"I know it. If only Bradfield would put in an appearance!"

"Surely it is time he and Jane learned to solve their differences without your a.s.sistance. Jonathan thinks it unhealthy that Jane runs home to Cheve House whenever she quarrels with her husband. She will never grow up as long as she finds refuge there. It is not as if he beats her, after all."

"No, though I am sure I should if I were her husband rather than her brother. I cannot like to abandon her, however, even if I had not as good as promised Mama that I will deal with Bradfield."

"You cannot abandon me!" Sarah was growing angry. "Really, Adam, what am I supposed to do with your ladyloves while you dance attendance on your sister? They will never leave if you do not go with them."

The viscount looked unconvinced. Sarah was marshalling fresh arguments when the door knocker resounded for the fourth time that busy afternoon.

"I suppose this is the third," she said in disgust.

Mrs. Hicks's footsteps, were followed by a high voice that cried in country accents, "Help me! Oh, quickly, let me come in."

"That's Peggy all right," said Adam, heading for the hall.

Sarah followed him in time to see a distraught girl, modestly dressed in blue muslin, throw herself into his arms.

"What is it, pet?" he asked, then looked up as a large young man pushed past Mrs. Hicks at the open front door.

The intruder pulled the girl away from Adam and without a word swung at him with both fists. One hit him in the pit of the stomach; the second caught him in the face as he doubled over, and stretched him gasping on the floor. His a.s.sailant stood back with a satisfied air, hands on hips, still speechless.

Peggy dropped to her knees at Adam's side, wailing and wringing her hands. Mrs. Goudge and Marguerite dashed out of the parlour and joined her, heedless of the damage to their finery. Mrs. Goudge produced her wisp of lace handkerchief and applied it to his b.l.o.o.d.y nose.

"Cold water and clean linen," Sarah instructed Mrs. Hicks calmly.

Marguerite jumped to her feet and advanced on the hapless youth, who was by now looking confused at the sudden eruption of feminine pulchritude. She seized a handful of shirtfront and shook her finger in his face, berating him in a furious voice. Sarah tried not to laugh.

Mrs. Hicks returned with water and cloths. She set them on the floor beside his lordship, where Janet and Peggy were making soothing noises and trying in vain to stanch the copious flow of blood.

"Leave them to it," Sarah advised the housekeeper. "I think you might rescue that young fellow and take him off to the kitchen, little as I approve of his action. Try to keep him in the house, though. I want Mr. Meade to talk to him." She noticed her maid gaping from the stairs. "And send Nellie about her business. It is crowded enough in here."

She turned back to Adam. He had recovered his breath and was struggling to evade his nurses.

"Let be go," he said in a m.u.f.fled voice. "I'll show hib I dow a thig or two about fisticuffs whed I'b dot attacked without fair wardig."

"Don't you dare sit up," Sarah ordered sternly. "You will ruin the carpet."

Mrs. Goudge looked at her, shocked at her callousness. "If you have an old sheet to cover the sofa, Miss Meade, we can carry him into the parlour. He will be much more comfortable there than on the floor."

His lordship was understood to say that he was d.a.m.ned if a bunch of females was going to carry him anywhere. He was quite capable of walking, and undertook, with the aid of a large square of linen, to prevent his lifeblood from staining the rug. He threw a reproachful glance at Sarah.

The young man had been led away by Mrs. Hicks, so Sarah relented. Marguerite and Mrs. Goudge supported Adam on either side while Peggy followed with the bowl of water, now pinkish, and the rest of the cloths. He subsided in a reclining position on the sofa, his women fussing over him.

Sarah would not for the world have admitted it, but she was impressed by their devotion to him. Nothing of that appeared on her face, however, when she said, "Lord Cheverell and I have not quite finished our business, ladies. Perhaps you would not mind waiting in the hall for a few minutes?"

Reluctantly they filed out, Mrs. Goudge leading the way and Peggy last again, with many a backward glance. Sarah sat down and shook her head reprovingly at the viscount.

"You're laughig at be," accused Adam.

She smiled. "It was quite funny, though I daresay I should more properly have indulged in a fit of hysterics. Your nose is swelling. You cannot possibly present yourself to Lady Cheverell in that state."

"He darkened my daylights, or one of them, as well as drawing my cork," he said gloomily, probing his cheek with cautious fingers. "I shall not be fit to appear in public for at least a week."

"Darkened your daylights?"

"Gave me a black eye. It was a glancing blow."

"You will have to borrow some of Marguerite's face powder," Sarah scoffed. "I suggest you take her and Mrs. Goudge down to Amesbury tonight. Write a note to your mother making your excuses and Arthur shall take it up to the house. They can send a groom to the George with your things. Old starchy-britches will see to it."

