spins. Kit applauded them, but he was strangely silent.

  ‘What is it, Kit? I hope you are not sulking…’ Sophie reproved.

  ‘No, Mama, but Hatton said that he could jump.’

  Sophie chuckled as she looked at her companion. ‘How fortunate that you have not removed your skates, Mr Hatton! I trust you will not disappoint us!’

  She was rewarded with an answering grin as Hatton got to his feet. ‘Anything for a quiet life,’ he teased. Then he moved out to join the others.

  To Sophie’s surprise they cleared the ice for him, but in a moment she understood the reason for it. Moving at great speed, Hatton executed a startling number of difficult jumps and spins which left her breathless with admiration. The sheer beauty of the movements found her clapping wildly, and Kit was open-mouthed.

  Then the others joined him. They did not have his skills, but Wentworth’s movements struck a chord in Sophie’s mind. As the young man turned in profile, her suspicions were confirmed.

>   ‘Why have you found it necessary to deceive me?’ she demanded as she walked back to the inn with Hatton by her side.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘Mr Wentworth is a relative of yours, I think. I cannot be mistaken. The resemblance is too strong.’

  ‘He is my cousin.’

  ‘Indeed? And his companions? Are they your cousins too?’

  ‘Only two of them. The others are just friends.’

  ‘I see. We are indebted to you for their presence here, I imagine. I wonder that you did not think to tell me of the relationship.’

  ‘It didn’t seem important at the time. Does it matter to you?’

  ‘Of course it does not matter, Mr Hatton, but I dislike mysteries, and most of all I hate deceit.’

  ‘My apologies, ma’am. You needed customers. I mentioned merely that a drive into the country might amuse these bucks, and that Bess’s food was better than most. Does that displease you? It seems innocent enough to me.’

  ‘I have learned that nothing is innocent in your actions, sir. There is always an ulterior motive.’

  ‘Dear me! What can it be on this occasion? A delightful skating party? You said yourself that you have enjoyed it.’

  ‘You are impossible!’ she said with feeling as she stalked indoors.

  Matthew came to her at once. ‘Two gentlemen have been asking to see you, ma’am. I’ve put them in the snug.’

  ‘Very well.’ Caught off guard, Sophie was untroubled by this news. The damaged coach must have been repaired and the gentlemen had come to settle their account.

  She set aside her bonnet, her tippet and her gloves, straightening her hair as she walked towards the snug. Then she stopped short at the mention of her own name.

  ‘This Mistress Firle? Can you trust her?’ a harsh voice enquired.

  ‘It is unnecessary. I don’t trust any woman. Sufficient to say that we persuade her to fall in with our plans.’

  ‘I don’t like it. You should not have brought me here. This is no part of our agreement.’

  ‘You are happy enough to share in the profits,’ his companion observed. ‘Remember, no investment is without some risk.’

  ‘Risk? What risk? You said there was none. Certainly I won’t risk my neck—’

  ‘You have already done so, my dear sir. There is but one penalty for treason.’

  ‘And you have brought me down here? Our friends won’t like it.’

  ‘Our friends will understand the reason for it when I explain. I need you here today to lend a certain air of authenticity to my claim to own the cargo stored here. If I’m not mistaken, Mistress Firle is not a fool. She will need convincing.’

  ‘You are very nice with your dealings with a slip of a girl,’ his companion growled. ‘If this place had been as empty as you promised, we might have been away by now.’

  Sophie heard a sigh of exasperation. ‘In broad daylight? Sometimes I think that you don’t understand that nature of our business. Secrecy is essential.’

  ‘I know it well. My name must be kept out of this. I may already have been recognised.’

  ‘By whom? Our injured travellers in the parlour? I doubt if they move in our circles.’ His sarcastic tone goaded his companion into a furious reply.

  ‘You think yourself mighty clever, don’t you, Harward? Don’t it strike you as strange that two young women, both widows of Revenue Men, should be living under the same roof?’

  ‘Not in the least. Many of these people know each other. Most probably they sought comfort in each other’s company. I am surprised that you recognised Tyler’s wife…er…widow. Are you acquainted with her?’

  ‘I met her years ago, at her father’s house in Dover. She was a child then, but that face is not easily forgotten.’

  ‘I doubt if she’d remember you, and if she did, what can it signify? Why should she suspect a respectable businessman of dealings in illicit goods? You note that I am describing your activities in the kindest light?’

  His companion was unconvinced. ‘There are others here. Listen to the commotion! The noise is like to deafen a quiet man—’

  ‘Come now, let us be done with this.’ The man known as Harward was losing patience. ‘You will not tell me that you fear young bucks, scarce out of leading strings? They frequent this place, merely because it is so close to Brighton.’

  Sophie began to breathe more easily. Hatton had been wise to encourage the party of young bloods to visit the inn. In their midst, his own presence would be less conspicuous.

  ‘I hope you may be right. Now, where is this Mistress Firle of yours? I’ll do what you require of me. Then I must be away.’

