‘Well, Jason, is that an irate husband demanding satisfaction, or an angry papa that you have consigned to the flames?’ After watching the last of the sheets curl and blacken, the Earl of Aldringham turned to greet his friend. ‘Neither,’ he said, in his habitual drawl. ‘It was - ah - an old friend, wishing to remind me of the pleasant nights we had shared.’ He laughed at his friend’s look of disgust. ‘Quite so, my dear Richard. One can almost smell the gutter. A few of my paramours appear to have no sense of decency.’ Sir Richard moved towards the fire, glad of the warmth after the chill spring air in the London street. ‘I doubt if your acquaintance with the lady has done much to improve her.’ The earl laughed softly as he took up the decanter from a side-table. ‘Doubtless you are correct, my friend, but since she so warmly received my overtures, can you blame me for taking my pleasure there?’ Sir Richard smiled at his friend’s unconcern, but shook his head as he accepted a glass.
