“Would you buy yourself a pair of colours, if I gave you the money?” asked Sir Richard.
“Sober, yes; drunk, no!” replied Cedric, with his wholly disarming smile. “I’m very sober now, but I shan’t be so for long. Don’t give me a groat, dear old boy! Don’t give Bev a groat! He’s a bad man. Now, when I’m sober I’m a good man—but I ain’t sober above six hours out of the twenty-four, so you be warned! Now I’m off. I’ve done my best for you, for I like you, Ricky, but if you go to perdition in spite of me, I’ll wash my hands of you. No, damme, I’ll sponge on you for the rest of my days! Think, dear boy, think! Bev and your very obedient on your doorstep six days out of seven—duns—threats—wife’s brothers done-up—pockets to let—wife in tears—nothing to do but pay! Don’t do it! Fact is, we ain’t worth it!”
“Wait!” Sir Richard said, barring his passage. “If I settle your debts, will you go to the Peninsula?”
“Ricky, it’s you who aren’t sober. Go home!”
“Consider, Cedric, how well you would look in Hussar uniform!”
An impish smile danced in Cedric’s eyes. “Wouldn’t I just! But at this present I’d look better in Hyde Park. Out of the way, dear boy! I’ve a very important engagement. Backed a goose to win a hundred-yard race against a turkey-cock. Can’t lose! Greatest sporting event of the season!”
He was gone on the words, leaving Sir Richard, not, indeed, to run, as advised, but to await the pleasure of the Honourable Melissa Brandon,
She did not keep him waiting for long. A servant came to request him to step upstairs, and he followed the man up the wide staircase to the withdrawing-room on the first floor.
Melissa Brandon was a handsome, dark-haired young woman, a little more than twenty-five years old. Her profile was held to be faultless, but in full face her eyes were discovered to be rather too hard for beauty. She had not, in her first seasons, lacked suitors, but none of the gentlemen attracted by her undeniable good looks, had ever, in the cock-fighting phrase of her graceless elder brother, come up to scratch. As he bowed over her hand, Sir Richard remembered George’s iceberg simile, and at once banished it from his obedient mind.
“Well, Richard?”