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sure that he missed her when he was away from her.

      In fact he drove her crazy!

      “When are you going to marry me, Osric?” she asked daringly one night as she lay close in his arms and the flames of the fire gave the only light in her flower-scented bedroom.

      “You are greedy, Genevieve,” the Earl replied.

      “Greedy?” she questioned.

      “Yes,” he answered. “I gave you a diamond necklace yesterday. Last week it was rubies, and I think the week before that it was an emerald brooch that took your fancy. And now you want more!”

      “Only a small gold ring,” she whispered.

      “That is the one thing I cannot afford.”

      “But why? We would be happy together, you know we would.”

      “What do you call happiness?” the Earl questioned evasively.

      “Being with you,” Genevieve replied. “You know that I make you happy.”

      She moved nearer to him and threw back her head so that her lips invited his.

      He looked down at her and she could not read the expression in his eyes.

      “I love you,” she breathed. “Marry me, please, marry me!”

      In answer he had kissed her passionately and the fire that, in both of them, was never far from the surface burst into a blaze.

      They were consumed by the great heat of it and it was only later when she was alone that Genevieve remembered that he had not answered her question.

      Now the Earl was angry and his eyes were hard as he looked down at the three letters on which his name was inscribed with the same dashing imperious flourish.

      Deliberately he reached for another letter, which was in a writing he did not recognise.

      “If you don’t need me now, my Lord, and have no further instructions,” Mr. Grotham said respectfully, “may I retire?”

      “I believe I am dining at the Devonshire’s tonight?” the Earl asked him.

      “Yes, my Lord, I have ordered your carriage.”

      “What answer did you make to Lady Chevington’s invitation to Epsom?”

      “You said you would think about it on your return, my Lord.”

      “Accept,” the Earl said briefly.

      “Very good, my Lord, and may I congratulate your Lordship on your win today?”

      “The grooms told you, I suppose?” the Earl said. “It was very satisfying. I think Delos will prove to be a great horse.”

      “I hope so, my Lord. I hope so indeed.”

      “Did you have a few shillings on him?” the Earl asked.

      “Yes, my Lord, as did all of the household. We all have great faith in your Lordship’s judgement.”

      “Thank you.”

      Mr. Grotham left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

      The Earl realised that he was holding a letter in his hand and slit it open. He read it and then stood staring at it in surprise.

      Written in a very elegant and neat hand, in the centre of a plain sheet of paper, were the words,

      “If your Lordship would hear something very much to your advantage, will you be on the South side of the bridge over the Serpentine at nine o’clock tomorrow, Friday morning? It is of the utmost import.”

      ‘What the devil does this mean?’ the Earl asked himself.

      There was no signature and he thought perhaps it was a hoax.

      He had in the past often received letters from women who he did not know, but they had always signed their names and been very careful to ensure that their addresses were on the writing paper so that he could get in touch with them.

      But there was nothing with this note except for the bald message.

      He thought that it might perhaps be a method of publicising a new night haunt, but that was unlikely seeing that there was no address. The same applied to a letter that might have come from one of the pretty Cyprians who were always on the lookout for new clients.

      The Earl had on occasions been invited to parties by women he did not know. These had turned out to be either orgies or an assignation with a fair charmer who then expected to be heavily reimbursed for her favours.

      This letter could be neither of these things and perhaps, the Earl thought, it was in fact exactly what it purported to be – a message inviting him to a rendezvous where he might learn something to his advantage. Although what that could be he had no idea.

      There was no doubt that the handwriting was educated and the writing paper expensive. He rang the bell that stood on his desk and instantly the door was opened by a footman.

      “Send Barker to me,” the Earl ordered.

      A few seconds later his butler came into the room.

      “You wanted me, my Lord?”

      “Yes, Barker. Can you remember who brought this note?”

      He held out the envelope as he spoke.

      “Yes, my Lord,” the butler replied. “I was in the hall as a note had just been delivered for your Lordship by a groom wearing the livery of Lady Genevieve Rodney.”

      “And this one – ” the Earl enquired.

      “ – was brought to the door by a ragged small boy, my Lord. I was in fact surprised that the letter looked as it did, seeing who delivered it.”

      “Did you ask him where he came from?” the Earl enquired.

      He knew that Barker was extremely inquisitive and that little went on in the household of which he was not aware.

      “As it happened, my Lord,” Barker replied with dignity, “I thought it wise to ask the boy some questions.”

      “What did he tell you?” the Earl asked.

      “He informed me, my Lord, that a lady had given him sixpence to bring the letter to this house. He’s a boy who hangs around the square, my Lord, hoping for a chance of holding a horse or running a message.”

      “So that is all he told you?”

      “That’s all, my Lord.”

      The Earl told himself as he put the note down that it would be ridiculous to put himself out to meet some unknown person who wrote in such a manner and that if he did so he would undoubtedly find that it was a new method of touching him for a small loan.

      Then, as he rose from his desk, leaving Lady Genevieve’s letters unopened, he knew that however much he might jeer at himself for being so curious, he would undoubtedly be on the South side of the Serpentine bridge tomorrow morning at nine o’clock!

      *

      The Earl went to bed later than he had intended because he had become involved in a political argument at Devonshire House, which went on into the early hours of the morning.

      He was therefore somewhat disagreeable when he was woken from a deep sleep by his valet at his usual hour of eight o’clock.

      His bath was all prepared for him on the hearthrug in his bedroom in front of the fire. Because he disliked the water getting cold, the Earl resisted an inclination to lie back against his pillows and rose from his bed.

      Twenty minutes later he descended to the breakfast room to look with a jaundiced eye at the long row of silver dishes laid out on a side table.

      He inspected them and, telling Barker to help him to the kidneys cooked in cream, he sat down at the breakfast table.

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