Mesalliance
“It was not, he felt, that he was particularly hard to please. On the contrary. All he required was a modicum of amusing conversation, a little riding perhaps and the occasional, stimulating hand of cards. But the conversation was banal in the extreme; the rides – when taken between neck-or-nothing Lizzie Pickering and a coquettish chit with probably the worst hands in four counties – were a nightmare; and the one game of macao he’d played with Richard Horton had resulted in a mood of dire foreb...oding and a few very private words with Harry Caversham.
‘May I ask if Mr Horton is a particularly close friend of yours, Harry?’ Mobile brows soared over startled blue eyes.
‘Dick? Lord, no! I haven’t known the fellow above a month or two. Met him at Devane’s – or that discreet little place off Bruton Street, I think. One of them, anyway. Why do you ask?’ The Duke gazed thoughtfully down at his snuff-box and ignored the question.
‘I see. Do you often play in such … do you know, I really think I am forced to call them … hells?’ ‘And so they are,’ came the cordial reply.MoreLess
‘May I ask if Mr Horton is a particularly close friend of yours, Harry?’ Mobile brows soared over startled blue eyes.
‘Dick? Lord, no! I haven’t known the fellow above a month or two. Met him at Devane’s – or that discreet little place off Bruton Street, I think. One of them, anyway. Why do you ask?’ The Duke gazed thoughtfully down at his snuff-box and ignored the question.
‘I see. Do you often play in such … do you know, I really think I am forced to call them … hells?’ ‘And so they are,’ came the cordial reply.MoreLess
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