An Infamous Army (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 4)

‘Oh, Fitzroy knows what I think!’ replied Lord Edward. ‘However, he is not an old married man like me, so he must be pardoned. Not but what I think it a great piece of folly on his part. Of course, you know Lady Fitzroy has lately been confined?’

‘Indeed I do, and I am one of her daughter’s chief admirers!’

‘I daresay. A nice thing it would have been had she been obliged to remove in a hurry!’

‘Depend upon it, had there been any fear of that her uncle must have known of it, and she could have retired without the least hurry to Antwerp. He does not appear to share your prejudice against us poor females!’

‘The Duke! No, that he does not!’ replied Lord Edward, laughing. ‘But, come, enough of the whole subject, or I can see I shall be quite out of favour with you! I understand I have to congratulate Audley upon his engagement?’

She acknowledged it, but briefly. He said in his downright way: ‘I don’t know how you may regard the matter, but I should have said Audley was too good a man for Bab Childe.’

She found herself so much in accordance with this opinion that she was unable to forbear giving him a very speaking glance.

‘Just so,’ he said, with a nod. ‘I have known the whole family for years—got one of them in my brigade now: handsome young devil,

up to no good—and I shouldn’t care to be connected with any of them. As for Audley, he’s the last man in the world I should have expected to be caught by Bab’s tricks. Great pity, though I shouldn’t say so to you, I suppose.’

‘Lady Barbara is very beautiful,’ Judith replied, with a certain amount of reserve.

He gave a somewhat scornful grunt, and said no more. They had reached one of the gates opening on to the Rue Royale at this time, and Lord Edward, who was on his way to Headquarters, took his leave of Judith, and strode off up the road with his nephew.

Lord Fitzroy gave Judith his arm. He had to pay a call at the Hôtel de Belle Vue, and was thus able to accompany her to her door. They walked in that direction through the Park, talking companionably of Lady Fitzroy’s progress, of the infant daughter’s first airing, and other such mild topics, until presently they were joined by Sir Alexander Gordon, very smart in a new coat and sash, on which Lord Fitzroy immediately quizzed him.

Judith listened, smiling, to the interchange of friendly raillery, occasionally being appealed to by one of them, to give her support to some outrageous libel on the other.

‘Gordon,’ Fitzroy informed her, ‘is one of our dressier colleagues. He has seventeen pairs of boots. That’s called upholding the honour of the family.’

‘One of Fitzroy’s grosser lies, Lady Worth. Now, the really dressy member of the family is Charles.’

‘He has the excuse of being a hussar. They can’t help being dressy, Lady Worth. However, the strain of trying to procure a sufficiency of silver lace in Spain wore the poor fellow out, and in the end he was quite thankful to be taken into the family. I say, Gordon, why didn’t you join a hussar regiment? Was it because you were too fat?’

‘A dignified silence,’ Gordon told Judith, ‘is the only weapon to use against vulgar persons.’

‘Very true. It is all jealousy, I daresay. I feel sure you would set off a hussar uniform to admiration.’

‘Fill it out, don’t you mean?’ enquired Fitzroy.

Sir Alexander was diverted from his purpose of retaliating in kind by catching sight of Barbara Childe between two riflemen. ‘When does that marriage take place, Lady Worth?’ he asked.

‘The date is not fixed.’

‘There’s hope yet, then. That’s Johnny Kincaid with her—the tall lanky one on her right. Perhaps he’ll cut Charles out. Very charming fellow, Kincaid.’

Fitzroy shook his head. ‘No chance of that. Kincaid loves Juana Smith—or so I’ve always fancied.’

Judith said: ‘Is that how you feel, Sir Alexander? About Charles’s engagement, I mean?’

‘I beg pardon! I shouldn’t have said it.’

‘You may say what you please. I am forced in general to be very discreet, but you are both such particular friends of Charles’s that I may be allowed to speak my mind—which is that it would be better if the marriage never took place.’

‘Of course it would be better! There was never anything more unfortunate! We laughed at Charles when it began, but it has turned out to be no laughing matter. It was all the Prince’s fault for making the introduction in the first place.’

‘Nonsense, Gordon! If he had not someone else would have done it. I am afraid Charles is pretty hard hit, Lady Worth.’

‘I am afraid so, too. I wish he were not, but what can one do?’

‘One can’t do anything,’ said Gordon. ‘That’s the sad part of it: to be obliged to watch one of your best friends making a fool of himself.’