you two are!’
Her father approached, his spirits high. Mercedes stepped back, putting more space between herself and Greer. If her father was in a good mood, things must have gone well in town. ‘We thought you’d find us when you were ready.’ Mercedes offered as an explanation for their truancy.
‘You thought right, my smart girl.’ He chucked her under the chin playfully. ‘I’ve got rooms at the Millstream Inn, but the billiards table is at the Golden Rooster.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Two inns! Not bad for a sleepy little place. We’ll have some fun tonight. Everyone hereabouts is in town with money to spend after a long winter. Are you ready to play, Captain?’
Her father inserted himself between the two of them as they walked back towards town, horses in tow. Behind her father’s back, Greer caught her eye and gave her a grin. Mercedes smiled, swallowing her disappointment. The afternoon was officially over.
Bosham was a pretty fishing village at the east end of Chichester Harbour. A Saxon stone church sat neatly on the High Street not far from their rooms at the Millstream Inn, and Greer would have liked time to tour the town with Mercedes. She’d been a game sightseer at the fair and he would have enjoyed exploring the town’s countless legends about King Harold and Canute with her.
There would be no time for such an indulgence. Lockhart had not only found them rooms at the comfortable inn, he had already bespoke a private parlour for dinner and was eager to get down to the business of playing billiards.
‘We’ll go over to the Golden Rooster,’ Lockhart said between bites of an excellent seafood stew. ‘I want to see what you can do, what your natural inclinations are, how badly you want to win.’ Lockhart winked and handed him some funds. ‘That should get you started.’ Lockhart rubbed his hands together, the gleam of excitement in his eye. ‘There’s money to be had in this little town tonight. People are happy, they’ve made money today, they’ve been drinking and thinking they’ve got a bit extra in their pockets.’
Greer cringed inwardly at Lockhart’s implication. A single walk through the streets had shown him these were simple people: merchants, farmers and fishermen, some of whom depended on seasonal fairs to last them through the year. The thought of taking their money sat poorly with him, souring the rich stew in his stomach.
Mercedes was watching him. He must have reflected his distaste for the venture in some small way. Quickly, Greer tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it into his bowl, looking busy with eating to mask any other telltale signs of reluctance. Her eyes slid away towards her father.
‘I’ll be there too.’
‘No, I think you should stay here,’ Lockhart corrected. ‘Relax, spend the night by the fire, enjoy some needlepoint.’ He smiled kindly at his daughter, but Greer didn’t think Mercedes would fall for the expansive gesture.
She saw right through it. ‘I’ll come,’ she said with the same brand of feigned politeness her father had used. ‘I’m not tired. It will take only a moment to change. Shall I wear the maroon gown?’ Greer’s lips twitched, suppressing a smile as he watched the two of them play with one another. Would Lockhart be so easily managed?
Lockhart rose and held Mercedes’s arm. His voice was low and firm, more fatherly when he spoke this time. Greer recognised it as the tone his own father took when he was younger and he and his brother had pushed the limits of their father’s patience with a jest or prank. ‘I prefer you remain here. The Golden Rooster is no gentleman’s club. With the fair in town, who knows what kind of element will find its way out tonight?’
Mercedes’s eyes narrowed. ‘I cannot help him if I cannot watch him. By the time we get to the big towns it will be too late to coach him. If he has a flaw, we need to fix it while we’re in the villages.’
Greer raised his eyebrows. ‘I am still here.’ He didn’t like being talked about as if he were a thing to be studied and fixed. Mercedes spared him the briefest of glances before turning back to her father.
Lockhart shook his head, his tone softening. ‘Please, Mercedes, a tavern is no place for you. When there are subscription rooms or private billiards parlours, you’ll be able to join us then. Please, besides, your clothes will give us away. Your gowns are much too fine for the Golden Rooster.’ He swallowed and dropped his gaze, arguing softly, ‘I would not have you treated less than you deserve, my dear. You know what the men there will think.’
That was the end of it. The last argument seemed to carry some weight. Mercedes acquiesced to her father’s better sense with moderately good grace and what could pass as a warning. ‘Just for tonight. But don’t think I’ll sit idly by again. We’ll have to find a way to make my presence acceptable long before we get to Bath.’
‘Fair enough.’ Lockhart kissed his daughter’s cheek and turned to Greer. ‘Are you ready, then?’
The Golden Rooster was at the other end of town, closer to the fairground than the quay like the Millstream Inn, and the fair crowd had definitely gathered there. At the back of the room was the billiards table. Greer and Lockhart parted ways, Lockhart heading for the bar and Greer for the table with Lockhart’s advice in his ear: watch first, then play slow and easy, nothing fancy.
Watching helped settle his nerves and misgivings. These were regular men, not all that different from those he played in the army. They seemed cognisant of what they were doing and the attenuate risks. For a while, players came and went, the winner of a match earning the right to stay at the table and play the next challenger and the atmosphere was congenial. Then, a cocky braggart of a man stepped up and won a few games. He was not a kind winner and Greer felt his blood starting to rise. He wanted to beat this man. When the chance came to play, he took it, hefting the ash cue in his hand with grim determination.
He didn’t stay grim for long. It felt good to play and in spite of the worn condition of the table, the balls rolled predictably. He played the braggart again and again, defeat egging the man on until he had to withdraw, his ego and coins spent. The crowd around Greer had grown with a rising raucousness, spurred on by Greer’s victories against a disliked opponent. He caught a glimpse of Lockhart shouldering his way into the crowd.
‘Who else will play?’ Greer called out in friendly tones. Now that the braggart had been routed, they could get back to the business of fun. The crowd parted and a young man, younger than he, emerged. He was tall and sturdily built. His face was tanned, his eyes merry, shoulders broad and thick from hauling nets. A fisherman, a local. A few men clapped the young man on the shoulder and Greer surmised from the comments that the young man was something of a town favourite, newly married with a baby on the way. His name was Leander and he blushed ever so slightly and proudly when the men teased him about Ellie. ‘Finally let you out of the house, has she?’ they joked.
Leander brushed off the comments. ‘Never mind them,’ he said good-naturedly to Greer. ‘They’re just jealous I’m married to the prettiest girl in town.’ Most definitely a town favourite, Greer thought as the men laughed.
And a decent player too, Greer amended a few games later. They’d played four games, each winning two and money exchanging hands on an equal basis. Lockhart was frowning in the crowd. Greer would have to step up his game. It would be too much for Leander. If Leander was smart, he’d recognise the superior skill and walk away. At this point, Leander wasn’t out any serious money and he could stop whenever he wanted.
Conscience subdued momentarily, Greer took the next three games. Leander was getting frustrated. Greer hoped the young man would stop and call it a night. Instead Leander said, ‘Double or nothing on the next game.’ There were a few cautious
