These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘I have not the pleasure of Mr Manvers’ acquaintance,’ said the Duke, ‘but you may admit him.’

Entered a little wiry gentleman with red cheeks and bright, angry eyes. He glared at the assembled company, and, singling out the Duke, rapped forth a question.

‘Are you Lord Rupert Alastair, sir?’

‘I am not,’ said his Grace.

The irate little man rounded on Merivale.

‘You, sir?’

‘My name is Merivale,’ Anthony replied.

‘Then where is Lord Rupert Alastair?’ demanded Mr Manvers, in a voice of baffled rage.

His Grace took snuff.

‘That is what we should all like to know,’ he said.

‘Damme, sir, do you think to play with me?’ fumed Mr Manvers.

‘I have never played with anyone,’ said the Duke.

‘I am come here to find Lord Rupert Alastair! I demand speech with him! I want an explanation of him!’

‘My dear sir,’ said Avon. ‘Pray join our ranks! We all want that.’

‘Who the devil are you?’ cried the exasperated little man.

‘Sir,’ bowed his Grace. ‘I believe I am the devil. So they say.’

Merivale was shaken with silent laughter. Mr Manvers turned to him.

‘Is this a mad-house?’ he asked. ‘Who is he?’

‘He is the Duke of Avon,’ said Merivale unsteadily.

Mr Manvers pounced on Avon again.

‘Ah! Then you are Lord Rupert’s brother!’ he said vindictively.

‘My misfortune, sir, believe me.’

‘What I demand to know is this!’ said Mr Manvers. ‘Where is my roan? ’

‘I haven’t the least idea,’ said his Grace placidly. ‘I am not even sure that I know what you are talking about.’

‘Faith, I am sure I don’t!’ chuckled Merivale.

‘My roan horse, sir! Where is it? Answer me that!’

‘I fear you will have to hold me excused,’ said the Duke. ‘I know nothing about your horse. In fact, I am not, at the moment, interested in your horse – roan or otherwise.’

Mr Manvers raised his fists heavenwards.

‘Interested in it!’ he spluttered. ‘My horse has been stolen!’

‘You have all my sympathy,’ yawned his Grace. ‘But I fail to see what concern it is of mine.’