The Foundling by Georgette Heyer Page A

happiness to him to see his Grace. He hoped that everything would be found to be in readiness at Sale House, and begged his Grace to pardon any shortcomings. "Your Grace must know that we have not a full staff of servants here at present," he said. "And I own that I am not perfectly happy in the Chief Confectioner." His grave face relaxed into a smile. "But your Grace did not give me very long warning of this visit!"
    "I am sure I shall do very well," said the Duke. "I did not mean to put you to a deal of trouble. I daresay I could have been tolerably comfortable without a Chief Confectioner."
    Everyone realized that the Duke had uttered a witticism, so those who social status permitted them to laugh, did so, in a discreet way; and Mr. Scriven said that he hoped his Grace would not find his house to be quite so ill-prepared as that . He then added that he should hold himself in readiness to attend upon his Grace as soon as he should be needed, and bowed himself away to the set of offices in one wing of the mansion, where he conducted the business of the Duke's many estates and large fortune.
    The Duke turned to find Borrowdale waiting to assist him to take off his long, multiple-caped driving-coat. He handed his hat, and his gloves, and his cane to his personal footman, allowed Borrowdale to remove his driving-coat, and stood revealed in fawn pantaloons, well-polished Hessian boots, and a blue cloth coat of Weston's excellent tailoring. As he did not belong to the dandy-set, his shirt-collar points were not excessively high, and his neckcloth, although arranged with propriety, did not aspire to the niceties of the Mail-coach, the Osbaldestone, or the Trône d'Amour. A single fob hung at his waist; he did not carry a quizzing-glass; and except for a plain pearl pin in his tie the only other adornment he wore was the heavy sardonyx signet ring which had belonged to his father. The shank had had to be made smaller to fit his finger, and the ring seemed to be a trifle too large for so delicate a hand, but the Duke was fond of it, and rarely wore any other.
    He accompanied Captain Belper into the Blue Saloon, where a fire had been lit, and a table spread with such light refreshments as might be acceptable within a few hours of dinner.
    The Captain declined food, but took a glass of Madeira. He said: "Well, and what brings you to town, my lord? Your uncle writes that you mean to buy a horse!"
    "Yes, I think I may do that," replied the Duke.
    The Captain lifted quizzical brows. "I think I know you a little too well to stand upon ceremony with you!" he said. "Thought I to myself, Aha! that is a tale for Lord Lionel! Is he still as—careful, shall we say?—as ever?"
    "Oh, yes! But I need a new hunter," replied the Duke tranquilly.
    "You know I shall be happy to give you my advice. It will quite bring back old times. And for the rest you mean to do a little junketing about the town, eh? But the high ton parties are at an end, I fancy. Everyone is gone out of town."
    "I hope to see something of my cousin."
    "Of course! he is stationed here! I think I caught sight of him the other day, devilish smart in his regimentals! These Lifeguardsmen! Hyde Park soldiers, we Peninsular men used to call them!" He laughed heartily as he spoke, but as the Duke had heard this pleasantry a good many times before he did not accord it more than a perfunctory smile. The Captain crossed one leg over the other, with the air of one who had no immediate intention of removing, and said: "Well, my lord, and what is the news with you? I did not see you at Egham races, although they tell me Lord Lionel was there. I was sorry to have missed the chance of paying my compliments to him."
    "Yes, my uncle was staying at Oatlands. He does so every year."
    "But still does not take you along with him!"
    "I was in Yorkshire."
    "I should have known it indeed! You would not miss the grouse-shooting, I'll wager! I daresay you would not have been amused as well at Oatlands: