Love & Folly by Sheila Simonson Page B

knocked, Wilson's butler answered at once.
    Tom handed the man his card. "Pray convey my condolences to Lady Wilson and your master. I'd
like a word with Colonel Falk, if he's up." It was half past nine, too early for such a call.
    "I believe Colonel Falk is at work in the library." The man took Tom's hat and greatcoat. "If you
will be so kind as to wait in the blue salon, my lord--"
    "Show me to the book room," Tom interrupted. "Richard won't stand on ceremony."
    The butler looked doubtful but led Tom up an elegant flight of stairs and down a long darkened
corridor. In the distance a housemaid scurried from sight. The man entered a half-open door. "Lord
Clanross to see you; sir." Tom was at the butler's heels.
    Richard stood at a sort of prie dieu . He had apparently been writing or copying. He
abandoned his pen and held out his good hand. "I thought you were snowbound in Lincolnshire. Mind the
ink."
    Tom clasped his friend's hand with both his own. "I came...that is, I'm sorry, Richard."
    "Thank you," Richard said without expression.
    The butler made a discreet noise. Both men had forgot his presence. "Do you desire me to bring
coffee or tea, sir?"
    "Coffee." Richard nodded his dismissal. "Thank you."
    When the door closed, Richard gestured to an armchair and pulled another for himself. Both men
sat.
    "I fear you must have come too late," Tom ventured.
    "We were both too late." Richard rubbed the chair arm. "The duchess and I."
    Tom searched his friend's face. It was haggard but composed, the eyes veiled. "I wish you will
come to me."
    "I ought to make myself available to Sarah," Richard said quietly. "She's cut up--low from nursing
my mother through the last illness. Robert and I go on comfortably, you know."
    Tom expelled a sigh of relief. So Richard was on speaking terms with at least one of his kin. "I
hope your children are well."
    "They were when I left."
    "And Emily?"
    Richard's mouth relaxed. "Emily is herself, thank God, though she dislikes living in town."
    "She's still homesick?"
    "She doesn't complain, but I fancy she's bored."
    The previous summer they had raked over Richard's reasons for removing from his stepson's
estate, and Tom had been unable to fault his friend's logic. Richard could not afford to let another estate,
nor even another country house. Though neither Emily nor Richard regarded the move with enthusiasm, it
seemed the only answer. As Matt was enrolled for Winchester College, Winchester was the obvious place
in which to take a house.
    "Are you back in young Matthew's graces yet?" Tom asked.
    Richard grimaced. "Intermittently. He's a stiff-rumped young devil but he doesn't want for sense.
Amy likes her school."
    "I wish I might see young Amy. Pretty as she can stare, I daresay."
    A shadow crossed Richard's face. "I'm told she favours the duchess."
    Tom cleared his throat. "And my godson?"
    "Tommy is reading well."
    "But his hearing is gone."
    Richard nodded.
    "I'm sorry," Tom said again.
    "I daresay your boys have reached the waddling stage," Richard said tactfully.
    Relieved, Tom gave him an account of Lord Brecon and the Honourable Richard Conway.
Presently his mind turned to Johnny Dyott. "I thought he still had work to do for you, Richard. He hasn't
copied the whole manuscript yet, has he?"
    "He can't copy what isn't finished. Let be, Tom. Emily thinks he's taken with one of your
sisters-in-law."
    "Lord, so he scents a rival." Tom started to laugh aloud, then broke off guiltily. "I beg you
pardon. They're minxes, you know, and clever as paint. I thought Johnny had taken their measure at
Christmas but he is at the susceptible age, after all. Did Emily say which twin he fancies?"
    A gleam of humour lit Richard's eyes. "Perhaps he's in love with both."
    Tom chuckled. "I ought to commission you to write it all up."
    At that point the butler entered with coffee. He was followed almost at once by Sir Robert
Wilson, who seemed flustered to find an earl in his bookroom at the breakfast hour.
    When