“I agree with you. Lady Hertford ruins one’s enjoyment of the time one spends there, but I am genuinely fond of ‘Prinny’.”

“So am I,” the Earl agreed. “But he has become too pompous lately and far too sensitive about himself. I suppose we can thank Beau Brummell for that.”

Both men were silent for a moment knowing that because Beau Brummell had insulted the Heir to the Throne by calling him ‘fat’, it had made him long avidly for personal compliments in a manner that his friends often found disconcerting.

“Whatever else Prinny is,” the Earl said, “he has excellent taste. In fact it’s outstanding except where it concerns his women! ”

“I believe things were much better when he was with Mrs. Fitzherbert,” Richard replied, “although I am too young to remember.”

“So am I,” the Earl agreed.

“Now, let me think – ” Richard said. “You are just a year older than I am, which means you will be twenty-eight this year. It’s certainly time you married, Vargus. Most men of your consequence are married off almost as soon as they leave Oxford.”

“When I was that age,” the Earl said, “I suppose my choice would have been confined to either a Portuguese peasant or one of those aggressive camp followers who came with the Army. They would hardly grace my table at Hellington Park.”

“That is true,” Richard smiled. “And I have always believed that a wife is a very different kettle of fish from the Ladies of Fashion who have a come hither look in their eyes almost before you are introduced.”

“That is exactly what I think myself,” the Earl said, “and while I know exactly what you are hinting at, Richard, I have no intention of marrying Lady Adelaide or any woman in the least like her.”

There was a smile of satisfaction on Richard’s face as he thought of the dark-haired tempestuous ‘Incomparable’, who had been pursuing the Earl ever since he appeared in London.

She was beautiful and undoubtedly alluring in a serpentine manner that made her the centre of the social scene, despite the fact that she was rivalled by Lady Caroline Lamb, notorious for her mad infatuation for Lord Byron, and a number of other beauties who dispensed their favours very generously on those they fancied.

Lady Adelaide was a widow and had made no secret of her determination to marry the Earl.

If Richard had been surprised at his friend’s sudden disappearance to the country, Lady Adelaide had made no pretence of not being disconsolate.

“Go and fetch him back, Richard,” she said at the last party they had met at and there had been no need for her to explain who she was referring to.

“Vargus will return when he is ready to do so,” Richard had replied defiantly.