They exchanged grins and Adam said, "Oh, very well. You are in the right of it as usual. Only promise me that as soon as I am gone you will do your best to persuade Peggy's Billy not to let fly with the wisty castors on sight of me in future."

"I promise, but I must warn you that I shall try to effect a reconciliation between them."

"Are you afraid that I shall cut up stiff at losing my convenient? I a.s.sure you it is not so. In fact, I engage to provide a respectable portion for the child if you can persuade the lad to marry her."

"I have little doubt of managing that, judging by his actions. However, she may be more difficult to convince. She adores you, Adam."

He grimaced. "Do your best," he urged. "I mean to sever the connection in any event. If she does not wish to wed him, I shall provide for her in some other way."

"You really care for them, don't you? All of them."

"They all depend on me, you see. Even Marguerite, though she will soon enough find a new protector."

"You mean to give up your mistresses when you marry?"

"How can I expect a wife to be faithful if I am not?"

"I like you, Adam. Now you stay there and I shall fetch pen and paper so you may write to her ladyship.

You are an unconscionable rogue but I do like you."

She stooped to drop a fleeting kiss on his unbruised cheek as she pa.s.sed him.

Surprised and touched by this gesture of friendship, Adam watched Sarah go. Though her round gown of fawn cambric, modestly embellished with drawn-thread-work, could not conceal her graceful figure, it did nothing to enhance it. He had a sudden wish to see her in silks and laces. The house party at Cheve, he decided, must be the occasion for a grand ball.

He was permitted no leisure for further contemplation. As soon as Sarah opened the door into the hall, Marguerite, Janet and Peggy surged through it, throwing black looks at one another. Tired of basking under their ministrations, Adam hastily sat up. To his relief, his nose did not start bleeding again, but the sudden movement revived the ache in his abdomen where Billy's first punch had landed. He tried to breathe shallowly.

"Janet, Marguerite, I shall escort you back to London tomorrow," he announced. "Your carriages are both waiting in the street. Go to the George at Amesbury and I shall join you shortly."

They glared at each other but departed without protest. He heard them making their farewells to Sarah in the hall, then she came in with writing materials.

"Be quick," she said. "Mrs. Hicks is having difficulty restraining Billy."

Peggy began to weep. "You're leavin' me behind wi' him," she sobbed.

"Miss Meade will take care of you," he said helplessly. "I shall return in a week at most. Be a good girl, pet."

"I want to be wi' you, Adam."

"Come along, now, Peggy," said Sarah with a gentle firmness Adam had to admire. "His lordship needs quiet to compose his letter. Nellie shall take you above stairs to wash your face before you say goodbye to him."

"Me bag's in the pony trap, miss," said the girl docilely, recognizing the voice of authority. "I hired it at the George but I didn't pay the driver yet."

"We shall see to that first. Did you come on the Exeter stage?"

"Yes, miss. Billy were outside and me inside. He didn't have the blunt to hire a horse in Amesbury so he walked. Fancy him arriving just when I did." Her tone was admiring, Adam was glad to note, though she did add, "O' course I drove all the way to Adam's house and back." She followed Sarah out, chattering about her journey.

Adam racked his brains for an excuse to present to his mother for deserting her without ceremony. Then he remembered that two days hence in the House of Lords, Lord Lansdowne was to present a loyal address to the Prince Regent on the subject of the abolition of slavery. It was an important occasion, at which Tsar Alexander of Russia and King Frederick of Prussia might be present. He had told the marquis he would try to be there to support him, so to inform Lady Cheverell that he had promised to attend was merely stretching the truth a little. He scribbled a note.

Sarah returned. "I am not sure it is wise to expose Nellie to Peggy," she said, frowning. "Nell has nothing but scorn for poor Nan Wootton, but being left with child by an inconstant soldier and being supported in style by a lord are two different matters."

"Make sure that she hears the first part of Peggy's story and I guarantee she won't be running off to the gold-paved streets of London. By the way, though I expect you can count on Mrs. Hicks's discretion, will you be able to stop Nellie spreading the story of this day's doings?"

"By now the whole village is discussing Mrs. Goudge and Marguerite," said Sarah wryly. "They were not precisely inconspicuous, you know. I'll see that Nell does not talk about Peggy, though, for it would sadly discomfit the poor child if she weds her Billy."

"I was not concerned for Peggy's comfort as much as yours. However, it is my reputation that will be ripped to shreds, I make no doubt."

"Such carryings-on are expected of gentlemen. I daresay even your mama will be shocked only because I was induced to consort with your lightskirts."

"Sarah, I..."

"I'm sorry, Adam, that was not fair of me. You have already apologized and I do not mean to carp at you forever. I am a little tired."

"Of course. I'll take myself off at once." He stood up. "Just tell me, did you not say that Nan Wootton had a follower at the George?"

