In All Honour

by Beth Elliott

  ‘Reputation! Fie, miss, that is none of your business. He is wealthy and titled. You have had a whole month to find a husband. He is your only prospect for a respectable match.’

  ‘Respectable?’ For the first time, Sarah raised her voice. She looked very steadily at Alice’s flushed face. Her sister did not quite meet her eyes.

  ‘You know as well as I do that Lord Percival encourages James to go to gaming hells. Is that respectable?’

  ‘It is something most gentlemen do….’ huffed Alice, concentrating on cutting up the rest of her ham. There was a silence. Sarah sipped her tea. It seemed that Alice’s patience had run out. The four weeks had elapsed and she had had enough of the hectic social life. It was definitely time to go home.

  Shen glanced at Alice. ‘If you do not need me this morning, I do have an errand.’

  She got a sharp nod as her only answer. Sarah rose. ‘Excuse me, then.’ She made for the door before Alice could ask any questions.

  An hour later she was feeling better as she made her way back towards Benton Street. Her ticket for the afternoon stagecoach was now safely in her reticule. Her spirits rose at the thought of getting back to Russeldene Manor. Mrs Wiggins, the housekeeper, would be truly pleased to have her home and she could relax again after the strain of this hopeless quest to find a husband. It was soul destroying to be paraded around like a beast in the market and to be rejected every time.

  It just proved that society’s only concern was with fortune – or the lack of it. Not that she wanted to be very wealthy, but it would be reassuring to know there was enough money to maintain the estate. Sarah frowned. Indeed, it was time to get back and check on how things were proceeding there.

  It was a wild day and dust and straw whirled along the street as the wind whipped them up. The weather reflected her stormy mood. Battling against the gale would perhaps relieve the frustration that had been growing steadily since yesterday. At that point it occurred to her that she must call on Lizzie to say her farewells. Perhaps she would find Major Thatcham there. She would like one last glimpse of him before she slipped away to her quiet rural life again.

  The wind pushed at her bonnet and she put up a hand to hold it in place. She turned the corner into Berkeley Street. An extra strong gust caught her and her pelisse flapped open. With an exclamation of annoyance, she turned her back to the wind and wrapped the pelisse more closely around herself. Then she took a deep breath and set off again.

  She had not taken five steps when a tall figure loomed up in front of her and stopped, blocking her way. Sarah was conscious of a large, caped driving coat, billowing in the wind above highly polished Hessian boots. She raised her head slowly and took in the broad shoulders, the handsome face with those sensual lips. She gave a tiny gasp. It felt as if she had conjured up an illusion.

  ‘Miss Davenport.’ It was indeed Greg. And his clear voice sent a shiver down her back that had nothing to do with the chilly weather. He was smiling down at her. ‘You are out very early. Are you quite alone? It is a rough old day for a walk.’

  ‘I am quite accustomed to going out alone, sir. And I had an errand that would not wait,’ she replied, trying not to stare at his amber eyes. How easily she could fall under their spell. Her heart thumped as she told herself too late! She already had fallen. But that did not change her plans. She took another look at him. Now she noticed signs of strain. His smile was a little rigid, there were lines around his eyes as if he had not slept. He was in civilian clothes – and that meant….

  ‘I see you know why I am out early,’ he said, his voice husky now. ‘I am just returning from Horseguards.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And that is the end of my military career.’

  Sarah felt his pain at this unavoidable step. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. ‘You had no choice,’ she murmured.

  He returned the pressure of her fingers. ‘You are very kind.’

  For what seemed a long time they stood there, both deep in thought. Sarah found her eyes had drifted to that heartbreaking mouth. Her own lips parted on a sigh. Greg gave a start and dropped her hand.

  ‘Well,’ he croaked, ‘it is done. And I must get down to Chesneys – my father’s estate in Hampshire,’ he explained, seeing her puzzled look. ‘But first, may I escort you home?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘No, thank you. It is only a couple of minutes from here.’ She needed that time alone to digest all the feelings he had aroused. She took a last look at him, saw the strain in his face and blurted out, ‘I am sure you will soon be too busy to feel the change so deeply as you do just now.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ He inclined his head and seized her hand again, raising it to his lips. She gave him a quick smile, then turned and forced herself to walk away up the street, her head bent against the wind. She knew he was watching her as she crossed the road and turned the corner. Her hand was tingling and her heart was racing. Sarah scolded herself for feeling so elated. He had shown her a little courtesy, that was all.

