Читать книгу Miss In A Man's World - ANNE ASHLEY, Anne Ashley - Страница 7

It was Lord Fincham’s custom to rise late in the mornings when residing in town and the following day proved no exception. Every member of his household, not least of which was his personal valet, was awake to his lordship’s every desire and need. Consequently, his hipbath awaited him in the dressing room the instant he had broken his fast and had risen from the large four-poster in the master bedchamber.

Unlike so many of his contemporaries, his lordship had always been a champion of personal hygiene. Eschewing the use of strong perfumes in order to mask unpleasant odours, he had always bathed regularly, something which was becoming increasingly popular since the arrival of that astute arbiter of good taste, George Bryan Brummell, on the London scene a couple of years or so before.

The Beau had set a fashion in gentleman’s attire that many of the younger members in society had quickly attempted to ape—with varying degrees of success, it had to be said. Perhaps because he was so resolute and too discerning a gentleman to be influenced by the latest affectations, Lord Fincham had yet to adopt the less flamboyant styles of dress advocated by Brummell.

He continued to wear silks, velvets and brocades, and an abundance of lace. His wardrobe boasted many fine coats in a range of vibrant colours and in richly embroidered materials. He favoured, still, knee-breeches, and his hair remained long and tied back at the nape of his neck with a length of black velvet ribbon.

In fact, it was only his lordship’s hair that had ever caused his pernickety valet the least consternation. Not once in the eight years he had served the Viscount had Napes had recourse to a powder box. Nor had he ever persuaded his master to don a wig. In every other respect, however, Napes could find no fault with his lordship, and was secretly so very proud to have the dressing of a physique that was truly without flaw. Shoulders, chest and waist were perfectly proportioned and long legs were so straight and well muscled that no artificial aids to correct the tiniest defect had ever been employed.

After washing his own hair, his lordship allowed Napes to pour a pitcher of warm water over his head, and then leaned back, happy to relax for longer than usual as he had nothing planned for what little remained of the morning. For a moment or two he absently studied the valet’s progress, as Napes went about the dressing room collecting various discarded items of clothing, before his mind returned to the matter that had so occupied his thoughts during the early hours before sleep had finally claimed him.

‘Tell me, Napes, have you had the felicity of making the acquaintance of the most recent addition to the household staff?’

‘Indeed I have, my lord,’ he answered in a flat tone that betrayed his complete lack of interest in the new arrival.

His lordship wasn’t unduly surprised by this indifference. Only in matters of dress did his valet betray the least animation. ‘Has the boy broken his fast?’

This did cause the valet to betray a look of mild surprise. ‘I believe so, my lord. He was in the kitchen with Cook earlier, chattering away about something or other. Will there be anything else, my lord? If not, I shall take these soiled items down to the laundry and return presently with clean linen.’

Through narrowed eyes his lordship followed the valet’s progress across to the door. ‘Yes, do that, Napes. But send the boy up with the linen, and then return yourself. I rather fancy indulging in a long soak this morning.’

It was some ten minutes later before there was a slight scratch on the door. Experiencing a sense of grim satisfaction, his lordship bade enter, and then watched the most recent acquisition to his household take a step or two into the room, before stopping dead in her tracks. Violet eyes, betraying a marked degree of mingled embarrassment and doubt, widened noticeably, before lowering to consider some imaginary spot on the floor.

‘I—I’m s-sorry, my lord. Mr Napes quite failed to mention you were still at your ablutions. Where shall I put these?’

‘Oh, just put them down anywhere, child, and pass me the towel,’ he responded with supreme unconcern, while quite deliberately raising himself slowly from the concealing waters of the hipbath. ‘Look lively, lad!’

The mild rebuke was sufficient to regain the page’s full attention. Then a look of fascinated horror, not to mention utter disbelief, gripped delicate features as those striking orbs remained glued to a certain portion of his lordship’s anatomy located between the waist and the knees. A stifled exclamation of alarm quickly followed, the pile of recently laundered shirts was tossed in the air and then fell to the floor as though so many worthless rags, a moment before Master Green fled the room as though the devil himself were nipping at her heels.

Highly amused by the outcome of his little experiment, his lordship gave vent to a roar of appreciative laughter, uncaring whether it could be heard or not by his unconventional and highly discomposed young page.

