He claimed he had sold the privilege for close to four thousand pounds, yet he still wore the gorgeous uniform. Seeing him at the stairhead, waiting for her, Campion even wondered if his uniform was new. He had lost none of his new weight, yet his neck no longer bulged at the embroidered stock, and the tunic was not stretched at its buttons. He bowed as she approached. 'Ready, my dear?' 'As I'll ever be.' She smiled. The Earl had wanted to see them before the ball began, to look at them in their finery, to imagine how they would look when they descended the great staircase. He had smiled at them, wished them well, but his humour had been driven away by the pain. 'Go, children. Enjoy the evening.' He had waved them to the door. Campion had held back and kissed him. 'Thank you for all this.' He tried to smile. He reached out to touch her hand. 'I suppose your brother hasn't come?' 'No, father.' He sighed. He could scarce move his head. His red-rimmed eyes rolled away from her as he coughed.