  When she reached her sister’s house again, it was to find Lizzie just arriving from the opposite direction.

  ‘I received a bouquet this morning,’ Lizzie told her, ‘from Lord Percival.’

  Sarah raised her delicate brows and wrinkled her nose. ‘Then I know you received lilies. Lord Percival always sends lilies. He sent me some last week. That is what made Alice decide—’ She broke off in confusion, then added, ‘He must be addicted to the scent. Personally, I find it too sickly.’

  ‘Yes, but it is a compliment,’ insisted Lizzie, ‘don’t spoil my pleasure. My first bouquet. Uncle Charlie is teasing me about making such a hit. He says it is all down to my new blue gown. Oh, but I have some other news for you….’

  By now the butler had let them into the house. Sarah looked at him enquiringly.

  Peascombe smiled at her in a fatherly way. ‘Her ladyship has gone out, miss.’ He moved to the door of the drawing-room and opened it. Sarah nodded her thanks and hastily took Lizzie into the room before she said anything indiscreet where she could be heard.

  ‘Now then.’ Lizzie threw her bonnet down on to the table and gave Sarah her most coaxing smile. ‘I have such a good scheme to suggest to you and you must promise to say yes to it.’

  Sarah had to laugh. ‘Lizzie, if this is anything like the madcap ideas you used to have at school, I cannot promise anything of the sort.’

  ‘No, no, this is something really splendid. Uncle Charlie thought of it, all planned with military precision. The doctor has ordered him to Bath. His gout is very painful, so he will be glad to obey. That means I have to go as well and we hope, dear Sarah, that you will come to keep me company there.’

  Sarah’s hands stilled in the act of lifting off her bonnet. The idea was tempting. She liked Bath, where she and Lizzie had spent several happy years at school. She put her bonnet down carefully and ran a hand through her curls. Could she afford to go? Her small stock of money had shrunk almost to nothing after buying her ticket just now.

  Lizzie’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Oh, Sarah, you must say yes. How could I manage without your company? I do not want to have to ask Aunt Augusta. She is by far too decrepit to go out in the evenings.’

  Sarah tried to smile. ‘It is a very kind offer, but I have just bought my ticket home. I leave on this afternoon’s stage. And then, I do not know what I shall find at Russeldene.’ She began to twist her curls round her forefinger.

  ‘Well, we shall be in Town for several days more while Uncle Charlie has talks with various politicians. And then, on our way to Bath, we can easily call at Russeldene and collect you. It is all planned out.’

  Sarah threw caution to the winds. ‘Then I accept – and thank you.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He should have been ready to set out, but Greg was still seated at the desk in his library, frowning absently out of the window. His left hand rested on the letter just delivered from his man of business. A deep frown furrowed his brow and the look of sadne
ss had intensified. He turned his head as he heard a knock on the street door, followed by a murmur of voices. His valet, Preston, until yesterday his batman, knew he was not to be disturbed.

  But the door opened. Greg darted an angry glance towards the person intruding on him. Then, as a tall, dark-haired man entered the room, his expression changed and he leapt to his feet.

  ‘Theo!’

  Theo Weston strode quickly across the room, his hand held out. ‘Heard you were in London from my cousin Tom at Horseguards. Greg, old man, I cannot begin to say how sorry I am about your tragic loss.’

  Greg swallowed hard before managing to growl, ‘Thank you.’ He took a swift glance at his friend’s concerned face then turned his head away. Theo could see too much. Yet Greg knew he needed help. He walked away to the fireplace and put a booted foot on the fender. The heavy ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room as he considered. At length he shrugged and caught his breath sharply at the sudden stab of pain from his wounded arm.

  He turned back to face Theo and read the sympathy in that blue gaze.

  ‘What else do you know about?’