"Yes, Jem. He's an ostler."

"Then while you are exerting your powers of persuasion on Billy, I shall have a go at Jem. Perhaps we can make it a double wedding."

Those intriguing sparks of gold in her eyes glowed as she smiled at him.

"Jonathan has spoken to him, but I imagine the persuasive powers of religion are as nothing to those of the pocketbook," she said demurely.

"Nan shall have a dowry," he promised. He raised her hand to his lips, returning her earlier casual kiss with interest. She had beautiful hands, he noticed, slender but strong. The skin was slightly roughened from her work in kitchen and garden.

He would bring her some Denmark Lotion from town. Some ladies might be insulted that he thought they needed it, but Sarah was too sensible. She would accept it as a gift of friendship.

In spite of everything, she liked him. Smiling, he touched his fingertip to the precise spot on his cheek which her lips had brushed.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Drawn against her will, Sarah moved to the parlour window. The back of her hand was pressed to her cheek, as if Adam's kiss might be transferred from one to the other. Half hidden by the flowered chintz curtain, she watched him mount Caesar.

She saw him glance toward the window and tip his glossy beaver to her, then ride off down the street in the direction of Amesbury. Town beau though he was, he looked magnificent on horseback, sitting straight and proud with an easy command of the splendid gelding. At this distance the damage to his face was invisible.

Sarah sighed, squared her weary shoulders and went to deal with the problems the errant viscount had left behind him.

Billy sat at the kitchen table drinking ale, while Mrs. Hicks bustled about him in the midst of her preparations for dinner. A large, stolid-looking young man in the dress of a respectable groom, he stumbled to his feet as Sarah entered the kitchen, wiping his mouth with his hand.

"I see that Mrs. Hicks is looking after you," said Sarah brightly. "Will you do me a small favour? I need my manservant, Arthur, to run an errand. He is somewhere about the garden or stable so it will not be hard to find him."

"No need to call him, I s'll run your errand, miss," he said gruffly.

She smiled at him. "It is kind in you to offer, but I want to send him to Cheve House. I daresay you will not like to go there."

Billy turned crimson. "I s'll do it for you, miss, not for him."

"Thank you." She gave him Adam's notes and described how to reach the servants' entrance at Cheve.

"You will return here, won't you?" she added. "I have no right to give you orders, but I want very much to talk to you, and so will the vicar when he comes home."

His nod was noncommittal, but Sarah thought it more likely that he would stay close to Peggy rather than chase off after the viscount. She turned to Mrs. Hicks.

The cook-housekeeper was beating veal cutlets, her fierce expression suggesting that something other than food was on her mind.

"That man!" she uttered as Billy left the kitchen. "Ca's hisself a gentleman!"

"Billy calls himself a gentleman?" Sarah pretended to misunderstand. "I am sure you must be mistaken."

Mrs. Hicks snorted. "'Tes not that jobberknowl I mean, missy, and well you knows it. Bringing his fancy pieces into this house, the cheek o' him!"

"He could not let them meet her ladyship," said Sarah placatingly.

"Oh, aye, he's brung you round his thumb a'ready, ha'n't he? He c'd talk the hind leg offn a donkey, that one."

"He is conscious of having acted badly, I a.s.sure you. He said that he knows he can rely on your discretion not to spread the tale in the village."

"His lordship said that, did he? Well, soft sawder b.u.t.ters no parsnips."

Her voice was tart but she looked pleased. Wondering at Adam's ability to exert his charm even at a distance, Sarah went to find Peggy.

She decided to interview the girl in Jonathan's study. After all, it was parish business of a sort, for Adam was a parishioner. Seated behind the desk, she could almost pretend that Peggy was just another farmer's daughter caught tumbling in the hay with her sweetheart on a summer evening. That was a situation she was used to dealing with.

Peggy's tear-stained face was apprehensive.

"I do not mean to scold," Sarah said gently. "Lord Cheverell has told me something of your history. Will you tell me how your troubles all came about?"

There was a certain note of nostalgia in the girl's voice when she talked about the dull routine of the rural manor where she had been a housemaid. The fabled wonders of London had held an irresistible attraction. Running off in search of excitement, the country innocent had found more than she had bargained for.

Sarah was appalled at Peggy's halting description of the brothel where she had been incarcerated. As soon as the madam ceased to lock her door, thinking her spirit broken, she had escaped, but lost in the great city, penniless, she had soon been found. Adam had come upon her just in time to save her from being dragged back. Like an avenging angel, he had turned the woman's whip on her and her bully, then he and Peggy had run before she could return with help.

Peggy's face glowed as she spoke of Adam's heroism, of his solicitude for her. He had tried to persuade her to return to her home.