‘That,’ he murmured, as he wrapped himself in a huge towel and wandered through to his bedchamber again, ‘was most illuminating. Though not particularly flattering, now I come to consider the matter. I’ve never had any unfavourable comments about my manly attributes before!’

‘Beg pardon, my lord.’ Like a cat on the prowl, Napes had slipped silently into the room. There was in his eye a watchful look, as he made his way towards the dressing table where his master sat, running a comb through his damp hair. There was a suggestion, too, of peevishness about the valet’s mouth.

His lordship could hazard a fairly shrewd guess as to why his valet felt aggrieved, but chose not to pander to the excellent dresser’s feelings of wounded pride at having had an underling usurp his exalted place in the dressing room and raised one hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Merely thinking aloud, Napes,’ he assured him, and then watched as the servant disappeared into the adjoining room.

The strangled cry that quickly followed came as no great surprise to his lordship either. Nor, it had to be said, did the subsequently voiced strictures on allowing unskilled menials to handle clothing of such fine quality.

‘For heaven’s sake, calm yourself, man!’ his lordship ordered. ‘The confounded garments aren’t ruined.’

‘None the less, my lord, the boy must learn to take more care of your belongings if … if you wish him to share my duties. He should be punished for such tardiness.’

When this advice was followed by a decided sniff, his lordship raised his eyes ceilingwards. ‘Be assured, Napes, the child was not hired to replace you, or to relieve you of any of your duties. I merely wished to satisfy myself over—’ His lordship checked abruptly. ‘I merely wished to satisfy myself that he had slept well. All the same, your remarks are timely,’ he added, staring thoughtfully into the glass before him, as he confined his long hair at the nape of his neck with a length of ribbon. ‘Ring for Brindle!’

Whilst awaiting the arrival of his major-domo, the Viscount proceeded to dress himself. Although he allowed his valet to remove the smallest of specks from his clothes and polish his boots and shoes to a looking-glass shine, he preferred, with the exception of his coats, to don his own garments, and always tied his neckcloths himself.

‘You sent for me, my lord,’ the butler said, entering the room in time to witness the valet assisting his lordship into a coat of dark green velvet.

‘I did, Brindle.’ He turned, favouring the high-ranking servant with his full attention. ‘Mark me well … No one, and I mean no one, is to lay violent hands on my new page. If the child commits any slight misdemeanour …’ he couldn’t resist smiling to himself ‘… and I suspect he will commit many, you, and you alone, are to guide him in a gentle, understanding way. If he should seriously transgress, you are to inform me and I shall deal with the matter personally.’

He paused for a moment before adding, ‘I shall be most displeased if I discover my orders have been disobeyed over this matter. Is that understood?’

‘Perfectly, my lord.’

‘And you, Napes …?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Good. Now you may be about your duties. And you, Brindle, locate Master Green’s whereabouts and request him to await me in the library.’

Although the butler automatically bowed and withdrew, his face wore a decidedly thoughtful expression as he made his way down the back stairs to the kitchen, where he found the page happily assisting the cook to shell peas at the large table.

The youth had been there for most of the morning, chattering away quite knowledgeably about various domestic practices to Mrs Willard and helping her out where he could. Clearly the cook had already taken a keen liking to the boy. Perhaps the lad had aroused her motherly instincts, for generally she ruled the kitchen with an iron hand and would brook no interference from anyone. The scullery maid and the boots knew well not to get under her feet and she wasn’t above giving the youngest footman a sound box round the ear, if he happened to catch her in a bad mood. Yet Master Green, seemingly, could do no wrong in her eyes.

And it had to be said the child was no harum-scarum guttersnipe, Brindle considered fair-mindedly, as he made his way towards the large wooden structure taking pride of place in the centre of the room. Not only was the lad well mannered, he spoke, amazingly enough, in a very genteel fashion. Yes, Master Green was something of a mystery.

‘You are to attend his lordship, child.’

There was a suspicion of alarm in the eyes that were raised to the butler’s impassive countenance. ‘Not in his bedchamber, I trust?’

‘It isn’t for you to question where his lordship wishes to see you!’ Napes admonished, entering the kitchen in time to hear the decidedly nervous response.

A considering look took possession of those striking eyes as they followed the valet’s progress across the large room, before it was vanquished by a knowing twinkle.

‘Ah, but you see, Mr Napes, I have no desire to trespass on your domain. I think any skills I might have lie elsewhere, perhaps even here with Mrs Willard.’

