Free B006O3T9DG EBOK by Linda Berdoll Page A

behalf.”
    Orloff was keenly pleased. Alistair was well-educated, well-spoken, and well-dressed—a gentleman of the first order. He did not give up Alistair’s part when it came to Wellington either.
    “The Duke was fortunate at Waterloo,” Orloff insisted. “The French cavalry showed up quite well during that great battle.”
    “Yes, and they went down very well too,” rebutted Alistair.
    The laughter was infectious. It was only natural that when Sir Henry Howgrave arrived, he was immediately introduced to Alistair Thomas. They were each given a brief history of the other and understood instinctively that they were similar animals.
    Howgrave asked Alistair, “Did you happen to attend Wellington’s welcoming festivities after his triumphant return from France? I do not recall seeing you there.”
    “I saw it only in passing,” Alistair replied.
    Howgrave was aghast (or seemingly so), “I am astonished that the duke forgets his loyalties with such haste.”
    “With cashiered soldiers filling the streets with their disgruntlement, the Duke has far greater concerns than one poor gentleman,” said Alistair.
    With a sly, sideward look, Howgrave bid Alistair, “Come with us tonight, Thomas. After Almack’s closes, we like to finish the evening in the East End with good, plebeian company—low men and loose women.”
    A smattering of snickers were heard at his remark.
    Alistair R. Thomas was quite conscious of the young blood’s penchant for rubbing elbows with the motley lowborn on Nightingale Lane. He also knew that Howgrave was born of a left-handed union and his wife was once a courtesan. A voucher to Almack’s was a dearly held commodity and the ladies who extended them thought far too highly of themselves to sell their company that cheaply. One could be assured that Sir Henry Howgrave was not invited to Almack’s. Yet, he implied he was. If Alistair’s nose sniffed the winds of speculation, it went unremarked.
    With real or feigned reluctance, he begged off from that night’s carousing.
    “Then tomorrow morning, do to take a turn with us around Rotten Row,” urged Howgrave. “You must join us Mr. Thomas. We solve all of England’s many problems as we take the Serpentine.”
    Alistair declined this offer as well, but explained his refusal.
    “Although I once took a rail quite handily, I fear that since I took my wound I no longer look to advantage in the saddle.”
    Howgrave said, “We shall enjoy watching those who do through the auspices of my landau. This, I insist.”
    Alistair bowed in acceptance to the invitation.
    It was in the landau that next day that Howgrave bid Mr. Thomas to oblige him by joining his campaign. With gracious good humour, Alistair again demurred, saying that there were far better qualified men than he. It took a great deal of arm-twisting to convince him to accept the proposal. Orloff was quite pleased to have obtained him.
    Alistair’s own ambition had been temporarily satisfied to sit in a shared carriage around the Serpentine. It was apparent that Howgrave hoped to trade on his connection to Wellington. He was not offended. Any man of good sense knew inherently that one must use all one’s strengths.
    When Howgrave once again invited Alistair to join him upon his nightly prowls, Alistair agreed. It would not do to appear too depraved or too priggish. They spent most of their evening at Vauxhall Gardens and finished that night at White’s. Engrossed in conversation, they took no note of the servitors therein.
    Discharged from Pemberley without a letter of recommendation, Cyril Smeads stood behind the bar polishing glasses. Through previous connections, he had found a suitable position at the well-known watering hole for the aristocratic drinkers and their failed sons. It was a situation that many might have believed as beneath them. Truth be known, it was an office over which prospective agents fought tooth and nail. The wages were poor, but a man with a sharp mind,