Bronwyn Scott (6 page)

‘He decided to ride on ahead. Apparently there’s a spring fair in the village an hour or so up the road.’ Greer began fixing a plate from the bread, cold meats and cheese spread out on the blanket. ‘He wants to make sure we have rooms at the inn.’

Likely, he wanted more than that. He wanted to see the billiards situation, what kind of people were in town, which inn had a table, who was the big player in the area. He’d have the lay of the land and a new ‘best friend’ by the time they arrived.

Mercedes glanced overhead at the sky. It was noon. They’d be in the village by two o’clock at the latest. There would still be plenty of time to stroll around the fair and enjoy the treat. They could have all gone together. An hour wouldn’t have cost her father anything. But he’d wanted to go alone. There was a reason for that. She’d have to be cautious and not acknowledge him unless he wanted her to. Perhaps he wanted them to appear to be strangers. He and Kendall had done that sort of the thing in the old days.

‘Mercedes, your plate.’ Greer had finished assembling the food and, to her surprise, the plate he’d been concocting had been for
her
. Of course it was. It was what a gentleman did and Greer did those things as effortlessly as he uncorked wine. She wondered how he would respond to the kinds of confidence games her father liked to play? The kind of games where the limits of honesty were grey areas?

‘Thank you.’ She settled the plate on her lap and watched him put together his own plate, long, tapered fingers selecting meats and cheese with purpose.

‘I was thinking you might like to ride this afternoon since the weather turned out to be nice,’ Greer offered. ‘I noticed both you and your father brought horses.’

It would be perfect. The afternoon was far too fair to be cooped up in the carriage. It was the ideal conversational offering as well.

* * *

They spent lunch talking about riding and horses, something she didn’t know half as well as she knew billiards. She liked listening to Greer talk about his stallion, Rufus, and other horses he’d owned. He had a face that came alive when he spoke, and an easy manner that was fully engaged now. She’d caught glimpses of it before; when they’d played billiards and this morning in the carriage, but always somewhat tempered by the side of him that never forgot he was an officer and a viscount’s son.

This afternoon, sitting under the oak, he was quite simply
himself
. And she had been quite simply herself, not Allen Lockhart’s daughter, not always planning the next calculated move. It was nice to forget and she
did
forget right up until the flags of the fair came into view and it was time to remember what they were there for.

‘Should we find your father?’ Greer asked, looking for a place to leave the horses until the carriage and servants caught up to them.

Mercedes smiled and dismounted. ‘I think we’ll let him find us. Meanwhile, you and I shall enjoy the fair.’

Chapter Six

T
his was pure recklessness, Mercedes privately acknowledged as they tethered the horses on the outskirts of the fairground. She was inviting all sorts of trouble being alone with the Captain. Not the usual kind of trouble. She was too old to need a chaperon and the Captain wasn’t likely to take advantage of her. Her danger lay in mixing business with pleasure. She was on this trip to groom him, introduce him to the world of professional billiards. She was
not
here to picnic under trees, or walk fairgrounds, or to play parlour games in coaches with him.

Those all led to perilous places where business became confused with emotions. But she was not ready to let go of the afternoon. That would happen soon enough. Her father would have plans for the evening that would demand it. But not yet. For now, the afternoon was still hers.

They browsed at the booths, smelling milled soaps from France and laughing when a few of the little cakes were reminiscent of cloying old ladies. They admired the bolts of fabric at the cloth merchant’s, the vendor mistaking her for Greer’s wife as he tried to convince her to buy some chintz for recovering seat cushions in her sitting room.

She had blushed furiously over the mistake, but seen no way to rectify it. Greer had politely steered them on to the next booth, taking the remark in his stride. The booth contained various blades and he soon became engrossed with the owner in a discussion of blades and hilts. Mercedes moved on to a display of ribbons. She’d been debating the merits of the green or the blue ribbon with the vendor, a woman of middle years, when Greer stepped up behind her. ‘She’ll take them both,’ he said with a laugh, passing over the shillings. ‘They’re too pretty to choose just one.’

‘You have a good husband, ma’am.’ The woman smiled, pocketing Greer’s coins with a wink in his direction. ‘Knows how to spoil his wife properly. You’ll have a long marriage, I think.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Mercedes hissed once they’d moved away from the booth.

‘Why not?’ Greer teased. ‘Don’t you like people thinking we’re together? Am I too ugly for you?’

She shook her head with a laugh. It was impossible to stay angry with him. ‘You know you’re not. That woman was rather disappointed you were so devoted to your “wife.”’

‘Aye, she was likely hoping I might be devoted to her later this evening. But alas, my heart is claimed elsewhere.’

‘Stop it,’ Mercedes insisted with little vigour. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’ But she was laughing too.

They’d reached the perimeter of the fairground. Their horses weren’t far off and the crowd had thinned, leaving them alone. Greer took out the blue ribbon from his coat pocket. ‘Will you permit me?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. He moved behind her, but instead of putting the ribbon in her hair, he slid it about her neck and when she looked down, a tiny silver charm in the shape of a star dangled from the ribbon. She recognised it immediately. She’d stared at it overlong at the jeweller’s booth. It had been of surprisingly good worksmanship and Greer had noticed. It had not been cheap either.