‘Oh!’ The valet looked taken aback for a moment, not to say slightly relieved. ‘There’s no need for you to worry yourself on that score, my boy,’ he assured, noticeably less sharply. ‘His lordship demands you await him in the library.’

‘Not quite, Mr Napes,’ the butler corrected when the page had left them. ‘He requested the child await him in the library. Requested, mark you.’

‘Well, that do seem strange, Mr Brindle,’ the cook declared, as the butler, continuing to look perplexed himself, joined her at the table. ‘Mind, the child do have winning ways, I’ll say that for him. Perhaps his lordship has a fondness for the lad.’ She gave a sudden start. ‘Oh, my gawd! You don’t suppose.?’

‘That possibility assuredly crossed my mind,’ the butler admitted, following Cook’s train of thought with little difficulty. ‘But, apart from the hair, the child bears no resemblance to his lordship from what I can see. Nor the master’s late brother, come to that. Besides which, I would have thought he was rather too old to be an offspring of his lordship’s.’

‘Not only that, Mr Brindle, the master were so good natured in his youth,’ Cook reminded him. ‘Never a breath of scandal attached to his name in those days. It was only after he came back from France and discovered what Miss Charlotte had gone and done that changed him.

‘A bit before your time, Mr Napes,’ she explained, when she chanced to catch him frowning down at her, looking bewildered. ‘Miss Charlotte were a close neighbour’s daughter. She and Master Benedict were childhood sweethearts, inseparable they were back in them days. His brother only wanted Master Benedict to finish his studies up at Oxford, then he were happy to give the union his blessing and set Master Benedict up in a nice little property a few miles north of Fincham Park, with a nice bit of land attached to it, too. Well, no sooner does Master Benedict finish his studies than he goes jaunting over to France to help his friend Mr Gingham rescue a cousin, or some such. Wicked goings on over there at the time, Mr Napes, murdering all their betters. Wicked it were!

‘Master Ben were away quite some few weeks, I seem to remember,’ she went on, quickly returning to the point of the story, ‘and when he came back he discovered Miss Charlotte had spent some time in London with an aunt or some such, and had upped and wedded Lord Wenbury.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘He were never the same after that, were he, Mr Brindle? Cold, he became, cold and distant.’

‘He certainly became less approachable,’ the butler was willing to concede. Then he shook his head. ‘But that child seems to have stirred something within him again. I swore I heard him laughing earlier, shortly after I’d shown the lad where his lordship’s dressing room was located, and I was about my duties on the upper floor. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in many a long year.’

‘But where did the young fellow come from, Mr Brindle, that’s what I’d like to know? Ever since he came into the title, his lordship has always trusted your judgement when it comes to hiring staff,’ Cook reminded him. ‘So I don’t think he came from any agency.’

‘I’m sure he didn’t. Just as I’m convinced he’s never been engaged in service before. All I can tell you is his lordship brought him back with him yesterday. No doubt the young fellow will reveal more about himself when he comes to know us better.’

His lordship, seated at his desk in the library, was of a similar mind, and had decided not to bombard his unusual page with questions, but to bide his time in the hope of discovering more.

Only just detecting the light knock on the door, he bade enter and watched the girl come shyly into the room. The glance she cast him was brief in the extreme, before she resolutely stared at the floor, her heightened colour visible even from where his lordship sat. Clearly she was still highly embarrassed over the incident in the dressing room. But it was no more than she deserved! his lordship decided, hardening his heart.

‘Come in and close the door, child, I wish to discuss your duties with you. No, over here,’ he added when she remained where she stood. ‘I have no intention of shouting and becoming hoarse.

‘You may sit yourself down,’ he invited when she had finally managed to edge her way across to the desk, though seemingly still unable to meet his gaze.

Wisely, she had betrayed a certain wariness towards him from the first. Clearly she mistrusted him now, and he didn’t like it—no, not at all. If he was ever to discover the truth about her present circumstances he would, quite naturally, need to win her complete confidence. He was determined to do so and not merely in an attempt to satisfy his curiosity.

‘I understand from my valet that you managed to find your way down to the kitchens this morning. I assume, therefore, you realise there is a dog in the house.’

At long last she met his gaze, albeit briefly. ‘Yes, sir—Ronan.’

‘Ah, so you have become acquainted already—good! I hope you got along. He is not always at his best with strangers, especially those of a young age.’

