‘Twice,’ John said. ‘And twice wounded. Never paid, never thanked, and never victorious. I don’t want to know about the uprising. Don’t force secrets on me. I don’t want to be in the conspiracy, big or small. Don’t tell me, and then I cannot betray you.’

Mordaunt checked suddenly as Hester came up the steps to the little wooden terrace. ‘Ssshh! Hush!’ he hissed.

Hester glanced interrogatively at John.

‘This gentleman is leaving,’ John said. ‘I’ll show him out.’

Mordaunt hesitated. ‘When he of whom we were speaking comes back to London you will regret that you did not assist me,’ he warned.

John nodded. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, and showed the man through the double doors of the terrace and into the hall. Frances emerged from the kitchen and stood beside Hester as John eased their unwelcome guest towards the front door.

‘When he of whom we were speaking is in his rightful place again then there will be a grave reckoning,’ Mordaunt threatened. ‘When he is where he should be then he will want to know where you were on the day of which I have spoken.’

‘If you mean Charles Stuart,’ Frances’s voice rang out clearly in the hall, ‘then calling him “he of whom you were speaking” is hardly a brilliant disguise. And if that is your idea of deep concealment then I don’t anticipate great success, on the day of which you have spoken, or any other day, actually.’

Mordaunt exchanged one angry look with her, crammed his hat on his head and flung open the front door. ‘When he of whom we were speaking is where he belongs again, then women, especially interfering spinsters, will be kept where they belong,’ he said crossly to Frances and stormed out of the door.

Frances lifted up her skirts and ran after him to stand on the front step. ‘And we all know where Charles Stuart likes his women!’ she shouted down the street to his rapidly retreating back. ‘Up against a wall!’

‘Should I warn Major General Lambert?’ John asked Hester as they prepared for bed that night.

‘That Charles Stuart is preparing an uprising?’ she asked. She twisted her hair into a loose knot and tied her cap on her head. ‘He must know already. There’s been nothing but promises of another royal invasion ever since Cromwell died.’

‘I don’t like to be a spy,’ John said uneasily. ‘But I don’t like being drawn in.’

Hester chuckled. ‘I doubt they’ll come again for help to you after what Frances said.’

John shook his head, smiling. ‘What a fishwife!’ he said. ‘What ever would Alexander have thought?’

‘He knew her,’ Hester said. ‘It would have come as no surprise to him. She was never a docile girl.’

‘She’s a complete trooper,’ John said. ‘I think you must have brought her up very badly, my wife.’