Chapter One“I see nothing in this that is remarkable,” the Honourable Richard Rowlands said, inspecting his newly tied cravat from every angle.
“There is a difference, sir,” his valet said respectfully.
“Well, to me it looks just a muddle,” Richard Rowlands responded disagreeably.
“I agree with you,” a voice came from the doorway.
The Honourable Richard swung around with an exclamation,
“Vargus! I did not know you had returned to London!”
“I arrived late last night,” the Earl of Hellington replied, “and I broke my own record, as I intended.”
“With new horses?”
“With the chestnuts I bought at Tattersalls when you were with me.”
“I thought they would prove outstanding,” Richard Rowlands said. “Sit down, Vargus, and have a glass of champagne or would you prefer brandy?”
“It’s too early in the day for either,” the Earl answered, “but I would like a cup of coffee.”
His friend made a face.
“Beastly stuff except when one wants to keep awake.”
“I thought you had more alluring attractions to do that for you,” the Earl remarked mockingly.
He sat down in a comfortable armchair as he spoke and crossed his legs, his polished Hessian boots with their gold tassels shining in a manner that brought a look of admiration into the valet’s eyes as he moved from the room to fetch the coffee the Earl preferred.
Richard Rowlands made no effort to continue dressing, but turned around to sit in his shirtsleeves looking his friend over critically.
“You look damned well!” he said. “I suppose it’s the country air.”
“I have been out in all weathers, training a new horse I intend to win every steeplechase with in the County,” the Earl replied.
“You always do,” Richard said laconically, “and it’s not surprising, considering you always have the best horses because you train them yourself.”
“That is the secret, my dear Richard,” the Earl said. “If you stopped chasing women and concentrated on horses, you would find yourself a better equestrian and very much better in health!”
His friend gave a laugh.
“At the moment the only thing I could afford to train would be a mule that no one else had any use for.”
“Under the hatches?” the Earl asked sympathetically.
“Completely,” Richard replied, “and this time I cannot turn to my father for assistance. He swore to me when I went to him six months ago that he would never bail me out again and, as far as he was concerned, I could stay in the Fleet Prison until I rotted!”
“Strong words!” the Earl remarked, “but, of course, I will see that does not happen to you.”
“No, Vargus. It’s very decent of you to suggest it,” Richard protested, “but you know I swore when we first became friends that I would not sponge on you as three-quarters of your acquaintances manage to do and it’s a vow I intend to keep.”
“It is easy to be proud, if you can afford it,” the Earl said cynically.
“Well, I cannot afford it, but I am still proud.”
“In which case,” the Earl replied, “I hope you will find it edible. I have no wish ever again to be as hungry as we were sometimes with Wellington’s Army. I remember several occasions when I was so empty I would gladly have eaten my boots.”
“I am not likely to forget that,” Richard agreed. “But, if we start talking about the War, I shall forget everything else. Why are you back in London?”
The Earl hesitated and his friend looked at him in surprise.
Ever since they had served in the same Regiment they had been such close friends that Richard believed they had no secrets from each other.
When the War was over, they both turned spontaneously to the gaieties of London as a relief from the privations and discomforts they had suffered in Portugal and Spain.
Even so, when reminiscing, they had found it easier to remember the glory and triumph.
But Waterloo had not only brought the cessation of hostilities with the French, it had also brought young men back into civilian life with not enough to do except seek enjoyment.
This was not difficult in the case of the Earl, who was an exceedingly wealthy man, but dozens of his contemporaries like Richard Rowlands found themselves with a champagne taste, but unable to afford anything but homebrewed ale, unless they were prepared to run into debt.
The Prince Regent had set the fashion for extravagance and the amassing of pile upon pile of unpaid bills, which was being emulated in an alarming fashion by the friends he entertained at Carlton House.
When they were not there, they frequented the Clubs in St. James’s Street.
Here they would gamble with what ready money they could find and discuss the merits of the latest social ‘Incomparable and the fascination of the ‘Impures’, who were to be found in the theatres and the dancehalls at which they were always welcome.
Despite the restrictions imposed upon him by the narrowness of his purse, Richard Rowlands had enjoyed not only the nightlife of London but also the race meetings, the mills, the horse sales and every other event that the beaux and the dandies flocked to daily.
He had thought that the Earl was as fascinated as he was by every new excitement, so he was extremely surprised when three weeks ago he had suddenly for no apparent reason, left London for his country house in Kent.
He gave no explanation on his decision except that he had things to see to in the country.
Richard had missed the Earl more than he would admit and had waited expectantly for an invitation to Hellington Park only to be disappointed.
Now the Earl was back and he said impatiently,
“Come on, Vargus! It’s not like you to be mysterious. If it is a woman who is coming between us, I swear I shall feel like throttling her!”
“It’s not any particular woman, yet in a way you are being clairvoyant, except that the woman you wish to throttle has, as yet, no name.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?” Richard enquired.
As he spoke, his valet came back into the room with a tray on which there was a silver coffee pot, a cream jug and a large man-sized cup.
He set it down on a small table by the Earl who thanked him.
When he left the room the Earl said,
“I went to the country, Richard, to think.”
“To think?” his friend exclaimed.
