“You have my word,” she promised, nearly pushing him out the door. “I shall not give us away. Now hurry off, and don't waste another thought on me.'
Charles would have liked to take her up on this suggestion, but he knew, of course, that he would not be making this visit to Ned's if Louisa's welfare did not require it. Somehow, he could not rest easily with the thought of her remaining alone. He decided to leave Timothy and the coach behind him not only to give his coachman a rest from the cold, but also in case Louisa should find some way to disgrace herself and be in immediate need of leaving The Crown and Pear.
With these concerns in mind, he went outside and mounted the hack Sammy Spadger had lent him. Taking the reins from Timothy, Charles described for him the route he would take to Lord Conisbrough's manor, in case he should be needed, and then trotted off in the dark to seek Ned's help.
Ned's manor house lay only a few miles from Snaithby; Charles arrived there within the half hour. The butler, taking his card, informed him that the family was at dinner.
Charles refused to disturb Ned's mother, but informed the butler that his mission was urgent. He directed him to take in his card, but to ask for a word with Lord Conisbrough in private.
Knowing the proper treatment due a marquess and leader of government and not a little surprised for his master to be receiving such a sober visitor, the butler showed Charles into Lord Conisbrough's library and ordered the fire to be rebuilt.
The room was comfortable, but noticeably lacking in books. Charles was just deploring this fact while he warmed his booted feet over the coals, when the door swung open and Ned appeared.
Ned paused in the doorway for a few seconds, his eyes, already blurred by drink, coming to focus slowly on Charles.
Charles was relieved to see that though Ned's vision was not what it should have been, he was not so far gone that his clothes were out of order. His neckcloth was still impeccably tied, and his boots held their shine. Even his black locks retained the style they had been given by his valet.
“Good Lord,” he said dryly. “It is you, Wroxton. Have you come to serve me a warrant?'
Charles laughed. “I am not a magistrate, Ned. I am adviser to His Royal Highness. Or don't you know the difference?'
Ned shrugged and strolled negligently through the door. “I perceive there might be a difference; but what it is doesn't interest me so long as you promise you have not come to curtail my freedoms. I cannot, otherwise, conceive of a single mission that would overcome your repugnance to visit this most unhallowed ground.'
Charles shifted uncomfortably. “Don't be an idiot, Ned.'
Ned raised his brows. “Ah-but have you called here and been refused? Then I must give notice to my butler this instant. I had no idea he was turning my friends away.'
A flush spread across Charles's face. This was going even worse than he had expected.
“No, I haven't come to visit, and I'm sorry. But-confound it, Ned! You know I don't have time for your sort of foolishness! What if we all indulged ourselves the way you do?'
“Then Boney would be in Brighton by now and installed in the Pavilion. Yes, you're quite right.” An idea seemed to strike Ned. “Do you mean to say you've caught him? Is that why you're here?'
Charles began to fume beneath his politeness. “No, I regret to say we have not. I was on business to that effect, however, and on my way home, when something occurred to occasion this visit.'
“Good Lord,” Ned said flatly again. “The call has finally come. Prinny has come to his senses and needs me. Whom am I to replace? Wellington?'
Charles had to snort at this. “Will you shut up, Ned,” he said tiredly, “and offer me a glass of brandy? I could use something to warm me up.'
“I'll do better than that, my boy. I'll invite you to dinner. You should love it. My mother and her companion, Miss Wadsdale-the merriment flows in abundance. I shall give you the pleasure of entertaining them.'
He reached for the bell, but Charles stopped him in time. “No dinner, Ned. Thank you. But I would have a drink. And if your own dinner calls, I can wait until you've finished.'
Ned smiled wryly. “And return to Miss Wadsdale? No, thank you, Wroxton. You may be a bit of a sourpuss, but I had rather an hour of your company any day to a few seconds of that female's.'
Charles screwed up his mouth. “You are too kind.'
The butler was sent for, and he soon brought back a tray with two glasses and a decanter of brandy. While he was setting it down, Ned brought Charles up to date on some of their friends from Eton. The ones he tended to know about were of the same heedless group he ran with, and their fates ranged from total bankruptcy through extravagant gambling to the occasional scandalous marriage to an opera singer.
In turn, Charles informed him of their friends who had died or been wounded in Europe, which topic cast a pall over their conversation. When the butler left, however, Ned roused himself and said, “Very well, then, out with it. You might have come to see me, but you wouldn't be arriving at this hour and interrupting my dinner if you didn't have something to say. What's adrift?'
Charles was grateful for Ned's directness, but still found it hard to explain his difficulty.
He started badly. “Well… you see… I have met a young lady under rather curious circumstances-'
“Oho, Charlie boy!” Ned's face lit with a speculative glimmer, and he leaned back in his chair, its front legs raised at a tilt. “And you've come to me for instruction, is that it?” He crossed his arms behind his head.
“Not at all, you scoundrel! I-'
“You've got more experience than I think? All the better! Though where you boys up at Whitehall find the time-'
“It is nothing of the sort, and you know it!'
“Don't despair, Charlie boy. The ladies may seem to favour a dark type like me, but do you know, I've noticed they have a soft spot for you fair men, too. Especially if they have your strained, overworked look. They can tell your mind's not on them, see? Gives them a challenge.'
Charles stood and took a step towards his friend. “Ned, I need your help, if you will listen. But so help me, if you go on much longer, I shall strangle you instead and go to the gallows happily! It would be worth it!'
Ned smiled lazily. “Go ahead, then, Charlie. Don't let me interrupt. That's only my best smuggled cognac you're drinking.'
Charles halted in his tracks. He had been wary of the brandy from the first, but under the circumstances had not liked to air his suspicions. To have Ned's lawlessness-nay, his treachery, considering the war-thrown at him like that was nearly the last straw. He choked on an oath.
After a long silence, during which many expressions came to his mind and were rejected, he prepared to leave. There was only so much taunting to which he would submit himself in order to spare Louisa's honour. He put down his glass and took up his gloves.
Ned stopped him before he reached the door. “Only a joke, dear boy. It's not really Boney's cognac. My father laid it by ages ago. How may I serve you?'
The repentant note in Ned's voice persuaded him to turn back. Charles took his chair again, picked up his brandy and downed it with one gulp.
Ned's brows rose. “You must be in trouble,” he said, impressed. “This stuff's too good to waste like that. Remind me to serve you the cheaper poison next time.'
Charles collected himself. Then, with a deep sigh, he related his meeting with Louisa-leaving out her name, of course, and abbreviating most of his thoughts. He told Ned about the letter he had sent to her guardian.
Ned listened, most surprisingly, without interrupting, and only laughed when told of the reception they had got at The Crown and Pear when they used his name.
“Good people, the Spadgers,” he said, “but they haven't got any love for me. I put up a lady friend there once, the prettiest little ladybird you ever saw, and that put them out. Took it out on you, did they?'
“And on Miss-the young lady I am escorting,” Charles said, catching himself. “But I must say she charmed them into keeping her for the moment. What we need is-'
“Pretty is she?'
“What?'
“This friend of yours. Is she pretty?'
Charles felt himself colouring, a touch of anger mixed with his embarrassment. “I would say she is quite attractive, if you must know, though I find the colour of her hair somewhat objectionable. But what has that to say