‘He was all right with me. I gave him a bone, which helped, of course. Your cook wasn’t best pleased, because she wanted it for the stockpot. But she forgave me when I offered to help shell the peas.’

Never in his lordship’s entire life had a servant ever attempted to regale him with a catalogue of goings-on below stairs. Yet this outrageous little madam seemed to consider it the most natural thing in the world! Far from annoyed, he was both amused and intrigued by her attitude and decided to tease her a little.

Leaning back in his chair, he feigned a look of amazement. ‘I never realised until today that peas came in shells. I thought only oysters and certain other sea creatures arrived at the house in such hardened coverings. Which only goes to prove one is never too old to learn.’

It was only by exercising the firmest control that he prevented himself roaring with laughter for the second time that day at the look of mingled disbelief and dismay he received. Even so, he couldn’t prevent his shoulders shaking in his effort to contain his mirth, which instantly alerted his engaging companion to his true state of mind.

‘You were jesting, of course,’ she said, with just a trace of peevishness in her voice.

‘Indeed, I was, child,’ he confirmed. ‘But not about Ronan. I am delighted to hear you both took a liking to each other, because I wish you to take charge of him for most of the time, when he isn’t with me. Take him out for walks, but keep him on the leash whilst anywhere near traffic. I should not be best pleased if harm came to him. And for pity’s sake do not release him in Green Park anywhere near the grazing cows! I do not wish to suffer a visit from the authorities informing me that you have stampeded the herd.’

She gurgled at this, a delightfully infectious sound that brought an answering smile to his own lips. Striking eyes then appeared to consider him intently for a long moment before lowering and staring down at the desk.

‘And are those my only duties, my lord?’

‘No, I shall require you to accompany me out from time to time.’

An arresting look flickered across delicate features. ‘Shall you, sir?’

‘Of course, otherwise I shouldn’t have said so,’ he returned, reaching for his quill in order to begin his correspondence. ‘But until you have acquired new clothes, you may concentrate your efforts on looking after Ronan.’

‘Very good, my lord.’ She rose from the chair and went over to the door. ‘I shall begin by seeing if I cannot persuade Mrs Willard to allow him in the kitchen from time to time. She usually shuts him away in the scullery during the day, I believe.’

‘Is that so?’ Lord Fincham responded absently, reaching for a sheet of paper while gazing across at the door. ‘And who might Mrs Willard be, may I ask?’

He received a look of mock reproach. ‘For an educated man you are sadly ignorant about many things, my lord. She’s your cook, of course!’

‘A word of warning, Master Green,’ the Viscount said, oh, so softly. ‘I am not above taking a birch rod to impertinent young cubs.’

Clearly the threat left her unmoved. He received a further gurgle of infectious laughter in response before he was left alone in the room. Although he shook his head, wondering at himself, he couldn’t resist smiling again. ‘I must be mad to tolerate such an impudent minx under my roof,’ he muttered. ‘Either that, or I’m entering upon my dotage!’

It was four days later before his lordship gave orders for his page to accompany him out. At nine o’clock precisely he descended the staircase to find his most recently acquired servant pacing the chequered hall, awaiting his arrival. Dressed in severest black livery, trimmed only with a fine silver braid, and with a cascade of white lace foaming below the pointed little chin, she appeared every inch the aristocratic gentleman’s pampered page. Only when she heard his footfall and glanced up, those magnificent eyes shining, and those perfectly lovely lips parting in a spontaneous smile, was he reminded of her true sex.

She won no answering smile from him this time, only a brief look of mild concern. ‘Yes, you look very well. You may follow me out to the carriage.’

‘Am I to sit upon the box with the groom, sir?’

‘No, you are not. You are to sit inside with me, for there are certain matters I must discuss with you.’

For the briefest of moments he almost forgot himself and assisted her into the carriage first. His concern quadrupled in an instant. If he was ever to forget himself, and show the least consideration for her true sex, the world he inhabited would be outraged. He didn’t care so much for himself. He was Fincham—a matrimonial prize. Shallow society would soon forgive and forget his slight peccadilloes. But the girl …?