He spoke incredulously, as if he had never heard of the exercise.
“I thought,” he continued after a moment, “that you were finding Lady Adelaide rather a bore. At the same time that little dancer, what was her name, Fay, was divinely alluring.”
“I paid her off,” the Earl said.
“You got rid of her?” Richard asked. “For whom?”
There was a pause before the Earl replied,
“I don’t know yet, but I have decided that I shall get married.”
“Who is to be the fortunate bride?”
“As I say, I have not yet found her.”
Richard gave a laugh.
“That is just like you, Vargus! You make up your mind about something and plan it out like a military campaign. Well, I think you are wise in your position to marry. It’s obvious that you need an heir, but for God’s sake choose the right woman or it will not be I who will throttle her, but you!”
“That is exactly what I thought myself,” the Earl replied seriously.
He took a sip of coffee before he went on,
“I went to Hellington Park because I felt stifled in London and bored with the endless gambling and drinking and having to toady to all those fat women at Carlton House.”
Richard laughed.
“I agree with you. Lady Hertford ruins one’s enjoyment of the time one spends there, but I am genuinely fond of ‘Prinny’.”
“So am I,” the Earl agreed. “But he has become too pompous lately and far too sensitive about himself. I suppose we can thank Beau Brummell for that.”
Both men were silent for a moment knowing that because Beau Brummell had insulted the Heir to the Throne by calling him ‘fat’, it had made him long avidly for personal compliments in a manner that his friends often found disconcerting.
“Whatever else Prinny is,” the Earl said, “he has excellent taste. In fact it’s outstanding except where it concerns his women! ”
“I believe things were much better when he was with Mrs. Fitzherbert,” Richard replied, “although I am too young to remember.”
“So am I,” the Earl agreed.
“Now, let me think – ” Richard said. “You are just a year older than I am, which means you will be twenty-eight this year. It’s certainly time you married, Vargus. Most men of your consequence are married off almost as soon as they leave Oxford.”
“When I was that age,” the Earl said, “I suppose my choice would have been confined to either a Portuguese peasant or one of those aggressive camp followers who came with the Army. They would hardly grace my table at Hellington Park.”
“That is true,” Richard smiled. “And I have always believed that a wife is a very different kettle of fish from the Ladies of Fashion who have a come hither look in their eyes almost before you are introduced.”
“That is exactly what I think myself,” the Earl said, “and while I know exactly what you are hinting at, Richard, I have no intention of marrying Lady Adelaide or any woman in the least like her.”
There was a smile of satisfaction on Richard’s face as he thought of the dark-haired tempestuous ‘Incomparable’, who had been pursuing the Earl ever since he appeared in London.
She was beautiful and undoubtedly alluring in a serpentine manner that made her the centre of the social scene, despite the fact that she was rivalled by Lady Caroline Lamb, notorious for her mad infatuation for Lord Byron, and a number of other beauties who dispensed their favours very generously on those they fancied.
Lady Adelaide was a widow and had made no secret of her determination to marry the Earl.
If Richard had been surprised at his friend’s sudden disappearance to the country, Lady Adelaide had made no pretence of not being disconsolate.
“Go and fetch him back, Richard,” she said at the last party they had met at and there had been no need for her to explain who she was referring to.
“Vargus will return when he is ready to do so,” Richard had replied defiantly.
Lady Adelaide put her hand on his arm and looked up at him with an expression in her eyes that she knew could send a man crazy with desire.
“Do it for me, dearest Richard,” she said. “You know I would not be, ungrateful.”
For a moment she had almost hypnotised him into agreeing to do anything she asked. Then he had shaken himself free to say,
“I have no more influence over Vargus than you have. If he wishes to return, he will do so. If not, he will stay away.”
It was true that the Earl was a law unto himself.
He was used to commanding and used to being obeyed. Wellington had said that he found him an excellent leader of men owing to the simple reason that he made up his mind what he wanted to achieve and could never visualise for a moment that he would not attain it.
Looking at him now, Richard thought that, while it would be easy for him to get any woman he desired, she would be taking on a very hard task in trying to be the wife he wanted.
For one thing, he would expect perfection and nothing else was acceptable where the Earl was concerned.
Thinking over the women he knew, Richard could not think of one who qualified for that requirement.
As if he realised what his friend was thinking, the Earl said,
“It will not be easy. When I looked at Hellington Park, which has been somewhat neglected since the War, I was aware that it needed a woman’s presence and something else that only she could give it.”
“What is that?” Richard enquired.
“It should be a home,” the Earl said. “That is what it meant to me when I was a young boy and I know that it now lacks what I suppose you could call ‘atmosphere’.”
“I think I understand what you are trying to say,” Richard answered. “I felt the same when my mother died. The house seemed empty.”
“Exactly!” the Earl said. “And also, if I don’t get the heir you suggest, the next in line for the title is an uncle, who is unmarried, and after him another uncle I have never cared for with only four daughters.”
“Good God!” Richard exclaimed. “You will certainly have to get busy to prevent a succession of that sort!”
The Earl drank some more coffee and then said,
“I came back to London to find a pile of invitations waiting for me. There are a number from women who, I believe, are introducing their daughters to Society. I thought you and I might go along to one or two of them.”