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have listened to my own advice, eh?”
    “I’ll speak to him in the morning.” Kasey would also see that a purse was delivered to the baron as payment for some nonexistent debt. “Meanwhile, I thought you might know about the latest rumors of the King’s improvement. I was hoping they were true.”
    The baron shook his head. “Gossip like that is always flying about. Mostly because people wish the reports to be true, I’d guess.” He sipped at his brandy. “I fear there is no change in His Majesty’s mental condition.”
    “But what of his doctors? Can they offer no suggestions, no hope?”
    “Bah. Parcel of fools, all of them, too ignorant even to know how ignorant they actually are. I swear they are killing the poor King with their purges and bloodletting. Leeches, every last one.”
    “Wasn’t there a treatment that looked promising a few years ago? What was the physician’s name? Banning? Bancroft?”
    “Bannister, it was. Seemed a decent sort, highly touted by everyone. Worked a miracle, belike, with some newfangled ideas on brain fevers. His Majesty was his old self after the course of treatment, meeting with his ministers, holding receptions, attending concerts. Dear George and his ministers were so pleased, they made sure the chap was given a knighthood.”
    “Yes, I thought I recalled something of that nature. What happened?”
    Stallworth sighed. “The King had a relapse, worse than before. That’s when they found him dancing in his nightshirt on the battlements. Nothing the Bannister fellow could do, nothing any of the other imbeciles could do. I fear our Farmer George is lost to us. He worsens daily.” The baron dabbed at his eyes with a lace-edged square of linen.
    Kasey held his tongue a moment, in sympathy for the poor mad King. In fact, he’d never felt quite so sympathetic before. Then he asked, “Whatever happened to that physician, Bannister?”
    “Disgraced, naturally. They tried to take the knighthood back, but that would have stirred up more of a hornet’s nest, since no one wanted to come out and say the King was insane. Not politic at the time, don’t you know. I think Bannister took up residence outside Maidstone. Yes, that was it. Family had some property near there. No one goes to consult him, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    * * * *
    Of course Kasey had to wait for first light. Meantime he had to go pack. He left the ball, making poor excuses to the Granleighs about a headache, to his hostess about a horse, to his aunts about a hay barn on fire at one of his estates. To his brother he made no excuse whatsoever.
    “See the aunts home when they are ready, then come back for Lady Phillida. She expects an escort to the Aldershams’ rout.”
    “But ... but I was going off to the card room, and to the clubs after.”
    “With what money?” Kasey asked, reaching into his pocket for his purse. “Here. This is for your efforts, not for your wagering. Make sure you dance with the daughter of the house. It is her ball.”
    “She is as round as a ball and bounces around like one, too!”
    Kasey pulled out a few more bills. “For new shoes.”
    “You can’t just leave like this, Kasey. You’re the duke!”
    “No, Junior. I can leave like this precisely because I am the duke. No one expects us nobs to act like common men. I have that on good authority. Besides, you’d be duke if anything happened to me—Heaven help us all, and Caswell—so you can stand the week’s practice. I’ll even pay off your vouchers if you act ducal for a sennight. Hell, I’ll pay them if you can stay out of trouble for the week.”
    “But where the devil are you off to? What do I tell people?”
    “Look down your nose, or, better yet, your quizzing glass, and tell the encroaching mushrooms it is none of their blasted business.”
    “Lady Phillida and her parents are no toadstools, and you can wager they are going to ask what happened to their premier parti.”
    “You can tell them I have been