The Husband Season Page 12

  They turned back and joined the throng of people standing behind the ropes waiting for the display to begin.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ Adam murmured in Sophie’s ear, startling her; she hadn’t realised he was so close. Cassie had been claimed by her mama a few yards away. Teddy was fussing round Aunt Emmeline. Lucy and Mrs Martindale were with them.

  ‘Playing at, my lord?’ she said sweetly. ‘What can you mean?’

  ‘You know very well what I mean. You manoeuvred Miss Malthouse to sit beside me at supper. It was so obvious I wondered others did not notice it.’

  ‘Now, how could I, a mere slip of a girl, manoeuvre you, of all people? And why would I?’

  ‘I do not know, but it was unkind of you. I had to endure her idle chatter throughout supper and afterwards while we walked. Listening to her is exhausting.’

  ‘I expect she is nervous.’

  ‘Why, for heaven’s sake? I am not an ogre. I do not eat silly little girls.’

  She laughed. ‘I believe Cassie is a few months my senior.’

  ‘What has that to do with it? I am persuaded you must have some motive.’

  ‘My lord, I have been accused of being a hoyden and a flirt and Cassie is convinced that I am trying to put her out with you. I had to make her see otherwise.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort, of course.’

  ‘Certainly not. I should be wasting my time, would I not? Have not you not declared you are not looking for a second wife?’

  ‘Indeed I have.’

  ‘And I am not prepared to be one, so let us be friends.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, Sophie, if anyone could make me change my mind it would be you.’ But his murmured words were drowned by the noise of the first rockets being sent up into the night sky, vying with the stars in their brilliance.

  He remained at her side while the display continued, lighting up the sky in red, green and yellow stars which burst upon the firmament before fading to earth again. As the last one died away, they turned to leave. It was then she saw Reggie and Richard talking to Lord Gorange and her heart sank.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she murmured.

  ‘What do you mean? Is something wrong?’

  ‘That is Lord Gorange.’ She nodded in the direction of the three men. ‘I heard he was in town.’

  ‘Is he one of your erstwhile suitors?’

  ‘Yes. There is something very smoky go on. Teddy denies he has anything to do with it, but why are they here and why are they at every function I attend?’

  ‘Did you hint to any of them that you might change your mind? A word of hope perhaps, an undertaking they must complete in order to win your hand?’

  ‘Certainly not. I am not so frivolous.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it. Marriage is a solemn undertaking, not to be treated lightly.’

  ‘Those are my sentiments exactly, my lord.’

  They had reached the little gathering, who were saying their goodbyes before dispersing. Adam excused himself and went to speak to Cassandra and her mother. His going made her feel—she could not explain how she felt—a little empty, a little vulnerable. She shook herself out of it as Lord Gorange came over to her and bowed. ‘Miss Cavenhurst, your obedient servant.’

  She bent her knee. ‘Lord Gorange, how do you do?’

  ‘I am well. Who is that?’ he asked, indicating Adam with a nod of his head.

  ‘That is Viscount Kimberley of Saddleworth.’

  ‘A viscount, eh? You wasted no time, then.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Finding someone new. When I heard you had come to London and Reggie and Dick were here, too, I had to come to see what was afoot.’

  ‘Nothing is afoot, my lord, nothing at all. Now, please excuse me, my aunt is ready to leave and I must not keep her waiting.’

  He bowed. ‘With your permission, I will call on you.’

  ‘Why?’ she demanded.

  ‘Unfinished business, Miss Cavenhurst, unfinished business. I cannot let Swayle and Fanshawe make all the running.’

  His talk, just like the others’, was gambling talk, bets and wagers and running. It infuriated her. ‘They and you may run as far and as fast as you like,’ she said. ‘You will not find me at the end of it, waiting to be claimed. Unless you have any other reason to be in London, I suggest you go home and spend some time with your daughters.’

  ‘That I will do when I take my bride back with me.’

  ‘Then, I wish you luck in your endeavours,’ she said. ‘Now, I really must go.’

  She escaped to join her aunt for the carriage ride home.

  * * *

  Adam had not come to the gardens by carriage and he was not going back to Wyndham House. His destination was the Belle Sauvage, one of the capital’s principal coaching inns from which coaches left day and night for all parts of the country. It was a fair walk and he ought to have hired a cab or a chair, but he was in no hurry. Alfred Farley had discovered that Henry Hunt would be there until late, talking with his cronies. The inn would be a convenient place from which to disappear if the need arose.

  Henry Hunt was a handsome man with an enviable physique, known to be good at physical pursuits, including boxing at which he excelled. Modesty was not one of his virtues. He had a voice that commanded attention and when he raised it, he could be heard from some distance. Why a man from a prosperous farming background should become the champion of the lower orders was a mystery to Adam.

  At a meeting in Spa Fields in Islington in November 1816, which attracted a crowd of thousands, he had been appointed to carry a petition to the Prince Regent, which called for parliamentary reform and help for those suffering hardship. He was twice refused access to the prince, and consequently another meeting was convened in December at which he was booked to be the principal speaker. Unfortunately he arrived too late to prevent some hotheads from taking over the meeting and marching on the Tower of London, looting a gun shop for weapons on the way. The government, terrified a revolution could happen in England as it had in France, reacted by sending troops to put down the riot. The result was mayhem, the crowd was dispersed and several arrests made, after which the rule of habeas corpus was suspended in what came to be known as the Gagging Acts and added to the popular grievances. It certainly had not silenced them, as Adam well knew.

