‘Poor soul,’ said Sarah, going to kiss the top of his head. ‘Sleep well, then, and tomorrow I shall tell you everything I overheard at the Cockpit. None of it is particularly interesting, but I can give you a detailed account of Lady Castlemaine’s latest lover.’
‘Buckingham,’ said Chaloner. ‘Late this afternoon in White Hall. And she has a mole on her right thigh.’ Leaving them both gaping, he walked to the door and held it open, indicating that Sarah should precede him outside.
Chapter 8
‘You enjoyed that,’ said Sarah accusingly, as she and Chaloner walked to the Lincoln’s Inn stables to collect her horse. ‘I had something interesting to tell him, and you pre-empted me.’
‘It was not important anyway – as you said yourself.’ He wondered why she was making such a fuss. ‘Everyone knows Buckingham harbours a liking for Lady Castlemaine.’
She regarded him curiously. ‘The mole … did you see … I mean, how did you find out?’
‘Your brother trained me well. Just as he did you.’
She pouted. ‘I wish that were true. You know how to locate birthmarks on royal mistresses, while I can barely decode the simplest cipher. I have begged him to teach me more, but he always has an excuse as to why he cannot.’
‘Spying is not a game. It can be dangerous.’
‘John has always been good to me, and I would like to return the favour. Bennet and his minions have been loitering near his gate most of today, which is why I have only been able to visit now – I dared not come before. Is there anything we can do to drive them away?’
‘Not without arousing their suspicions. You should not meddle – it may do more harm than good.’
‘You said you would help protect him, Thomas Chaloner. Are you reneging on your promise?’
He watched her lead her horse into the yard, horrified that she – a woman of whom he was intensely wary – should know his real name. He wished Thurloe had kept the matter to himself: he might dote on his sister, but Chaloner had no reason to trust her. He was also puzzled. Thurloe had refused to confide in Downing, with whom Chaloner had worked for five years, but had revealed the secret to Sarah, someone Chaloner had met only twice – and one of those was when she was committing murder. Why would Thurloe be cautious with one person, but so rash with another?
Sarah petted her restless pony, and Chaloner stepped forward to lift her into the saddle. She was surprisingly heavy, far more so than Metje, although he sensed her bulk was more muscle than fat. The blow she had dealt Storey attested to the fact that she was strong. He took the reins and started to lead the horse towards the gate, but she pulled them from him and made a pretence at untangling them.
‘Tell me about Claracilla,’ he said, intending to learn a little more about her character while she kept him waiting. ‘I saw The Parson’s Wedding once, but it was a poor performance.’
She was surprised. ‘You are familiar with Killigrew’s work?’
Since a spy was obliged to cultivate a knowledge of all manner of subjects, he had acquired a grasp of the performing arts that allowed him to converse about them with at least a modicum of intelligence. ‘I met him in Holland once, when Downing invited him to dinner.’
She was impressed. ‘What was he like?’
He had been petty, foul-mouthed, sharp-tongued and dissolute. ‘A learned gentleman, but passionate in his temper.’
‘I heard he was a rake. Look, Thomas, you do not have to walk home with me. My brother is overly protective, and I shall be perfectly safe on my own.’ She hesitated, then added in a softer tone, ‘But if it is not out of your way, I would not object to your company.’
‘It is no trouble.’ He tried to take the bridle, but she jerked it from him a second time. He sighed. ‘At least, it is no trouble if you allow me to do it tonight.’
She made a noise that sounded something like a sob, and he gazed up at her in surprise. When she spoke, her words emerged a rush. ‘Snow is following me, and I am so frightened that I do not know what to do. That is what I came to tell John, but I could not bring myself to do it. He looked so tired.’
‘He will not thank you for that – he will want to know. Go back and tell him.’
She shook her head firmly. ‘I cannot bother him with my problems. But I dare not go home, because then Snow will see where I live.’
‘Did he follow you here?’
‘No, I lost him by climbing out of a window at the Cockpit. He had followed me right inside, and sat glowering at me all through the second half. I am not easily alarmed, but I do not like this.’
‘How did he find you in the first place?’
‘He probably loitered at Charing Cross until he spotted me. You will always see the person you want if you wait there long enough.’
Snow had done much the same to catch Chaloner two days before. ‘How do you feel about lending me your hat?’
She regarded him uncertainly. ‘What for?’
‘So I can take your place. Your riding garb is masculine, and the streets are poorly lit. If I wear your hat and keep my head down, I think we can fool him. I shall take your horse – and Snow – on a tour of the city, while you go home.’
‘But he means me harm. You will be putting yourself in danger.’
‘I doubt he will do anything too outrageous as long as there are people around. I will lead him away from you, then give him the slip. It should not be difficult.’
‘What about my pony?’
‘I will stable him at the Golden Lion, and you can fetch him at your leisure.’
‘And what happens tomorrow? Will you take my place then, too?’
It was a reasonable question, and Chaloner suspected she would not be safe until she had either made some sort of arrangement with the fellow or one of them was dead. ‘Stay indoors. If he does not know where you live, then he cannot harm you. He will not linger on the Strand for ever – Kelyng will have other things for him to do.’
‘Why should you risk yourself on my account?’
‘You came to my rescue in the wigmaker’s shop,’ he replied, after wracking his brains for an answer. Why was he willing to help her? Because he disliked the notion of Snow stalking a woman? Because she was Thurloe’s sister and, for all his suspicions and uncertainties, he still felt a lingering affection for the man who had treated him well for a decade? Or because he wanted her to think kindly of him now she knew his real name?
He lifted her off the horse and climbed into the saddle, keeping his elbows tucked in to make himself less bulky. Her wig smelled faintly of a perfume that was sensual, and it carried her warmth.
‘Hoist up your petticoats, so they do not show,’ he instructed, as he started to ride down Chancery Lane. ‘Walk ahead of me – not too far, or I will not be able to help you if he sees through our plan, but not so close that we look as though we are together. And move like a man – do not mince.’
He smothered a laugh when she effected an exaggerated swagger. It made her appear drunk, and one fellow immediately sidled up to her, evidently intent on taking advantage of an inebriated gentleman. Chaloner drew his dagger and the thief melted away into the shadows, holding his hands in front of him to indicate he meant no harm.
It was not long before Chaloner spotted Snow; Sarah saw him at the same time, and tensed perceptibly. The robber was waiting near the Maypole in the Strand, a towering pillar set up two years before to replace the one destroyed during the wars. He was alert and watchful as he leaned against a wall, chewing a stick of dried meat. When he saw Sarah’s pony, he pushed himself upright and stretched. A bulge near his waist indicated he carried a pistol. Chaloner scanned the dark street for an accomplice, but Snow made no attempt to pass signals: the stalking of Sarah was personal, not duty, and he was alone.