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the window.
    His eyes were hollow as he once again regarded his own reflection.
    â€˜Nothing or no one can touch my heart – I am like a dead man inside.’

CHAPTER THREE
    By the time that seven o’clock came, the Earl had managed to pull himself together and he greeted his mother with a kiss and a smile.
    â€œYou are looking very well this evening, Mama,” he intoned, as she took his arm.
    She was wearing a black velvet cape on which was pinned an intricately carved brooch of bog oak. Her dress was dull black satin and she wore a hat with a few black ostrich feathers in it to relieve its severity.
    He was glad that Monkhouse had been wise enough to lay out a suit for him that was just as sober.
    Although the Countess did not normally give a hoot about what other people thought, she wore full mourning to honour the memory of her husband as well as from a sense of what was considered correct.
    Their black phaeton was waiting for them outside in Brook Street. The chestnut team stood restlessly while Hiscock opened the carriage door for them.
    He helped his mother into the plush leather interior and as the carriage pulled off on its short journey to the Criterion in Piccadilly, his thoughts turned to Constance, who he would be visiting later.
    He was certain that he was not the only gentleman she liked to entertain, but he felt instinctively that he was her favourite.
    It invariably amused him to consort with a woman whose morals were those of a man. She had indeed a lusty appetite for life’s more physical pleasures in a refreshingly straightforward manner.
    Had she been a lady, he would not have regarded this trait as appealing, preferring to be made to work for his rewards. But, as an actress, she was not a lady and he did not expect a certain degree of refinement from her.
    â€œRobert?”
    His mother had been speaking to him, but he had been so deep in his reverie about Constance that he had not heard her.
    â€œYes, Mama?”
    â€œShall I write to Alec soon and tell him when he might expect you at Ledbury Hall?”
    He bit his lip to stem the tide of rising irritation.
    â€˜Not that subject again!’ he thought to himself.
    But he just managed to control his annoyance and simply answered,
    â€œIn due course.”
    Not wishing to spoil the evening, she changed the subject to what she expected to eat that evening.
    â€œI shall be very disappointed if they do not offer their fine pork chops on the menu!” she said, still holding her son’s arm.
    â€œSo shall I, Mama! It has been a very long while since I last tasted them and if they are not available, we shall send the Head Chef out to scour London for some!”
    Her gentle laugh soothed the atmosphere.
    The Earl had no desire to argue this evening as he wanted to escape from his cares and what better way than with a plate of the best chops in London, followed by a night in Constance’s welcoming arms?
    *
    Their dinner at the Criterion was everything they could have wished for. The Countess clapped her hands with glee when their waiter told them that yes, pork chops were on the menu that evening.
    She ate with much relish when they arrived, as did the Earl.
    â€œI dreamed of such fare in India!” he sighed, as he finished the last morsel on his plate.
    They ordered dessert and then coffee. She refused a liqueur and asked that they might leave quite soon.
    Delighted that his schedule appeared to be running on time, the Earl clicked his fingers and requested the bill.
    Later as his mother was helped into her cloak, he checked his pocket watch and smiled to himself.
    â€˜Nine thirty!’
    It was most fortunate that the evening had tired his mother, so as soon as they walked through the door, she announced that she was going to bed.
    â€œWill you sit up for a while, Robert?”
    â€œYes, I will go and read in the study,” he replied, waving aside Hiscock who was hovering to take his cloak and