“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 to anything? You must not have been listening to me if you think it has."

“Why, dear boy, it has everything to say! If you need a place to stay, you must bring her here and at once!"

Charles frowned at him. “Not on your life, Ned. And I will thank you to keep away from her. That is not why I've come to you for assistance."

Ned shrugged philosophically. “No harm in trying. Very well, why have you come?"

“I need a female, that's why."

“Another one, Charlie? My, you have turned wild."

Charles sighed with little control. “Someone to act as companion, Ned. Don't be so crass."

Ned rose and came over to fill his glass again. “If it were me, I'd say you had all the company you need, dear boy. But if it's respectability you want, I can provide it for you.” He raised his own cup in a toast. “I'll give you Miss Wadsdale for a Christmas present-with a ribbon round her, if you wish."

“Is she your mother's companion?"

Ned nodded, raising his eyes to the ceiling expressively, “She is,” he said. “And I'd be grateful to you if you'd take her off my hands for the holidays. It's boring enough around here with m’ mother and sister, without having to suffer from her gibble-gabble.” He lifted his glass again. “Argle-bargle, if you prefer."

Charles ignored his impudence and began to relax with relief. “Thank goodness,” he said, and allowed himself for once to enjoy his cognac. The golden liquid burned his throat and soothed him simultaneously. “I'll take her gladly. Can I have her tonight?"

Ned smiled again, but kept the joke to himself. “You could if it were up to me,” he said. “But I'll have to do some talking to wean her away from m’ mother. You're a marquess-she'll like that. But she's not very amenable to change, so I won't be able to bring her to the mark that fast."

“Tomorrow, then. At dawn."

“Hold on there, boy! You could probably have her tomorrow, but what will you do with her if she comes?"

Charles drew his brows together. “As soon as she's comfortable, we'll set out immediately for London, of course."

Ned shook his head. “Tomorrow's Sunday have you forgotten? And you in the government."

Charles closed his eyes. He had forgotten the day. Of course they could not travel on Sunday. Not unless they could do so without being caught.

He looked questioningly at his host. Ned shook his head again. “Not on your life, Charles boy. Miss Wadsdale's pious. And if the Spadgers didn't inform on you, she would do so herself. Turn herself in to the magistrate, she would, rather than break the Sabbath."

“Oh, damn,” Charles said. He leaned his elbows on his knees and sighed. “Well, it can't be helped, I suppose. I'll have to come for her on Monday."

“Right,” Ned said, downing the contents of his glass in celebration.

Charles said anxiously, “You won't forget, will you? I need you to come through for me on this."

Ned eyed him mockingly. “Don't worry, Charlie boy. I'm just drunk, not weak in the head. My memory serves me well enough.” His grin turned mischievous. “For instance, I haven't forgotten the time you had the nude portrait delivered to the English master during class. I'll never forget his face."

Taken aback for a moment, Charles realized he had almost forgotten those days. He grinned, too, and then grimaced ruefully. “That wasn't me. That was just me under your influence."

“At least you had some friends then."

Charles pursed his lips. “I have friends now, thank you. Just not much time to see them in, that's all. I'd best be going."

He put down his glass and stood. Then he remembered something. “Lou-the young lady left her baggage in Gretna Green. How should I go about finding her some clothes?"

Ned cocked an eye. “If it were me, Charlie boy, I-''

Charles nodded and sighed. “You should do better without the clothes, I know. But listen, Ned, will you stop playing these stupid games! And will you leave off with that abominable nickname!"

“Sorry, Wroxton. Old habit.” His smile was unrepentant.

Charles's lips curved. “0h-go drown yourself! What about the clothes?"

Ned put down his glass. “As it happens, you've come to the right place. Has she a good figure, this Miss Lou-?” He waited unsuccessfully for more.

Charles's cheeks grew warm. “I suppose this question is pertinent?"