‘Yes,’ said the Earl again. His lips quivered. ‘I think I may be said to have been in the habit of boxing a little.’
‘You are laughing at me!’ said Miss Taverner suspiciously.
‘My darling,’ said the Earl, ‘I used to spar with the great Jem himself !’
‘Oh?’ said Miss Taverner. ‘And was he a good boxer?’
‘He was the greatest of them all,’ replied the Earl.
‘Oh no!’ said Miss Taverner, glad to be able to display her knowledge. ‘Belcher was the greatest of them all. I have often heard my father say so.’
‘There is nothing for it,’ said the Earl, ‘I shall have to kiss you again, Clorinda. Jem Belcher was the man I meant.’
‘Good God!’ cried Miss Taverner, struck by a sudden thought. ‘I had no notion – Oh, I do hope you did not kill my cousin!’
‘Not quite,’ said the Earl.
‘And I was afraid you might be hurt! You must have thought me ridiculous!’
‘I thought you enchanting,’ said the Earl.
Ten minutes later Peregrine came running up the stairs, and entered the drawing-room in his usual tempestuous fashion. ‘Oh, sir, can you come and speak with Evans?’ he asked, addressing himself to his guardian. ‘He thinks I should make a bid for that yacht at once if I want her.’
‘I have not the least desire to speak to Evans,’ replied the Earl.
‘But Evans says she is a splendid vessel! He says she sails a point nearer to the wind than your Seamew !’
‘Even that fails to awaken any desire in me to speak to him. I have some shocking news to break to you: I have just become engaged to your sister.’
‘But it won’t take you above a quarter of – What’s that you say? Engaged to my sister? Oh, Lord, I was afraid that would happen!’
‘Peregrine!’ said Judith.
‘Well, I was,’ he insisted. ‘Harriet said she was sure you were in love with him all the time. I hoped it would be Charles, but she said there was no question of that. I’m sure I wish you very happy. I should not be interrupting you, I suppose, but this is devilish urgent, and it won’t take above a quarter of an hour, you know. Worth, I wish you will come with me to hear what Evans says for yourself !’
‘Peregrine,’ said the Earl in a gently persuasive voice, ‘take Evans, take my whole crew, and the Seamew as well, if you like, and go to Southampton, and see this vessel for yourself. Only do not talk any more to me about it!’
‘Do you mean I can buy her?’ asked Peregrine eagerly.
‘You can buy a fleet of yachts for all I care,’ said his lordship.
‘I’ll be off at once!’ said Peregrine, and hurried out of the room.
‘My dear!’ said Miss Taverner, rather perturbed. ‘You should not have told him to go to Southampton! He is quite capable of setting out in a chaise immediately!’
‘I hope very much that he may. If I had had the presence of mind I would have told him to take Henry with him. I am persuaded they would find themselves a good deal in sympathy. Henry will be even less pleased at the news of our engagement than Peregrine – and almost as hard to silence.’
‘Indeed, when I think of Henry’s views on my sex I am astonished at your daring to propose to me at all,’ said Miss Taverner. ‘I hope you are not offended by the circumstance of Perry not liking it extremely. He will when he knows you better, I promise.’
The Earl smiled. ‘No, I am not offended,’ he said. ‘I was prepared for worse. I am consoling myself with the reflection that your brother’s way of receiving the news cannot be more unflattering to me than my tiger’s opinion of it will be to you, my darling!’
Also Available
Georgette Heyer trade paperbacks
available from Sourcebooks
An Infamous Army
Black Sheep
Charity Girl
The Conqueror
Cotillion
False Colours
Faro’s Daughter
Friday’s Child
Lady of Quality
My Lord John
Royal Escape
Simon the Coldheart
The Spanish Bride
The Reluctant Widow
About the Author
AUTHOR OF OVER FIFTY BOOKS, GEORGETTE HEYER IS ONE of the best-known and best-loved of all historical novelists, making the Regency period her own. Her first novel, The Black Moth, published in 1921, was written at the age of fifteen to amuse her convalescent brother; her last was My Lord John. Although most famous for her historical novels, she also wrote twelve detective stories. Georgette Heyer died in 1974 at the age of seventy-one.
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