Page 118 of Exile's Return

Mordaunt flushed. ‘That was a long time ago.’ He frowned. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be dead?’

Kit thought for a moment. ‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘Quite dead.’

‘Our orders are to consign the packages to Lord Mordaunt,’ Jonathan said.

‘LordMordaunt?’ Kit said. ‘My, you have done well.’

‘His Majesty bestowed the honour on me back in July,’ Mordaunt preened.

‘And look how well that turned out,’ Kit said drily. ‘How many men turned up for your little uprising, Mordaunt?’

Mordaunt mumbled something under his breath.

‘Thirty,’ Kit said. ‘The broadsheets had fun with that one. Very well, Mordaunt, the gold is yours. Use it wisely.’

Mordaunt scowled. ‘I am to pass it on to Jack Grenville,’ he said.

‘Good old Jack,’ Kit said. ‘Do give him…on second thoughts, don’t. I’m dead, and he may think you are receiving messages from beyond the grave.’

Mordaunt glanced at Jonathan, who shrugged. ‘Take the gold, Mordaunt,’ he said. ‘We are pleased to be rid of it.’

They waited until Mordaunt carrying the heavy satchels had left the room before sitting down. Daniel poured them all wine.

‘I hear congratulations are in order, Lovell,’ Giles said, raising his cup to Daniel.

Daniel thanked him. ‘Are you returning with us?’

Giles nodded. ‘Yes. Time for the exiles to return, I think, but before I do, the King promised you his favour if you retrieved the gold. What are you after?’

Daniel stared into the ruby depths of his cup and considered for a long moment. ‘I no longer need a pardon for myself,’ he said, ‘and I do not believe my lands were sequestered.’ He glanced at Kit. ‘I seek a pardon for my brother.’

Giles raised an eyebrow. ‘From which particular crime? There will be a general pardon for all those who died in service to the King, but as for the other…damn it, Lovell, you were an agent of Cromwell’s. Good men died.’

Kit, suddenly sober, sighed heavily. ‘I had my reasons.’

Giles waved a hand. ‘You can tell them to the King. Is there anything else?’

‘Yes. I am to marry Agnes Fletcher. I want both of us to be granted the custody and guardianship of the young Earl of Elmhurst and his sister until he is of age, along with his property.’

‘That can be done,’ Giles said. ‘Jonathan has appraised me of the situation there. I believe Ashby is now on the Continent and is hardly a fit person to be the child’s custodian. Is that all?’

Daniel nodded. ‘That is enough.’

‘Good,’ Giles grinned and raised a glass. ‘To the return of the exiles.’

Chapter 53

Seven Ways, Worcestershire 24 December 1659

In the long years of war and struggle, it had been many years since there had been such a happy gathering at Seven Ways. The Thorntons proved generous hosts, and with Kit and Giles in charge, the lively wedding celebrations had gone on until well after midnight. Thamsine Lovell proved to be a talented singer with a fund of inappropriate tavern songs that even had Tabitha Thornton missing notes on the virginals with laughing too hard.

In the proper tradition, the women spirited Agnes away and saw her properly arranged, in a nightdress borrowed from Nell, the Thornton’s guest bed strewn with dried rose petals. A boisterous crowd of men had accompanied Daniel and it had taken Kate Thornton’s firm hand to clear the room. As she left, she handed Daniel the key.

‘You’ll need that,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t trust your brother.’

Agnes sat up in the bed and drew her knees up under her chin and considered her husband, who stood in the middle of the floor, still clutching a wine glass, his jacket undone and his shirt unlaced.

He set the cup he was holding down on the table and sat down heavily on the side of the bed, running his hand through his already disordered hair. He turned his head and grinned at Agnes.