Warrior

that her aunt was not expected to return from a firework fete in Regent's Park until midnight. Hervey decided instead that, since he would need to make an early start of the business the next day, his best course was to take a room at the United Service Club. This pleased Johnson: the servants' dormitory at the United Service was perfectly comfortable, and it had the advantage of not being under the supervision of his new mistress. The mixed feelings provoked by the military secretary's letter also doused Hervey's desire for company.

He would have to tell Kezia, of course, and soon, for once these things were gazetted it became the common talk. But Brighton had not quite paved the way for such unexpected news to be sprung at once, and he thought it perhaps best to gain intelligence of the Eighty-first – their station and the like – before broaching the subject with her. Not that he ought to be entertaining his mixed feelings, of course: command of a regiment of the Line, albeit Foot, was a distinction not bestowed on many. And command without purchase, besides being welcome for its economy, was a considerable accolade. There was no doubt his star was bright and rising. He was certain that Kezia would recognize it. Or rather, he was sure he would be able to explain it to her if she did not.

Just for a second – the merest moment – he imagined what Henrietta would have said. And he felt the warmth; and smiled.

Next morning he went early to the Horse Guards. His friend Lord John Howard was already at office, and received him at once. 'I fancy I know why you are come,' he said, rising and offering his hand. 'I must congratulate you on your promotion, though I suspect it is not wholly to your liking.'

Hervey removed his hat, and sat down in the familiar chair by his friend's desk. 'I thank you for your good wishes, but, no, it is not wholly to my liking.'

'You have breakfasted?'

'You somehow perceive that I have not. Nor do I have the slightest appetite.'

'I intended suggesting we repair to White's.'

Hervey half smiled. 'You are ever kind, Howard, but I can't detain you thus. Some coffee, perhaps?'

Lord John Howard rang the bell for a messenger. 'The Eightyfirst are a fine regiment, as the Line goes. And it generally goes well, does it not?'

Hervey nodded. 'I don't doubt it. I know it, indeed. I first saw them at Corunna.'

'And I know, too, that Sir James Kempt was pleased to approve the nomination.'

'Kempt is colonel?'

'He is.'

Lieutenant-General Sir James Kempt had commanded a brigade at the storming of Badajoz. Some of Hervey's dragoons had helped carry him to the field hospital. 'I am flattered.Where are they stationed?'

'Canada.'

Hervey had supposed them – for some reason – in Ireland. Canada had unhappy memories, and few opportunities now for an officer to distinguish himself. A look of further disappointment overcame him.

'Have you thought to speak with Irvine?' asked Howard solicitously. 'There may yet be time . . . before it is gazetted.'

Lieutenant-General Lord George Irvine, colonel of the 6th Light Dragoons, had recently been posted to the Unattached List, pending appointment in Ireland. It had long been his wish that Hervey have command of the regiment in which both had served together. But circumstances had contrived to confound him in this – and indeed his predecessor. Money had spoken, for all that the late commander-in-chief, the Duke of York, had tried to moderate the excesses of purchase.

'I have,' said Hervey, nodding firmly. 'But forming any question of him, decently, would not be easy. I can hardly ask how long he expects Hol'ness to remain in command.' Nor, indeed, would an indication of short tenure be necessarily to his advantage. Lord Holderness effectively owned the appointment freehold. In spite of the regulations, he could still name his price. And Hervey, for all that Daniel Coates's legacy provided for him to purchase command at regulation price, could not match some of the figures being bandied.

'You might simply ask what he advises?'

Hervey nodded again, but unconvinced.

The messenger brought coffee.

Howard took his cup and leaned back, as if to emphasize the decidedness with which he would speak. 'I believe I must tell you, truly, from all I see and hear in this place, that your prospects for purchase are lamentable – even if Hol'ness were to sell out, that is. You know, do you not, what price Bingham paid for the Seventeenth?'

The transaction had occurred not long before Hervey had first left for the Cape. 'Five thousand?'

He said it with an ironic smile. The regulation price was five thousand pounds. Payment in excess had been illegal for several years. The Grand Old Duke had, indeed, made overpayment an offence before the King's bench. An officer could be fined, or imprisoned, and the transaction cancelled. There had not been a single prosecution, however.

'Twenty-five.'

Hervey's mouth fell open.

'And do you know, by the way, what dear old Bacon has done?'

Anthony Bacon – an acquaintance of Hervey's from Peninsular days – had been the Seventeenth's senior major (just as Hervey was the Sixth's). He had confidently expected the command to come his way.

'No.'

'He's sold out, and thrown in with the King of Portugal. A mercenary!'

Hervey could scarce believe it. Anthony Bacon, whom Lord Uxbridge, commanding the cavalry at Corunna and Waterloo, reckoned to be the finest of his officers, and who had married Lady Charlotte Harley, whose father was very probably the King! What chance did he himself have if Bacon were dealt with thus? He shook his head. 'What