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afternoon.
    Tom Holbrook frowned over the letter from his grandfather. He had not been expecting it, but he was not averse to visiting the old gentleman. He had never been afraid of Bollingbrook, as some of his cousins were, though he had thought it wise to hold his tongue. The Marquis had a volatile temper, and had never hidden his dislike of Tom’s mother.
    Left to his own pursuits with nothing but a pile of debts to keep him company, Tom had been thinking that he might take a trip to town and visit his mother and sister. It would not bother him to make a small detour to visit his grandfather. The Marquis had said there was a matter of business to discuss, which did not sound promising. It was quite likely he was to be taken to task for putting up a part of the Holbrook estate for sale, but there was little else he could do in the circumstances. Tom had been forced to sell or risk losing everything, for his father had made some foolish investments.
    He instructed his valet to put up a travelling bag for him and send his trunk on, and then had his groom bring round his curricle.
    Within three hours of receiving the letter from his grandfather he was walking into Bollingbrook Place. It was an old house, but both the building and grounds were immaculately kept, which Tom knew must be expensive. The estate was clearly flourishing. Tom had not given much consideration to it in the past, but now he wondered where his grandfather’s money came from.
    ‘Master Tom, it’s good to see you, sir,’ Jenkins said. Hehad just come into the hall as the footman opened the door and smiled his approval at the young man. ‘Milord wasn’t sure you would answer his call, but I thought you might—and here you are.’
    ‘Of course I came,’ Tom said. ‘He threw Mama out with instructions never to darken his door again, but I was pretty sure that he didn’t mean it. How is he, Jenkins? The gout playing him up as usual?’
    ‘His lordship is in some pain,’ the valet told him, ‘but not as bad this morning as it has been for the past few days. I try to keep him from his port, but you know how it is, sir.’ Jenkins sighed heavily, his long face wearing an expression of extreme martyrdom.
    ‘I do indeed,’ Tom answered and grinned; he knew the man had much to bear, but he also knew that nothing would prise him from the Marquis’ side. ‘May I go up and see him, do you think? His letter sounded important.’
    ‘I believe it would do him good to have company, sir. He dwells too much on the past when he is alone.’
    ‘I’ll go up, then,’ Tom said and nodded to Jenkins as he ran up the stairs. Outside his grandfather’s door, he paused and knocked, waiting until a gruff voice invited him in. ‘Good morning, sir. How are you?’
    ‘No better for your asking,’ the Marquis grumbled, but then thought better of it. He had, after all, invited the young man to call. ‘Not so bad, thank you, Tom. It was good of you to come to see me.’
    ‘I had nothing better to do,’ Tom said frankly. He saw shock and then amusement in his grandfather’s face, for it was unlike him to answer so. ‘I was considering taking a trip to London, thought I might escort Caroline to some of theaffairs, save Mama the trouble—that’s if she has troubled herself, which I dare say she may not very often.’
    ‘I take leave to doubt she will do so at all,’ Bollingbrook growled. ‘Featherhead! Still, she produced the best of my grandchildren—the rest of them are a pack of ninnies! I won’t have them here; they argue and whinge and I can’t stand that at my time of life. However, I want to see that gel of mine—Caroline. It’s an age since she was here. I know she’s gadding about town at the moment, and I don’t want to spoil her fun, but I should appreciate a visit when she can spare the time. I want you to tell her that, Tom.’
    ‘Yes, sir, of course. I shall go up in a few days—that’s if you will put up with me in the