‘You shouldn’t have,’ Mercedes began quietly, settling her hair.

‘Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have commemorated this glorious day?’ Greer argued in equally soft tones. He turned her to face him. ‘I haven’t had many nice days like this for a while. As you can imagine, there aren’t picnics and fairs in the military. And for once, I don’t have anything pressing to worry about. There’s no one shooting at me, there are no worms in my food. Life has definitely improved since I’ve met you.’

She felt guilty. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t worth it, that she’d been brought along to tame him, to turn him into something that could make her father money. But she let him have the moment. He’d been a soldier, he’d faced death and delivered it too. He worried for his family and over their finances, and finally he’d had a day where there was fair weather overhead, money in his pocket that bills couldn’t claim, and a pretty woman by his side. She could not bring herself to steal that from him. Taking that from him meant taking that from her, too, and she couldn’t do it.

Mercedes gave up the fight and said simply, ‘Thank you, Greer.’ Her hand closed over the charm where it rested against her skin. She would treasure it always, as a reminder of the day a gentleman had treated her like a lady. She stepped closer, her head tilted up in encouragement. Perhaps he’d like to seal the day with a kiss. And he might have if he’d got the chance.

‘There you two are!’

Her father approached, his spirits high. Mercedes stepped back, putting more space between herself and Greer. If her father was in a good mood, things must have gone well in town. ‘We thought you’d find us when you were ready.’ Mercedes offered as an explanation for their truancy.

‘You thought right, my smart girl.’ He chucked her under the chin playfully. ‘I’ve got rooms at the Millstream Inn, but the billiards table is at the Golden Rooster.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Two inns! Not bad for a sleepy little place. We’ll have some fun tonight. Everyone hereabouts is in town with money to spend after a long winter. Are you ready to play, Captain?’

Her father inserted himself between the two of them as they walked back towards town, horses in tow. Behind her father’s back, Greer caught her eye and gave her a grin. Mercedes smiled, swallowing her disappointment. The afternoon was officially over.

* * *

Bosham was a pretty fishing village at the east end of Chichester Harbour. A Saxon stone church sat neatly on the High Street not far from their rooms at the Millstream Inn, and Greer would have liked time to tour the town with Mercedes. She’d been a game sightseer at the fair and he would have enjoyed exploring the town’s countless legends about King Harold and Canute with her.

There would be no time for such an indulgence. Lockhart had not only found them rooms at the comfortable inn, he had already bespoke a private parlour for dinner and was eager to get down to the business of playing billiards.

‘We’ll go over to the Golden Rooster,’ Lockhart said between bites of an excellent seafood stew. ‘I want to see what you can do, what your natural inclinations are, how badly you want to win.’ Lockhart winked and handed him some funds. ‘That should get you started.’ Lockhart rubbed his hands together, the gleam of excitement in his eye. ‘There’s money to be had in this little town tonight. People are happy, they’ve made money today, they’ve been drinking and thinking they’ve got a bit extra in their pockets.’

Greer cringed inwardly at Lockhart’s implication. A single walk through the streets had shown him these were simple people: merchants, farmers and fishermen, some of whom depended on seasonal fairs to last them through the year. The thought of taking their money sat poorly with him, souring the rich stew in his stomach.

Mercedes was watching him. He must have reflected his distaste for the venture in some small way. Quickly, Greer tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it into his bowl, looking busy with eating to mask any other telltale signs of reluctance. Her eyes slid away towards her father.

‘I’ll be there too.’

‘No, I think you should stay here,’ Lockhart corrected. ‘Relax, spend the night by the fire, enjoy some needlepoint.’ He smiled kindly at his daughter, but Greer didn’t think Mercedes would fall for the expansive gesture.

She saw right through it. ‘I’ll come,’ she said with the same brand of feigned politeness her father had used. ‘I’m not tired. It will take only a moment to change. Shall I wear the maroon gown?’ Greer’s lips twitched, suppressing a smile as he watched the two of them play with one another. Would Lockhart be so easily managed?

Lockhart rose and held Mercedes’s arm. His voice was low and firm, more fatherly when he spoke this time. Greer recognised it as the tone his own father took when he was younger and he and his brother had pushed the limits of their father’s patience with a jest or prank. ‘I prefer you remain here. The Golden Rooster is no gentleman’s club. With the fair in town, who knows what kind of element will find its way out tonight?’

Mercedes’s eyes narrowed. ‘I cannot help him if I cannot watch him. By the time we get to the big towns it will be too late to coach him. If he has a flaw, we need to fix it while we’re in the villages.’

Greer raised his eyebrows. ‘I am still here.’ He didn’t like being talked about as if he were a thing to be studied and fixed. Mercedes spared him the briefest of glances before turning back to her father.

