April and May

by Beth Elliot

  ‘We are returning from Davies Street,’ said Tom.

  The name meant nothing to Rose and her bewilderment must have shown in her face.

  ‘Manton’s Shooting Gallery,’ he explained. ‘We’ve been trying out our marksmanship.’

  ‘And selecting a fine pair of pistols,’ said Kerim Pasha.

  At that, Rose became alarmed. ‘So you can defend yourself against villains?’ she was asking when an exclamation from Prue made her break off and turn to see what was wrong.

  ‘They’ve gone now, ma’am.’ Prue only used ‘ma’am’ for Rose in front of visitors.

  Rose turned back to the gentlemen. ‘Prue says two men have been following us all the time we have been out,’ Rose told them. She raised her brows as she saw them exchange a meaningful glance. ‘So,’ she exclaimed, ‘you also believe that to be true.’ She looked at them intently.

  Tom’s face was inscrutable. His dark eyes met hers in a bland look that somehow infuriated her. There had been too many mysterious incidents and Rose felt it was time for an explanation. Her temper snapped.

  ‘Well?’ she pressed him, ‘why are these men following us? Surely they are interested in you?’

  ‘But this is not acceptable,’ said Kerim Pasha smoothly. ‘It is uncomfortable for you. We will escort you home.’

  ‘Do you consider that we are unable to protect ourselves.’ said Rose, still watching Tom’s face. ‘Prue is quite formidable, I assure you.’

  ‘Not enough to deal with two of ’em, though,’ replied Tom. ‘Let us take you home at once.’

  Rose’s eyes flashed. They were hurrying her and still not offering any explanation. ‘I do believe you know something,’ she challenged Tom.

  He frowned and indicated that they should move along the street. Rose pinched her lips together but she walked on between the two men. Prue, as eager to move on as Tom was to make her, followed hastily, scarcely the correct step or two behind.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what is wrong?’ insisted Rose, glaring at Tom in frustration.

  He shook his head and kept walking. On her other side, Kerim Pasha was aloof. His gaze was directed towards the other side of the street. Rose had the impression he was scouting for a possible attack. She tried again. ‘How are your hands today?’

  ‘Healing.’ Tom shot her a quick glance. ‘Nearly there now.’

  ‘Yes,’ snapped Rose, ‘but I wish to know why this unseemly haste and what we are hurrying from.’

  There was no answer. She made a little growling noise. ‘Why can you not tell me what these men want?’

  They turned into Half Moon Street. Tom looked over his shoulder. He exchanged a glance with Kerim Pasha, then gave Rose a half rueful grin. ‘Well, whatever it was, you are safe now.’

  She was furious. ‘The minute you have gone, I shall go out again.’

  Tom’s expression changed. ‘That would be foolish.’

  ‘It would be dangerous,’ came the Pasha’s softer tone.

  Rose whipped her head round to face him. ‘But why?’

  ‘My dear ma’am, are you fishing for compliments? They are perhaps looking for a pretty girl to kidnap.’

  ‘Give over arguing, ma’am,’ urged Prue. ‘Just thank the gentlemen and let’s go in. Plenty to do afore this evenin’.’

  Rose hesitated for an instant. She was not going to get any answers but obviously, they considered that there was a danger. She gave an exasperated huff. ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ she snapped and flounced up the steps and in through the door that Hudson was holding open for her.

  ‘Our pleasure,’ said Tom drily but she was not looking. He raised his hat.

  ‘We look forward to seeing you this evening,’ he added but he was addressing the closed door.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  She had heard him though. That much was clear to Tom when he arrived at the house in Half Moon Street later that evening. Rose was carefully avoiding him. Why did she have to be so damned independent? He watched her discreetly as she moved among the guests, smiling and chatting easily. Tom liked the way her corn coloured hair was arranged in a classic Greek style knot bound up with a ribbon the same colour as her gown. And the slim, simply cut gown enhanced her tall, elegant figure. It was in a silver pink material that shone and changed colour slightly as she moved.

  Tom suppressed a sigh. He could not put her out of his mind these days.

