Chapter Two
Freddie Rosemount crawled out of his bed as late as he could the following morning.The post-race celebrations had gone well into the early hours.After his third glass of champagne he had switched to brandy and stopped counting his drinks.
He sat on the edge of his bed and stared down at his bare feet, softly chuckling at the notion of how those feet were walking a different path to the one he thought they would.The dull ache in his head was the victor’s price for glory.
He dressed and headed into the breakfast room of his family’s London townhouse in Grosvenor Square.The single setting for breakfast was placed at the head of the long, highly polished oak table.As he took his seat, he smiled.With everyone else in his family still in residence at Rosemount Abbey, he had the run of the London house all to himself for the first time in his life.
While waiting for the servants to bring him breakfast, he surveyed his surroundings.He’d always sat further down the table.His father’s seat offered a different perspective of the room.Paintings of long-dead family members, which were normally out of sight in his usual place, were now in full view.
He gave the portrait of his great-great-grandfather a respectable nod.The lucrative horse breeding program at Rosemount Abbey had been established by his ancestor in the early part of the eighteenth century, and it now afforded the family a position high in the rarefied air of thehaute ton.
Being a second son, Freddie would never hold the seat at the head of the table as his own.It was nice to enjoy the pleasant fantasy of being lord of the house even if only for a short time.
He couldn’t begrudge Thomas his role as future Viscount Rosemount.Thomas’s life was set out for him.He was already in possession of two sons of his own.With an estate to run, tenants to manage, and a huge Elizabethan period house to maintain, Thomas would never have the same opportunities as Freddie in deciding his future.Of one thing Freddie was certain: his brother would never have been found racing at breakneck speed around the streets of London in the middle of the night.
Yet it burnt deep within to know that up to this point in his life he had always been second.The second son to attend Oxford.The second son to finish with a first-class degree.Nothing he had achieved so far had been uniquely his own.He was destined to be a footnote in his family’s long and proud history.
A footman brought him a small tray with two boiled eggs on it, which he wasted no time in finishing.When the second cup of coffee did not shift the cobwebs from his brain, he promised himself he would make it early to bed that night.
Grabbing his coat, he walked out the front door, crossed Grosvenor Square, and headed toward St James Street en route to the Houses of Parliament.A cadetship at the House of Commons had unexpectedly come his way via one of his old university professors.The cadetship was only for a few months and it was a rare chance to see the inner workings of the English political system.It was the perfect role for him while he was still finding his feet within London society.
The morning walk gave him time to enjoy the movement and life of London during the early part of the day.With a scarf wrapped around his neck and his hands kept warm inside a pair of dark brown leather gloves, he was well rugged up against the biting wind.
Crossing through St James’s Park he looked to his right and gave a respectful nod to Buckingham Palace off in the near distance.The flags were flying.The royal family were in residence.
“Your Majesty,” he whispered.
Upon reaching the offices of the parliamentary cadets in Barton Street, he signed the day book and went in search of his fellow cadets.Barton Street to the Palace of Westminster was a five-minute stroll through narrow streets behind Westminster Abbey.He walked in through a side door.
“Caesar has arrived!All of Briton is now mine for the taking,” he announced as he stepped into the small meeting room, which had been assigned to the cadets during their short tenure.
“You, sir, are no conqueror.You are a first-class lunatic!”replied Lord Godwin Mewburton.He slapped Freddie hard on the back.“I nearly had you as we reached Strathmore House, but your horse damn well kicked away.”
Freddie laughed and gave a wink.Godwin could tell himself all the stories he liked, but they both knew once Freddie’s horse had caught the lead, he was never going to yield it.
“I may be a lunatic, but I won the first of the challenges, which means I have one hundred points toward my seat on the Bachelor Board.I tell you, at this rate, I shall be a fully-fledged member before the week is out,” replied Freddie.
Seated in a nearby, deeply padded leather chair, the Honorable Trenton Embry snorted.“Yes well, just be grateful my sister and her husband insisted I attend their dinner party last night, otherwise I would have shown the pair of you how we in the west country ride.”
Freddie and Godwin exchanged a mutual raising of the eyebrows.In the short time they had known the second son of Viscount Embry they had discovered he was a man prone to little speech, and even less action.
“So, what do you think we will be up to today?”asked Godwin.
Freddie threw himself down onto a nearby couch and placed his boots on a conveniently placed coffee table.If today was anything like any other day at the House of Commons it would be boring meetings, copious amounts of alcohol, and getting up to all manner of dangerous hijinks.And not necessarily in that order.
Freddie promised himself to follow up on a long-standing offer of a role at the British Library once his cadetship was ended.The Harleian Library collection had writings from Ptolemy he was itching to get his hands on.
“Our fearless leader will soon tell us, once he has scraped himself up from whichever gutter he frequented last night,” replied Freddie.
They all chuckled.
The man responsible for leading the new cadets at the English parliament, Osmont Firebrace, was a man who led a life strictly by the book.In his case, a small black leather-bound book.
While Osmont was happy to encourage his protégés to make a mess of themselves, he was not one to partake in a single drop of alcohol.Even his weak cups of tea were often left to go cold.
On cue, Osmont Firebrace entered the room.
He was dressed in a black jacket, black trousers, and black hessian boots.His shirt was pure white linen.It was the same outfit he wore every day.Under his arm was tucked the black notebook.
