Chapter Five

Daizell .

The Duke didn't intend to read too much into the move to first names. He'd learned his lesson with attractive men; he would do well to solve the problem his wayward desires had already caused him before following them into more trouble – and Daizell Charnage was trouble. Very pleasant trouble, trouble with shining hair, but trouble nonetheless. His name alone said that, and his erratic history, and now the Duke had seen it for himself.

Not that he blamed Daizell for punching that drunken fool. The Duke would have rather liked to do the same, if only he had been either built or bred to punch people in the face. It was more that Daizell clearly had reason to think it was a bad idea. The Duke didn't share his alarm at possible retribution from a local magistrate, but since Daizell did, he should have thought twice. The Duke tried hard to think twice, since one of his uncle's oft-repeated lessons was that a man in a position such as his own should never act on impulse. A duke must assess his behaviour, consider his course, ponder its rightness, because the consequences of his errors would be large.

His uncle wasn't wrong. The Duke hadn't thought through all the possibilities and implications when he agreed to a night with John Martin, and look where he was now: in the middle of nowhere, jogging in a haycart on the friendliest terms with George Charnage's son. Lord Hugo would have an apoplexy.

Lord Hugo was excessively careful, the Duke decided. Daizell might be erratic, but he was immensely likeable, he'd behaved with notable courage and decency, and anyway, the terms of the bet obliged the Duke to take a holiday from ducal behaviour. There was nothing more to it, and he would call his companion Daizell without further thought.

Or even Daize. ‘Daizell' was a magical sort of name that matched his dazzling head of metallic hair, all copper and gilt like coins spilled on a counter, but ‘Daize' felt like a friend intimate enough to be casual with, a man with whom one shared a bottle, perhaps slept on his settle after a long night's play. He'd like to have a friend he called Daize. He'd like to have a friend who called him Cass. He'd never asked anyone to do so before now, because nobody in the world was on first-name terms with him.

The Duke had been Harmsford since his birth. He had become Severn at the age of six and that was his name now, when he wasn't Your Grace. A very few people called him Sev, and while he'd be perfectly happy if more did, one couldn't demand that people called one by an intimate nickname. For that, they had to feel intimacy, and neither his position nor his reserved character invited that.

But Daizell had asked if his name was abbreviated, and the Duke's heart had thumped with a sensation he couldn't name as he'd said – lied – that it was, and all but invited him to it. Call me Cass .

He knew this wasn't quite fair. He'd tried not to tell more outright lies than he could help, but everything he said to Daizell was at least a lie of omission. Surely it did no harm, though. This way they could be on friendly terms, chatting easily, exchanging jokes. The Duke didn't have that with many people, and for an obviously gregarious, outgoing man, Daizell didn't seem to have much of it either. He looked genuinely happy to have company, and the Duke would take that away from him if he told the truth.

And, he had to admit, he'd also have to behave differently himself and certainly not do things like stare at Daizell's bare torso, the skin wet, gleaming with copper-gold curls. Thank goodness Daizell hadn't noticed his momentary fascination.

‘Cass.'

It didn't even register for a second. Daizell prodded him in the side. ‘Cass!'

He sat up. Cass: that was his name on this journey. ‘What is it?'

‘We're here. Were you asleep?'

‘Half.' The Duke – Cassian, he reminded himself – looked around. The light was fading, and they were approaching a neat sort of inn. ‘Where are we?'

‘The Bear and Staff, I understand. Some miles outside Stratford, and that's all I can tell you.'

They clambered down with their bags. Cassian both resented the weight of his, and wished he'd brought a lot more clothes. He would have to ask about laundry. Habit told him to stand back while all was made ready for him; humility reminded him that Daizell knew far better than he did how to command an innkeeper's attention. There was nothing wrong with accepting help as long as one gave it too, and it was very tempting to let someone else arrange matters for him as he always had. But Daizell glanced at him and gave a little wave to usher him forward, so he plucked up his courage and went in.

It turned out that commanding was not required. The Bear and Staff was no busy coaching inn, and its landlord was obsequious in his delight at their custom. Of course they could have rooms for the night, and he would have the sheets warmed right away. Dinner? Why, the best they could serve; he regretted to his very soul that he had no fine wines to offer, only elderflower wine of his wife's making, unless perhaps the gentlemen would prefer ale?

