The Duchess supposed she would have to write to Lord John’s mother and confess that the silly boy had brought his paramour to Brussels. She blamed the example of Harry Paget who had run off with the wife of Wellington’s younger brother. Such an open display of adultery was suddenly the fashionable sport among cavalrymen, but it could too easily turn into a blood sport and the Duchess feared for Lord John’s life. She was also offended that a young man as charming and eligible as Lord John should flaunt his foolishness. “If it was London, Johnny, I wouldn’t dream of letting her come to a ball, but I suppose Brussels is different. There’s really no saying who half these people are. But don’t present this girl to me, John, because I won’t receive her, I really won’t! Do you understand?”

„Jane’s very charming — „Lord John commenced a defence of his slighted lover.

“I don’t care if she’s as beautiful as Titania and as charming as Cordelia; she’s still another man’s wife. Doesn’t her husband worry you?”

“He would if he were here, but he isn’t. At the end of the last war he found himself some French creature and went to live with her, and so far as we know, he’s still in France.” Lord John chuckled. “The poor fool’s probably been imprisoned by Napoleon.”

“You think he’s in France?” The Duchess sounded aghast.

“He certainly isn’t with the army, I made sure of that.”

“Oh, my dear Johnny.” The Duchess lowered her cup of coffee and gave her young friend a compassionate look. “Didn’t you think to check the Dutch army list?”

Lord John Rossendale said nothing. He just stared at the Duchess.

She grimaced. “Lieutenant-Colonel Sharpe is on Slender Billy’s staff, Johnny.”

Rossendale blanched. For a second it seemed that he would be unable to respond, but then he found his voice. “He’s with the Prince of Orange? Here?”