His friendship with Phillip long preceded that
gentleman’s accession to the Eynsford marquisate, so he knew the warm and
generous side of the marquess’ nature. Francis was appreciative of Phillip’s
natural brilliance of mind, which, combined with an ease of manner and, in his
younger years, a sweetness of disposition, made him a natural negotiator who
could extract concessions from opponents and yet leave them feeling as though
they had emerged from the encounter victorious.
“You deserve it,
Phillip,” said Francis. “Lord knows you’ve given king and country enough of
your time these last years. Sometimes I think the diplomats had it worse than
the soldiers.”
“I suppose that
depends on whether you’d rather dodge a Frenchman’s bullets or Metternich’s
tongue,” said the marquess. “I did think at times that bullets were less
lethal.”
“I am glad you
survived, at any rate,” said Lord Exencour. “I have missed you, and of course
those adventurous times in Lisbon. I’ll never forget the Duke’s face that night
you stole Mrs. Marchant out from under his nose!”
The marquess
laughed. “With help from you, Francis, don’t let it be forgotten. I’ll not take
all the credit for that. But I hear you’re no longer stealing ladies away from
your friends. What is this about your marriage?”
A smile played
across Lord Exencour’s face. “I have indeed entered that honored estate,” he
said. “I think that you will find my wife most charming. She is--”
“I know who she is,
Francis!” interrupted Lord Eynsford. “Any number of people wrote to give me the
startling news that Miss Isobel Paley had succumbed at last. I have met her
many times and even danced with her; what a sensation she was in her first
Season. You have stolen a march on many a fellow, Francis. They must all be
wondering how you did it.”
“It wasn’t easy,”
said Lord Exencour ruefully. “She was determined not to marry.”
“Then your time in
the army learning perseverance must have stood you in good stead, “ said Lord
Eynsford. “I wish you very happy, and your charming wife as well. She must have
made many an ambitious mama angry by wedding you; surely you were the finest
catch on the Marriage Mart.”
“No, you hold that
title as long as you remain single, Phillip,” retorted Lord Exencour.
“You wound me to
the quick! Do not look for me to be marrying soon, Francis. You have wed
perhaps the last young lady in London that I might have found attractive. None
of them move me sufficiently to contemplate matrimony.”
“Hence the cheres
amies ?” asked Exencour. “Do you still have that Spanish opera singer under
your protection?”
Lord Eynsford
laughed. “Long gone, Francis. A delightful woman in many ways, but what a
temper. I could not tolerate it for long.”
“What better than a
sweet English miss then, to make you forget her hysterics?” asked Lord Exencour
with a wicked smile.
“I must judge you
to be very happy in your marriage, Francis, if you would foist the same on me. And
my mother is before you, with her terrifying demands that I find a young and
biddable bride,” shuddered Lord Eynsford. “But I have yet to meet a young lady
who thought so highly of me that she did not think of my title and fortune
first.”
“Your problem,
Phillip, is that you are a cynic,” said Lord Exencour.
“While yours,
Francis, is that you married a woman you love,” responded the marquess. “Perhaps
I will be so fortunate someday, but until then, I must find my enjoyment where
I may. Though I do admit to owing it to the name to produce a brood of children
in my own image. My current heir is my nephew, who combines indolence with a
propensity for gambling and libertinism that would rapidly dissipate the wealthiest
estate. But on a recent visit to Almack’s I found one young woman to be much
like the next. Perhaps I will let you identify a fresh young miss straight out
of the schoolroom for me, one
gentleman’s accession to the Eynsford marquisate, so he knew the warm and
generous side of the marquess’ nature. Francis was appreciative of Phillip’s
natural brilliance of mind, which, combined with an ease of manner and, in his
younger years, a sweetness of disposition, made him a natural negotiator who
could extract concessions from opponents and yet leave them feeling as though
they had emerged from the encounter victorious.
“You deserve it,
Phillip,” said Francis. “Lord knows you’ve given king and country enough of
your time these last years. Sometimes I think the diplomats had it worse than
the soldiers.”
“I suppose that
depends on whether you’d rather dodge a Frenchman’s bullets or Metternich’s
tongue,” said the marquess. “I did think at times that bullets were less
lethal.”
“I am glad you
survived, at any rate,” said Lord Exencour. “I have missed you, and of course
those adventurous times in Lisbon. I’ll never forget the Duke’s face that night
you stole Mrs. Marchant out from under his nose!”
The marquess
laughed. “With help from you, Francis, don’t let it be forgotten. I’ll not take
all the credit for that. But I hear you’re no longer stealing ladies away from
your friends. What is this about your marriage?”
A smile played
across Lord Exencour’s face. “I have indeed entered that honored estate,” he
said. “I think that you will find my wife most charming. She is--”
“I know who she is,
Francis!” interrupted Lord Eynsford. “Any number of people wrote to give me the
startling news that Miss Isobel Paley had succumbed at last. I have met her
many times and even danced with her; what a sensation she was in her first
Season. You have stolen a march on many a fellow, Francis. They must all be
wondering how you did it.”
“It wasn’t easy,”
said Lord Exencour ruefully. “She was determined not to marry.”
“Then your time in
the army learning perseverance must have stood you in good stead, “ said Lord
Eynsford. “I wish you very happy, and your charming wife as well. She must have
made many an ambitious mama angry by wedding you; surely you were the finest
catch on the Marriage Mart.”
“No, you hold that
title as long as you remain single, Phillip,” retorted Lord Exencour.
“You wound me to
the quick! Do not look for me to be marrying soon, Francis. You have wed
perhaps the last young lady in London that I might have found attractive. None
of them move me sufficiently to contemplate matrimony.”
“Hence the cheres
amies ?” asked Exencour. “Do you still have that Spanish opera singer under
your protection?”
Lord Eynsford
laughed. “Long gone, Francis. A delightful woman in many ways, but what a
temper. I could not tolerate it for long.”
“What better than a
sweet English miss then, to make you forget her hysterics?” asked Lord Exencour
with a wicked smile.
“I must judge you
to be very happy in your marriage, Francis, if you would foist the same on me. And
my mother is before you, with her terrifying demands that I find a young and
biddable bride,” shuddered Lord Eynsford. “But I have yet to meet a young lady
who thought so highly of me that she did not think of my title and fortune
first.”
“Your problem,
Phillip, is that you are a cynic,” said Lord Exencour.
“While yours,
Francis, is that you married a woman you love,” responded the marquess. “Perhaps
I will be so fortunate someday, but until then, I must find my enjoyment where
I may. Though I do admit to owing it to the name to produce a brood of children
in my own image. My current heir is my nephew, who combines indolence with a
propensity for gambling and libertinism that would rapidly dissipate the wealthiest
estate. But on a recent visit to Almack’s I found one young woman to be much
like the next. Perhaps I will let you identify a fresh young miss straight out
of the schoolroom for me, one
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