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least. Most of the rabble from the town had good reason to be grateful to Justice Middleton. He was known to be lenient and fair. There were looks cast in Sir Royston’s direction. Unlike some.
    Not everyone felt that way. The Volunteers were not tavern sweepings, they were law-abiding citizens, in the pay of Sir Royston.
    ‘Enough of this parleying,’ James yelled, looking to them to support him. He spurred his horse forward and they surged after him. ‘Let us clean out this nest of sedition.’
    He was close enough to ride his horse at Gabriel and rush him before he could take aim and fire. Sovay feared for Gabriel, knowing he would not give way. She did not want blood shed on either side, but James seemed set on a course of violent action. Sovay stood her ground, square in front of the door. She had a pistol hidden about her and would not hesitate to use it if he got any nearer. He went to draw his sword but he fumbled the elaborate hand guard of the sabre and had trouble drawing the long, curved blade from its scabbard.
    ‘Have a care you don’t cut yourself!’ Sovay shouted at him. ‘Until you know how to use it, I suggest you keep it in its sheath!’
    Her words were greeted with laughter by those who heard her. James’ charge came to nothing as he twisted in the saddle, flushed with rage, struggling with his sabre and in danger of unseating himself.
    ‘As I said, Sir Royston, come back when you have a warrant. Until then, I demand that you leave my estate.’
    At a nod from Gabriel, the Compton men advanced. Already many at the back of the crowd were melting away. William Stanhope was coming up behind them with men from the far fields, armed with stout sticks, sickles and billhooks. Caught between two determined forces, the rest turned tail. They had come to make trouble, perhaps do a bit of looting. They had not come to fight.
    ‘I’ll be back, missy.’ Sir Royston’s beefy slab of a face darkened still further. ‘Next time you will not be so lucky.’

    When Gabriel came back from seeing Sir Royston’s ‘army’ off the estate, Sovay had already left.
    ‘Gone?’ he asked Lydia. ‘Gone where?’
    ‘To London, to find the master.’ She was throwing clothes into a bag. ‘I’m to follow on the next coach.’
    ‘She’s riding?’
    ‘Yes,’ Lydia looked shifty. ‘She took Brady.’
    ‘She’s dressed as a man, isn’t she?’
    Lydia’s bottom lip stuck out in petulant defiance, but she didn’t deny it.
    ‘I know what she’s been doing, Lydia.’ Gabriel shook his head with impatience. ‘And don’t doubt that you’ve been helping her.’
    ‘She said it would be quicker.’ Lydia busied herself with her packing. ‘A quicker way to travel and she was less likely to be bothered . . .’
    ‘And you didn’t try to stop her! You are older and should be a good influence. You should have shown more sense.’
    ‘You know what she’s like, Mr Gabriel. Once she’s made her mind up. She won’t listen to no one, so how’s she going to listen to me? Besides, I admire her for it. Did you see the way she saw off Sir Royston?’ Lydia’s green eyes gleamed with admiration. ‘Like a young queen, she was, defending her territory. With no men here to help her. What is she to do?’
    Lydia looked at him with just a hint of mutiny. Whatever her feelings for Gabriel might be, she would not betray her mistress. Gabriel had done his part to shield Sovay from her own folly, but such reasoning would be lost on Lydia. With a sharp tongue and decided opinions, she was not beholden to anyone. In her eyes, Sovay could do no wrong. As if she had even tried to stop her! They were both as bad as each other.
    Gabriel left her to her packing. She had been hankering to go to London this long time. Now she would get her wish. Her and Sovay, the both of them, needed Mrs Crombie to keep them in order. The old housekeeper was in charge of the London house. They would not play so fast and loose with her about.
    Sovay