Cassian chose the ale, having noted Daizell's eyes widen in alarm at the mention of elderflower wine, and they were ushered to a tiny but very pleasant parlour where they both collapsed into chairs.

‘Your health,' Daizell said, raising his tankard. ‘Good God, what a day.'

‘It has been long. And eventful.'

‘And, I regret to say, with all the delay, we might have lost the trail.'

‘I know. It can't be helped. We'll get on our way to Stratford tomorrow. It's all we can do. And if we can't track him from there, we can . . .' He wasn't quite sure what they could do. He looked hopefully at Daizell.

‘We'll work something out,' his companion said, with cheerful confidence. ‘There's always the Gloucester pawn-shops.'

‘Yes. Exactly. We've only lost a day, really.'

‘And we can't do anything at all about that now, so we might as well enjoy the evening.' Daizell held out his tankard, and Cassian clinked it with his.

They did enjoy it. The landlord served them a very satisfactory meal – plain cooking, but good, and the seasoning of hunger and physical exertion made it delicious. Cassian ate with relish, and enjoyed watching Daizell wolf his meal, and half way down his second mug of ale, he felt as comfortable as he'd been in his life.

That was when they heard the noise outside the parlour.

‘I understand that, miss, but I've only one parlour and it is commanded already by two gentlemen.' The landlord, pleading.

‘Gentlemen will understand that a lady's needs come first.' A young man's voice, trying for firmness.

‘But the gentlemen have commanded—'

‘Then they must be disappointed. I have a lady here.'

‘A lady? Not a wife?' That was a female voice, tone ominous. Daizell, who was eavesdropping as shamelessly as Cassian, gave him a gleeful look and mouthed, Landlady , while tapping the fourth finger of his left hand. Cassian blinked, then understood a second later as the young man said, ‘No – that is—'

‘Not your wife? Your sister, then?'

‘Uh, no. I mean, yes,' the young man added, and then, ‘Er, well, no.'

‘No. And no attendant with you, miss ?' The landlady's voice was rising. ‘This is a respectable house. I won't stand for any nonsense.'

‘We came by a misfortune on the journey,' the young man said, sounding somewhat harassed. ‘And I am asking you to provide a private room, and two bedchambers, and an attendant for the lady tonight.'

‘Our girl could—' the landlord began.

‘Our girl won't be assisting at an elopement!' his wife said over him. ‘And I won't have any such thing here. This is a respectable house!'

Daizell pulled a face that economically conveyed that he was glad not to be in the young man's shoes. Cassian murmured, ‘We could surely . . . ? For a lady?'

‘If you don't mind the public bar. Very gracious of you,' Daizell said, with a wink that quivered pleasantly in Cassian's nerves. He went to the door, pulled it open, and went into the hallway. ‘I beg your pardon, but we couldn't help overhearing. My companion and I – oh my God!'

‘You!' said a young lady's voice, in accents of throbbing accusation.

‘What's this?' the landlady demanded.

Daizell retreated rapidly backwards, into the parlour. A young lady came after him, with a sturdy young man on her heels. She was well built herself for a woman, about Cassian's size, and wore a fierce expression; he looked as though incomprehension was his natural state. ‘You!' she said again. ‘What are you doing here? Have you followed me?'

‘Followed?' Daizell said. ‘I've been here for hours! And why would I want to see you anyway?'

‘He has been here with me,' Cassian added, with no idea what was going on but feeling he should offer support. ‘We've had dinner here, as this good woman can—'

The young lady waved at him to be silent with an impatient gesture. Cassian reminded himself, after a stunned moment of outrage, that he was not currently the Duke of Severn. ‘Well, what are you doing here if you are not following me?' she asked Daizell insistently.

‘Pursuing my own affairs,' Daizell said. ‘Yours, as you made quite clear, are not my concern.'

‘Eliza?' the youth said. ‘Who is this man?'

‘Do be quiet, Tony.'

The landlord and landlady had both crowded in. The extremely small parlour was now feeling decidedly cramped. Daizell had retreated behind a chair, whether to make space or to have something between him and the young lady's militant stance.

‘If you are not following me—' she began.

