Chapter One
London, England
March 27, 1820
The muffled clopof horse hooves echoing through the cobblestone streets, merged with the sounds of bustling London and the ever-present fog as Ewan, Marquess Glenraven, stepped from the post-coach at The Golden Cross Inn. He stood by the coach, a layer of dust from Dover Road clinging to his coat.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried himself with a military bearing and long titled heritage. An errant breeze tousled his dark hair as it framed his strong chiseled face, but it was his piercing gray eyes that caught attention. They hinted at a depth of emotion hidden beneath a façade of composure and to those that knew him, promised a loyalty and trust like none other.
He took a deep breath. At last, he was almost home.
The bells of St. Paul Cathedral echoed through the narrow alleys. Glenraven glanced at his pocket watch. 12:30 pm. Satisfied he would be on time for his meeting, he tucked the time piece away as the midday sun broke through the fog and cast a warm glow on the inn.
“I’ll organize our belongings and secure a carriage.” Duncan MacAlister, Glenraven’s longtime friend and batman, throughout the turmoil in Paris following the war, didn’t wait for a reply. Duncan knew him well.
Their journey began a week ago when Glenraven received a letter from his father’s solicitor, Mr. Hughes. The message directed Glenraven to make every effort to attend a meeting at Lord Barrington’s London home at 2:00 p.m. on the 27thof March.
He and Duncan began their trek with a five-day ride from Paris to Calais, followed by a two-and-a-half-hour sail on the paddle steamerRob Royto Dover. The final leg of their journey was a grueling nine-hour post-coach ride to London. The entire week, Glenraven could not rid himself of the persistent whispers that his return to London was more dangerous than the government affairs he left behind in Paris.
With only ninety minutes to spare before he was to present himself at Barrington Hall, there wasn’t any time for him to make himself more presentable and still make it back to the meeting in time. Debating whether to go home and be late or arrive early at Barrington’s, he reached into his pocket and took out a gold coin. Skillfully flicking it into the air, the coin spun and captured the light before it fell back into his palm.
“My lord?” Glenraven looked up to see Duncan call to him from a carriage.
“You go on. I’ll head to Barrington’s.” Duncan nodded his agreement and gave the driver instructions.
Not wanting to arrive at Barrington’s too early, he went to Covent Garden. He made his way through the busy crowd, following a savory aroma like a field dog tracking a scent trail. He purchased a pasty and searched for a quiet area where he could enjoy his treat before starting out for Grosvenor Square.
Although the area was crowded, he found the last available seat on a bench not far from a puppet stage. As he enjoyed the warm meat-filled pastry, his mind drifted to Hughes. What serious issue could there be that called him back so urgently? Another bite of the pastry brought a sense of certainty thatwhatever Hughes found could be solved. Besides, it was good to be back in London.
Finishing the pasty, he took out the gold coin. The coin arrived with Hughes’ message without any explanation, its presence serving as a silent call to action from his former commander. He mulled over what could be so urgent that Barrington needed him back in London and if it connected in any way to Hughes’ need to see him.
“Oh, sir, could you help us, please?” A neatly dressed man called out to him from the puppet stage.
The crowd, which he realized had gathered waiting for the puppet show, turned their attention toward him.
Glenraven scanned the area, unsure if the gentleman was calling out to him. He glanced back at the man.
“Yes, sir, you. You look like a man who would help a lady in distress.” A soft chuckle rippled through the onlookers. “It is a simple script that needs to be read.”
“Forgive me. I would gladly help a lady in distress.” Glenraven glanced at the crowd. “I see some lovely ladies.” He nodded to several ladies not too far from him. “But I do not see any ladies in distress.”
The man operating the puppet stage peeked under the curtain. “My lady. Are you in distress?” he called out.
“Yes, my lord,” came a voice from behind the curtain. As the puppet master opened the curtain, a female puppet was revealed. “I have no Punch.”
Glenraven checked his watch. It was ten minutes past one. “Ne’er let it be said that I didn’t come to a lady’s aid.”
Glenraven made his way to the stage to the crowd’s chuckling and applauding.
“Thank you, my lord. Thank you.” the puppet master whispered to him before turning to address the audience.
“Kind people. I am the puppet master, Percival Thimbleby. You’ve already met Miss Juliet Hayward, who will be our Judy. She has taken her place. This is,” the puppet master turned to Glenraven and waited. He coughed and waited a bit more. “And this is?” He raised his eyebrows at his Punch.
With a good natured smile, he slightly bowed to the audience. “Lord Glenraven at your service.”
“My lord.” The puppet master doffed his cap and bowed to him. “Ladies and Gents, we have a real hero,” he added with a playful eye roll, making everyone laugh. “Lord Glenraven will be playing our Punch. We are fortunate to have found two willing people to help us today. They do not know what has happened in the story so far. It will be very telling how they portray this scene. Be gentle with my actors, my friends. I dare say they are new to this trade. We want to encourage them. Who knows, you may witness the beginning of a most enchanting partnership.”
The puppet master turned to Glenraven. “This way, my lord. While you and your Judy say your lines, I will manage the puppets.”