  It did not help to see her looking so very beautiful when he seemed to be forever kept at a distance. She had reached Kerim Pasha now. Tom’s eyes sparked as he watched the Pasha take both Rose’s hands in his and kiss them, his eyes on her face, while she smiled at him in the friendliest manner.

  Abruptly, Tom turned on his heel and stalked out of the drawing room. He walked along the hall and made for the pier glass, where he stared at his reflection moodily. He realised there were a couple of footmen in the hall, so he pretended to adjust the diamond pin in his cravat, twitched the sleeves of his jacket down and then, with another sigh, turned to make his way back to the drawing room.

  Hudson was admitting another guest. Tom brightened a little on seeing Sebastian. He strode forward to shake hands.

  ‘You have left off your sling, I see.’

  Sebastian grinned. ‘Thank the Lord, I no longer need it.’ He made a fist. ‘The strength is coming back. I want to be hale and hearty before I set off on that deuced long sea voyage back to Constantinople.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ Tom took him by the arm and looked for a quiet corner. He led his unresisting assistant over to a spot near the study and muttered, ‘We have to be sure you do not take any of Gripper Browne’s thugs on board with you. Count –er…Varoshenyi must get home in one piece.’

  ‘How can we flush them all out?’ asked Sebastian in frustration. ‘There are always more of them. Besides, the Count has his own bodyguards.’

  Tom nodded gloomily. ‘It will still be a challenge to keep him safe.’

  ‘Y’know what I think? He’s quite capable of looking after himself.’ Sebastian grimaced. ‘Last night in the opera box, he took the knife from that ugly brute and he did not regard the pain. It was amazing!’

  Tom nodded. He cast a swift glance around to be sure there was nobody within earshot. They re-entered the drawing room, where Rose was obliged to come forward to welcome Sebastian. As Tom remained close to him, she was forced to acknowledge him as well. He kept a sardonic gaze on her as she dropped him a neat little curtsey, to which he replied with a magnificent bow.

  ‘Such a pleasure,’ he said drily, looking at her down his long nose.

  Rose cast a sharp glance up at him then smiled at Sebastian. ‘Your arm is better!’ she said, ‘I’m so glad.’

  Hudson appeared to announce that dinner was served. Tom found he was to sit at Lady Westacote’s left hand. To his joy, Rose was placed next to him. When the soup was removed, footmen quickly placed the first course on the table and then Hudson and his assistant filled everyone’s glass with sparkling champagne.

  Sir Philip rose to his feet. ‘This is a very special occasion,’ he announced, beaming round at his guests. ‘you must know that Helena and Max have settled it between them to marry. Tonight we drink to their engagement.’ He raised his glass and everyone followed suit.

  ‘And to a speedy marriage!’ said Max, with a gleaming look at Helena, who smiled charmingly. ‘Before we return to Egypt,’ she said.

  There was a chorus of congratulations and some kisses and handshakes. When they had all settled down again, Tom glanced at Rose. She was occupied in cutting up the slice of roast pheasant on her plate. Tom thought she was not quite happy. After all, she was going to lose her sister and he had seen how close they were. He wanted to say something comforting but, due to that strange bond they shared, he sensed she preferred to keep silent for the moment.

  Then she laid down her knife and fork and picked up her glass. Tom was suddenly reminded of the last time they had drunk champagne together. He picked up his ow
n glass and took a sip. Rose glanced sideways at him and he knew she was thinking of the same occasion. Opposite them, seated at Lady Westacote’s right hand, Kerim Pasha observed both of them, his face impassive.

  Sebastian, seated on the other side of the table to Rose, had long accepted that Helena was never going to be more than a friend. He had shown no surprise when the engagement was announced. Now he was eating his dinner while occasionally adding a comment into the general conversation. The topic was all about how soon they could return to Egypt and continue the search for more ancient sites and objects.

  Tom, alert as he was for any response from Rose, noticed that she did not join in at all. He also noticed that she ate scarcely anything. Meanwhile, the Pasha was still watching them thoughtfully, even as he joined in the general conversation.