No, she would be ruined in the eyes of the world, he reminded himself. And she didn’t deserve that, even though she would lend herself to such a disgraceful venture as posing as a page. Furthermore, although she might never be granted entrée into the highest echelons of society, she had been gently reared, that much was crystal clear, and she should not be denied the chance to take her place in the genteel world. Perhaps when he had first embarked on this madcap venture he hadn’t considered fully what a responsibility he was taking upon himself. But he realised it now, for he no longer doubted her respectability. Consequently, because he had possibly unwittingly encouraged her, he now felt an obligation to stand if not in place of a guardian, then certainly a protector, until such time as she confided fully her reasons for the charade. Then, once he had discovered why she was so willing to risk her reputation … perhaps even forfeit her rightful place in the world.

Well, he would consider that more fully when the time came, he decided finally. For now, he would do the honourable thing … at least up to a point.

‘Now, child, as this is your first venture into polite society,’ he began, then paused as that little head came round and those oh, so revealing eyes, unable to meet his for more than a second or two, lowered. The reluctance to meet his gaze told him much: it wouldn’t be her first venture into society; she had socialised with members of the ton before she had ever met him. How interesting, he mused. And, of course, dangerous. It made his task all the more problematic.

For a moment he toyed with the idea of returning to the house and ending the charade there and then by confronting her, but decided against it. She was not dull-witted. Evidently she didn’t believe she would be recognised. This time he would trust her judgement, he finally decided.

‘As I was saying, as this is perhaps your—er—first venture into society, I wish you to take very great care. Do not speak to anyone unless spoken to first. And in the unlikely event that you are addressed, then you are to say only that you are Fincham’s page. Most important of all, do not draw attention to yourself by staring at your betters, otherwise I might feel obliged to send you to await me below stairs.’

She regarded him in silence for a moment, a touch of concern easily discernible in her expression. ‘But I may speak with you, sir, if I am … troubled … about something?’

He regarded her intently for a moment. ‘You may always approach me, child, no matter where, no matter when, if there is something of importance you wish to discuss with me.’

This seemed to reassure her, for she smiled brightly, almost trustingly across at him. ‘You have yet to inform me where we are bound, my lord,’ she reminded him, as though she had every right to know.

Retribution would undoubtedly have been swift had his punctilious major-domo overheard an underling commit such a solecism. Or perhaps not where this page was concerned, he corrected silently. Evidently Brindle had obeyed his orders to the letter, with the result that the most recent addition to the staff had yet to learn her place in the Fincham household. Far from annoyed, it rather amused his lordship to have his girl-page so far forget herself on occasions as to treat him as an equal.

‘How very remiss of me, Georgie!’ he declared, with only the faintest betraying twitch at one corner of his mouth. ‘We are bound for the home of the Duke and Duchess of Merton. It is a monstrous pile, so stay close. You might so easily get lost.’

When at last they had arrived at the impressive mansion, his lordship was pleased to note that his advice had been heeded. With the exception of handing their outer garments to a waiting flunkey, she remained dutifully at his heels throughout the time they queued on the impressive staircase, waiting in line to be greeted by the host and hostess. Evidently his major-domo had succeeded during recent days in instilling at least the rudimentary conduct of a page into her. Even so, she did not escape the attention of the eagle-eyed duchess.

‘What new affectation is this, Fincham? Never before have I known you to have a page in tow.’

‘A whim, your Grace. Merely a whim. I succumbed to the most wicked desire to ruffle Sir Willoughby’s feathers. You know how he so hates to be outdone by anyone.’

‘Wicked boy!’ She tapped him flirtatiously on the chest with her fan. ‘I do not doubt you will succeed. A most engaging child you have there. I should be interested to know where you found him. You, however, shall find Sir Willoughby in the card room.’

Instructing his page to follow with a flick of one finger, Lord Fincham entered the opulently decorated ballroom. Huge vases of flowers, supported on marble pedestals, were positioned at frequent intervals down the full length of the long room. Swathes of silk in peach and cream were artistically draped across the walls, and gracefully arching potted palms decorated each and every alcove. It was a sight to take any inexperienced girl’s breath away, and his newly acquired obligation proved no exception. Although she refrained from gaping outright, there was a look of wonder in those magnificent eyes of hers that could so easily betray her true sex to any discerning soul. He decided to veer on the side of caution.

‘Await me over there, Georgie, in that unoccupied alcove. And, remember, do not stare!’

As his hopes were not high at his orders being carried out to the letter, he was neither annoyed nor dismayed to discover on several occasions, when he chanced to glance across at that particular niche, a certain blue-eyed gaze considering quite a number of different guests, and by the looks flitting over that expressive countenance a fair few of those present did not meet with approval.