‘I am not!'

‘If you aren't, then what do you want?'

‘I was going to offer you the parlour,' Daizell said. ‘I regret the impulse.'

‘You were?' The young lady's face underwent an instant transformation, from hostility to bright spring day. She wasn't pretty, Cassian thought, being rather ordinary in features, much as he was himself, with mousy brown hair and a pair of grey eyes, but she moved and spoke with such animation that one might easily be convinced she was very pretty indeed. ‘Oh, Mr Charnage, how very kind! Well, that is wonderful and resolves all.'

‘It does nothing of the sort, miss, because if this is an elopement—' the landlady began.

The young man came in over her. ‘Charnage? This is Charnage? What's he doing here?'

‘We've been over this,' Daizell said. ‘Why don't my friend and I leave you the parlour, and you can finish your conversation with mine hosts. Get your drink, Cass.'

‘Wait a minute, sir!' The young man skirted around to block the door, with a threatening look. He was quite sturdy. ‘I have a few words for you on your conduct.'

‘Don't be absurd, Tony,' the young lady said.

‘This wretched fellow had no compunction in attempting a young lady in the most disgraceful manner—'

‘What did you call me?'

‘Tony, stop it! I explained this!'

‘You did not know what you were doing,' the young man told her sternly. ‘And you, sir, took advantage of her!'

‘I eloped with her, you idiot,' Daizell said. ‘And by the looks of things, so have you, so—'

The young man lunged. Daizell leapt back out of the way. The young lady squawked; the landlady said, ‘I knew it!', and Cassian said, ‘Stop!' Daizell kicked a chair into the path of the oncoming young man, snapping, ‘For God's sake, you oaf!'

Duke of Severn , Cassian reminded himself. ‘I said, stop this at once!' He gave the words the full authority and command of his noble house and lineage.

Nobody even looked at him. The young man grabbed the chair and hoisted it, whether to throw it out of the way or at Daizell, and Cassian, giving up on lineage and remembering illicit brawls with Leo, kicked him hard on the ankle.

‘Ow!' He dropped the chair and turned on Cassian, and the landlady interposed herself with a bellow of, ‘That will do!' that was equally ignored. Daizell leapt at the young man, crashing onto him from behind, and the young lady let out a scream.

It was not a scream of fear. It was pure ear-splitting noise, like a kettle come to the boil, and it was so long and loud and piercing that Cassian, reeling away, briefly wondered if the windows would survive. Daizell had his hands clapped over his ears; the angry young man ducked and cringed.

‘ Thank you,' the young lady said into the stunned silence, giving herself a little shake. ‘Really, what great stupids men are. Be quiet , Tony, you are being nonsensical and jealous, and it is very tiresome. Hostess, please bring me something hot to drink, and I expect Tony will like ale.'

‘Young lady,' the landlady said, swelling. ‘I will have no brawling in this house, nor elopements either. I don't hold with such things.'

‘ I'm not eloping with anyone,' Daizell remarked to nobody in particular. The young man shot him an evil look.

Cassian said, ‘Ma'am, I quite understand your position, but it's late. Is there anywhere close by for these travellers to go?'

‘Not till Snitterfield,' the landlord said. ‘And that's a fair way.'

‘Then, while your principles do you credit, you must see it would be quite wrong to turn away a young lady in the dark. I trust you will find yourself able to admit these guests.' Daizell was giving him an odd look, possibly because he didn't want to share an inn with the young lady, but that couldn't be helped. ‘My companion and I will happily relinquish this parlour for the lady's comfort. And, as the mother of a daughter, you'll doubtless agree it would be a kindness to give the lady some attendance tonight.'

The landlady's hands were on her hips, but Cassian thought she might have softened a little at that. ‘I'll have no fighting and no immorality under my roof.'

The young lady blushed a fierce scarlet. ‘I am not immoral,' she said heatedly. ‘And it is very unkind of you to say so.'

‘I think everyone would be better off for a drink,' Daizell said. ‘I certainly would, if you'd be so kind, landlord. Cass, shall we retire to the other room?'

The landlady's jaw tightened. ‘I can't have an unmarried lady and gentleman left alone. This isn't that sort of house. And my girl is busy making up beds.'

