Lord Hadleigh's Rebellion. Paula Marshall

      Before dinner, Perry Markham, in high spirits after the hanging, was entertaining a few of his cronies in his room. It was quite a merry affair since port and wine were circulating freely. ‘Can’t wait until after dinner to down a few glasses, can we?’ being part of Perry’s cheerful invitation to his small court. ‘Hanging’s thirsty work. Astonishing how many of the plebs were drunk before it began, wasn’t it? It’s a wonder they were wide awake enough to enjoy themselves when the fun started.’

      The Hon. Tom, who had been quietly sick in the middle of the so-called fun, had blamed his own malaise at the hanging on too much ale in order to keep up his reputation for being part of Perry’s hard-living set. In consequence he had felt compelled to refuse to drink in the evening. He sat in a large armchair looking woebegone.

      ‘Not too set down to miss picking a few pockets, though,’ he said mournfully. ‘I lost my purse and my handkerchief.’

      ‘Oh, come on, Tom, do cheer up,’ roared Perry. ‘I’ve a fine piece of news, hot from my man Dawson, to pass on to you all. It seems that m’lord of Hadleigh, who was too fine and delicate-minded a gentleman to come to Loughborough with us, spent the afternoon with Mrs Wardour playing chess—in the library of all places. Didn’t know anyone used it these days.’

      This, as he intended, drew a great deal of appreciative and already tipsy laughter.

      ‘Thought she was invited here for you, not him,’ said one would-be know-all, ‘and that Angelica was his target. Not like you, Perry, to let another put his oar in before you.’

      ‘Game’s not over yet,’ spluttered Perry, ‘and it’s not chess I’m talking about. As for Angelica, she’s more interested in Tom, isn’t she? But there’s no hope for you there, old chap—the General wants a richer prize than your good self, more’s the pity. I’d prefer you as a brother-in-law rather than that high-minded ass, Hadleigh, who looks down his nose at me every time we meet.’

      The ringing of the first bell for dinner, informing the guests that they were to meet in the drawing room, ended this Parliament of Fools. There was a rush for the door as a result of which the Hon. Tom was last out, still nursing his grievances against life and hoping that the sight and sound of Angelica would cheer him up.

      He was lucky. Angelica was standing before the hearth, admiring herself in the huge mirror which stood above it, while ostensibly chit-chatting with Mary. She saw the Honourable Thomas reflected in it when he came through the door. Ignoring all the conventions relating to politeness and good manners, she broke off her conversation with Mary in mid-sentence, turned and almost ran to him.

      ‘So there you are, at last. I thought that the hanging was over before noon. We all expected your party back in the mid-afternoon, but no such thing. It has been a most boring day. I have seen enough gardens and follies to last me for the rest of my life!’

      ‘Come to that, my dear girl, I never want to witness another hanging, but we won’t tell your brother so, will we?’

      ‘Mrs Wardour must have had a dull day, too. Or at least a dull afternoon. I gather, that of all things, she spent it playing chess against Lord Hadleigh.’

      The Hon. Tom was left to reflect how rapidly gossip ran round a country house. He wondered uneasily whether his pursuit of Angelica had been watched closely enough for the news to reach her father. It wouldn’t do for him to open a real campaign for her hand until Lord Hadleigh had left without making an offer for it.