  Theo gave him a frowning look from under his straight black brows. ‘Well, for a start, how bad is that arm? Did you get that at Salamanca?’

  When Greg nodded, he added, ‘Sabre cut?’

  Greg nodded again. ‘At least I still have my arm. Wellington sent me his own surgeon. Then the sawbones had to open it up again to remove a few chips of bone but they have patched it all up now. It gets me plenty of sympathy,’ he said, coming back to the desk.

  Theo sighed. ‘A wound like that takes time to mend. And now, with this other business I suppose you have had to give up your military career.’

  Greg looked at him. He could not trust himself to speak. He gestured to a chair. They both sat down. There was a silence. Eventually, Theo said softly, ‘I know – it was the same for me. Took a long time to accept it. But my new life keeps me busy in a different way. And I still work to help Wellington.’ He leaned forward, ‘But even more amazing is that I am reconciled with my father since the birth of our son.’

  ‘So you and Kitty have a baby son. That is splendid news. I am delighted for you, old fellow.’ Greg forced himself to show enthusiasm.

  Theo smiled briefly. ‘Thank you. Later on you must visit and meet him. But at present you have other concerns, I know. I will not delay you.’ Theo stood up. He tapped a hand on the table as a thought struck him. ‘But you asked me a question just now…?’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes,’ said Greg slowly, ‘maybe I am being foolish but something feels wrong in all this business.’ He gestured towards the letter in front of him.

  Theo frowned at him and sat down again. ‘Good God, man, what kind of business do you mean?’

  Greg rubbed his chin. ‘Have you heard anything about my brother being massively in debt?’

  Theo looked astonished. ‘Henry? Your sober brother?’

  Greg nodded towards the letter. ‘Our family lawyer informs me that a Lord Percival is requesting settlement of gambling debts incurred just before Henry died.’

  ‘Lord Percival?’ Theo seemed about to say something, but closed his mouth very firmly. His hand curled into a fist on the table. ‘The Earl of Ramsdale is not the sort of person your brother would associate with, surely?’

  Greg eyed him suspiciously. ‘You know something….’

  Theo met his look squarely. ‘You have never met Lord Percival?’

  ‘No, indeed; I have never heard the name before. Henry was staying with his friend, Hazelwick, at his hunting lodge when the accident happened. I assume this man was among the guests there.’

  ‘I see.’ Theo glanced from the letter to Greg. ‘Well, I suppose even Henry would have played cards at such a gathering. And the play can be deep – indeed, if Ramsdale was playing, he would insist on it. But surely there were other players to confirm this claim?’ He rose and paced over to the window. ‘Massive debts, you say? Lord, what a tangle for you to sort out.’

  Greg’s only answer was a sigh. He folded the letter clumsily with his left hand and thrust it into a pocket. The chair scraped as he stood up. He glanced down ruefully at his corbeau-coloured jacket and immaculate buckskins. His mouth twisted. ‘No more uniform,’ his voice grated, ‘but Lord Liverpool is retaining me for diplomatic duties.’

  Theo spun round. His chiselled face was eager. ‘Oh, that is splendid! He knows you are too skilled to let you go. And with Napoleon’s current campaign in Russia, there is still much to do. So we shall work together again.’ He clapped Greg on his good shoulder.

  There was a glimmer of his old smile on Greg’s face. ‘I look forward to that. But for the present I am off to see my father. If you do discover anything about Lord Percival and that hunting party, you will let me know?’

  ‘I shall set to work at once. I wonder if James Davenport is in town—’

  ‘Davenport?’ echoed Greg, frowning at him.

  Theo raised his brows. ‘Yes, the new Baron Davenport – a weak character, much addicted to gambling and drinking. A close follower of George Percival. I can try to pump him for information.’

  ‘I met a Davenport last night,’ said Greg slowly, ‘an extremely pretty young lady … blonde,’ he added softly.

  Theo frowned at him. ‘That is the youngest sister. Trust you, Greg, you are drawn to the blonde girls like a wasp to honey.’

  ‘She seemed to be in some distress.’

