Winning the War Hero's Heart. Mary Nichols

to see how her garden had been restored and how Mr Byers was getting on. She had promised herself she would find out his history and write a piece about the hardships of the returning soldiers and it might be a good opportunity to do that. The day was blustery and overcast; it looked as though there would be more rain, which bode ill for whatever crops had survived so far. She was wrapped in a long burnoose with the hood up and did not immediately recognise the man approaching her until he was standing right in front of her, his feet apart as if to detain her.

      ‘Mr Blakestone, you startled me.’

      ‘I want a word with you.’ He sounded belligerent, which made her nervous.

      ‘Say it, then.’

      ‘Traitor!’ He paused. ‘You took my money for the poster, pretended to be on the side of the workers and all the time you were plotting with the Earl and that stiff-rumped son of his to betray us. It is fortunate for you that no one was killed today or you would have paid with your life.’

      ‘The reason no one was killed was because the Viscount prevented it,’ she retorted. ‘Which you would have known if you had not run away like a coward.’

      ‘Coward, you call me! I wasn’t the one standing around in disguise waiting to enjoy the fruits of my betrayal. I was up there on the platform for all to see.’

      ‘Until the militia arrived. It was miraculous how fast you disappeared then.’

      ‘It was my bounden duty to protect Jason Hardacre from arrest and get him safely away. Thanks to you and the Viscount, he never made his speech and the people of Warburton are the poorer for it.’

      ‘I doubt that.’ She tried to pass him, but he dodged to prevent her. ‘Let me pass, Mr Blakestone.’

      ‘When I’ve done with you.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ She was becoming very alarmed and tried to push past him. He reached out and pinioned her arms to her sides. She tried kicking, but he held her at arm’s length and she could not reach his legs.

      ‘Struggle all you like,’ he jeered, ‘but hear this. We will not be so foolish as to advertise our next meeting, except by word of mouth, so if the Earl hears of it, we shall know where the blame lies. Your life won’t be worth living.’

      ‘Stand aside!’ The voice was the Viscount’s as he galloped up, threw himself from his horse and wrenched Blakestone from Helen. He had his crop in his hand and raised it to the man, ready to give him a beating, but Helen grabbed his arm.

      ‘No, don’t,’ she cried. ‘Let him go. I don’t want violence done on my account.’

      Miles lowered his arm, the white heat of his anger slowly subsiding. ‘Get you gone,’ he told Blakestone. ‘And if I ever come across you offering violence to a lady again, it will be the worse for you.’

      The man hesitated as if considering whether to stand and fight, but thought better of it and turned on his heel to march down the road, but not before he had uttered one more threat. ‘You must watch your back, Captain. I ain’t forgot you had me flogged and reduced to the ranks. A man don’ forget that in a hurry. Watch your back at all times.’

      ‘What did he mean by that?’ Helen asked, as the man strode away.

      ‘I caught him assaulting a Portuguese girl and hauled him off. He was put on a charge and was dealt fifty lashes and had his sergeant’s stripes taken off him.’

      She shuddered. ‘I think flogging is barbaric. Surely there is another way to punish wrongdoing in the army?’

      ‘I don’t hold with flogging either, but it is the only punishment the men understand, and in wartime, under battle conditions, we do not have the facilities for imprisonment. Besides, the men are needed to fight.’

      He paused. ‘But that doesn’t explain why he was manhandling you. What was that about?’

      ‘He thought I had betrayed the meeting to you and that you had told your father, who ordered the militia. He was very angry.’

      ‘I am sorry to hear that. You have helped him when you should not have done and he repays you with threats. Had I known I would have told him the truth.’

      ‘He would not have believed you.’

      ‘No, you are probably right, but be careful in future, Miss Wayland. Do not go out unaccompanied.’

      ‘Oh, it is nothing but bluster. I doubt he would harm me.’ Now the man had gone she was full of bravado. It would not do to let Viscount Cavenham see how afraid she had been.

      ‘I am not so sure. Where were you going?’

      ‘To see Mrs Watson.’

      ‘A happy coincidence. I was on my way there myself. We will go together.’ He picked up the reins of his horse and walked beside her to the widow’s cottage.

      

      Mrs Watson was put in a fluster when she saw who had accompanied Helen and bowed and kept apologising for her poor home, until Miles smiled to put her at her ease and said he had come to talk to Mr Byers, whom he had spotted working in the garden, but he would enjoy a cup of camomile tea when he came back. And with that he was gone.

      Relieved of his presence, Mrs Watson relaxed and bade Helen be seated by the hearth. The little boy was playing on the floor and Helen knelt down to play with him. ‘How are you managing?’ she asked the child’s mother, picking up a crudely carved harlequin on a stick and tickling the boy with it. He chortled happily.

      ‘Oh, we do well enough. I am thankful I still have my job in the laundry and Jack Byers has put the garden to rights as far as he was able. The Viscount gave him money to buy vegetable seeds in place of those I lost. Jack has sown them and planted new currant bushes for next year, but there will be no fruit this year. The guinea his lordship gave me is all but done and I cannot pay him. He is working for board and lodging.’

      ‘I expect he thinks it is better than nothing.’

      ‘Miss Wayland, you didn’t ought to have writ what you did about the Earl. I didn’t know you wrote a newspaper until Jack told me or I wouldn’t have said what I did. It looks as if I were complaining and that weren’t so. We could all be in trouble.’

      ‘It’s only me that’s in trouble, Mrs Watson. The Earl is determined to close me down.’

      ‘It don’t do no good to go agin’ him. What d’you do it for any road?’

      ‘Because someone has to tell the truth and wake everyone up to what’s been going on for generations. My father did it and I carry on in his memory.’

      ‘And yet you be on good terms with the Viscount.’

      ‘That’s only good manners—underneath is a different matter; he is like his father; arrogance is bred in him. Besides, I am also in trouble with the firebrands who would stir up unrest if they could.’ She got up off her knees and scooped Eddie up to sit with him in the chair by the hearth. She loved all small children and this one was particularly fetching with his fair curls, blue eyes and chubby limbs, notwithstanding his clothes were patched and worn, probably bought second-hand from the market.

      Mrs Watson put a cup of tea on the corner of the table where she could reach it. ‘Seems to me you be in trouble all round,’ she said. ‘You will need the good offices of the Viscount before you’re done.’

      Helen did not tell her that the gentleman had already used his good offices to help her. She could see him through the window. He was talking earnestly to Jack Byers.

      

      ‘What do you think, Byers? Would the idea find favour?’

      ‘Anything that allows the men to work and keep their families from starving is a good thing, my lord. But where could we get the land? No farmer would let us have land, even if we could afford the rent.’

      ‘I have a friend desirous of helping