Love & Folly by Sheila Simonson Page A

should at least try to find it."
    "You may be right, but how?"
    "I don't know! I'm not a writer. And where is the profit in bootless philosophizing?" Johnny burst
out, goaded beyond his usual deference to his elders.
    Falk cocked an eyebrow. "For five minutes at least you forgot the pain in your leg, so it can't have
been a dead loss."
    Johnny stared. "That's true, sir, but I now have a pain in my head as well."
    Colonel Falk laughed. "I beg your pardon, Dyott. I'm a vile physician, am I not? I daresay I shall
finish my three-volume lie. My overdraught admits of no other solution. Your labour will not go for
nothing. Do you mean to canvas for Tom's candidates? Emily tells me you've an interest in Reform."
    Relieved, Johnny spoke of the election and his desire to enter the world of Whig politicks. Falk
refrained from further Berkeleyan questioning and Johnny forgot his resentment.
    At Clapham they changed horses. It was dark and snowing again when the carriage pulled into
Grosvenor Square and halted before the Conway house. From the number of windows alight with candles,
Johnny supposed Clanross had returned from Brecon. The butler answered the coachman's imperious
knocking. When Johnny had winced his way out of the carriage, he entered once more into the light of
common sense. He made his farewells with more haste than courtesy and stumped upstairs on his
crutches.
    He went to bed at eight after tucking into a snug dinner. Clanross and Barney Greene had gone
off to separate political dinners and neither was expected until late, so Johnny retired with a clear
conscience. He slept for several hours, then drowsed as the ache in his leg dictated. The bell clock on the
mantel had chimed eleven when he heard a soft knock at his door.
    "Come in," he called sleepily.
    Clanross entered, shielding a candle. "I thought you might be wakeful. Waite says you appeared
at the door this afternoon in a private carriage. Why the devil did you risk crocking your leg up? There's
nothing urgent for you here."
    Johnny rose on one elbow, nightcap awry. "Colonel Falk had the use of a carriage--someone
named Wilson sent it--so he thought I might as well come to town with him."
    "Wilson..."
    "I believe Colonel Falk's mother is ill."
    Clanross set the candle on the mantel and sank into the chair beside the hearth. "The duchess died
this morning."
    Johnny's jaw dropped. "Duchess?"
    "The Dowager Duchess of Newsham," Clanross said precisely. "Richard's mother. If she sent for
him he arrived too late."
    "But..." Johnny's head whirled.
    "I daresay you. know nothing of that ancient scandal--why should you? Richard would not speak
of it." He stared at the toes of his pumps--he was still rigged out for a formal dinner. "Blast! Sir Robert
Wilson's carriage. Then Richard is probably stopping with his sister in Cavendish Square. I'll call on him in
the morning." He rose and stood looking down at Johnny. "What am I going to do with you?"
    Johnny swallowed his confusion. "Lady Clanross said I might convalesce at Brecon. If you don't
dislike it, my lord."
    Clanross's eyes narrowed. "Brecon? Excellent." A smile tugged at his mouth. "You can keep a
weather eye on the seditious librarian."
    "But the election..."
    "Anyone may go about polling freeholders. You, my man, can keep Lady Jean and Lady Margaret
in check, a far more difficult task."
    "But..."
    "Prevent them from setting up a liberty pole on the village green, Dyott, or building bombs in the
wine cellar, that sort of thing. On no account is Lady Clanross's telescope platform to be used as a rallying
point for rickburners."
    "I shall do my possible." Johnny's spirits rose.
    Clanross took the candle. "Good night. Rest the leg for a few days, and I'll send you to Brecon in
the carriage."

7
    'When his town carriage pulled up before Sir Robert Wilson's portico next morning, Tom saw
that the hatchments were already in place. A black crepe bow hung on the door. He directed his man to
take a turn of the Square. When he