Selwyn had laughed.
There were many years for him to enjoy his reading, he thought, before his eyes began to fail him.
Reading books always gave him as much pleasure as did a beautiful woman.
Moreover, he often thought cynically that they lasted a great deal longer.
All his love affairs came to an end simply because he found that there was nothing to talk about except love.
He was of the opinion that the English language was regrettably extremely limited on the subject and the women who gave him their favours were undeniably beautiful and had figures like young Greek Goddesses.
But while his body responded to their beauty, he found that his brain was being critical also, although it was a strange word, ‘deprived’.
When he thought of marriage, he realised that it would be impossible for him to listen to what he would call ‘banal conversation’.
It was what he would have to do from first thing in the morning to last thing at night.
Even his most witty and amusing mistresses had a way of expecting him to laugh at the same joke that they had told him before or to pay them the same compliments over and over again.
‘What am I looking for? What do I want?’ he asked himself often.
There was no answer.
When he looked at Maisie Brambury, he thought that she was most definitely different.
To begin with she looked very young and attractive.
He had just finished an affaire de coeur with a rather intense woman who was a little older than himself.
Maisie was therefore a most delightful contrast.
She was, he thought, like the small cherubs he had seen carved and painted in Bavarian Churches.
At first he could hardly believe that she was aged twenty-four, to which she admitted.
Then, when he learnt her history, he understood.
Maisie had been married when she was eighteen to Lord Brambury, who was one of the more influential figures at the Court of Queen Victoria.
That he was sixty when he first saw Maisie was considered unimportant beside the fact that he was so distinguished.
He held many posts including that of the Lord Lieutenant of Huntingdonshire and was extremely wealthy.
He had been married before and his first wife had died, having unfortunately failed to provide him with any children.
When he proposed marriage to the daughter of a well-born country Squire, he was being sensible in making sure this time that he had an heir to his riches as well as to his title.
Maisie’s parents were completely overcome and thrilled that their daughter should have received such a splendid offer.
Because she was very pretty, they had always hoped that she might marry well.
They had planned to take her to London for the Society Season.
But before they could do so, she had met Lord Brambury.
Like many an older man had done before him, he fell head-over-heels in love with a very much younger woman. Casting discretion to the winds, he refused to listen to an inner voice that told him that he was far too old for her.
Maisie was indeed everything that he had dreamed of.
She was young, healthy and of good country stock and would surely give him the son he wanted now desperately.
Maisie had little say in what was happening to her. She was told that she was the luckiest girl in the world and that every one of her contemporaries would envy her.
She was swept up the aisle of the fashionable St. George’s Church in Hanover Square in Mayfair.
She had always imagined that she would be married in the little village Church that stood on her father’s estate.
But Lord Brambury was too important.
“You will understand, my dear,” he said, “that Her Majesty the Queen will be present at the Church and a large number of Statesmen, Courtiers and Diplomats will be attending the Ceremony as well.”
He was able to clinch the matter quite easily with Maisie.
He then announced that the Reception would take place in the large house in Grosvenor Square that he had occupied for nearly thirty years.
Maisie was never asked if she agreed or disagreed with all that was being planned for her Wedding Day.
She was told only what had been arranged. This meant that Lord Brambury had given his orders and all her father and mother had to do was to accept them gracefully.
Because it was undoubtedly the most important Wedding of the Season, everyone wished to be present.
On the day St. George’s Church was full to overflowing and the huge Reception rooms of the house in Grosvenor Square were packed with the great and good.
When his friends saw Maisie for the first time they could so easily understand why Lord Brambury was so infatuated with anyone so lovely.
She looked like a piece of beautiful fragile Dresden china.
It is true that one or two of their guests sniggered that ‘there is no fool like an old fool!’
But they kept their voices low, having no wish to offend a man who had the Queen’s ear.
Lord Brambury had in the whole of his successful life never put a foot wrong.
To Maisie everything seemed unreal. It was as if she had stepped from the schoolroom straight into a maelstrom.
Lord Brambury had wished to be married as quickly as possible.
Maisie was therefore hurried from one fashionable dressmaker to another.
She found it extremely tiring to stand for hours being fitted for gown after gown.
On top of all this there were parties almost every night.
The Brambury family was very large and they all wanted to ingratiate themselves with the head of it.
Invitations to luncheons, dinners, Receptions and Assemblies poured in for them and Maisie’s father and mother enjoyed every moment of it.
But Maisie herself saw very little of her future husband.
“You will understand, my dear,” he said, “that before I take you away on our honeymoon I have a thousand and one urgent matters to attend to.”
He smiled before he added,
“I have always found that if I want something
