should not listen to Mama, sir,’ Jack said. ‘She spends too much time with Aunt Seraphina, and she has the gossip from my cousin Reginald. Now honestly—would you wish me to be like your nephew Reginald?’
‘No, I should not. The man is a prosy fool.’ The marquis exploded with wrath. ‘Jack, why will you tease me so? You know I think the world of you, boy. I am proud of you—of what you achieved in the army, even though I did not wish you to go to war—but I cannot live for ever and it means a great deal to me to see your first son: my heir. God forbid that Reginald should have a son to inherit the estate.’
‘Yes, that would be very bad,’ Jack said thoughtfully. ‘I should not like to think of Reginald stepping into your shoes—though I must say I have no intention of dying for many years yet.’
‘Your father’s accident was sudden and unexpected.’ A look of sudden deep and hurtful sadness flashed into the old man’s eyes.
Jack’s mirth was sobered instantly. ‘Yes, sir, forgive me. I do not mean to upset you.’
‘Then...to please me?’
‘You want me to visit Mama’s cousin Lord Sopworth and inspect his daughter Celia?’ Jack’s brows met in a frown and at that moment the likeness between the two men was very marked. ‘Very well, sir. I shall accept Uncle Gerald’s invitation, but I make no promises. I dare say the young lady is all that you promise—but marriage without love, or at least a deep affection and respect, leads only to unhappiness. You have only to remember what it was like for my father and mother.’
‘That was unfortunate,’ his grandfather admitted. ‘Your father was a selfish man—he inherited that trait from his mother—and I fear he made your dear mama suffer. I am very fond of Lady Daisy. I thank God that you have her sweet nature, though you also get your stubbornness from me.’
‘I shall pay my uncle a visit,’ Jack acquiesced, ‘but I do not promise to make Celia an offer, unless she suits me. Now, if there is nothing more, sir, I am committed to some friends for this evening. I must go home and change.’
‘I had hoped you might dine with us?’
‘Not this evening, sir. Perhaps tomorrow, before you return to the country.’
‘Very well. And when will you leave for Cambridgeshire?’
‘At the end of next week. I have engagements until then—and I must give my uncle time to prepare.’
‘I shall see you tomorrow, then, Jack.’
‘I shall look forward to it.’
* * *
Leaving his grandfather’s study, Jack walked in leisurely fashion from the house, stopping in the magnificent hall to exchange a few words first with the marquis’s valet and then with Pearson, the butler who had served at Ellington House for as long as he could recall. His grandfather’s servants had been eager to tell him that the marquis had called the doctor on two separate occasions recently. Indeed, it was the reason he had come to London for a few weeks’ stay, preferring his home deep in the Sussex countryside to the bustle of town.
‘I know the master would never dream of troubling you,’ Pearson told him, ‘but he is not as well as I should like, Captain Delsey, and that is the truth.’
‘Do you know what the trouble was?’ he asked of the valet.
‘It’s his heart, sir. Nothing too serious yet, I understand, but he’s been warned to cut down on his port and cigars—and to take things more easily.’
Jack thanked them both for confiding in him. His grandfather had said nothing of the doctor’s visits, but it explained why he had been summoned and lectured on the subject of marriage once more. However, the valet and butler had alarmed him with their tales, for Jack was sincerely fond of his grandfather and did not wish to distress him more than need be.
The marquis had never interfered unnecessarily in Jack’s life. When he’d left college, Ellington had introduced him into society, put him up for his clubs and given him the name of his tailor. After that, he’d pretty much left him to his own devices, merely asking him to consider carefully when he announced that he was taking up a commission in the army. War had been looming at that time and Jack spent some years away fighting under Wellington’s command. The friendships he’d made then formed the basis of his circle now, and consisted of some six gentlemen he felt bound to as brothers, though he had countless acquaintances for he was a popular man—both with the gentlemen and the ladies, which accounted for the gossip concerning his affairs.
The viscount was a catch and more than one pretty young woman had tried to enchant him, but although he was happy to indulge them with a dance or a light flirtation, none could say that he gave them reason to hope. He spent more time flirting with the matrons than their daughters, and more than one thought of Jack Delsey as she lay next to a snoring husband and wished that the young viscount was in her bed rather than the man lying next to her.
Jack had been home from the war for more than a year now, spending his time much as every other wealthy young man of fashion, visiting his clubs, placing bets at Tattersall’s or Newmarket and taking pride in his stables. His pistols came from Manton’s; he wore coats made by Scott or Weston, and his boots shone like silk. Jack’s cravats were always neat and freshly starched, but he wore them in a simple fashion rather than in the complicated folds and frills of the dandy set. He was happiest when exercising his horses or fencing with friends, or popping a hit over the guard of Gentleman George, a pugilist whose salon he visited now and then to keep in shape. In short, he was what society was pleased to call a Corinthian and idolised by most of the young bloods. To call him a rake was unfair, though if all the fluttering one direct glance from those compelling eyes aroused in a myriad of female breasts was taken into account, his reputation was deserved to a point. Without meaning to, his careless dalliance had sent more than one lady into a swoon, leaving a trail of wounded hearts when his casual flirting came to naught.
His grandfather had, though, exaggerated the number of mistresses Jack had kept over the past few years. During his service in the army, he had found some of the beautiful Spanish girls much to his taste. Like his friends, he had taken his pleasure where he could, knowing that each day might be his last, but the camp followers had been girls of a lower class and none of them had ever touched Jack’s heart.
There had been three ladies with whom he had shared intimate relations since then, one of them a married lady whose husband was thirty years her senior and more interested in his port than his wife, the other two opera dancers. Jack’s current light o’ love was very beautiful, but also very greedy, and he suspected unfaithful. He believed she had other lovers despite their arrangement, and it was in his mind that he would tell Lucy it was over before he went down to the country.
Jack supposed that he ought to think seriously of marriage. He was seven and twenty and he’d been his own master for ten years, for though his fortune had been in trust for four years the allowance was so generous that he had never been in danger of finding himself in debt. Since coming into his capital, he’d made several improvements to his estate and to the investment of his funds. His fortune was sufficient to support a family with no alteration to his way of life, other than on a personal level. Indeed, some jealous folk had been known to complain that he had far more money than was good for him.
The trouble was that he enjoyed his life and saw no reason to change it. As a single man he need consider no one else’s feelings very much. The obligatory visit to his mama and his grandfather