  That fired Tom into trying once more to get her attention. ‘May I pass you this dish of sweetbreads?’ he murmured. That had to get a response. But, as expected, all she said was, ‘No, thank you.’ She did not even look at him. But he saw a blush creep all the way up from her neck. After that, she made the effort to address a few remarks to her sister and to Sebastian.

  It was not long before Lady Westacote rose to leave the room. ‘We have more guests arriving shortly,’ she reminded her husband. ‘But you can take your time. The girls and I will be there if anyone comes early.’

  As Tom had expected, the other visitors were the people willing to sponsor another expedition. He stifled a yawn. This family was totally single-minded in its aims. Helena and Max were obviously made for each other. However, Rose was not happy to be leaving London, that was clear to him. She was busy serving tea to the guests and in any case, she was still avoiding him.

  It was a dilemma. If he told her she was being targeted by vicious thugs who would use her as a bargaining counter to get hold of Kerim Pasha, she might well want to confront them. She was brave but she could not win against such people. Tom’s fingers curled when he thought of what they would do to her.

  He wandered out into the hallway to think. How could he keep Rose safe. The devil of it was that they had no idea when Gripper Browne’s men would strike. Maybe the two fellows they had captured at the Opera would talk – but he doubted it. Gripper Browne had such power over his world that anyone who revealed anything would be killed anyway.

  After a quiet glass of brandy in the study, Tom was no nearer a solution. He doubted anyone had missed him but it was time to return to the company. In the drawing room doorway he stopped dead, his heart suddenly turned to stone. Rose was sitting on a sofa in an alcove by the window. Kerim Pasha was also seated on the sofa, talking to her very earnestly. Their heads were very close together. Unable to move or speak, Tom saw her nod her head. She was following every word the man said with painful attention. Then she raised her hand and dashed away a tear. She leaned closer towards him and said something. Kerim Pasha seized both her hands and pressed kisses on them.

  Tom swung round and strode back out. There was a roaring noise in his head, nothing mattered any more. He was half way along the street before realising he was outside the house. Still pacing furiously along, he let out a huge groan. Damn the Pasha. After everything he’d said yesterday, he was still making up to Rose. No doubt the man had simply melted in the face of so much beauty. On hearing that the younger sister was getting married, he must have decided Rose would be more easily persuaded to accept him. And he had admitted that he loved her.

  Tom smashed his fist against the wall. How was he to endure seeing Kerim Pasha again, never mind continuing to organise protection for him?

  ‘What’s the problem, sir? Sir..?’

  ‘Eh?’ Tom slowly raised his head.

  Timms was there, solid as ever. There was a shrewd expression on his face. ‘All’s well out here so far. Best go back inside, eh, sir?’

  Moments later, Tom was walking back towards the house with Timms by his side. He nodded and went back up the steps again. Behind him, Timms raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

  In the hall Tom paused to straighten his cravat. The next instant Rose came rushing out from the drawing room, her head down. She bumped into him.

  ‘Steady,’ said Tom. He gripped her arms, resisting with difficulty the urge to clasp her tight against him. She raised her face and Tom stared down into those deep blue eyes. He bent his head towards them and saw the shine of tears on her cheeks. He caught her hand. Such a dainty little hand, swallowed up in his large, strong fist.

  ‘What’s happened to upset you?’

  She sniffed. ‘Oh, Tom. Ker- Count Varoshenyi has made me so happy…’

  Tom dropped her hand as if it were a hot coal. A red haze blurred his vision. But Rose was still talking and at last the words began to make sense.

  ‘…wherever my family goes in Egypt, they will have the protection of the Turkish soldiers. It is such a relief to me.’ She stopped and frowned. ‘Tom? Are you quite well?’

  There was something in Tom’s throat that prevented him from speaking. He nodded and managed a smile. Rose flitted over to the pier glass.

  ‘Heavens! I do look a fright! I must tidy myself.’ She smoothed back a stray curl then pulled out a tiny lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

  ‘You look perfect.’ Tom had found his voice now. His heart had steadied. He feasted his eyes on Rose; her elegant silhouette, her smooth, shining hair and the lovely face, turned towards him. Those blue, blue eyes were staring at him. Tom continued to smile at her. He could not help himself, the relief had made him light-headed. He saw her gaze widen, then the dark lashes veiled her eyes.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘we should not linger out here.’