‘Then we'll stay in here with them,' Cassian said. ‘Nobody could object to that. We will have that ale, please, and tea for the lady.'

The host and hostess departed, he dragging out his irate wife. Sounds of marital discord rose from the hallway. The four in the parlour stood in stiff silent discomfort while ale was produced, and the table cleared, and a meal ordered. Finally the landlady put down a pot of tea and marched out of the room.

The young lady shut the door behind her. ‘Goodness, what a tiresome woman. Good evening.' She smiled at Cassian. ‘Thank you for your kindness, that was most gentlemanly of you. My name is—'

‘Eliza,' the man said warningly.

She glared at him. ‘What?'

‘You might not want to—' He nodded meaningfully.

‘ "Don't give your name, Eliza"?' Daizell mimicked, with some incredulity. ‘Good Lord. Also, the lady and I have met, in case you forgot. Miss Beaumont, Mr Cassian.'

‘And this is Tony Marston,' Miss Beaumont said. ‘Mr Marston, Mr Cassian, and Mr Charnage, so now we can all sit down before I scream.'

‘Don't do that,' Daizell said. ‘My nerves couldn't take another of those. So, Miss Beaumont, eloping again?'

‘Daize!' Cassian said.

Daizell took a healthy swig of his drink. ‘In fairness to myself, I should point out—'

‘You need not do any such thing,' Miss Beaumont said hurriedly. ‘No hard feelings. I have quite forgot the matter.'

Daizell mouthed forgot . Mr Marston bristled. Miss Beaumont said, ‘Stop it, Tony. You needn't be a dog in the manger: Mr Charnage didn't elope with me or I him because we liked one another.'

‘Ouch,' Daizell said. ‘Although not inaccurate. So are you eloping again?'

‘Well, yes, actually,' Miss Beaumont said in a confiding tone. ‘You can't blame me, can you?'

Cassian couldn't help a surreptitious glance at Mr Marston. Daizell gave the man an openly examining look, then shrugged. ‘No accounting for taste.'

‘Daizell!' Cassian said, louder, but Miss Beaumont gurgled. ‘You are dreadful. And I am sorry for saying you had followed me. I was so startled, and to be honest, I've been jumping at shadows all day. The fact is – oh, don't be stupid, Tony, he already knows most of it, and I dare say we can trust his friend, and if we can't, it's too late anyway. You are a gentleman, sir, you would not betray a confidence?'

‘No indeed,' Cassian said warily.

‘You see? The fact is that, as Mr Charnage well knows, I am fleeing intolerable persecution. My only means of escape was to elope with Tony. That's why I eloped with Mr Charnage.'

Cassian nodded sympathetically and then said, ‘What?'

‘Tell you later,' Daizell said.

‘And I have finally managed to get out again, so we are on our way to be married—'

‘At Gretna?'

She put up her small chin. ‘At Gretna. I am terribly afraid that Sir James will have us followed and when I saw Mr Charnage, I panicked. But you will help us, won't you?'

‘No,' Daizell said. ‘That is, I'm not going to stand in your way, but as for helping, we've an urgent concern of our own.'

‘I'm hardly asking much,' Miss Beaumont said, her expressive face flicking to a mask of big-eyed pleading. ‘Only that you don't let anyone know that you saw us, or where we have gone.'

‘If you want to pass unnoticed, you should make your arrivals less dramatic,' Daizell pointed out. ‘Everyone in this inn will be talking about you for weeks. And why don't you have a story to explain your situation?' He waved a hand at the obviously unmarried lady travelling alone with a man.

‘Not a story. An attendant,' Cassian said. ‘Clearly, you need—'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' Miss Beaumont said over him. ‘An attendant, on an elopement? What for, to lend me countenance? I am going to get married, and if I can't, I should rather be ruined than go back!'

This was not something Cassian could approve, even incognito, given the possible consequences. He was morally obliged to intervene. His heart sank at the thought.

The landlord came in at that moment with food for the new arrivals. Cassian seized the opportunity. ‘I shall get some fresh air while you eat. Daizell, would you accompany me?' The landlord could stay with the couple if he cared about appearances.

