It was not simply a question of money. Toby must marry birth, breeding, a girl whose manners were equal to Lazen’s responsibilities. Sir George shook his head sadly.

“He has promised mee, Faithfullie, That He will seeke you Before he marries the Girl. I beg you to Deale Firm with them.” That sentence, he knew, would bring a smile to his wife’s lips, wondering why her husband had not dealt more firmly. “The Girl must be sent Back to Werlatton, and If She must be Paide for her Silence, Then I knoe you will bee Discreet. Tobie, as hee desires, Must goe to Oxford to Fight for His Majestic.

“I sende this Letter with John, who does not knoe my Minde on Matters of State. I beg you not to tell him, but waite Upon my arrivall.”

Sir George puffed his pipe. Toby would recover from this infatuation and the girl would too. She would marry someone, some canting Puritan who would make her fat on babies and trade. Lady Margaret would deal with it, as she always dealt with problems. Sir George could leave it in her capable hands.

Toby came for Campion at five o’clock the next afternoon. He had adopted a simple disguise, donning the leather jacket of a soldier and covering his distinctive red curls with a greasy, leather helmet-liner. He had not shaved that morning, so that he looked faintly sinister and brutal. It was an effect he liked. Campion was already aware of his penchant for play-acting. He loved to mimic, to pretend to be other than he was, and she had seen, with the man in St. Giles, how useful that talent could be. Today, though, she stopped him as he played the part of a brutal soldier in the Strand. “If you don’t calm down, Toby, I’ll walk on the other side of the street.”

He had been growling and giving combative stares to innocent passers-by. He grinned. “I’ll obey orders, ma’am, simple soldier that I am.”

She stopped when she saw the strange stone beasts on the cornice of Sir Grenville Cony’s house. “I’m nervous.”

“Of what?”

“What do I say to him?” Her blue eyes stared guilelessly at Toby, who laughed.

“We’ve talked about it for a week. You know what to say.”

“But suppose he won’t answer?”

“Then we go to Lazen, get married, and forget all about it.”

She moved into the doorway of a building to avoid the crowds who pushed past them. “Why don’t we do that anyway?”

“Do you want to?”

She smiled. “Yes. But.”

“But you’re curious. So am I!” For a moment Toby was tempted. They could walk away, they could run away, and they could abandon the Covenant and the seal as part of a world Campion wished to forget. They could find a priest, get married and Toby did not care one whit for the opposition of his parents, so long as he was with this golden, calm-faced beauty.

She looked shyly at him. “If I truly had ten thousand pounds a year, would your father approve of me?”