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Ferdy laughed. ‘I’m not as complaisant as you suggest. I have certainly turned down quite a few in my time.’
‘But I surmise, dear boy, that those crest-fallen creatures of the night would be slightly more of the perfumed Cyprian persuasion than the estimable Miss Payton.’
‘Not to be uttered in the same breath.’ Both men laughed and Ferdy continued, ‘But to be serious, Flambard, Miss Payton has asked me to take a supper box at Vauxhall for her and her mother to watch the special firework display next Wednesday night. I cannot, of course, include you in our party.’
Lord Flambard gazed into the fire as he swilled the remains of his brandy round in his fine glass. He looked up and met his friend’s eyes. ‘I have a devilish, clever plan whereby I and Mrs Payton can be accommodated, and you and Miss Payton will be in no way discomposed.’
‘Of course you have! I know I can hardly keep you away from any fun and frolics. Does Amelia Payton know you are returned?’
‘No, but she will after Wednesday.’ His lordship gave Ferdy such a roguish look, it concerned him just what a spectacle this friend might make of himself. Max was obviously enjoying the thought of the lovers’ surprise reunion and continued in an amused voice, ‘I shall happen across your happy supper box wearing a mask. I reckon Mrs Payton will recognise me immediately, but her daughter who has never met me will not.’
Ferdy leapt to his feet. ‘No, Max! I am not going to lie to Miss Payton about your identity.’
‘You won’t have to, my too honourable friend. I have another title. As you know, I am Earl Flambard, but there’s also an ancient barony in the murky depths of time, dating back to the Normans, I think. I am Baron Whiley, and so will be known from henceforth, quite legitimately, in all dealings with the Paytons, as Lord Whiley. Happy, oh stickler Shrimp?’
Ferdy was pacing. ‘No, I’m not happy. It is still a deception in moral terms, if not in fact. And I’ve told you already not to call me Shrimp.’
‘Not a deception. What an ugly word. I prefer “a slight shading of the truth”. But this sleight of hand is only for a while, until you have obtained your heart’s desire, Miss Payton’s hand, and I have reacquainted myself with her mother.’
Ferdy’s colour was up, his fair hair dishevelled and his eyes flashing with an anger seldom seen. He turned to face his friend and, as a measure of his feeling, addressed him formally. ‘Lord Flambard, I cannot countenance you behaving in such a dishonourable way. Dammit, man! You’re a gentleman!’
His lordship was also on his feet and he put a brotherly arm round his friend’s shoulder and said in conciliatory tones, ‘Come now, Ferdy, you’re a man of the world, a man of appetites too. Even a gentleman has impulses he may not choose to ignore.’ He clamped a hand on the immaculate shoulder of the Shilton coat. ‘But I promise you that nothing ungentlemanly will ever happen under your roof, and should there be a tryst between me and another, it will be conducted in the most discreet manner elsewhere. No one but the two protagonists will ever know. This I solemnly swear to you.’
Ferdy sank back into his chair. ‘In all honesty, Max, I wonder if you’ve learned anything at all from the debacles of the past. You’ve already almost lost your life, and certainly forfeited ten years of it, damaging your wealth and reputation in the process. And all for following the libertine impulses of your nature, puffed and reckless, treading the primrose path of dalliance. Do you intend to risk everything again?’ His troubled blue eyes met his friend’s amused gaze. Ferdy continued with a note of exasperation in his voice that he hoped did not sound schoolmasterly. ‘There are plenty of beautiful and willing widows who would be flattered to receive your attentions. Why risk so much by returning to the same dangerous waters? Can you not desist, old friend, just this once? Do you like living on the edge of the abyss?’
‘Long ago, Ferdy, I came to terms with what I am; hell-driven, happy enough to lay my life down for a noble cause, like resisting Boney, but also willing to risk what I have for the passing thrill. ’Tis courting disaster, I know. But there ’tis!’