After doing his duty by standing up with the daughter of the house in whose honour the ball had been arranged, the Viscount wandered across to that certain alcove. ‘I should be interested to hear your opinions, dear child, but I rather fancy you had best express them in private, so for the time being you may accompany me into the card room.’

His lordship quickly spotted the worthy he was most desirous to see, and wandered across to the table in one corner, where two gentlemen sat. One was dressed in formal evening garb, whilst the other, in stark contrast, was clad in the height of fashion that had prevailed during the last decades of the previous century.

The bewigged gentleman in the heavily embroidered gold-coloured coat caught sight of him first, and waved one slender white hand in an airy gesture of welcome. ‘Fincham, old chap! Will you not join us?’

‘Your arrival is timely,’ the other said, rising from his chair. ‘You may take my place and keep our friend Sir Willoughby company, whilst I do my duty in the ballroom.’

‘Poor Gyles. He must keep on the right side of his brother. If Merton was ever to cut his allowance, he would find it hard, with all his extravagancies, to keep his head above water.’ After sweeping the pile of coins before him to one side of the table, Sir Willoughby reached for the cards. ‘What is your pleasure—piquet or French ruff?’

‘Either will suffice,’ the Viscount replied equably.

‘I do not intend to remain for too much longer. I have a further engagement this evening.’

Sir Willoughby’s painted lips curled in a knowing smile. ‘With the divine Caro, I do not doubt.’

When his lordship offered no response, the baronet raised his eyes and, much to his lordship’s silent amusement, suddenly felt for his quizzing-glass in order to study more closely the slender form, clad in severest black velvet, standing dutifully behind the Viscount’s chair.

‘Good gad! That is never your page, Fincham, surely?’

‘Loathe though I am to disabuse you, Trent, but it is, indeed, my page.’

The baronet then transferred his gaze to the slender golden-haired youth standing dutifully a couple of feet behind his own chair. ‘You wretch, Fincham! You’ve acquired him on purpose! I do believe he’s prettier than my own! Such divine eyes!’ He appeared genuinely distressed. ‘You know I cannot abide others possessing prettier things than my own. You must sell him to me at once. At once, do you hear! How much do you want for him? Name your price!’

‘Now that’s an interesting proposition.’ Lord Fincham beckoned with one finger. ‘How much are you worth, Georgie?’

When blue eyes regarded him in a mixture of outrage and disgust, he came perilously close to dissolving into laughter, but was spared any further attacks on his powers of self-control by the arrival of the hostess.

Fincham rose at once to his feet. ‘Your arrival is most timely, your Grace. Sir Willoughby here has lost complete interest in our game. Perhaps you could provide him with another opponent more worthy of his skill?’

‘I very much doubt that, Fincham,’ she responded. ‘Your reputation is widely known. There are few here tonight who would pit their skill against one of the favoured five.’ Her smile faded slightly. ‘Or perhaps it would be more accurate now to say … the favoured four.’

His lordship didn’t attempt to respond to this. After exchanging a few other brief pleasantries with their hostess, he turned to leave and caught an almost frozen look on the face of his page. So deeply entrenched in her own private world did she appear to be that it took two attempts before he could gain her attention and instruct her to follow him from the room.

Putting her sudden disinclination to talk down to the lateness of the hour, and fatigue, he didn’t attempt to make conversation until he had taken leave of the host, and had led the way outside to where his carriage stood awaiting him.

‘Get in, Georgie,’ he ordered, so far forgetting himself as to open the door for her. ‘I shall not be returning to Berkeley Square with you.’ He then turned to his head groom, perched high on the box. ‘I entrust it to you to take care of my page, Perkins. I shall make my own way home in the morning.’ And with that he sauntered off down the road, leaving both his servants to stare after him.

‘But why isn’t he coming with us? Where’s he going, do you suppose?’ a bewildered little voice enquired.

The head groom looked down, askance, at the slight figure by the roadside. ‘Cor blimey, lad. Green by name and green by nature, that’s you! He’s going to pay a visit to his mistress, o’ course! He won’t be getting much sleep tonight, if I knows anything. But I needs mine, so climb aboard and let’s get going!’

The instruction was obeyed, but a moment later the carriage door was slammed shut with considerable violence.