Daizell swung himself upright with clear reluctance, and followed him outside. They stood together a little way from the inn, in the quiet of the country night. An owl hooted above them. It was cold compared to the rather stuffy parlour, and the clear air made Cassian's head swim slightly, unless that was the strong ale.

‘You probably want an explanation,' Daizell said. ‘The thing is—'

‘No, wait.' Cassian did want an explanation, because he was consumed by curiosity, but that wasn't the most important thing. ‘Miss Beaumont. How can we get her back to her home?'

‘What? Why would we do that?'

‘Because she's eloping!'

‘Isn't that her business?'

‘No,' the Duke said. ‘It's any decent person's duty to intervene to prevent someone making a terrible mistake. It would be bad enough if she marries foolishly, but if she doesn't bring it off and this escapade becomes known, what then? She's clearly gently bred. This could ruin her.'

‘She knows that. It's her risk.'

‘She's too young to decide that!'

‘Twenty,' Daizell said. ‘And surely it's her mistake to make. Do people tell you what mistakes you can and can't make?'

‘All the time, yes!' Cassian was beginning to feel quite heated.

‘And you listen?'

‘I didn't listen when I went off to – to gamble with John Martin, and he robbed me. If someone had intervened to save me from that experience, I should have been very grateful.'

‘No, you wouldn't,' Daizell said. ‘Because you didn't know he was going to rob you, therefore someone intervening beforehand would, so far as you knew, have merely prevented you from a pleasant evening's play with a friend. I doubt you'd have been happy about that, any more than Miss Beaumont would be about you taking it on yourself to predict her doom.'

‘If someone who knew he was a thief had told me so—'

‘You'd have taken their word for it? Do you always let other people pick your friends?' Daizell demanded, sounding rather heated himself. ‘Surely you should be able to judge for yourself, rather than giving a dog a bad name and hanging him.'

‘John Martin deserved hanging! Metaphorically,' Cassian added in fairness, since he was not an admirer of the laws.

‘That doesn't mean everyone else is a villain. You made a mistake, and you'll learn from it.'

‘My mistake lost me my ring. And Miss Beaumont has a great deal more to lose than that.'

‘Yes, she does. But I'm not a better judge than her of whom she should marry, or how, and I don't see why you are.'

‘I don't claim to be! I'm saying that she is committing an indiscreet action she will probably regret, which could easily lead her into shame and distress and hardship, and if there is the opportunity to prevent that, I must surely take it. I can't just let a bad thing happen. You said yourself, we should help each other.'

Daizell was looking at him; Cassian could feel it, although his features were barely visible in the faint light coming from the inn's windows. ‘But it is not your affair . You aren't her friend; you owe her nothing. You've only just met her.'

‘And I wish I hadn't,' Cassian said with feeling. ‘But now I know about this, how can I ignore it?'

Daizell scrunched his hand into his curls. ‘Easily. We go back inside, finish our drinks, go to bed, and let the woman decide her own life instead of getting embroiled in her ridiculous goings-on which, I may say, she is going to pursue whatever you or anyone may think of them.'

It was overwhelmingly tempting. Cassian had absolutely no desire to drag a headstrong woman back to her family home against her will, or embroil himself in what would doubtless be a ghastly mess. The Duke, on the other hand, could only imagine how the news would be received that he had allowed an elopement to proceed under his aegis. You are Severn , Lord Hugo would say; you have a duty .

‘Surely her family will allow the marriage to take place in the proper manner if it proves a lasting attachment,' he said. ‘Or if not, I dare say there is some good reason they don't wish her to marry Marston.'

‘There is certainly a reason, and it's not even his beefwittedness, or his deplorable propensity for jealousy,' Daizell said. ‘Although I did attempt to run away with his intended bride so one can't entirely blame him for being testy with me. She's a substantial heiress. Her father was old Giles Beaumont, Golden Giles. Why on earth do you think I agreed to elope with her?'

Cassian would have liked to interrogate that last, but he had other concerns. ‘Giles Beaumont? The manufacturer? But isn't his daughter Sir James Vier's ward?'

‘Vier got his hands on her when Beaumont died, and controls her income while she remains unwed. Her fortune only becomes hers on her marriage. It's why he hasn't let her make her come-out or any such. She'd be snapped up within a season, and that would incommode Vier very seriously. He intends to claim her hand and thus her fortune for himself, and as her guardian, he is in an excellent position to do so.'

