wish I could think of something that I was prepared to sacrifice my right arm for,” the Earl replied.
Lord Yaxley was silent for a moment, his eyes on his friend’s face.
Then he asked him quietly,
“Something in particular is making you blue-devilled?”
The Earl did not reply, but sat in front of the fireplace, looking into the flames.
“It is Genevieve, is it not?” Lord Yaxley quizzed him after a moment.
“Partly,” the Earl admitted.
“What can she have done?”
“As a matter of fact if you want to know the truth,” the Earl said, “she tells me that she is having a baby!”
Lord Yaxley looked at him in astonishment and then he said sharply,
“It is not true!”
The Earl turned from his contemplation of the fire to look at his friend.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean what I say,” Lord Yaxley answered. “It is a lie, because Genevieve had told my youngest sister a long time ago that, owing to a fall whilst out hunting when she was a girl, the doctors have said it is impossible for her to bear a child.”
He paused and then he added,
“That was one of the reasons why I was so afraid that you might marry her. It is not my business, of course, and I do not want to interfere, but I would have told you before you took her up the aisle.”
The Earl sat back again in the armchair.
“Are you sure of this, Willoughby?”
“Dead certain. My sister, who was at the same school as Genevieve, told me about the accident at the time. When she married Rodney, he was longing for her to give him a son. According to my sister they consulted half-a-dozen doctors, but there was nothing that could be done about it.”
There was silence for a moment and then he added,
“If you ask me, Genevieve is determined to get you by hook or by crook and the whole story is a concoction in the hope that you will behave like a gentleman.”
The Earl rose to his feet.
“Thank you, Willoughby. You have indeed taken a load off my mind. And now I think we should retire to bed. If we are going to watch the gallops, we must leave the house at six o’clock promptly.”
“Well, all I can say is that I am glad I did not drink deep!” Lord Yaxley remarked as they walked towards the door.
He knew that the Earl had no desire to discuss the subject of Lady Genevieve further.
At the same time Lord Yaxley was glad that the Earl had raised the subject first and he had been able to give him without embarrassment the information that had been hovering on his lips for a long time.
Close though they were, Lord Yaxley was indeed aware that the Earl could be extremely reserved where his love affairs were concerned and he well knew as they walked up the stairs towards their bedrooms that only in exceptional circumstances would he have admitted, as he had tonight, what was troubling him.
‘Blast Genevieve!’ Lord Yaxley said to himself as they parted on the landing and went to their respective bedrooms.
He was certain that it was the thought of being forced to marry the delectable widow that had spoilt the Earl’s enjoyment of winning the race this afternoon and made him more than usually remote and difficult.
But with or without the problem of Genevieve, Lord Yaxley had been aware for some time that the Earl was bored with the social round and his own proverbial luck, which made everything he touched turn to gold.
‘Osric is right!’ he told himself as he got into bed. ‘What he needs is a war or a similar challenge to give him an incentive.’
It was all the fault of having too much money, Lord Yaxley decided.
The Earl was so unbelievably rich that there was really nothing that he could not buy.
Horses, women, possessions, they all required little effort on his part. Perhaps it was a surfeit of success that had made the Earl grow cynical and, even to his best friends, there was now a hardness about him that was increasingly perceptible.
It showed clearly in his face.
It was almost impossible to imagine that a man could be more handsome, but even when there was a glint of amusement in his eyes, those who knew him well seldom found that there was anything soft or gentle about his expression.
He expected perfection in the performance of duty by his servants and his employees and he was seldom disappointed.
His houses and estates were admirably administered and, if there were minor difficulties and problems, they were not brought to his notice.
He employed the best Agents, Managers, Attorneys and endless secretaries. He was the Commander-in-Chief, who planned all the campaigns and they were always successful.
‘He has too much,’ Lord Yaxley said to himself again before he fell asleep, wondering what could be the solution.
After the next day’s racing, the two Noblemen drove back together to London, the Earl tooling his phaeton, drawn by a team of superlative horses and covering the mileage in what was, they were certain, record time.
As they reached Helstone House in Piccadilly, Lord Yaxley said,
“Am I meeting you at dinner tonight? I believe that we have both been invited by the Devonshires.”
“Have we?” he asked indifferently. “My secretary will have a list of my engagements.”
“And that reminds me,” Lord Yaxley said. “Are you going to stay with Lady Chevington again for the Derby? I am sure she has asked you.”
“I believe I did receive an invitation from her,” the Earl replied.
“Do you intend to accept?”
There was a moment’s pause. Then, as the Earl drew his horses to a standstill outside the front door, he answered,
“Why not? It is far the most comfortable house near Epsom and at least her parties are sometimes amusing.”
“Then we can go together,” Lord Yaxley said. “Will you drive me down, Osric, unless you have other plans?”
“I shall be delighted to give you a lift.”
The two men parted, Lord Yaxley being driven by the Earl’s groom back to his lodgings, which were only two streets away.
The Earl walked across the hall and into the library.
He was there only for a moment before his secretary, Mr. Grotham, came into the room and bowed.