  ‘Leaving others to protect your back?’ his companion suggested smoothly.

  Sophie judged it time to enter the room before a serious quarrel could result. As she did so, Harward rose to his feet and came towards her with a concerned expression. He made her a deep bow.

  ‘Mistress Firle, you remember me, I trust. Simon Harward, at your service.’

  ‘I do, sir.’ Sophie’s heart was pounding as she faced the man she feared so much. ‘I trust I find you well?’

  ‘Well enough, I thank you, but it is your own health which concerns me. You have recovered from that unfortunate incident? I confess it has been much upon my mind…’

  ‘It is forgotten, but I thank you for your interest, Mr Harward. Will you not present your friend?’

  ‘Ah, yes, I had quite forgot my manners, ma’am. This is Mr Horace Sayles, a merchant and one of those gentlemen who keeps the wheels of commerce turning in the city.’

  Sophie found herself under inspection from a pair of eyes which would not have shamed Caligula. Pebble-hard, they fixed her with a basilisk gaze. The man himself was short and squat, almost as broad as he was tall, but she guessed that the expensive coat hid muscle rather than fat.

  His bow was perfunctory and he did not speak.

  Harward took Sophie’s hand and led her to a chair.

  ‘My dear ma’am, pray don’t think me forward, but I meant it when I mentioned my concern for you. I know of your sad loss…a tragedy for one so young…but is it wise for you to stay here alone, exposed to such unwelcome attentions as befell you the other day?’

  ‘Sir, I have no choice.’ Sophie was very much on her dignity. ‘This is my home and also my livelihood. Where else would I go?’

  ‘May I offer the suggestion that you sell the inn? Mr Sayles here might possibly be interested. His property investments are extensive.’

  Sophie was silent. Three weeks ago she would have jumped at the chance to sell, but since then she had learned that the inn was not hers to dispose of. She became aware that both men were awaiting her answer.

  ‘I…had not thought of it,’ she faltered. ‘I have no one to advise me. Will you give me time to consider your proposition?’

  Sayles rose to his feet and walked over to the window. His impatience was evident, but Harward’s manner did not change.

  ‘Of course, my dear. This is a big decision for you. Naturally, you are wondering why we have approached you quite so soon?’ He paused, and Sophie realised that he was weighing his words with care. ‘The thing is, Mistress Firle, that we had an arrangement with your late husband. For a consideration he allowed us to store our surplus cargoes in your cellars.’

  Sophie managed to look suitably astonished. ‘We keep our ales and spirits in the cellars, sir. I have seen nothing else…’

  ‘I don’t expect you would,’ he said agreeably. ‘The entrance is concealed. Your husband insisted that it should be so. There is always the danger of pilfering, as he knew.’

  ‘He said nothing of this to me,’ she protested. ‘Do you tell me that you have goods there at this moment?’

  ‘We have!’ The blue eyes rested earnestly upon her face. ‘There is a danger that some of it may perish if it is left too long. Lace, for example, may rot in damp conditions.’

  ‘I wonder that you should have chosen our cellars, Mr Harward. More s
uitable warehousing might have been found elsewhere.’

  ‘You are quite right.’ Harward sighed heavily. ‘Sadly, Brighton is so overcrowded that every inch of space is taken. This is one reason why Mr Sayles proposes to buy the inn. There is little point in importing goods if one cannot store them safely.’

  Sophie looked at the bland face. This was a clever man. He was so plausible. If Hatton had not warned her, she might have believed his every word.

  An exclamation from his friend drew him to the window, but Sophie could not hear the whispered words which passed between them.

  ‘Who is the tall gentleman?’ Harward asked in casual tones. ‘I think that I may know him.’

  Sophie’s blood ran cold. Almost paralysed with fright, she forced herself to join him at the window, knowing full well that Hatton must be the object of his interest.

  That gentleman was strolling across the stable-yard with Kit settled happily on his shoulders.

  ‘Do you think so, sir?’ Her voice was surprisingly calm. ‘Mr Hatton has but recently returned from the Peninsular War. You must have known him years ago.’

  ‘A soldier, and one of our brave lads? I must be mistaken, ma’am. What a charming sight, to be sure. The gentleman looks very much at home here…’ The keen eyes scanned her face.

  Sophie willed herself to blush, but she could manage only a demure expression. ‘I refused him then, but now that I am widowed he hopes…that is…’ Her voice died away in confusion.

  ‘Most understandable,’ Harvard comforted her. ‘Am I to wish you happy, ma’am?’

  ‘Oh, no! Not yet! It is too soon. A widow cannot…I mean, I must not offer him encouragement before the year is out.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I am not sure, sir. It may be that I shall have no option.’

  ‘On the contrary, my dear there is always an option, if one wishes to take advantage of it.’

  Sophie stared at him. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Let me assure you, ma’am, it is nearly always a mistake to enter into wedlock merely to secure one’s future. There are other ways for a sensible woman to earn a comfortable living.’