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must wait to find out the name of this lady and then do his best to drive a wedge between the pair.
    Lord Charles was bowling along Oxford Street when he saw an old army friend, Guy Sutherland. He reined in his horses and called down, ‘Just arrived in town?’
    ‘No, been here a few weeks,’ said Guy lazily. He was a large, formless sort of man with amiable, childlike eyes. ‘Coming to the club?’
    ‘I am making calls. I am going to the Tribbles in Holles Street.’
    ‘You’re too young to have a daughter of marriageable age,’ said Guy.
    ‘And not married either,’ rejoined Lord Charles. ‘Why should I have a daughter?’
    ‘It’s them Tribbles. That’s their business. They bring out girls who are a problem to their parents.’
    ‘Odso! Tell me more.’
    ‘Odd couple of eccentrics. Twins. Ought to be in their winding sheets by now. They’ve made a success of marrying off females. Advertise in
The Morning Post
. Charge a high amount, from all reports.’
    ‘Do you happen to know if a Miss Harriet Brown is their latest?’
    ‘Never heard of her. But rumour has it they’ve got a new victim.’
    ‘Let us meet later,’ said Lord Charles. ‘At White’s, say about five?’
    ‘Gladly. You can tell me all about the fabulous Tribbles. I say, you ain’t still got that fellow Perkins in tow?’
    ‘He is in Town, yes.’
    ‘Well, leave him behind when you come to White’s, there’s a good chap. Never could abide the fellow.’
    Lord Charles smiled pleasantly, but there was an edge in his voice as he said, ‘Jack Perkins is a good friend of mine and I will not discuss him.’
    ‘As you will,’ said Guy mildly. ‘Still, I’d rather see you on your own.’ And, with an indolent wave of one massive arm, he strolled off, and Lord Charles continued on his way to Holles Street.
    Now what had brought Harriet Brown to the Tribbles? mused Lord Charles. Perhaps she was not their charge but a hired companion or governess. But her clothes the evening before had been expensively cut. And why was he going out of his way to call on such a correct and dull female?
    He had come this far, better get it over with.
    He rolled to a stop in front of the Tribbles’ house in Holles Street and sat for a few moments, reluctant to go in. He was aware of his worth on the marriage market. If Miss Brown was being brought out by the Tribbles, would he not be raising false hopes by his call? A chill wind blew down the street and he shivered. He called to his tiger to go to the horses’ heads and climbed down, holding the cat in the large muff.
    The door was answered by Harris, the butler. He departed with Lord Charles’s card and returned after some time to say Miss Effy Tribble was in the drawing room and would be pleased to receive him.
    Lord Charles mounted the stairs behind the butler and then was ushered into the drawing room. Effy rose to meet him. Despite Amy’s forebodings about Lord Charles, Effy had begun to entertain high hopes of him after hearing of how he had pursued their carriage the evening before. But when she looked up at the tall Exquisite with the lazy green eyes and thin, white, dissipated face, her heart sank. Never had a man been more unsuitable for such a strict young lady as Harriet Brown.
    But none of this showed on Effy’s face as she begged him to be seated and rang for cakes and wine. Lord Charles looked about him with pleasure. The room was a comfortable mixture of different pieces of furniture, flowers in vases, pretty pictures, a work-basket with silk threads spilling out of it, and the latest books and magazines. The fire crackled cheerfully behind its fender of Britannia metal and the air was delicately scented. He felt oddly at home. Effy Tribble was a charming lady with her cloud of silver hair under a lacy cap and her trim figure in a blue velvet gown.
    ‘Will you not let Harris take your muff, my lord?’ said Effy.
    ‘No, ma’am, I’ve got the cat in it.’
    ‘The
cat
?’
    ‘It’s a