Cassian spluttered. ‘A girl of her age? In his power? And he's fifty if he's a day!'

‘Quite. Do you blame her for escaping?'

‘Good God, no. But for heaven's sake, she's playing right into his hands. If she elopes without even a female attendant, and he has to retrieve her – again,' he added, because the previous failed elopement had been widely talked about, ‘she will make herself utterly unmarriageable.'

‘Not with her money.'

‘Unmarriageable to a decent man. And anyway, it would seem far less of a villainy for Vier to marry his own ward if she so clearly needs to be controlled. People will say she needs a firm hand, an older man to steady her, that she clearly isn't fit to decide for herself. Not to mention that people care far less about a wrong done to a woman who is already soiled goods.'

Daizell made a face. ‘True.'

‘Would you put it past Vier to haul her back home, let the world know she spent all this time with a man, and present himself as saving her reputation by marriage?'

‘I wouldn't put much past him,' Daizell said. ‘You're right that she has got herself in a bad position. But do you really think we should return her to that swine's house?'

‘Of course not. We should help them get to Gretna.'

Daizell paused for a second. ‘Not what I expected you to say, but carry on.'

‘Clearly she should marry Marston, if the alternative is Vier. Can we help them on their way?'

‘How?'

‘I thought you'd know. You must have some ideas, surely? You've done it before.'

Daizell gave him a look. ‘I don't elope with heiresses as often as you might think. Just the once, actually, and it wasn't a success. You seem to have changed your stance on the aiding and abetting of elopement rather rapidly?'

‘I loathe Sir James,' Cassian said, with immense feeling. ‘He's a cruel, grasping, malicious brute who abuses his horses, and I would enjoy nothing more than to put a spoke in his wheel. And I should not like to see a young lady in his power, especially if she had crossed him.' If Miss Beaumont was forced back to Sir James, the Duke would unquestionably have to act, now he knew of her plight. That opened all kinds of ghastly vistas, since people would want to know the reason for the Duke of Severn's interest in a pretty, eligible, unmarried lady. Whereas if she eloped successfully and gained control of her fortune, he could forget about her without guilt.

Not to mention that if he could help now, that would show he could act as himself and not just through his inherited power. He rather liked that idea.

‘We must aid her,' he said firmly. ‘Surely you can think of something.'

Daizell sighed. ‘Let's talk to Romeo and Juliet.'

They returned to the parlour, where the young lovers were in the middle of a very pretty row. Mr Marston sounded aggrieved. Miss Beaumont looked tired, her bravado clearly ebbing.

‘I beg your pardon,' Daizell said, taking a chair. ‘You said you wanted help. I should mention that I have let Cassian know your situation, among friends.'

‘Good,' Miss Beaumont said. ‘Oh, do please stop, Tony! We've had shocking luck – one of our horses cast a shoe, and we got lost – and Sir James will be on our track, and you're quite right that we should have had a better story, and now that horrid landlady will be talking and talking and of course he will track us down, and I cannot—' She broke off, jaw firming. ‘I shan't marry Sir James. I will not. I want to live my life and not be kept in that horrible house with that horrible man and have my fortune in his control forever.'

Legally speaking, once she married, her money would be controlled by her husband. Cassian didn't trouble to mention that: she doubtless knew.

‘Sir James won't want to let you slip through his fingers,' Daizell said. ‘He made that exceedingly clear on your previous excursion, when I narrowly escaped a horsewhipping, by the way. I mention that merely for context.'

‘I'm terribly sorry,' Miss Beaumont said politely.

‘Think nothing of it. Did either of you tell people where you were going or who with?'

‘No, of course not,' Miss Beaumont said, offended by this slight on her deceptive powers. ‘In fact – oh!'

‘Oh?' Cassian asked, with a slight sinking feeling.

‘Well, you see – and I do beg you won't be annoyed – but one never knows who's watching in Sir James's house and I didn't want him to suspect Tony. I needed to lay a false trail before I escaped. So I wrote various letters to you, Mr Charnage.' She gave Daizell a hopeful look. ‘I thought you wouldn't mind.'

