His comment tipped the balance. Nan Spadger relaxed her arms and said, “But, indeed, yor lordship. There's nowt abowt his lordship that don't be known hereabowts. T’ lady should stay here wi’ us, til tha comes back.” She picked up two bags at last. “I remember seein’ his lordship when he wor just a young lad, fallin’ o'er a wall one neet when he wor drunk.” She shook her head and preceded them into the inn. “He had ta wear his arm in a sling for eight weeks. An’ that's not all I could tell thee, if I'd a mind. It's a wonder he's not swallow'd his coat an’ hat."
Charles grimaced at the description of Ned, which he knew to be accurate. Louisa suppressed her dimples, but her eyes twinkled. Keeping his lips pressed in a straight line, Charles gave her a wink, for Mrs. Spadger's account, given in her broad Yorkshire dialect, had sparked his sense of humour, too.
The Spadgers agreed to hold two rooms for them, and a private parlour, and to make Louisa comfortable until his return. Charles refused all refreshment except a pint of beer, and only drank a few swallows in his hurry to set off for Lord Conisbrough's residence. He felt certain he could find the way with no more than a set of directions to refresh his memory, for as a younger man he had stayed with Ned on a hunting expedition.
Before he left, he managed a few words in private with Louisa.
“I hope you will be as discreet as possible,” he said with little tact. “These people are not so easily beguiled as our last hosts."
Louisa arched her brows at him. “Yes, I promise to be quite good, Charles. But you must admit I had something to do with getting us accepted."
Charles grinned reluctantly. “Yes, I am indebted to you again, it appears. But you mustn't let your successes go to your head. You must stay on guard."
“You have my word,” she promised, nearly pushing him out the door. “I shall not give us away. Now hurry off, and don't waste another thought on me."
Charles would have liked to take her up on this suggestion, but he knew, of course, that he would not be making this visit to Ned's if Louisa's welfare did not require it. Somehow, he could not rest easily with the thought of her remaining alone. He decided to leave Timothy and the coach behind him not only to give his coachman a rest from the cold, but also in case Louisa should find some way to disgrace herself and be in immediate need of leaving The Crown and Pear.
With these concerns in mind, he went outside and mounted the hack Sammy Spadger had lent him. Taking the reins from Timothy, Charles described for him the route he would take to Lord Conisbrough's manor, in case he should be needed, and then trotted off in the dark to seek Ned's help.
Ned's manor house lay only a few miles from Snaithby; Charles arrived there within the half hour. The butler, taking his card, informed him that the family was at dinner.
Charles refused to disturb Ned's mother, but informed the butler that his mission was urgent. He directed him to take in his card, but to ask for a word with Lord Conisbrough in private.
Knowing the proper treatment due a marquess and leader of government and not a little surprised for his master to be receiving such a sober visitor, the butler showed Charles into Lord Conisbrough's library and ordered the fire to be rebuilt.
The room was comfortable, but noticeably lacking in books. Charles was just deploring this fact while he warmed his booted feet over the coals, when the door swung open and Ned appeared.
Ned paused in the doorway for a few seconds, his eyes, already blurred by drink, coming to focus slowly on Charles.
Charles was relieved to see that though Ned's vision was not what it should have been, he was not so far gone that his clothes were out of order. His neckcloth was still impeccably tied, and his boots held their shine. Even his black locks retained the style they had been given by his valet.
“Good Lord,” he said dryly. “It is you, Wroxton. Have you come to serve me a warrant?"
Charles laughed. “I am not a magistrate, Ned. I am adviser to His Royal Highness. Or don't you know the difference?"
Ned shrugged and strolled negligently through the door. “I perceive there might be a difference; but what it is doesn't interest me so long as you promise you have not come to curtail my freedoms. I cannot, otherwise, conceive of a single mission that would overcome your repugnance to visit this most unhallowed ground."
Charles shifted uncomfortably. “Don't be an idiot, Ned."
Ned raised his brows. “Ah-but have you called here and been refused? Then I must give notice to my butler this instant. I had no idea he was turning my friends away."
A flush spread across Charles's face. This was going even worse than he had expected.
“No, I haven't come to visit, and I'm sorry. But-confound it, Ned! You know I don't have time for your sort of foolishness! What if we all indulged ourselves the way you do?"
“Then Boney would be in Brighton by now and installed in the Pavilion. Yes, you're quite right.” An idea seemed to strike Ned. “Do you mean to say you've caught him? Is that why you're here?"
Charles began to fume beneath his politeness. “No, I regret to say we have not. I was on business to that effect, however, and on my way home, when something occurred to occasion this visit."
“Good Lord,” Ned said flatly again. “The call has finally come. Prinny has come to his senses and needs me. Whom am I to replace? Wellington?"
Charles had to snort at this. “Will you shut up, Ned,” he said tiredly, “and offer me a glass of brandy? I could use something to warm me up."
“I'll do better than that, my boy. I'll invite you to dinner. You should love it. My mother and her companion, Miss Wadsdale-the merriment flows in abundance. I shall give you the pleasure of entertaining them."
He reached for the bell, but Charles stopped him in time. “No dinner, Ned. Thank you. But I would have a drink. And if your own dinner calls, I can wait until you've finished."
Ned smiled wryly. “And return to Miss Wadsdale? No, thank you, Wroxton. You may be a bit of a sourpuss, but I had rather an hour of your company any day to a few seconds of that female's."
Charles screwed up his mouth. “You are too kind."
The butler was sent for, and he soon brought back a tray with two glasses and a decanter of brandy. While he was setting it down, Ned brought Charles up to date on some of their friends from Eton. The ones he tended to know about were of the same heedless group he ran with, and their fates ranged from total bankruptcy through extravagant gambling to the occasional scandalous marriage to an opera singer.
In turn, Charles informed him of their friends who had died or been wounded in Europe, which topic cast a pall over their conversation. When the butler left, however, Ned roused himself and said, “Very well, then, out with it. You might have come to see me, but you wouldn't be arriving at this hour and interrupting my dinner if you didn't have something to say. What's adrift?"
Charles was grateful for Ned's directness, but still found it hard to explain his difficulty.
He started badly. “Well… you see… I have met a young lady under rather curious circumstances-"
“Oho, Charlie boy!” Ned's face lit with a speculative glimmer, and he leaned back in his chair, its front legs raised at a tilt. “And you've come to me for instruction, is that it?” He crossed his arms behind his head.
“Not at all, you scoundrel! I-"
“You've got more experience than I think? All the better! Though where you boys up at Whitehall find the time-"
“It is nothing of the sort, and you know it!"
“Don't despair, Charlie boy. The ladies may seem to favour a dark type like me, but do you know, I've noticed they have a soft spot for you fair men, too. Especially if they have your strained, overworked look. They can tell your mind's not on them, see? Gives them a challenge."
Charles stood and took a step towards his friend. “Ned, I need your help, if you will listen. But so help me, if you go on much longer, I shall strangle you instead and go to the gallows happily! It would be worth it!"