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with them as well.”
    “Ah, no, I’m not one of the Papist Irish. There’s plenty in the old country who laugh up their sleeves at England’s troubles at this time, but I’m on the right side, as you might say,” Mickey explained. “I’m in the militia and all. You’ll have to come out and see us practice one of these evenings, milord.”
    “The waltz of the turnip hoes and spades?” Aiglon smiled. “Isn’t it possible to get guns for the militia? I should think the army would supply them at such a crucial time as this, Mr. Dougherty.”
    “Call me Mickey. Everyone does. There’re plenty of us who have guns. The army was supposed to distribute Brown Besses two weeks ago, but nothing came of it. You might know something about that, Lord Aiglon, since you’re hot from London.” He looked expectantly for an answer.
    “I’m afraid that’s not my area of interest. I’m involved in the Peninsular campaign,” Aiglon replied.
    “Still, you have the ear of the lads in London. Anything you could do in the way of getting us some arms would be appreciated. It’d do morale a deal of good. When the men are not decently armed, spirits do flag.”
    I was disappointed at Aiglon’s lack of interest. “I should think your best bet would be to apply to Colonel Denby,” he said in a rather bored way. He displayed such little interest in the subject that I was surprised he even knew that Denby was in charge of the local supply.
    “We’ve applied to Denby more than once,” Mickey replied, but he saw Aiglon’s lack of interest and dropped the subject.
    Willard came clomping in and informed Lord Aiglon that his bath was ready, and the two men made indefinite plans to meet again soon. When Aiglon left, Mickey, with his spirits unimpaired, also took his leave. Rachel and I were left alone.
    “Rachel,” I said at once, “did you know Aiglon was dead drunk when he shot that man? He drinks a good deal. I think we should get the decanter out of his room.”
    “All the Howells are good drinkers. He’s been bamming you, Constance. How could he hit his man if he were drunk?”
    I was taken aback by Rachel’s logic. She continued speaking while I pondered the point. “The Howells are also notorious womanizers. I shouldn’t have thought you were Aiglon’s type, but then you’re prettier than either Meg or I, and that doesn’t leave him a great deal of choice. A word to the wise, Constance. Don’t trust him.”
    I blushed for my foolish vanity. “You’re right, of course. As usual.” But after considering the situation a moment longer, I added, “It could have been a lucky shot—I mean, it could be an accident that Aiglon hit his man.”
    “Yes, and the moon could be made of blue cheese, for all we know, but one is wiser to assume that the probable is what did, in fact, occur.”
    We sat a moment in silence. “Aiglon says he came here to get away from the companions he usually drinks with. It would be wrong to hasten him away if he really wants to reform.”
    “I can’t believe my ears!” Rachel exclaimed, casting a look of scorn at me. “Constance, if that rake has bothered to bring you under his thumb, he can only mean to make some improper use of you. I leave it to your imagination to figure out what use that might be. I am more determined than ever to get rid of him. Now I must go and speak to Willard. We’ll have to arrange some diversion for Aiglon tomorrow morning so that he forgets a tour of the house. You will proceed to Folkestone, as planned, and return with word that the place is swarming with Runners looking for Aiglon. For a start, I must remind Willard not to wake the rooster early. The longer that troublesome wretch stays in bed, the better.”
    With those angry words she arose and went after Willard. Remembering the state my room was in, I decided to put it in order and went upstairs. Aiglon’s room was across the hall and down from mine. His door was open and as I passed I saw him in