"Wine," said Nick, who was drunk and fluent, but still wary of Russell's encouraging tone. He twirled his glass on the rucked tablecloth. "Wine. His wife… um…"

"Power," said Catherine sharply.

"Power…"-Nick nodded it into the list. "Wensleydale cheese he's also very keen on. Oh, and the music of Richard Strauss-that particularly."

"Right," said Russell. "Yeah, I like a bit of Richard Strauss myself."

"Oh, I'd always prefer a bit of Wensleydale cheese," said Nick.

Russell blinked at him in a way that suggested he didn't understand him or was about to punch him in the face. But then he smiled reluctantly. "So he's not into anything kinky at all."

"Power," said Catherine again. "And making speeches." As the glass tinkled and the hubbub quickly died a lot of people heard her saying, "He loves making speeches."

Nick pushed his chair back to get a clear view of Gerald, and also of Toby, who had coloured up and was looking round with a tight grin of apprehension. There were ten minutes of oddly relished ordeal ahead of him, being teased and praised by his father and cheered by his drunk friends-his contemporaries. Nick grinned back at him, and wanted to help him, but was powerless, of course. He was blushing himself with the anxiety and forced eagerness of awaiting a speech by a friend.

Gerald had donned his rarely seen half-moon spectacles, and held a small card at arm's length. "Your Grace, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen," he said, offering the old formula with an ironic negligence which had the clever effect of making you think-yes, the Duchess, of course, and her son were here, as well as Lord Kessler and fat young Lord Shepton, a Martyrs' Club pal of Toby's. "Distinguished guests, family and friends. I'm very happy to see you all here tonight, in this truly splendid setting, and very grateful indeed to Lionel Kessler for giving the Worcester College First XV the run of his world-famous porcelain collection.