In a private room at Boodle's

"She was born in the same year as the French declared war on us and beheaded their king."

Torrington turned the glass in his hands, studying the liquid within it.

"My father was so busy - he was a undersecretary in Pitt's gouvernment then - that he was still in London until the day before and rode back through the night; my mother still jokes that even then Bella had him completely wrapped around her little finger."

He shook his head fondly.

"And now she informs me that next season she wants to get serious about finding a husband."

"Your sister will have half the eligible members of the aristocracy flocking to her door next season, I shouldn't wonder," Vickery said lightly. "I think Emma will very much like having her for a friend, too." And he wouldn't exactly object to getting to know her a little better himself, although he was not sure he had in mind to marry her.

After all, she could well meet someone with far better prospects who would be a much better match for her than Vickery would be.

"Oh God ... please no! – The aristocratic onslaught, not your sister, of course", Torrington corrected himself hastily, slightly blushing at his misconstructable exclamation.

"By the way, is your brother in town as well?"

"He is, although he has his own friends, of course. I shall endeavour to introduce him to you should he manage to be in the same place at the same time as yourself - London is so large, I cannot admit to being surprised that you have not yet met. Should you keep associating with my sister and myself, however, I think you run a high risk of eventually being introduced to him."

He smiled. "Naturally, I shall warn him that you do not want to be over-run by aristocrats and their sons and heirs flocking to your door."

Torrington returned the smile.

"Oh, as long as they come to my doorstep, they can come sideways and upside down. They should just stay away from my sister."

He slowly drained his glass.

"I would think it is a risk I will gladly take. Fortunately, even in London, one tends to run into each other sooner or later."

Vickery could not help laughing at the sudden picture of the cream of London Society coming to call on the Earl of Gleve's heir walking on their hands.

"I think you would like Robert. He is perhaps a little more serious than I am, and with less taste for adventure. I think we are well suited to our respective roles - he as the Heir, and I as the Spare and the one who has to make a career for himself."

"if there is any family resemblance, I am confident that I will."

Torrington looked at his frend quizzically, for once not seeing the humourous picture.

"Your carreer has been quite a distinguished one sofar - have you given any thought to what you want to do now that the war is finally over?", he inquired.

Vickery shook his head. "There are rumours that the 60th will head to America once we have recruited back up to full strength, but I have no idea how true those rumours are. And as you are no doubt aware, being in the Army is hardly a profitable career choice. I may throw myself on my father's mercy and take a house somewhere in the country, look for an heiress to marry and settle down."

He studied the firelight through the amber coloured brandy in the glass he held. "After six years at war, I hardly know what I shall do with my time, though."

"Well, if you are interested in it, you can keep busy enough as a land owner, but otherwise there are always the more frivolous things like fishing and hunting."

Edward smiled.

"You can also keep quite busy by visiting friends, of course."

"I prefer shooting, and would far rather leave fishing to Robert. I have crossed enough rivers to not wish to spend hours at a time staring at one, even one so lazily pleasant as the Itchen."

He stretched his legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankle, looking the very picture of refined elegance lounging in a chair.

"So, between visiting yourself in Gloucestershire and Padstowe in Kent, and having you both call on me wherever I settle down, the future looks quite boringly peaceful. Long may Boney rot on Elba," he added, raising what was left of his brandy in a toast.

"May he love it so much that he will never leave it again!", Torrington replied, raising his tumbler as well. "He was born on a small island, so he should feel very much at home there anyway."

The somber mood and the tension from the beginning of the evening had very much dissipated, and Torrington, much more relaxed, settled in his chair for a nice discussion of current affairs with his friend.

"I'll drink to that," Vickery declared, and did so, draining his glass. He leaned forward to pour more; no sense in letting it go to waste after paying for it, after all.


~ Fin ~