A chill ran down Blade’s spine. This sort of talk would get these lads transported or hanged. This was the sort of thing Charlie had feared might happen after the mess in Manchester. The subsequent passing of the Six Acts last December, intended to make it impossible for large crowds to gather and take action or to train with weapons, had added fuel to the smouldering embers of resentment. One group of Yorkshiremen had already planned an attack on a barracks. Fortunately, planning was as far as it went. Blade didn’t blame them for their anger, but this sort of talk in a public place was dangerous in the extreme.
Was it possible that one of these men had thought to take some sort of action against Tonbridge’s carriage? It was an act of vengeance a person without power might contemplate. He moved away from them before they suspected he was listening in. First he needed to know their names. Then he would discover if any of them might have been involved in the accident. Someone whose boot print matched the one he’d seen in the mud beside the carriage door.
He added a pasty to his plate and almost collided with Mrs Falkner moving down the table in the opposite direction with Beth, one of the ladies from the Haven who served as a general maid of all work, nursemaid and sometimes helped the cook.
Even in her sombre gown and pelisse, with her heart-shaped face set in a stern expression, Caro looked lovely.
Blade realised with shock that despite his interest in the youths in the corner, she was the person whose arrival he’d been most interested in.
‘Good day, Mrs Falkner. Beth.’
The ladies curtsied politely ‘Mr Read, good afternoon,’ Mrs Falkner said.
Beth looked at her mistress. ‘Does you mind if I go and talk to Polly Garge, ma’am? She’s looking awful sad and her and me are good friends.’
‘Go,’ Mrs Falkner said, ‘give her what comfort you may.’ Her eyes looked worried as she watched the girl approach Mrs Garge’s daughter. The older woman glared daggers at Beth, but the younger one rose to her feet and the two girls went to the table where a non-alcoholic punch was being served. A moment later, two of the boys he had been watching earlier joined them. Interesting. Perhaps Beth could help him learn a bit more about these young men.
Blade raised a brow. ‘It seems all is not well between Beth and the Garges.’
Mrs Falkner sighed. ‘No. Mrs Garge knows all about Beth’s background, but of course there is little she can say to the friendship, being Tonbridge’s pensioner.’
It was an angle he had not thought about.
She glanced over at Beth again. ‘I really should go. I left Tommy with Cook and she gets impatient if she has him too long, but I hate to drag Beth away when we have been here such a short while. It is her afternoon off.’
‘Why don’t I escort you home when you are finished eating and come back for her later.’
‘That is an awful lot of trouble for you,’ she said. For once, her tone suggested she was not necessarily opposed to the idea.
‘No trouble at all. I know no one here and I have eaten my fill. Besides, I think Mrs Garge would be more comfortable with her friends than with representatives of her husband’s employer.’
Her smile held gratitude and it warmed him, in spite of knowing he had made the suggestion for his own purposes.
He became aware of a man watching them from across the room. He stared back and the man turned away. ‘Do you know that fellow?’ Blade asked.
Her glance scanned the room. ‘Which one?’
‘The man by the window. Middling height, middle-aged fellow with beard and a blue-and-cream-striped waistcoat pulled tight over his paunch.’
She gave a low chuckle that sounded so sensually flirtatious it caused his blood to heat, though he was sure it was quite unintentional. ‘Your description is masterful. I have no trouble picking him out, but, no, I have never seen him before. Why?’
Blade’s gaze swept the man’s person. He was shabbily genteel. A fraction down at heel, but not scruffy. Not the sort of man anyone would notice in a crowd, except for the matter of his gleaming, recently polished boots.
‘He seemed to be staring at you.’ Blast, that had sounded insulting. Why wouldn’t a red-blooded male stare at a beautiful woman?
‘More than likely he was looking at the food. He has filled his plate three times.’
‘So you did notice him?’
‘Only because I was wondering if he’d leave enough of Lord Tonbridge’s largesse for the other guests.’
Reason enough for someone as caring of her employer’s welfare as Mrs Falkner.
She put down her plate. ‘If you are ready, we will say our goodbyes to Mrs Garge.’
He wasn’t only ready, he was looking forward to it far more than he should.
* * *
‘Is something troubling you?’ Caro asked after a few minutes of walking along the High Street in what seemed like a brooding silence.
Mr Read glanced down at her with an apologetic smile. ‘I beg your pardon. I am wool-gathering when I ought to be paying attention.’
‘Is it those young men?’
An arrested expression crossed his face. ‘How did you guess?’
‘You were watching them very closely, I thought. Without appearing to do so.’
His lips thinned. ‘A bunch of young hotheads. I worry that their idle chatter will lead to something more dangerous.’
He sounded so serious her heart gave a little thump. ‘Dangerous, how?’
‘With the new law that allows for a search without a warrant, an ambitious man in authority might use it to his advantage, by reporting them. Or they might indeed be guilty of planning something untoward, in which case the authorities should be notified.’
‘You think they are?’
‘It is hard to tell. I plan to take great care that Tonbridge’s interests are secure.’
