inside it, cannoning into the man's stomach. The man staggered back, but when Renzi stepped into a patch of moonlight he stopped. 'Is ut you, sir? Master Nicholas?'
Renzi took a breath to steady himself. 'It is, Mr Varney. This will teach me not to creep about at night like a poacher. You did right, and I apologise if you were winded.'
He came down early for breakfast; the years of watch-keeping at sea had made late rising distasteful to him, and he was surprised to see his father.
'Sleep well?'
Renzi thought he detected a sly undertone and answered neutrally, 'As may be expected, Father.'
'Attending the assizes today. Do you want to come? What's-his-name—jumped-up magistrate—won't do as he's told, need to learn him some manners. Do you good to take in a piece of the real world.'
Renzi could not trust himself to say anything civil and remained silent.
'Come to any conclusions yet? I want to be able to say something in the House about the Rents Bill at the February sessions, if you take my meaning.'
'Sir. I've been plain with you—this is not something I can arrange immediately. It takes—'
'And I've been plain with you, sir! My patience is wearing thin. Your boat will float without you on it, damn it all. All it takes is a date I can work to, for God's sake.'
Renzi stood up, boiling. 'I find I must take some exercise,' he said thickly, then left the room, trembling. He stalked over the straw and mud of the stables forecourt, shouting for the groom.
Prince, the fine black gelding, was still in his stall and, miraculously, remembered him. The horse nuzzled his hand with a now grey-fringed muzzle. Renzi's eyes smarted as he swung into the saddle, clopped noisily out of the yard, then broke into a gallop on the long stretch of grass to the front gate. He pulled up, panting, and wheeled about to take the long way round the boundary of the estate.
A coppice worker going to the woods looked up in astonishment. Mrs Rattray, fat and buxom, stood at her cottage door and waved shyly. Further along chickens scattered with loud squawks ahead of him; nearby lived the simple woodcutter Jarge who had been told time and again to keep them cooped ... Renzi felt a lump forming in his throat. His canter dropped to a walk and his eyes took in the land—his land, his tenants, his people, if he wanted them.
Powerfully, startling him with its intensity, came the sudden knowledge that at that moment he did not: he was not yet ready to leave the sea life in all its terror and beauty for this, however comfortable and secure. He could not!
He whipped Prince to a gallop and screamed defiance into the wind. Then he became aware of the thud of hoofs out of rhythm behind him. He snatched a backward glance and saw his father low on his horse's neck, striping his mount mercilessly. Renzi swerved aside and headed for a gnarled oak tree standing stark and alone in the middle of the field.
They dismounted without a word, the earl tight-lipped and dangerous. 'Boy, I will not tolerate your peevish ways. You'll put your sailor days behind you and take hold of your responsibilities now, damn you, or I'll know the reason why.'
Renzi took a deep, shuddering breath. He felt a light-headed exhilaration, a species of liberation. No longer was he going to be in thrall to the red-faced tyrant before him. He was different from the man he had once been and had seen far more of life than most. 'Sir, you must allow that—'
'Be damned to your arrogant posturing!'
Renzi was pale and determined. He said nothing. This seemed to goad his father, who roared, 'Unless you see fit to return and find it in yourself to act as my son and heir, I know someone who will!'
So it had come to that. Renzi was tempted to dare him to do his worst, but knew that, once said, his father would never take back his words. 'I have told you that I cannot abandon my post—'
'Damn your blood, sir! I will not take this—' but Renzi had turned on his heel and led his horse away.
'Where are you going to? Come back this instant, or I—I'll—' His words were lost in a splutter as Renzi walked away. 'I'll disinherit! Never fear, sir, I'll do it!' The choking rage was fearsome but it settled the matter as far as Renzi was concerned. Now the only way back was to grovel and beg, and that he would never do. He walked on.
The voice bellowed after him: 'Three months! Three months— and if you're not returned I will go to law and have the title reverted. I can do it, do ye hear? And I
CHAPTER 11
'IF THERE'S ANY MORE o' that lobster salad, I'd be obliged,' Kydd said lazily, from the long seat in the sternsheets of the officer's gig, where he lay sprawled under an unseasonably warm sun.
'No, you shall not!' Cecilia said crossly. 'There'll be none left for the others.' However, more preserved sardine fillets, it seemed, were on offer. The two midshipmen were ashore on the rocks of the little cove, trying without success to conjure a fire to grill their fish and Adams was out of sight inland.
The sun beamed and the plash of the waves was soothing. 'Do you not feel a pity f'r Gen'ral Buonaparte, sis,' Kydd teased, 'that he's cast away in Egypt with no hope o' rescue, him 'n' his great army all alone in the desert?'
'I do not! Such a wicked man! I hope the sun quite dries him up like a wizened prune.'
Kydd's grin at his sister's pout broadened as he considered how things had changed for the better. 'Ye've heard we're in Leghorn now, Cec—that's in the north of Italy—'
'Thomas, I'm not ignorant.'
'An', best of all, Our Nel has stirred up Naples enough that they've marched north an' taken Rome.'
''Our Nel'?'