Lockhart shook his head, his tone softening. ‘Please, Mercedes, a tavern is no place for you. When there are subscription rooms or private billiards parlours, you’ll be able to join us then. Please, besides, your clothes will give us away. Your gowns are much too fine for the Golden Rooster.’ He swallowed and dropped his gaze, arguing softly, ‘I would not have you treated less than you deserve, my dear. You know what the men there will think.’

That was the end of it. The last argument seemed to carry some weight. Mercedes acquiesced to her father’s better sense with moderately good grace and what could pass as a warning. ‘Just for tonight. But don’t think I’ll sit idly by again. We’ll have to find a way to make my presence acceptable long before we get to Bath.’

‘Fair enough.’ Lockhart kissed his daughter’s cheek and turned to Greer. ‘Are you ready, then?’

* * *

The Golden Rooster was at the other end of town, closer to the fairground than the quay like the Millstream Inn, and the fair crowd had definitely gathered there. At the back of the room was the billiards table. Greer and Lockhart parted ways, Lockhart heading for the bar and Greer for the table with Lockhart’s advice in his ear: watch first, then play slow and easy, nothing fancy.

Watching helped settle his nerves and misgivings. These were regular men, not all that different from those he played in the army. They seemed cognisant of what they were doing and the attenuate risks. For a while, players came and went, the winner of a match earning the right to stay at the table and play the next challenger and the atmosphere was congenial. Then, a cocky braggart of a man stepped up and won a few games. He was not a kind winner and Greer felt his blood starting to rise. He wanted to beat this man. When the chance came to play, he took it, hefting the ash cue in his hand with grim determination.

He didn’t stay grim for long. It felt good to play and in spite of the worn condition of the table, the balls rolled predictably. He played the braggart again and again, defeat egging the man on until he had to withdraw, his ego and coins spent. The crowd around Greer had grown with a rising raucousness, spurred on by Greer’s victories against a disliked opponent. He caught a glimpse of Lockhart shouldering his way into the crowd.

‘Who else will play?’ Greer called out in friendly tones. Now that the braggart had been routed, they could get back to the business of fun. The crowd parted and a young man, younger than he, emerged. He was tall and sturdily built. His face was tanned, his eyes merry, shoulders broad and thick from hauling nets. A fisherman, a local. A few men clapped the young man on the shoulder and Greer surmised from the comments that the young man was something of a town favourite, newly married with a baby on the way. His name was Leander and he blushed ever so slightly and proudly when the men teased him about Ellie. ‘Finally let you out of the house, has she?’ they joked.

Leander brushed off the comments. ‘Never mind them,’ he said good-naturedly to Greer. ‘They’re just jealous I’m married to the prettiest girl in town.’ Most definitely a town favourite, Greer thought as the men laughed.

* * *

And a decent player too, Greer amended a few games later. They’d played four games, each winning two and money exchanging hands on an equal basis. Lockhart was frowning in the crowd. Greer would have to step up his game. It would be too much for Leander. If Leander was smart, he’d recognise the superior skill and walk away. At this point, Leander wasn’t out any serious money and he could stop whenever he wanted.

Conscience subdued momentarily, Greer took the next three games. Leander was getting frustrated. Greer hoped the young man would stop and call it a night. Instead Leander said, ‘Double or nothing on the next game.’ There were a few cautious murmurings from the men beside him, warning him to reconsider.

‘You played well, Leander, let it be,’ one man suggested with an arm about his shoulders, hoping to lead him away. But Leander was young and typically hotheaded where his pride was concerned.

‘Think about Ellie and the baby,’ another said. ‘You’ll need that money for the doctor later.’

If it had been up to him, Greer would have put down the cue and walked away, claiming tiredness, but it wasn’t up to him. Lockhart was standing there, wanting him to go on and Leander would not back down. Between them, they’d taken away one choice, leaving Greer with only one other avenue of recourse. Three shots in, he scratched, potting the cue ball along with his own and forfeited the game, followed by what he hoped was a sincere show of disbelief.

Greer put down the cue and handed the money over to a beaming Leander. ‘Go home to your wife,’ he said in low tones, and he was sure the men present would make that happen. Some of them clapped him on the back, as he made his way to the front. Others offered to buy him a drink, but he refused. Lockhart had gone on ahead and would be waiting outside. He wouldn’t be pleased and Greer needed to face him.

* * *

‘You had him,’ Lockhart began as they walked back to the Millstream. ‘You were doing brilliantly. You ousted the braggart, showed yourself worthy of playing the local best, got the local favourite to come out and play, worked him up to where he offered double or nothing and then you let him go. What were you thinking?’

‘I was thinking he didn’t have the money to lose.’ Greer didn’t back down from his choice. ‘He’s a fisherman with a pregnant wife at home.’

‘Maybe.’ Lockhart shrugged in the darkness. ‘Perhaps they’re all in it together and that’s the story they tell outsiders.’

Greer grimaced. He hadn’t thought of that, probably because it seemed a bit ludicrous. ‘I doubt it.’