It all sounded so ominous. ‘The ducal family is well regarded in these parts. Merry treats her employees well. With their interest in the Haven well known, surely there is no cause for alarm in that direction?’
‘Likely not,’ he said more cheerfully. ‘I apologise if my ruminations have given you reason for anxiety. I have always been a fellow who likes to plan for the worst and be surprised when it doesn’t happen.’
She couldn’t help smiling. He sounded much like herself in that regard. ‘So you do not think there is imminent danger?’
‘I do not.’
She believed him. Trusted him to tell her the truth. Which was a little disconcerting since she trusted so very few people and he, of all those she knew, was in a position to cause her and Tommy the most harm. Again that frightened little clench of her heart. She quelled it firmly. If he had not realised the identity of Tommy’s father by now, it was unlikely he would do so in the future. She really must stop jumping at shadows.
With new resolve, she took a deep breath and broached a subject she had been wanting to discuss with him for a couple of days and had not had the courage. ‘There is something I have been meaning to ask.’
His eyes crinkled at the corners in a most attractive way as he smiled at her, his head cocked slightly in enquiry. ‘And what would that be?’
‘There is a dance arranged for Wednesday evening. Tonbridge took out several subscriptions to allow my ladies a supervised opportunity to meet some of the local young men. Since our attendance isn’t always looked on with favour by some of the higher sticklers in the community, Tonbridge always acted as our escort and there was little they could say.’ Oh, dear, she really was beating around the bush. It was really not done for a woman to invite a gentleman to a dance. ‘I was wondering...’
‘In no stretch of anyone’s imagination do I fall in Tonbridge’s noble league. I doubt I will provide that sort of cachet.’
‘You are the son of an earl.’
&nb
sp; ‘So my mother would have it.’
‘You doubt your mother’s claim?’ He was accepted as such by society, according to Tonbridge.
He shrugged. ‘She believed it.’
‘As does your father, I gather.’
‘Appearances are trumps. And, yes, I would be delighted to escort you and the ladies, provided you promise to dance with me.’
She stiffened. Was he flirting? The thought gave her an odd little flutter low in her stomach. How mortifying that he could elicit such a response. ‘I never dance. I am there as chaperone, to lend respectability to the party.’
‘You must keep an eye on your charges?’
‘Indeed.’
‘So they are not really to be trusted in polite company.’
A trickle of unease ran down her spine. She suspected a trap. Indeed, she saw it opening up before her like a very deep hole in the ground. ‘That is not what I am saying.’
He patted the hand resting on his sleeve. A kindly, friendly gesture, when they were really not friends. Friends did not lay traps for one another.
‘It is,’ he said, exceedingly gently, ‘what you imply when you watch them with a dragon’s eye.’
‘I care about their protection.’ She was stepping far too close to the edge of the abyss, but... ‘Very well, if you advise it necessary to prove they have my trust by dancing, I will do so.’
He beamed at her. A smile of such charm that she knew she’d been handily netted, yet she could not prevent the spurt of joy at the thought of dancing.
‘I will ask Ned to join us, too,’ he said. ‘We’ll make the local lads jealous.’
The man could charm a bird out of a tree. She was certainly charmed by the very idea that dancing with her would make anyone jealous. Warmed through and through in the oddest of ways. It was the first time in a very long time that she had even considered herself as a woman. She realised she was looking forward to dancing with him far more than she ought to. The man was indeed dangerous.
She forced herself to remember Tonbridge’s warning about his rakish friend. ‘One dance only, Mr Read.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, clearly chastened by her severe tone, but there was an irrepressible twinkle in his eye that caused a completely different kind of flutter in her foolish heart.
Something she absolutely must not allow.
* * *
Rumours spread through a regiment faster than a cholera epidemic. They did the same in a household, apparently. A good officer and a good house steward knew which ones to ignore and which required following up. Such as the one that had been murmured in his ear a few minutes before he headed for Mrs Falkner’s domain. This rumour had its feet firmly planted on fact.
He leaned against the door jamb to her office while the lady in question, dressed in cloak and hat, finished doing up the buttons of young Master Tommy’s coat.
‘Going somewhere?’ he enquired mildly, though something of his anger must have coloured his tone, because she glanced up at him sharply. A needle-sharp look, though she belied it with a cool smile.
He wasn’t fooled.
‘Tommy and I needed some fresh air,’ she said calmly, wrapping a bright red scarf around the boy’s scrawny little neck.
‘Unescorted?’ he said pointedly.
A crease formed over her pretty nose, bringing her finely arched brows closer together. ‘We are not going far and Beth is busy in the kitchen. Cook is feeling her rheumatism today.’
And the other girls were at their place of employment. Dressmaking or some such.
‘We are going to feed the ducks,’ Tommy piped up, his face beaming with excitement. ‘Would you like to come with us, sir? It is splendid fun.’