  ‘Oh, no, indeed!’ She raised her eyes at that and darted him a shy smile but the colour came into her cheeks. Then she laughed and walked back into the drawing room at his side.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rose slipped on the robe that Prue handed her and picked up the hairbrush.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to the weary maid, ‘you help Miss Helena now.’

  Prue stifled a yawn and turned Helena round so she could undo the tiny buttons on her pink evening gown.

  ‘So, Miss, you and Mr Kendal are betrothed now. Hudson announced the news in the Room and we all had a glass of champagne to toast you and your future husband.’

  Helena extended her left hand. ‘Thank you, dear Prue. Yes, and we have settled that we will be married very soon.’

  Prue exclaimed over the opulent ring. She shook out the evening dress as Helena stepped out of it. ‘Well, we must start to think of wedding clothes at once.’

  Rose drifted away to the window seat, leaving Prue to ask shrewd questions about materials and styles. Helena laughed and agreed or suggested other possibilities in a very girlish and frivolous way. Rose smiled to herself. What a change these last months had wrought in the earnest scholar of the family. How fortunate Helena was to have found a man who could not only understand but share her passion for history.

  Helena, like Aunt Emily before her, was going to have a full and interesting life with a true soulmate. Rose was delighted for her sister but it was not easy to know that she was now the odd one out in this family. They were all going to be so happy in Egypt, whereas she was going to hate the sand, the heat, the enclosed life so far from London society.

  Well, no good to worry yet. They would still have some time in London and another trip down to Rivercourt before they sailed. Rose brushed her hair steadily and considered her own evening. Her aunt and uncle were happy to welcome Max into the family. Rose’s lips twitched as she imagined the gossip when the announcement of the engagement appeared in the newspapers. Polite society would consider that this match had been deliberately engineered by Sir Philip and Lady Emily. Mr Kendal, son of Viscount Fennington, was an extremely wealthy man and overseas expeditions were expensive.

  They would whisper that Helena had been deliberately placed in his way. But those who had lived through the tempest of feelings and
who knew Helena’s dedication to her studies, knew that this was a love that had grown gradually and truly from a very inauspicious start.

  Rose gave a little sigh and turned to look outside. Clouds raced across a sky lit by a fitful moon. She watched for a few moments then directed her eyes down to the darkness of the street. She blinked hard and looked again. There was someone standing on the pavement opposite. She could see the pale shape of his face, staring up at her window.

  It must be close on two o’clock, not the time for people to be abroad, unless they were up to no good. She thought about Tom’s concern and how he had rushed her home so swiftly, that afternoon. Suddenly very alarmed, Rose jumped up. ‘Prue,’ she interrupted, ‘are all the doors secured and the windows shut downstairs?’

  ‘Of course, Miss Rose. Getting fanciful are you, thinking of them two fellows chasing after us?’

  ‘There’s a man down there now. He has not moved, he’s staring up at this window.’

  Prue and Helena rushed forward so fast that they collided and banged their heads together.

  ‘Ouch! Miss Helena, your head is hard.’ Rubbing her face, Prue peered out. She looked where Rose indicated and drew in a long breath. ‘Lawks, miss, there sure is sommat going on!’ She stared at Rose.

  ‘I do hope the doors are secure.’ said Rose again.

  ‘Nay, Miss, that’s no crook out there. That’s a watchman. That Mr Hawkesleigh, he wanted to be sure you’re safe, you mark my words. I saw how he looked at you.’

  Rose frowned at her but Helena was smiling. ‘Do tell me, Prue, how did he look?’

  ‘It is of no consequence,’ snapped Rose, ‘don’t invent things.’

  ‘I know what I saw,’ said Prue with a little nod. ‘He ain’t going to let anyone harm Miss Rose. Come on,’ she added, folding down the blankets and indicating that they were to get into bed, ‘you both look fair hagged and we shall have lots o’ visitors in the morning, so get some sleep now.’