He shook his head, coughing harshly. Allowing himself a second to gulp in much needed air, he swung Jack over his left shoulder. Sharp pains stabbed at his right shoulder and arm, the legacy of a childhood injury, now aggravated by the rescue.

Ignoring Sophia’s pleas to be told if Lord Longbourne was alive, he ran with his charges through the back alleys until a churchyard was reached. A vandalized tomb, recently stripped of its dead by body snatchers, would have to do as a hiding place.

It would soon be dark. Luke prayed, as he eased his tortured lungs, that Sophia would stay securely out of sight, with Jack in her care, until he fetched his and Jack’s things from their lodgings.

Then he must get them away to Cornwall.

Two

‘Can I come in, m’dear?’

‘Yes, of course, but I wish you wouldn’t climb up the stairs by yourself, Bea.’

‘Day I can’t manage a few stairs, I’ll let ’ee knaw!’

‘I was only thinking of your arthritis,’ said Kerensa, Lady Pengarron. The unconventional attitudes of Sir Oliver, Kerensa’s husband, allowed the old nursemaid many liberties.

‘Ahh! Thought I’d catch ’ee doin’ that,’ Beatrice rasped, staring cross-eyed at the miniature portrait Kerensa was holding. The painting was of Luke, heir to the Pengarron estate, who, twelve months ago, had left home in a temper and had only written twice of his whereabouts and circumstances, trusting all other communication to acquaintances who happened to be travelling from London to Cornwall. ‘’E’ll be all right, my ’an’some. Aint nothin’ you can do to bring un ’ome any quicker.’

‘I know. But he’ll come home for the baptism, won’t he? Luke wouldn’t miss such an important occasion for his brother’s child, the first of the next generation. I know he and Kane weren’t on good terms when last they met, but surely Luke’s still not bearing a grudge.’

With her iron-grey hair escaping her lace cap, her apron coming loose, Beatrice’s frailties, her weight and her fondness for the gin bottle gained mastery of her and she sank down on the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. Kerensa whipped back a supporting hand, for Beatrice might very well slap it hard.

Leaving Beatrice to reclaim her breath, Kerensa studied Luke’s likeness again. He favoured his father in looks. The same dark brooding features and the same restlessness Oliver had borne when Kerensa first knew him. Luke’s bearing was not as proud owing to his stiff right arm and shoulder, the result of an act of wilful disobedience. His eyes, deep-set and clear black, displayed the pain and frustration of sitting for Olivia, his elder sister, who had been forced to resort to an incredible array of inducements to get the portrait completed.