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imaginary piece of dust from the sleeve of his jacket, “from such loutish pastimes as boxing the watch.”
    “You wretch!” cried out George at this injustice, as James had been sure he would. “That was one time, it was years ago, and he was the first to put his fists up. As you well know. You were there!”
    “As you say, dear fellow,” he left off his teasing. “Bristow Street then?”
    “Quite.” And the two men set off with perfect accord into the dark streets of London.
    “Have you been to visit Gentleman Jackson’s Salon recently?” asked George. “I’ve been in a few times, myself. I fancy I’ve seen a look of respect in his eyes.”
    “What? Are you turning pugilist? How very rough of you. Haven’t you heard brawling is for commoners?” he drawled, the echo of the disapproving traditionalist.
    George snorted. “As if you don’t strip to advantage. I’ve been told to bring you with me. Some of the young cubs want to see you in action.”
    “I may do. I would be happy to find a worthy opponent.”
    “I am at your service.”
    “Not you, buffoon. You’re as like to trip over your own feet and knock yourself out before I can lay a blow on you.”
    “Since you will be quite unable to land a blow regardless, then that may well be true.”
    “Big words. You shall eat them.”
    “Not if you’re the one to make me,” said George complacently, and James laughed at him. “In all seriousness, I am itching for a good fight.”
    “I will consider it.”
    “ And I shall leave your pretty face untouched so the ladies may continue to enjoy it,” offered George generously. “Oh, by the bye, I will be rusticating this time next week. Do come and shoot some of my birds, won’t you?” He was walking faster now, his natural vigour asserting itself over the pose of the languid man about town.
    James quickened his own pace to keep up. “Who is taking whom for a walk, hmmm? I have a few affairs of business to attend to, and my sister to present at Court, but after that I should be delighted.”
    “The roads will be shocking of course. Inches deep in mud. But you can bring your sister with you if you like. She might enjoy some of the rides.”
    “Have you an interest there, George?” asked James, casting a sharp glance at his friend. George was not the correct sort for Stephanie. The man was loyal and could be counted on in a tight spot, but he was not quite right for James’ sister. Not quite . . . perfect enough.
    “In little Stephie? Good Gad no!” replied George hastily. “What on earth would make you think that?”
    His shock was genuine, and James hunched his shoulders and sighed at his own over protectiveness. “Not so little these days. All grown up. She’s out this season and I shall be beating off paramours with a stick.”
    “Worrying already, James?” It was George’s turn to tease. “Seeing Lotharios behind every bush and shrub?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Yes, well with the Carstairs’ money behind her you’ll have every gazetted fortune hunter circling.”
    “Rubbing it in?” He sighed. “Face and fortune, George. It’s a damnable combination to have to watch over.”
    “Won’t take you long to pop her off then,” said George with the flippancy of a man who has no dependants to trouble him.
    “That’s the intention. I will come to the Cotswolds, George.” The idea was very appealing, in comparison to yet more dinners, balls and routs; let alone the fearfully insipid Almacks, where he went as escort to his sister. “And I’ll bring Stephie. Give her a breather from all the hysteria. She isn’t used to these town hours. Though I doubt she’ll thank me. She’s at a fever pitch of excitement.”
    “Well a few days riding in the Cotswolds is nothing to compare to a week of parties, I’m sure. Not for a young lady, any road.”
    “It will be good for her. And I daresay she’ll enjoy it well enough. I’d rather . . .” He suddenly realised the footsteps