  He walked along the Strand and Fleet Street and thence to Ludgate Hill. Even at that time of night the roads were busy with traffic and the walkways were crowded. Most of those who could afford them chose to be conveyed in carriages and chairs, and so the pedestrians tended to be workers or beggars or ladies of the night. If they noticed the well-dressed gentleman passing them at a brisk pace they appeared not to. He was not deceived, his senses highly tuned to spot trouble.

  He reached the Belle Sauvage whose yard was well lit with flambeaux and busy with coaches and travellers arriving and departing. He went into the waiting parlour and looked about him. Hunt was sitting at a table in the corner with the remains of a meal in front of him. He had his hand on an almost empty tankard of ale. Adam strode over to him.

  ‘Mr Hunt, I was told I would find you here. I am Adam Trent.’

  ‘I know well who you are, Viscount Kimberley, no need to hide your rank from me.’

  ‘May I buy you another ale?’

  ‘Thank you, yes.’

  Adam beckoned a waiter and ordered two quarts of ale and sat down opposite the orator. ‘If you know who I am, then you will mayhap know why I am here.’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘I have heard rumours of another meeting...’

  ‘There are always meetings.’

  ‘Yes, but when Orator Hunt is to be the speaker, thousands travel from all over the country to listen to him.’

 
‘You flatter me.’

  A waiter brought the ale and the diversion served Adam to gather his thoughts. It was evident Hunt was not going to help him out. ‘I have heard this meeting is to be the largest yet and that you will be calling for universal suffrage and the repeal of the Gagging Acts.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I have no quarrel with your aims, in fact, I support them, but I am concerned that, as happened at Spa Fields, the crowd will become unmanageable and cause a riot. The militia will be called in and there will be violence.’

  ‘I abhor violence. I prefer peaceful demonstration.’

  ‘Can you guarantee this will be peaceful?’

  ‘I cannot. No one could.’

  Adam recognised the truth of that. ‘So you would stand by and let it happen. If troops are called in there will be injuries, even lives lost.’

  ‘Do you think I have not thought of that? Unfortunately, there is always a price to pay for progress. With attitudes so unbending in those who govern, is it any wonder people demonstrate?’

  ‘It is but a short step from demonstration to riot and anarchy.’

  Hunt took a swig of ale before he replied, ‘I can, and will, advise my followers to be unarmed and not rise to provocation. I can do no more.’

  ‘When and where is this meeting to be?’

  ‘That I cannot tell you.’

  ‘Spa Fields again?’

  ‘I have said I cannot tell you, nor would I if I could.’

  ‘You do not trust me?’

  The man gave a grunt of a laugh. ‘My lord, you are an aristocrat and a mill owner. Your interest lies elsewhere than with the workingman.’

  ‘How can you say so? There are others, like myself, in sympathy with the plight of the workers, who would change their condition if they could.’

  ‘Too few,’ Hunt said laconically. ‘And they are not listened to.’

  ‘You heard my speech in the Lords?’

  ‘I read the report.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It changes nothing.’ He paused. ‘My advice, my lord, is to go home and not meddle. Do your good deeds, if you must, but leave the cause of the workingman to workingmen.’

  Knowing he was making no headway, Adam took his leave. He was annoyed with Hunt for his condescending attitude, even more annoyed with himself for his failure to make an impression.

  He was striding back in the direction in which he had come when he realised he was being followed. He stopped; the footsteps behind him stopped. He continued; they continued. Assuming it was a footpad, who were numerous in that area, he dodged down a side street and then another and another, until the sound of footsteps behind him ceased. He did not know exactly where he was and it was dark as pitch. The alley he was in was narrow, the buildings either side tall and for the most part shuttered and their doors opened straight onto the street, whose cobbles were slick with grime. A cat yowled, startling him.

  He kept walking forward, and then he saw lights ahead and realised he was outside the Fleet prison and had almost walked in a circle. He looked up at its bulk, imagining all the people incarcerated there, some for minor offences like stealing a loaf of bread, some for grand larceny, some for insurrection, some even for murder and awaiting the hangman’s rope. He shuddered and made his way back to Fleet Street and the Strand where he was able to hire a cab to convey him the rest of the way to Wyndham House.

  He had told the housekeeper not to wait up for him, but she had left a tray of bread, cheese and ham and a carafe of wine for him in case he was hungry when he came in, and he sat down to eat and drink and go over his evening.

  It had been an evening of contrasts. His conversation with Henry Hunt, which had achieved nothing except a mild warning to mind his own business and an unintentional trip into the darker side of the metropolis where the poorest of its inhabitants lived and scurried about like rats. He ought to go there in daylight and learn a little more of their lives. And had his follower been a footpad? Such a one would not have followed him for so long. As soon as he turned off the main road, he would have been on to him and relieved him of his pocket watch and purse, leaving him battered in the gutter. No, this man had been anxious to know where he was going. But why? He had nothing to hide.

