other man would demand satisfaction for that slur on his honour.’
‘I am relieved you do not,’ Harry said, smiling lazily. ‘I abhor violence.’
‘I will toss you the dice for my share of the pot,’ Ash told the young man. ‘If you win, it will give you the stake to go on playing.’
‘And if I lose?’
‘I will take your voucher.’
‘Agreed.’
The card game was suspended while the dice were called for. Harry spent the time studying his playing companions. Benedict was a young fool, wanting to impress, to be counted a man about town, but he would not have the stomach for passing counterfeit guineas. Max Chalmers was different. He was thirty or thereabouts, not ill looking, though his expression was surly. His clothes were well made and his powdered wig one of the best; a vain man, he decided, then chuckled secretly at himself for his own pretensions.
‘Allow me to offer condolences and congratulations, Chalmers,’ Ash said while they waited. ‘I believe you have recently come into your inheritance.’
‘I thank you, though there is little enough to salvage and I am left with an unmarried sister to provide for.’
‘Is that such a burden?’
‘It would not be if our father had not invested foolishly and left no portion for her. My wife is not over-fond of her and is reluctant to offer her a home.’ He sighed. ‘If only I could find her a husband. You do not know of anyone requiring a wife, do you?’
Ash looked meaningfully at Harry, who frowned at him, but he took no notice. ‘What can you say in her favour?’
‘Not a great deal,’ Max said gloomily. ‘She is twenty-six and not beautiful, but I suppose you could say she has a good figure…’
‘Why does your wife not like her?’ Harry demanded.
‘She is too opinionated.’
‘Mmm, a bad trait indeed,’ Harry said. ‘Is that why she has never married?’
‘It could be. But she has been housekeeper to our father since our mother died. To give her her due she is very good at it. The house always ran like clockwork. That is half the trouble—if she comes to our house, she will want to impose her own ideas…’
Harry laughed. ‘Then you have a problem, my friend.’
‘Marry her off,’ Ash said.
‘So I would, if I could find someone to take her.’
‘Is she healthy?’ Ash persisted in his questioning.
‘Never had a day’s illness in her life.’
‘It seems to me,’Ash said thoughtfully ‘that your contention that she has little in her favour is false. She is a good housekeeper, can hold her own and is healthy enough to bear children. Is she particular as to a husband?’
Max laughed. ‘She cannot afford to be.’
‘You mean she would agree to a marriage of convenience?’
‘If one were offered, I think I could persuade her.’ He paused, realising he might have sounded unfeeling. ‘Of course, I would not let her to go any Tom, Dick or Harry…Oh, I beg your pardon, Portman.’
‘Granted.’
‘I would wish to know she would be dealt fairly with, not kept short of pin money or treated like a skivvy,’ Max went on. ‘She is, after all, a lady. Our family can trace its lineage back to Tudor times.’
‘Dowry?’ Ash asked, ignoring the kick Harry gave him under the table.
‘Alas! There you have me.’
Ash chuckled. ‘Not much of a bargain, then. How do you propose to bring this marriage about? Advertise her for sale?’
‘That’s a thought,’ Max admitted.
‘How can you be so callous?’ Harry burst out, forgetting his usual languid air. ‘She is your sister and a lady; surely she deserves your protection.’
Max looked startled by this outburst from a man who had the reputation of indolence and a studied lack of finer feelings, except when they were his own. ‘Naturally she does and until she marries she shall have it, but she would be happier married, of that I am certain.’
‘We should like to meet the lady, should we not, Harry?’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Harry said brusquely, wondering how much longer the waiter was going to be fetching the dice. The whole conversation was becoming offensive.
‘You?’ Benedict queried, addressing Ashley. ‘I thought you were content to remain a bachelor.’
‘So I am. I was thinking of someone else.’
Max laughed. ‘A man-matchmaker—whoever heard of such a thing?’
‘I would not go so far as to say that,’ Ash said.
‘I should think not!’ Harry put in. ‘I beg you to forget it.’
But Ash had the bit between his teeth and was not about to let go. ‘It cannot hurt to meet the lady. Socially, of course. She need not know.’ He turned back to Max. ‘Where and when could this be done?’
‘She is in mourning and not going out in society, but she likes to walk in Green Park of an afternoon. If you care to be there, we could come across each other by chance and I could make her known to you.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow afternoon. Shall we say two o’ clock?’
‘Capital! We will meet you at the gate and take a stroll together.’ Harry’s kick was even more vicious than the previous one and drew a cry of ‘ouch’ from Ash, which he hastily covered with a cough.
‘Where has the pesky waiter got to with those dice?’ Harry grumbled, looking about him.
‘I have changed my mind,’ Max said. ‘I will not wait, if you will excuse me.’ He left the table and strode away. He was quickly followed by Benedict, who was glad to escape without writing out a voucher. Harry noted it, but decided not to pursue him.
As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to Ashley. ‘Just what are you playing at, Ash? If you think I will stoop to buying a wife, you are grossly mistaken. I will not go.’
‘It seems to me that you will be doing each other a favour. She cannot want to live with that coxcomb of a brother. You could provide her with a comfortable home and she could provide the heir you need without disturbing your sensibilities.’
‘I wish I had not told you anything about my wife,’ Harry said. ‘I beg you to refrain from mentioning the matter again.’ He beckoned to a waiter and asked him to send out for chairs to convey them home: Ash to his bachelor apartments in Lincoln’s Inn Fields and Harry to Portman House in Berkeley Square.
Ash laughed. ‘Twas but a thought, but I’ve a mind to take a stroll in the park tomorrow afternoon for amusement’s sake. I will call for you. You may come or not, as you please.’
Harry did not please and he went home to a lonely dinner of sirloin of beef, partridge, capon and fruit tartlets and two whole bottles of Rhenish wine. He had friends a-plenty and enough work to keep him occupied and could always find diversions, but Ash had unsettled him and he found himself admitting that he was sometimes lonely. He began to wonder what Chalmers’s sister was like. An antidote, he did not doubt, outspoken if her brother was to be believed, and if she was as healthy as he maintained, she was probably big and muscular. Mannish was a word that came to mind.
Impatient with himself, he went to his chamber, where he threw off his wig, changed from his finery into a brown stuff coat, fustian breeches, wool stockings, which had once been decorated with vivid red clocks, but were