The Captain's Disgraced Lady. Catherine Tinley

when they had been invited to the Vicar’s house for dinner.

      ‘It must be a mistake,’ said Mama. ‘He does make mistakes, sometimes.’

      But it wasn’t a mistake. Standing there, in that little parlour, with its faded French rug and damson-coloured curtains, Juliana suddenly understood something for the first time. The butcher was cheating her mother. Cheating both of them.

      In an instant, Juliana suddenly made sense of things she had seen and heard before. Some people—unscrupulous people—would see her mother’s gentle nature as an opportunity to cheat her. Mama was so good, so giving, so pliant. But where she saw goodness, others would see opportunity.

      ‘He is cheating you, Mama! Why should you allow him to do such a thing?’

      ‘Oh, no, Juliana! It is an honest mistake, that is all. I shall not even mention it.’

      Looking into her mother’s angelic, trusting blue eyes, Juliana knew there was no point in trying to persuade her mother of the butcher’s deceit. She would simply not believe it.

      In that moment, Juliana understood something else. She and Mama were different. Her twelve-year-old self could not have explained how, or why. But she, Juliana, was different. She saw what Mama could not, would not see. And she could act.

      ‘I will go with you to the butcher’s tomorrow, Mama.’

      This time, when Mrs Milford went to settle her reckoning with the butcher, her daughter was with her. The child calmly explained there had been a mistake with the bill. She made the point in full earshot of three other customers, who tutted in shock that such a thing should happen. The butcher looked into the girl’s resolute, angry gaze and immediately realised he had met his match. He apologised profusely to Mrs Milford, thanked her daughter through gritted teeth for pointing out the error, and assured them it would not happen again.

      It hadn’t. And Juliana had been her mother’s guardian ever since.

      She turned back, returning to the present and the parlour in Dover. Her mother was pressing her hands to her temples. ‘Mama, are you unwell?’

      ‘Just a little headache, my dear.’

      ‘Oh, no! What shall I do? Would you like a tisane? Some tea? Where is that tea?’ She moved to the door. ‘Landlord!’

      He bustled towards the parlour, followed by a sullen serving girl carrying a tray.

      ‘At last! Please set it on the table. Thank you.’

      ‘Your carriage is prepared, miss, and ready to leave at your convenience.’

      Juliana gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’ Now Mama, finally, could begin to settle.

       Chapter Two

      An hour later, the ladies left the parlour, Mama, thankfully, now easy and calm. Juliana rang the landlord’s bell in the taproom. She pointedly ignored the two soldiers, who sat at a table opposite the door, enjoying tankards of foaming beer. The one who had spoken to her—the tall one with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes—lifted his head and watched her. She could feel the intensity of his gaze.

      The landlord appeared from the back room, all bustle and busyness. ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting, miss.’

      ‘I should like to pay the reckoning.’

      ‘Yes, Miss.’ The landlord glanced at Juliana’s mother and his expression changed. ‘Ma’am, you are unwell! May I be of assistance?’

      Juliana turned quickly. ‘Mama!’ Her mother looked dreadful. Her normally pale skin was ashen and she was gasping for breath. She seemed to be staring fixedly at a painting on the facing wall—a portrait of a stern-looking army general.

      Juliana took Mama’s arm and gently led her to a nearby settle. The two soldiers, who had leapt to their feet, approached with concerned expressions.

      ‘Oh, dear! I am sorry! I do not wish to make a fuss!’ Mama’s voice was faint and trembled slightly.

      ‘It is nothing, Mama. You see, you can sit here, until you feel better.’ Juliana was pleased to note that her own voice remained steady, though inside she was distressed. What on earth was wrong with her? And what was she to do?

      ‘How may I be of assistance?’ The dark-haired soldier spoke softly.

      ‘We do not need your assistance!’ Juliana hissed. Gathering herself, she added a reluctant, ‘Thank you.’

      ‘I think you do. Unless—’ his blue eyes pierced hers ‘—you wish to fetch the doctor yourself?’

      ‘The landlord will do it.’ Mama probably did need a doctor.

      ‘The landlord cannot leave his inn. And we saw his manservant riding off as we arrived.’

      ‘Gone to the market,’ confirmed the landlord gloomily. ‘Won’t be back ’til nearly sundown.’

      Her mother had closed her eyes and seemed to be concentrating on breathing slowly. Juliana bit her lip. She knew herself to be at a standstill.

      ‘Quite.’ There was satisfaction in the soldier’s tone. Juliana looked at him. Was that a gleam of enjoyment in his eyes? She stood straighter, then addressed the other soldier, the sandy-haired one.

      ‘Sir, might I request your assistance?’ She ignored the arrogant soldier completely. ‘I would be grateful if you could fetch the doctor to assist my mother.’

      His eyes bulged. ‘Anything! I am at your service!’ He bowed. ‘Lieutenant Roderick Evans, of the Thirtieth Foot.’

      Juliana inclined her head. ‘I am Miss Milford. My mother, Mrs Milford.’

      He gestured towards his friend, as protocol demanded. ‘Captain Harry Fanton, also of the Thirtieth.’

      Captain Fanton bowed ironically. She wasn’t sure how he managed it, but the bow was definitely ironic. Stop! She should be concentrating on Mama. She rubbed her mother’s white hands, speaking softly to her.

      ‘Mama, this gentleman will fetch the doctor. All will be well.’

      ‘No! I do not need to see a doctor. I am well.’

      Juliana looked at her closely. In truth, her mother did look a little better. She bade Lieutenant Evans wait, then sat by Mama’s side for a few minutes. She closed her eyes. Slowly, the colour began to return to her cheeks. Juliana’s own heart also began to calm a little.

      Her mother opened her eyes, a frown appearing as she realised she was being watched by the two soldiers and the landlord. All bore similar expressions of concern, but Juliana was conscious that Mama would hate to be the focus of attention. She turned to Juliana, her eyes pleading. ‘I am ready, Juliana. I wish to travel on. Let us go to the coach.’

      ‘If you are certain, Mama, then we will go.’ At least in the carriage, her mother would be safe from the kind eyes of strangers. But what if she were truly ill? Oh, how Juliana wished she knew what to do!

      Mrs Milford stood, though slowly and carefully. Seeing it, Juliana frowned.

      Captain Fanton still looked concerned. ‘Mrs Milford, may I enquire—were you ill during the crossing?’

      ‘Indeed I was, Captain. The crossing was very rough, you see.’

      ‘Then let me advise you. Stay in Dover tonight. The worst thing you can do is to travel onwards by carriage. It will remind you too much of the movement of the sea.’

      ‘Oh, but Juliana says we need to travel on tonight. Our rooms are booked in an inn twenty miles from here.’

      ‘Twenty miles!’ His jaw set. ‘I am concerned you are not well enough to travel.’

      Juliana felt her anger rise. How dare