Daizell opened and closed his mouth. ‘You thought—'

‘Well, you had already tried to elope with me, so that made it credible. And you wouldn't have got the letters, since I just sent them to an inn, and they will doubtless still be there. The slightest investigation would show you had nothing to do with the matter. It will be quite easy for you to explain.'

‘When Sir James arrives with a horsewhip, you mean?'

‘Oh, you're far younger than him,' Miss Beaumont said bracingly. ‘I'm sure he couldn't just attack you.'

‘On his own, perhaps not. Unfortunately, he tends to bring large men with him.'

‘That awful groom? Oh, yes. Oh dear. But the point is, it does seem to me that if he thinks I've run away with you, and he's coming after me, and now you're here with me—'

‘I quite see how that could be made to suit you,' Daizell said. ‘It doesn't suit me at all.'

‘Well, now, wait,' Cassian said. ‘Could it not be a good idea? We didn't give the landlord our names. If – how would this work—'

‘If we say Tony is Mr Charnage,' Miss Beaumont said. ‘And he and I leave together, and you go elsewhere—'

‘No use, because Sir James will still be pursuing you,' Daizell said. ‘Which, in my opinion, is preferable to him being after me.'

‘But I can bear witness you haven't eloped with Miss Beaumont,' Cassian said. It would be cursed awkward if Vier appeared in person, but at least he could ensure Daizell's safety: Vier wouldn't dare touch a man under his protection. At least, probably not. He had never actually put anyone under his protection, and wasn't quite sure how one went about it. ‘We can have the law on him if he threatens you. Really, there does surely seem to be an opportunity here if we could think how to use it?'

He looked around hopefully. So did Miss Beaumont. So did Mr Marston. They all ended up looking at Daizell.

That gentleman sighed the sigh of a badly put-upon man. ‘For goodness' sake. All right . Suppose we leave together tomorrow, the four of us, for Stratford-upon-Avon. Before that, Mr Marston will identify himself as Daizell Charnage here, and inform the landlady that you are to marry in Stratford as soon as the banns are called. Name the church. Does anyone know a church in Stratford?'

‘Holy Trinity,' Cassian said. ‘I believe it was Shakespeare's parish church.'

‘Marvellous. You two can chatter happily about your forthcoming literary wedding. Once we get to Stratford – have you money, Miss Beaumont?'

‘Enough. I have been hoarding my pin-money for some time.'

‘In Stratford, then, you and I will take a trip to purchase a common licence, consult the vicar of Holy Trinity church as to how soon banns can be published, and make ourselves memorable doing it. With luck the pursuit will be diverted in that direction, and Sir James will attempt to track you down in Stratford, and become embroiled in finding me instead. With even more luck, he won't have his big brute with a horsewhip in attendance. Meanwhile, Mr Marston will organise your journey north. You could go through Birmingham to confuse the trail, though I have always wondered whether one might simply sail up the coast, and arrive in Scotland that way. Anyway, you will depart, and we will carry on with our own business, while dropping my name in a casual sort of way to anyone who might be asked, and confusing the trail for long enough that you can disappear. There. Happy now?'

‘I'd also suggest Miss Beaumont hire a chaperone,' Cassian said, and recoiled at the look she gave him. ‘Well, surely Sir James will be asking about a couple, not three people?'

‘Might work,' Daizell said. ‘Alternatively, Miss Beaumont could dress as a boy.'

‘You see?' Miss Beaumont interjected, with a significant look at her fiancé. ‘I told you I should.'

‘No wife of mine—'

‘Save it for the honeymoon,' Daizell said. ‘Dress up, pretend to be siblings, buy a ring and behave like you're married. Anything but a repeat of tonight's arrival.'

Cassian felt obliged to reiterate his point. ‘Nevertheless, a chaperone—'

‘Yes, thank you,' Miss Beaumont said, unceremoniously dismissing him once again, and turned her glowing face to Daizell. ‘Thank you, Mr Charnage, you are quite wonderful. That is so clever and so very kind, and I do hope not to cause you too much trouble. And I am terribly sorry about last time, really. We're both dreadfully grateful.'

Marston didn't look grateful, and Daizell didn't look gratified. Cassian glanced between them, and said, ‘I'm glad he could help. I think I'm going to bed.'