Page 2 of Measure of a Man

“But Lord Virtue has dark hair,” interrupted the younger sister, Miss Cecelia Douglas. “Lord Exeter would make a better Apollo or Helios.”

“In looks but not in skill,” Mr Douglas interrupted. “Lord Virtue keeps the finest set of greys in London, Cece. I don’t think Lord Exeter would dispute that.” He raised his jaw at the man as if daring him to.

Exeter, who had knelt to pick something up from the road, pulled himself up to his full height.

“Certainly not,” he replied with unexpected testiness, as he hoisted himself back onto the phaeton. “Virtue beat me fairly any time we’ve raced. I can’t think of anyone better at driving four-in-hand, and Original and Established, these beautiful beasts, are a constant torment to my pride, though Virtue should note that if they were mine, they would have been named with a little more panache. But alas! If I can’t own them, then I have to make do with being ferried around by their owner.” He placed a proud hand on Virtue’s shoulder, his demeanour thawing. “No, I’m sorry to say that when it comes to horseflesh, I am just the unruly student to the master.”

He favoured both the Douglas ladies with a smile before turning to wink at Virtue. “If I may be so bold as to claim your sister’s compliment, Mr Douglas, I should rather make a marvellous Hades. Only I tempted Lord Virtue with six rounds of piquet instead of pomegranate seeds, and now he’s obliged to spend half the year with me at White’s. But that reminds me, I have an appointment at my club to keep, so we shall have to take our leave.”

Mr Douglas, who Virtue noted was not a member of White’s, looked envious at the mention of London’s foremost gentleman’s club.

Calling cards were exchanged. Virtue pocketed the brother’s as he seemed a decent sort. Perhaps he’d put the fellow’s name forward at White’s in the future. Exeter had taken Virtue under his wing when he’d been new to town, squiring him round, making introductions, and finding him rooms, tailors and fencing masters, and taking him to coffee houses and the theatre. He’d polished the rustication off Virtue without ever making him feel like a bumpkin. Perhaps he ought to do the same for this fellow. Yes, he rather thought he might now that the idea had occurred to him.

The fair-haired sister called Virtue’s attention to her by leaning over the side of the landau to tell him that she hoped he’d call soon. The warmth of her invitation left Virtue in little doubt of her interest. She was a handsome woman, the only thing that would have improved her were perhaps her brother’s eyes, which held a livelier charm. She turned to Mr Douglas to join her in her sentiment, but Mr Douglas peculiarly shied away, unable to meet his sister’s eye or Virtue’s.

It was always amusing to watch young men turn from poachers into gamekeepers when it came to marrying their sisters off. He did not envy Mr Douglas’ task of finding two suitable men for the two ladies. The next time he saw him, he’d suggest standing outside Almack’s with a big fishing net.

Not that the Douglases would catch them. Virtue had no desire to fall into the parson’s trap at his age. Exeter, a few years older, had already escaped the noose of one unwise betrothal; he doubted the man would be moved again on the matter for some time. As always, they would be polite and charming, but they’d remain on their guard.

He tipped his hat to them and signalled his horses onward.

No sooner than they were thirty yards ahead, Exeter murmured to him, “Well, there you go. Didn’t I say you’d catch an eligible young thing with this, and you did. He just happens to be five foot nine and rather brawny, but don’t let that put you off.”

Virtue busied himself with the reins. “Not quite my type.” For some darned reason, he felt compelled to add, “However, the fair-haired Miss Douglas was something special.”

He didn’t care one jot for her, although she was, he supposed, his usual sort. In a crowded room, nothing drew his eyes quite like someone tall and golden haired. Although, what were his usual sort these days?

He’d grown tired of flirting with society beauties. At three-and-twenty, the novelty of meeting a woman that he wasn’t related to or a direct employer of (immensely exciting for a boy that had been tutored at home) had well… worn off? Women, the faerie creatures that they were, still had their charm, but no-one expected him to marry till he was at least six-and-twenty.

For now, there were other things that fought to occupy his time. White’s Club, boxing, riding, and the bone-deep enjoyment he got from spending time among friends, chiefly Exeter.

“You and all of London agree on that. The eldest—Miss Maria Douglas is in receipt of quite the fortune from her uncle. I overheard Sir Vincent tell a group of men at White’s that she’s worth sixty thousand. Quite marriageable. Ha! We met her first! I’ll be sure to make him aware of that. The younger sister, Miss Cecelia Douglas, is from a second marriage and is not so lucky, but she has more beauty to her with that raven hair, so we shan’t have to feel too sorry for her. The brother I hear is similarly well financed and keen to spend it as soon as it reaches his coffers.”

“Gosh, the Misses Douglas and the brother are getting better looking by the minute. Handsome and rich. Perhaps I shall pay them a visit sooner rather than later, for I’m a man of expensive habits,” Virtue joked. “Father would be delighted if I brought home a wealthy bride. He could cut my stipend even further.”

Exeter’s arm tensed alongside his, and Virtue felt that he’d somehow wrong-footed himself with his joke. It had been in rather poor taste, but he had not been serious. He frowned, an idea forming that he did not like. Had Exeter deliberately engineered their meeting with the Douglases? With a growing sense of dismay, he tested the water: “You’re not interested on that front, are you, old fellow?”

“What man wouldn’t be for sixty thousand pounds?”

“True. But not you? You’ve never liked blondes?”

It was difficult to look at the track ahead and still watch Exeter in his periphery, but Virtue caught the odd, pained smile as he said, “The colour of a woman’s hair makes no difference to me.”

Virtue’s mind reeled. He was interested in the woman! It was as shocking to him as an unexpected facer in the boxing ring. Exeter might be brash, but for him to be a fortune hunter? And in the scheme of things, for a man as advantageously set as Exeter, not even for that large a fortune?

Something must have gone very wrong indeed. There were no unpaid debts that he knew of, but was that the sort of thing a friend would make one aware of? He supposed not.

But—no, it was impossible. They lived in one another’s pockets. He would know if Exeter had tradesmen loitering on street corners ready to dun him, and the man never played deep at the gaming tables.

That left the most unsettling reason for his interest. Exeter was attracted to Miss Maria Douglas.

A cold ache coiled around his ribs.

Virtue’s ideal of spending almost every day of the Season in the other man’s company was about to tip over a cliff. No more morning horse rides full of ready conversation in Hyde Park, or time spent at White’s, dining together or sitting in their favourite comfy chairs reading the scandal sheets and puzzling out the redactions. Now, Lord E___ would be seen in the company of a backwater diamond, one Miss D___. There’d certainly be no time for fencing.

What would Virtue do without Exeter entertaining him at balls and recitals, hovering at his shoulder whispering gossip into his ear, and finding them dance partners? Now, he’d be too busy being charmed by Miss Douglas!

Of course, it was perfectly natural for Exeter to take a passing fancy to a pretty woman. Most bachelors eventually married. But any friend, he reasoned, would resent having four years of comfortable routine and camaraderie overturned by a woman Exeter had known for less than half an hour. It was all so very sudden.