The doorman smiled. “Have you been out of the country for a while, Mr Wyatt?”
“Something like that.”
“Thought so, you being so out of touch. He’s Lord Mannerdale now. The old earl went to his eternal rest… oh, some six, seven years ago now. His lordship’s in the card room.”
“Mannerdale… card room…” Denny said dazedly.
“You remember the way, I’m sure, sir.”
“I do. Thank you, Smithson.”
Lance walked in silence beside Denny, who was still shaking like a leaf. “Of course, it could be his brother,” he muttered. “Or the evil cousin.”
Denny got half way up the wide stairs before he ground to a halt. “It could be anyone. That is the trouble with titles.”
A group of three men, laughing together, jostled past them on their way down the stairs, looking at them with curious eyes.
“Do you want to abandon ship?” Lance said quietly, for he was tolerably certain now of what Denny faced.
“It is too late,” he whispered. “I have been seen, Smithson knows who I am and he knows I came with you. There is no hiding now.”
“Then let us go on. You have never lacked courage, my friend.”
“Perhaps.” He took a deep breath, hands on hips, then another. “Very well. Onwards.”
At the top of the stairs, he turned purposefully into a small lobby and thence to a larger room, filled with light and the low rumble of men’s voices, with an occasional burst of laughter. Several small baize-topped tables were occupied by lively games of cards or dice, while non-players clustered around to watch. Footmen moved about silently with decanters and platters of food.
Denny stood on the threshold, scanning the room, his face white. Then, abruptly, a long exhalation, like a sigh. “There he is! It is all right,” he whispered, and swayed slightly.
Lance watched him carefully in case he swooned, but he rallied, straightening his back and giving a quick laugh. “How the devil—? But it is him… truly it is.”
“Not the evil cousin, then?” Lance said.
Denny turned to him, laughter in his eyes. “Thank God for that, at least! But it could have been his brother.”
“So your ghost did not die at your hand after all, and his younger brother did not inherit their father’s honours in his place.”
With a slow nod, Denny said, “You understand it, then?”
“I can guess. Your ghost is watching you, by the way. I am not sure he recognises you yet.”
Denny turned his gaze towards the table in the far corner, where a man with very fair hair had risen to his feet, staring at him. Around the room, conversation died away, and faces turned towards the newcomers and then to the blond man. There were whispers of‘Who is it?’and‘Do you know him?’, but the blond man said nothing, merely watching Denny with a slight frown on his face.
Abruptly, he moved out from behind the table and strode down the room towards Denny, several of his friends following him.
“Wyatt?” the blond man said, his face wreathed in astonishment. “Julius Wyatt?Good God, I thought you were dead!”
Denny uttered a bark of laughter. “No, no! That ismyline! I thoughtyouwere dead!”
Amidst laughter, slaps on the back and bemused glances from the others in the room, Mannerdale hustled them out of the card room, shooing away all but the four of them, Lance, Denny, Mannerdale himself and one friend, introduced as Tuffnell. He led the way to a private room, unceremoniously ejecting two men already there engaged in a low-voiced discussion. They yielded at once without demur, and Mannerdale shut the door firmly on them. He opened it again at once to call for a footman to bring brandy then slammed it shut once more.
“Lord, Julius, what a shock you gave me! Everyone thinks you are dead.”
“Not Augustus. He was looking for me in Brinshire only a few weeks ago,” Denny said. “But Harry, how on earth did you survive? I thought I got you through the heart!”
Mannerdale frowned, his gaze shifting to Lance and back. “Who is your friend, Julius?”
“I beg your pardon. I thought you must know each other. This is Lance Chamberlain, my very good friend, who knows nothing of our business, but is utterly trustworthy. Lance, the Earl of Mannerdale and his brother, Arthur Tuffnell.”