  Theo groaned. ‘Greg, old man, do you not think you have enough problems of your own at present?’ When Greg just looked at him enquiringly, he shrugged and went on, ‘The Davenport family is facing ruin, thanks to the brother. Since he came into the title he has gambled most of his inheritance away. There is no money for the girl’s dowry.’

  ‘With that face and figure, she does not need a dowry.’

  Theo looked at him closely. ‘My God, Greg, how can you be so smitten on just seeing her once?’

  Greg gave a reminiscent smile. ‘Hair like spun silk,’ he murmured, ‘and those soft golden curls … and such clear green eyes.’

  ‘True,’ said Theo acidly, ‘and a money-wasting brother and a harpy for a sister.’

  There was a gleam in Greg’s amber eyes as he surveyed his oldest friend. ‘Maybe so. But Miss Davenport is still a delight to look at.’

  ‘Egad, you will be writing poetry next!’

  Greg shook his head slightly. He had no intention of falling in love again. The last time had been too painful. It had taken him most of the last two years to recover … but still, he knew beauty when he saw it. Sarah Davenport was stunning and, in addition, she was kind and intelligent. He remembered her comforting hold on his hand earlier that morning and her attempt to console him. He felt a certain regret that he would not see her any more.

  Theo was watching him suspiciously. He sighed. ‘I know that look! Just be careful.’ He picked up his hat and opened the door.

  Greg followed him out into the entrance hall. ‘There is no need for that warning,’ he said. ‘I am allowed to admire a lovely girl, surely. Especially,’ he added, ‘as I am leaving Town now and expect to be at Chesneys for some time.’

  Theo nodded. ‘It may take me a while to find out what you want to know. I will write when I have news.’ He shook hands firmly and strode away down Cork Street. Greg watched him go; there was no trace of a limp these days. Well, if Theo could recover so well from that severe leg wound of two years ago, his own arm would certainly be back to normal just as soon as the bandages came off.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Greg fumbled with the pages of the ledger. His left hand was not skilful at such tasks. He managed to turn the page and smoothed it down. He frowned over the columns of figures for a while, then looked up at Wilson, the steward.

  ‘Everything seems to be in order. In fact, from what I have seen this morning, the estate is running well and producing a good return.’

  Wilson nodded. His expression was st
ill grim. Greg rubbed a hand across his eyes, weary suddenly from this unaccustomed task.

  ‘Yet you say there is insufficient money to meet all our expenses?’

  Wilson nodded again. ‘Aye, sir.’

  ‘Well, man, why is that?’ He gestured at the pile of ledgers.

  ‘There is no problem with the income from the estate, as I have seen for myself.’

  ‘No, sir.’ Wilson’s face was wooden.

  Greg felt that soldier’s instinct for danger. Something was badly wrong, he knew. He shifted his right arm in its sling onto the table and leaned forward.

  ‘Wilson, since I returned, I have been aware that something is bothering you. Not just the grief and upset over my brother’s death; my father, too,’ he said, keeping his gaze steadily on the burly man facing him across the table, ‘I expected to find him grief-stricken by our untimely loss, but there is another matter that seems to be weighing on him.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘You have been the steward here for as long as I can remember and you know all our affairs. My father cannot speak of the matter, whatever it is.’ His chair scraped as he stood up jerkily and walked over to the window.

  Greg stared out, feeling all the sorrow flood through him again at the loss of the big brother who had always stood by him. At the same time he was angry at this wall of silence. How could he begin to set things to rights if they wouldn’t admit what the problem was? There was a long pause, broken only by the crackle of the log on the fire. Greg brought his fist down hard on the wide windowsill. His mouth compressed with frustration.

  At last there was a heavy sigh from the man seated at the table. ‘Well, sir,’ said Wilson slowly, ‘I understand how you feel about this, but it is for Sir Thomas to speak of the matter.’

  Without turning round, Greg said, in a low voice, ‘Is it the matter of my brother’s gambling debt?’

  There was no reply. The monotonous tick-tick of the clock seemed loud as the silence drew out. Eventually, Greg twisted round. Wilson was fidgeting with a quill pen. Reluctantly he raised his eyes, looked at Greg and nodded.