I knew what he suspected but he had also revealed that he didn’t have the proof. No way was I going to give it to him. I said nothing.
‘Miss Royal, you are no fool. You know why I’m so interested in your circle. If one of your fellows, some self-taught scribbler with pretensions to higher things, has taken it into his head to insult his betters in this low fashion, it’s your duty to stop it going any further. We’re living in dangerous times. Just look at France!’ Marchmont’s eyes were blazing with a mad enthusiasm; he thumped his fist in his other hand to give emphasis to his words. ‘Heads will roll if this is not stopped!’
‘And what about the Englishman’s right to free speech?’ I asked, growing more and more alarmed at the boy’s high-handed tone towards me. Who was he to talk about my friends and me in this style? He had worked himself up so much that he was scaring me with his passion on the subject. I was rather glad to have the neutral presence of James within call.
‘Free speech? Pah! Englishmen who attack the very institutions which give us our freedom resign their right to claim this.’
‘Your father doesn’t think this . . . or so Lord Francis said,’ I hurriedly covered my mistake, remembering I should claim no acquaintance with that gentleman.
‘My father! I despise him.’ He must have seen my shocked expression . . . I’d never heard a son speak so ill of his father before. ‘I assure you the feeling is mutual. All my father cares about is his own political advancement. He sees Captain Sparkler as serving his cause.’
‘And you? What’s your cause?’
We were approaching the market and I was beginning to feel safer now we were on my home turf.
‘I’m amazed you have to ask, Miss Royal. King and country, of course!’
‘And nothing to do with spiting your father?’
He bent towards me. ‘Once someone can prove where Captain Sparkler is skulking,’ he hissed, ‘expect a visit from the magistrate. It’s not far from there to the lock-up in Bow Street . . . but someone may find that that short walk is his last. And as for those protecting him, they should also expect to feel the heavy displeasure of the law.’
He was right. I hadn’t thought about the penalty that would be incurred by those of us who knew who Johnny really was if we were caught hiding him. Not that this changed anything of course . . . I knew where my loyalties lay.
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ I said lightly.
Flump! A snowball sailed out of the twilight and hit Marchmont on the side of the face.
‘What the devil!’ he exclaimed.
‘Come on, Cat, come and get me!’ jeered Pedro. A snowball flew in my direction but I ducked in time and it hit James squarely in the chest.
‘The little beggar!’ laughed James, stooping to grab a handful of snow to retaliate.
Another snowball hit Marchmont, this time full in the face so that his flat nose and watery eyes were crusted with ice. He looked at me furiously for an explanation.
I shrugged. ‘Just some friends, sir, having fun, if you know what that is.’ I dodged behind James, leaving the big footman open to two more hits. James was laughing uproariously, sending back missiles with great gusto. I aimed carefully at Pedro as he poked his head out from behind a grocer’s stall and scored a hit with my first attempt. It was then that I noticed the sooty figure beside him who seemed to be sending all his throws in the direction of Marchmont. I hit Lord Francis with my second attempt.
All this while, Marchmont had been standing paralysed with cold fury, not heeding the many snowballs that had splattered upon him.
‘James, stop that!’ he barked.
‘Right, sir,’ said James, sneaking a final throw at Nick when his master’s back was turned. The footman gave me a wink but his face immediately became impassive when Marchmont next faced us.
‘I bid you goodnight, Miss Royal,’ Marchmont sneered. ‘As you are among friends, I need take no further concern for your safety.’
‘You are very kind, sir,’ I said politely, though we both knew I meant exactly the opposite. He was not kind: he was insufferably interfering, bent only on bringing destruction upon one of his fellow men. I bobbed a curtsey and ran over to Syd’s gang, arms held up to ward off the snowballs they were most ungallantly sending in my direction now I had emerged from the protection of James.
‘Enough!’ I shouted. ‘Unfair!’ I reached Pedro, scooped up the remnants of the last snowball to hit me, and stuffed it down the back of his neck. Pedro gave a squeal.
‘Now who’s unfair?’ he protested.
‘Do you think he recognised me?’ asked Lord Francis as he watched Marchmont’s small upright figure fast disappearing westward.
‘Not a chance,’ I assured him. ‘Good shot!’
He grinned. ‘He deserved every one of them, believe me. By the by, what were you doing with him? I didn’t think you two were friends.’
‘We’re not,’ I said shortly.
My mind was racing as I spoke. There were too many enemies lined up to get Johnny. First, there was his father trying to find him; second, the government men were after Captain Sparkler; third, Marchmont was pursuing him because of some personal grudge to do with revenge on his father. And from the evidence of Johnny’s new cartoon, he was far from being a friend to his own cause as he seemed intent on seeking martyrdom by angering yet more people, including his current protector, almost as if he no longer cared for his own safety. He was like a man sawing off the very branch he was sitting on. Well, if Johnny had become careless about his fate, then I had to help him, but I couldn’t do it on my own. I felt pretty sure of Lord Francis and Lady Elizabeth. The only problem was Pedro. Was he trustworthy or would the lure of the reward prove too much? It was best if he was left out of this.
‘Lord Francis . . .?’ I began.
‘Frank . . . it’s Frank, Cat.’