Blade had no trouble reading the desperate hope in the little boy’s eyes or the worry in his mother’s. She didn’t want him to go. In the cold light of day, she was no doubt regretting her weakness in giving in to his importuning. The rejection stung, but it wasn’t unexpected. He’d applied his skills of seduction into wheedling her to dance. He didn’t even know why he had done such a thing, except he had the feeling the woman had very little pleasure in her life. And that she was lonely. If there was one thing he’d learned to recognise, it was loneliness. And there was nothing like a little flirting to lift the spirits of a lonely widow. Hopefully, the woman had too much pride to cry off.
‘I would love to come with you,’ he said to the boy. ‘It is a long time since I had reason to communicate with such fine worthy fellows as a paddle of ducks.’
Tommy giggled.
And thus he would keep his promise to himself that while things were so unsettled he would not let her go anywhere without an escort and unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Ned was off on an errand.
Her lips pinched a little. ‘If you have nothing better to do, then by all means come along.’
Her way of telling him he was neglecting his duties. But she was part of his duties whether she liked it or not. And, if he was honest with himself, a very pleasurable part of his duties.
‘There is nothing more important than filling the stomachs of Skepton’s waterfowl.’
‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Falkner said, but still, he caught a flash of a smile that said she was amused rather than angry. Pleased, he crouched down to bring his face on a level with Tommy’s. ‘And what are these ducks to eat?’
‘Stale bread.’ The boy held up a linen bag pulled tight at the neck. ‘It’s hard as a rock. I tried some.’ He made a face. ‘But Mama says the ducks will like it.’
‘I am sure they will. I will get my hat and coat and meet you on the front step.’
He found them there a few minutes later, Tommy hopping from foot to foot.
Blade offered his arm to Mrs Falkner and his hand to the boy and they strolled towards the High Street. Every now and then the lad would skip a step or two, clearly delighted with the way the afternoon had transpired.
The brisk April wind blowing down from the moors quickly reddened Mrs Falkner’s cheeks. The flush made her more tempting than usual. It was the kind of colour he’d like to see on her skin after a night of—
He cut the thought off. He was not the sort of man a woman like her would ever want in her life. Not in that way, at least. It was wrong to even give it a thought. He had nothing to offer other than a casual dalliance. Less than nothing now he’d left the army. Although the woman could do with a bit more pleasure in her life. A bit more splendid fun that did not involve small boys and ducks.
* * *
It did not take them long to reach the village green and they were not the only ones enjoying the air. There was an elderly couple doddering across the grass arm in arm. A couple of young men idling on one corner, smoking clay pipes and trying to look as if they were beaux on the strut. On another corner, a young lass was selling posies of dried lavender. He thought about purchasing one for Mrs Falkner, but decided it might be misinterpreted and send her back into her shell.
The moment his feet touched the grass, Tommy galloped straight for the pond that had a sloping weedy bank. The ducks squawked and shot away as he teetered on the muddy edge. Blade sprinted after him, grabbing the belt on his coat before he could tumble into the frigid water.
‘Steady now, lad,’ Blade said. ‘We are feeding bread to the ducks, not small boys.’
Tommy giggled.
His mother arrived, her face panicked, a scold ready to deliver on her tongue.
He shot her a warning look and spoke gently. ‘All is well.’ He turned to Tommy. ‘A soldier never leaves his post without permission, young man, and you were on escort duty, were you not?’
Tommy looked astonished. ‘I was?’
‘Indeed. You were tasked with escorting your mother and you left her side.’
Tommy glanced up at his mother, whose face he
ld concern.
‘You won’t be doing that again, will you, Mr Thomas Falkner?’
‘No, sir. I am sorry, sir.’
Blade gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Perhaps it is your mother to whom you should be making your apology. She is, after all, our general on this expedition.’
He gave his mother a brilliant smile. ‘I am sorry, Mama.’
‘Then there is the matter of punishment,’ Blade continued, keeping his smile in check.
Apparently, not well enough, since the lad looked more intrigued than scared. Most likely his mama usually scolded him to death. But a lad needed more than berating. There needed to be consequences.
He glanced down at his feet, the high shine of his Hessians destroyed by mud that had been enhanced by deposits from the ducks. ‘It will be your job to clean our boots upon our return to headquarters.’
Tommy followed Blade’s gaze, took in first his large pair of boots and then his own smaller but far muddier pair. He wrinkled his nose, but straightened smartly. ‘Yes, sir.’ His voice was a little less enthusiastic than usual.
‘Excellent,’ Blade said warmly and meant it. The little lad needed a male hand in his life, but he was all in all a good boy. ‘Let us find a seat for our general, then see about leading a well-considered attack on the stomachs of our feathered friends.’
Tommy laughed, his spirits instantly restored. ‘There’s a bench over there.’ He held out his arm like a proper escort. ‘Come along, Mama. We need to get you settled.’
His mother smiled fondly. At them both.
Blade felt an odd pang in the region of his chest.
Idiot.
Chapter Six
The day was crisp, and while clouds were scudding across the sky, occasionally blocking what little warmth the sun gave off, they did not threaten rain. A sense of peace invaded Caro’s being. Birds tweeted and fluttered about in the shrubs around the pond. The ducks quacked and splashed around Tommy and Blade. And nearby a group of boys were calling back and forth as they played cricket.
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