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He rolled on his side and again
recalled the devastation he felt at the news that his
parents, his elder brother and his wife and children, and
his little sister were all dead. He gazed into the flames of
the fire and saw again the battle field as they worked to
enclose Copenhagen in a siege. He felt again the searing
pain in his shoulder as the lead ball tore into his flesh
and broke his clavicle as the mortars dropped all around
him. Then Burke was there, trusty, faithful Sergeant
Burke, he lifted Robert up as if he was a maiden and ran
with him back to the surgeon’s tent.
Eventually he dozed off, but he slept fitfully until
daybreak. He was up, washed and dressed before Burke
even came to open his curtains.
‘Good morning, Your Grace. What is on for
today?’
‘Not much, Burke. I’m supposed to accompany
Argyll to the House sometime today, but it’s not that
important.’ He went into the breakfast room and helped
himself to breakfast.
    The footman announced Robert to the ladies
and they genteelly stood for him as he entered the
drawing room. ‘Good morning Lady Verity, Countess.’
He said formally to the occupants of the room and
bowed as etiquette dictated that he should.
    ‘Good morning, Robert.’ Lady Verity answered
and resumed her seat. ‘Do sit down, John shouldn’t be
long.’ Robert dropped into a wingback chair by the
ornate fireplace. ‘And what terrible trouble are you two
going to get into today, then?’ Lady Verity asked
acerbically.
    ‘We are going to sit in the House for the day and
get drunk at Boodle’s tonight, I should think!’ Robert
turned his head and looked at Lady Elizabeth and was
surprised to see that she had moved nearer to the
window. He was suddenly captivated at the way the sun
released the fire in her hair. Unlike the previous
evening, Lady Elizabeth’s hair was not harshly restrained
or curled into ringlets, but tumbled over her shoulders
in a blazing cascade. She had her head bent as she
concentrated on the needlework in her hands, but her
profile was exquisite, with the sunny window behind
her. Robert suddenly found his throat dry and abruptly
turned his attention away from her, before his groin
could give him away.
    Lady Verity slowly went and summoned a
footman and she smirked while she did it. Oh! Yes! My
elusive Duke. I can see it in your face already; she takes
your breath away. The footman arrived and she asked
for tea. And you’ll be just what she needs. A kind and
caring husband! She knew it was an almost impossible
hope that Elizabeth would agree to marry anyone, after
her last marriage, but Verity had her money on the
Duke of Roding winning her around, without even
realising he was doing it. All she needed to do was
promote him as the knight in shining armour and try to
bury some of his more saucy escapades. She already
knew he was tupping Abigail Beresford in his or her
coach at anytime of the day! And there was a certain
Lady Wentworth who he tupped on the upper landing
of her St. James Street townhouse, much to the disgust
of her husband, who was playing Faro in the salon at the
time. The silly Lord Wentworth tried to skewer Robert
with his epee in a quiet corner of Hyde Park and only
managed to get himself a trip to the surgeons. Robert
skewered Wentworth’s left calf, right thigh and left him
with a six inch gash across his middle that the surgeon
had to cauterise. Robert walked away without a mark.
He was an exceptional swordsman and he was a crack
shot with pistols. Anybody who wanted to offer him to a
duel would have to be very brave.
    The tea arrived and Lady Verity made small talk
‘I heard that you’re the talk of the ton , Robert?’
‘What are they saying this time?’ he asked
without particular interest, because he’d most likely
heard it anyway.
‘I heard you duelled with Lord Basset last week.’
Robert almost choked on his tea. ‘Good God,
Lady Verity, he must at least be a hundred years old. He
wouldn’t even be able to hold the