Blood on the Strand by Susanna Gregory Page A

and Scot discussed their families. Chaloner’s was maintaining a low profile in a quiet part of Buckinghamshire,
     patiently waiting for Cavaliers to tire of baiting old Roundheads. Meanwhile, Scot’sfather, executed for regicide, had been Thurloe’s predecessor as Spymaster, and his two sons had followed him into espionage.
     Unfortunately, Thomas was not very good at it, as his incarceration in the Tower attested. Finally, there was the daughter
     of the house.
    ‘And Alice?’ Chaloner asked cautiously. He was always uncomfortable when discussing the one member of the Scot family who
     did not much care for him. ‘How is she?’
    Scot clapped him on the shoulder, laughing at his unease. ‘She still has not forgiven you for fighting that duel with her
     first husband, and spits fire every time your name is mentioned.’
    ‘He challenged me,’ objected Chaloner. ‘I was willing to overlook the fact that he had been selling Cromwell’s secrets to
     the enemy, but
he
was the one who insisted honour should be satisfied. He was lucky you were there to plead his case, because I should have
     killed him for what he had done.’
    ‘The fact that he was in the wrong makes no difference to Alice,’ said Scot, still grinning. ‘But her wrath will fade eventually,
     especially now he is dead. Incidentally, her period of mourning is over now, and she is on the prowl for a replacement. However,
     I categorically refuse to give my blessing to her current choice. Sir Richard Temple is
not
a man I want as a brother-in-law. He is corrupt, greedy, selfish and – worst of all – a politician.’
    ‘Leave her alone,’ advised Eaffrey. ‘A woman her age does not need a meddling brother telling her what to do.’
    ‘The meddling brother does not want her hitched to a man who is only after her money,’ retorted Scot tartly. ‘I despise Temple,
     and will do all I can to prevent the match.’
    Chaloner recalled that Alice’s first husband had been rich, and she had inherited everything when he had died. ‘Surely her
     wealth will attract someone more suitable? There must be hundreds of decent, but poor, men who might … ’ He thrashed around
     for a more polite alternative to ‘put up with her’.
    ‘She says Temple is the only one who fulfils her exacting standards,’ explained Scot. ‘God alone knows what they are, because
     they certainly do not include looks, character, integrity or charm.’
    ‘I have a lover,’ said Eaffrey casually, after a brief silence during which Wilkinson brought more beer. ‘His name is Johan
     Behn and he is a merchant from Brandenburg. I shall marry him soon.’
    Chaloner was amazed. Eaffrey’s lifestyle – like his own – was not suited for serious relationships, and she had always declared
     that she would never give up her freedom for something as mundane and repressive as a husband. He supposed her opinions must
     have moderated over time, and recalled her mentioning someone special when they had been in Ireland. They had been too busy
     to discuss it then.
    She smiled dreamily. ‘I missed him dreadfully when we were in Dublin, and I find myself happier in his company than at any
     other time. I suppose that is love. And he is very handsome.’
    ‘Rich, too,’ added Scot impishly. ‘Which is far more important.’
    ‘That is probably what this Temple thinks about Alice,’ said Chaloner. He changed the subject before he could land himself
     in trouble – Scot was fiercely protective of his siblings. ‘What do you know about my Earl’s feud with Bristol? So far, I
     have only heard one side of the story.’
    ‘I can imagine,’ said Scot wryly. ‘Clarendon holds forth to anyone who will listen and, as his spy, you can hardly ask him
     to talk about something else. However, while
he
is decent and honest – albeit deadly dull – there is something a little knavish about Bristol.’
    Eaffrey ate some tansy. ‘He kissed me last week, and I thought I would faint from the