  The contrast with the dark and sombre night was the light and cheerful evening at Ranelagh, but even here there had been undercurrents. For all she denied it, he knew Miss Cavenhurst had manoeuvred Miss Malthouse to sit next to him, forcing him to be polite to the empty-headed girl. He had only been half listening to her as he’d watched Sophie from across the table. She had been more subdued than usual, as if she had been scolded, and he wondered what about. Could it possibly have been over being called a hoyden and a flirt? She might have a little of the tomboy in her, but he didn’t think she was a flirt. Only someone who felt put out by her would say that. Miss Cassandra Malthouse? He smiled. That was what it was all about, she had said as much, but if either young lady thought he would play their game, they were mistaken. Besides, it was time he paid the promised visit to Mark and then went home to Yorkshire.

  Chapter Seven

  Surprisingly Teddy was at the breakfast table when Sophie went down next morning. He was morosely stirring a cup of cold coffee.

  ‘You are up betimes,’ she said, helping herself from the dishes on the sideboard and taking her plate to the table to sit beside him. ‘Could you not sleep?’

  ‘No. Too much to think about.’

  ‘Oh, that means you are in a scrape.’ She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table.

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Well, out with it. I assume it is a gambling debt.’

  ‘More than one.’

  ‘Oh, Teddy, will you never learn?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sis.’

  She sighed. ‘How much?’

  ‘A few thousand.’

  ‘Why do you do it, Teddy? Why put yourself and everyone who loves you through so much worry time after time? It isn’t fair.’

  ‘I don’t do it on purpose. I can’t seem to help myself. I tell myself I am not going to gamble, but then the opportunity for a big win comes up and I find myself taking a chance...’

  ‘And losing.’

  ‘I don’t always lose.’

  ‘More often than not. You promised Papa...’

  ‘I know I did. I meant it at the time. I always mean it. I can’t tell him, Sophie, I can’t.’

  ‘Are you thinking of going to India again?’

  ‘No, it is not so easy to make a fortune that way now. Besides, I don’t have the blunt to get there.’

  ‘What are you going to do, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to talk to Mark, but Jane will slay me.’

  ‘And I don’t blame her. Have you so easily forgotten what very nearly happened to her? She was prepared to sacrifice herself to Lord Bolsover to pull you and Papa out of the mire. If it hadn’t been for Mark and Drew and that brave Portuguese gentleman it could very well have happened.’

  ‘Drew!’ he said suddenly. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘No. In her last letter Issie said they were going to Singapore.’

  ‘Oh, he won’t serve, then.’ He paused. ‘Sophie, if you were to find a very rich husband...’

  ‘Teddy!’

  ‘Well, you could,’ he said defensively. ‘That’s why you came to London, isn’t it? Take Viscount Kimberley, for instance.’

  ‘Teddy, I will not take Lord Kimberley, as you so crudely put it. He has no interest in me...’

  ‘You could change his mind.’

  ‘I will not even try.’

  ‘Then you will find me in some back alley with my throat cut.’

  ‘Do not be so melodramatic. Who would
kill you because you can’t pay your debts? That’s not the way to recover them.’

  ‘It’s the way Toby Moore works.’

  ‘I knew that man was a bad influence on you. Why, oh, why do you play with him?’

  ‘For revenge, sis. He was one of those who forced me to go to India and I have not forgiven him. I was winning at first and thought I could ruin him as he ruined me...’

  Her laughter was more hysterical than amused. ‘Teddy, when will you realise your gambling not only ruins your own life, but the lives of all those who love you? You will break Mama’s heart.’

  ‘I know.’ He was in tears. She had never seen him weep before; he was always so ebullient. It tore at her soft heart. She left her seat to go and put her arms about him.

  ‘Don’t cry, Teddy, please don’t cry. We’ll think of something. I don’t know what, but we will. But you are never to go anywhere near a gambling club again, not even a card table at a private party. Do you hear?’

  ‘I hear.’

  ‘And you are not to see or speak to Captain Moore ever again.’

  ‘He will want his money.’

  ‘Then he will have to wait for it. I think you should go home to Hadlea.’

  ‘But your Season...’

  ‘What of it, Teddy? You have ruined it already.’

  ‘Oh, Sophie...’ His tears were renewed.

  ‘If someone has to marry wealth,’ she said, ‘why not you?’

  ‘Because I have as good as proposed to Lucy.’

  ‘Good heavens! When did you propose?’

  ‘When we were walking in Ranelagh Gardens. It was such a lovely night and she was hanging on my arm and we were alone.’

  ‘And she accepted?’

  ‘Yes, straight away. She doesn’t know anything about this, Sophie. I couldn’t tell her. She was so happy and said she would speak to her parents. No doubt I shall get a grilling from her papa and what I shall say to him I have no idea.’

  ‘Oh, Teddy, what are we to do with you?’

  ‘Wash your hands of me.’

  ‘I can’t do that. You are my brother, you protected me when we were children, made sure I was safe, fought anyone who bothered me, and I love you.’