country quickly and without attracting attention?’
‘Then I would take the Golden Arrow from Victoria station and reach France within the day.’
‘Yes, you wouldn’t go by aeroplane. Apart from the cost, you would be noticed. Damn! Needles in haystacks!’
‘Indeed, my lord.’
At that moment, the telephone rang and Fenton went to answer it.
‘It is Miss Browne, my lord.’
Fenton’s disapproval of his master’s choice of female companionship was evident in his tone of voice though it was never expressed in words. It was not his place to comment on his master’s romantic attachments. Fenton was in many ways an unconventional valet. Edward would trust him with his life and, on at least one occasion, had done so. He could be daring and decisive and Edward had no secrets from him save those entrusted to him by Major Ferguson. It was true they never discussed Verity but that was because neither man would contemplate bandying about a woman’s name. That was not done . . . ‘bad form’, as Edward would have put it. Fenton might be happy to break the rules when necessary but he liked the forms to be observed. He had old-fashioned views on what constituted respectability in a female. He admired Verity for her courage and enterprise but he was firmly of the view that it was not a lady’s place to gallivant round the world reporting on wars. If his master loved her, as he reluctantly admitted to himself that he did, then she should tear up her passport, marry him and settle down to darn socks and have children. He suspected that Lord Edward and she were lovers though Edward, considerate of his feelings, had never thrust the evidence in front of him. He accepted that gentlemen had to be allowed their ‘little adventures’, as he put it to himself, but this was not a ‘little adventure’. It was a strange courtship of which he thoroughly disapproved.
‘Miss Browne’s off to Spain in a day or two,’ Edward said brightly. ‘I was expecting her to ring.’
It was a subdued Verity on the end of the line. ‘Did I behave atrociously the other night? I woke up with the most awful hangover so I think I must have.’
‘We all got rather fried, I’m afraid.’
‘You didn’t like my friends,’ she said accusingly.
‘I liked Gerda,’ he offered.
‘Huh. You keep your hands off Gerda. She’s dynamite. Way out of your league.’
Edward thought of several witty things he could say but wisely rejected all of them. ‘Guy Baron’s interesting.’
‘Yes, I don’t know what to make of Guy. He’s not serious, or is he? It’s so hard to know.’
‘
Le style c’est l’homme
?’
‘There’s more to him than he would have you believe.’
‘Is he a member of the Party?’
‘Gosh, yes. David wouldn’t be so thick with him if he weren’t.’
There was a silence and then Verity continued, ‘Anyway, the reason I rang you is to remind you that you are due in Hoxton in an hour.’
‘Agh!’ Edward hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘I’d quite forgotten. Do I really have to?’
‘I thought you might try that line. Of course you have to go. Anyway, it’ll be a laugh.’
‘For you, maybe,’ Edward said bitterly.
‘Buck up! You can’t let Tommie down. Gerda and I will worship from the side lines or administer first aid.’
Edward groaned as he put down the receiver. ‘Fenton, you’ll never guess – I met Mr Fox at that party the night before last and he persuaded me to play football for the Old Etonians against Hoxton’s bravest and brightest. It’s the last thing in the world I want to do but Miss Browne says I can’t let him down.’
‘Very good, my lord,’ Fenton said, pursing his lips. ‘If I might say so, with your knee only just . . .’
‘Don’t say it! I agree, I agree! But, if Miss Browne says I must go, then I must.’ Fenton could see no such necessity. ‘Perhaps I’ve lost my footer boots,’ Edward said, hopefully.
‘No, my lord. I shall bring them to
‘Then I would take the Golden Arrow from Victoria station and reach France within the day.’
‘Yes, you wouldn’t go by aeroplane. Apart from the cost, you would be noticed. Damn! Needles in haystacks!’
‘Indeed, my lord.’
At that moment, the telephone rang and Fenton went to answer it.
‘It is Miss Browne, my lord.’
Fenton’s disapproval of his master’s choice of female companionship was evident in his tone of voice though it was never expressed in words. It was not his place to comment on his master’s romantic attachments. Fenton was in many ways an unconventional valet. Edward would trust him with his life and, on at least one occasion, had done so. He could be daring and decisive and Edward had no secrets from him save those entrusted to him by Major Ferguson. It was true they never discussed Verity but that was because neither man would contemplate bandying about a woman’s name. That was not done . . . ‘bad form’, as Edward would have put it. Fenton might be happy to break the rules when necessary but he liked the forms to be observed. He had old-fashioned views on what constituted respectability in a female. He admired Verity for her courage and enterprise but he was firmly of the view that it was not a lady’s place to gallivant round the world reporting on wars. If his master loved her, as he reluctantly admitted to himself that he did, then she should tear up her passport, marry him and settle down to darn socks and have children. He suspected that Lord Edward and she were lovers though Edward, considerate of his feelings, had never thrust the evidence in front of him. He accepted that gentlemen had to be allowed their ‘little adventures’, as he put it to himself, but this was not a ‘little adventure’. It was a strange courtship of which he thoroughly disapproved.
‘Miss Browne’s off to Spain in a day or two,’ Edward said brightly. ‘I was expecting her to ring.’
It was a subdued Verity on the end of the line. ‘Did I behave atrociously the other night? I woke up with the most awful hangover so I think I must have.’
‘We all got rather fried, I’m afraid.’
‘You didn’t like my friends,’ she said accusingly.
‘I liked Gerda,’ he offered.
‘Huh. You keep your hands off Gerda. She’s dynamite. Way out of your league.’
Edward thought of several witty things he could say but wisely rejected all of them. ‘Guy Baron’s interesting.’
‘Yes, I don’t know what to make of Guy. He’s not serious, or is he? It’s so hard to know.’
‘
Le style c’est l’homme
?’
‘There’s more to him than he would have you believe.’
‘Is he a member of the Party?’
‘Gosh, yes. David wouldn’t be so thick with him if he weren’t.’
There was a silence and then Verity continued, ‘Anyway, the reason I rang you is to remind you that you are due in Hoxton in an hour.’
‘Agh!’ Edward hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘I’d quite forgotten. Do I really have to?’
‘I thought you might try that line. Of course you have to go. Anyway, it’ll be a laugh.’
‘For you, maybe,’ Edward said bitterly.
‘Buck up! You can’t let Tommie down. Gerda and I will worship from the side lines or administer first aid.’
Edward groaned as he put down the receiver. ‘Fenton, you’ll never guess – I met Mr Fox at that party the night before last and he persuaded me to play football for the Old Etonians against Hoxton’s bravest and brightest. It’s the last thing in the world I want to do but Miss Browne says I can’t let him down.’
‘Very good, my lord,’ Fenton said, pursing his lips. ‘If I might say so, with your knee only just . . .’
‘Don’t say it! I agree, I agree! But, if Miss Browne says I must go, then I must.’ Fenton could see no such necessity. ‘Perhaps I’ve lost my footer boots,’ Edward said, hopefully.
‘No, my lord. I shall bring them to
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