Ferdinand Shilton had to accept that Lord Flambard was his friend come what may, the one who, with Raven Purfoy, had risked ridicule and injury to come to his aid as a boy and now needed his help in a minor subterfuge. He wasn’t happy to compromise his own code, but what is friendship if it cannot accommodate differing opinions, different conduct, from one’s own? ‘I’ll tell Miss Payton I’ll book the supper box. It caters for six, so you can bring along another two of your reprobate friends, if you choose. You can turn our evening into a veritable orgy of trickery and illicit pleasure!’
Lord Flambard let out a bark of laughter. ‘I don’t think that’s quite the point of the exercise. But what man could have a better friend. Thank you, Ferdy.’
* * *
Wednesday dawned sunny and grew hotter and more sultry as the day progressed. Mr Shilton and Lord Flambard were travelling separately but met for a fortifying glass of brandy in the library before setting out.
‘Why no sky-blue jacket, my old friend?’ Max Flambard greeted him as he entered the room.
‘Miss Payton thinks I should be more sober in my taste now I’m nearly thirty.’ Ferdy looked down at his beautifully tailored silver-grey coat. ‘I think this quite elegant, to be sure, but I do miss my blues and yellows. You know how important colour is to me, Max.’ He smiled ruefully.
‘I absolutely do. Your delight at school in looking closer to a parakeet than a black beetle was the reason for so much brawling on your account. Raven and I used to rue the days when, freed from the tyranny of our uniforms, you’d turn up, as innocent as a Florentine angel, wearing some gaudy blue or green coat on your back, with yellow pantaloons! Honestly, Ferdy, you really tried the patience of your friends. We had to fight so many battles on your behalf. And you amazed us with your foolhardy courage, flaunting your defiance in the face of the swaggering ruffians.’
‘Well, no longer. I have grown up. I’m a dandy no more.’ Ferdy straightened his sleeves and met his friend’s gaze, but his face had lost its glow.
Lord Flambard was unexpectedly moved. ‘Ferdy, you’ve always said clothes maketh the man; yours reflect your light-hearted charm, your taste and eye for the decorative.’ He grasped his friend’s shoulder and shook him gently. ‘You may turn your back on the dandy, you know, but the dandy will never forsake you. Your new monochrome duds are elegant and refined, no doubt, but dammit, man! It’s not the Ferdy we know. Your old friends, Rav and Alick, Corinna too, will all be sick as mud if you really abandon your colourful ways.’
He shepherded his friend into the drawing room where Corinna Wolfe’s painting of Ferdy hung in pride of place over the fireplace. The young blood gazed out of the canvas, looking exultant in his favourite yellow coat, his arm outstretched in joyful welcome.
‘You see. That is our Ferdy.’
‘Well, no longer, so you’d better all get used to it.’ Ferdy pushed him towards the door. ‘Get going for Vauxhall, Lord Whiley, as I suppose you must now be. And take my curricle, but don’t let me down!’
Lord Flambard smirked as he turned to go. His dark, raw-boned masculinity was made more commanding by his black superfine coat, but Ferdy had a brightness of colouring and character that was dimmed by the dour palette prescribed for men’s clothing by the great Beau Brummel. Ferdy was as spring daffodils among the winter trees. But now, accoutred in his more restrained garb, he climbed into his smart town chaise, looking much like every other well-dressed blade. Glancing at his team of black horses as glossy as glass, he felt calm and settled about what he must do.
John drove the carriage to South Audley Street and there Mr Shilton mounted the front steps of a porticoed house drowsing in the late-afternoon sun. The door opened as he approached and a tired-looking butler in immaculate black and silver livery ushered him into the hall. Ferdy felt his calmness begin to ebb away as an agitation of mood settled over him, not helped by being kept waiting for five minutes.
Eventually, a door clicked on an upper floor and Hester Payton descended the stairs, as pretty as a fair-haired shepherdess in flounced white muslin. She collected her mother on the way and the two women walked the last flight of stairs together, one in white, the other in a deep purple silk that enhanced the lustre of her dark colouring.
Mr Shilton bowed and offered an arm to each woman. As they settled into his chaise, their backs to the horses, he sat opposite and had a chance to survey them. Miss Payton had every advantage of fashionable beauty, with her pink and cream skin, her golden hair. He thought this every time he saw her and it confirmed him in his decision that here was the perfect consort for him.
