"Alan, this is my father-in-law, and you couldn't wish a finer," Governour boasted, and the gray-haired man in question pretended to blush with mock embarrassment. "Sir Romney Embleton; the fellow who saved my bacon at Yorktown, Lieutenant Alan Lewrie."

"Your servant, sir," Alan replied. "So pleased to make your acquaintance."My brother-in-law, Harry Embleton…" Governour babbled on.

Sir Romney Embleton, Baronet, was about Alan's height, though heavier, dressed rich and fine in dark brown velvet coat, gray breeches and a white, floral-figured satin waistcoat, with the prerequisite black and brown-topped riding boots on his thin shanks. Sir Romney favored an older man's short white tie-wig. He looked to have been in his youth a most handsome and well-setup fellow, with clear blue eyes and a fairly smooth complexion free of smallpox scars and such. The nose was a trifle beaky, and the upper lip long as a horse's.

The same could not be said for the son, the Hon. Harry Embleton, who, though he was dressed richly as his father the baronet in red coat, blue waistcoat and breeches, could not aspire to the easy style and dignity of the father. Harry had the same extremely long upper lip, the narrow horsy face of his father, and, to his misfortune, the same overhanging beak of a nose. But the eyes were set rather close together, and were pouched as though by dissipation or too many late hours. And where Sir Romney's hair might at one time have been blond, Harry's was almost black and lank, tied back in a severe style. And finally and most unfortunately, where the elegant Sir Romney Embleton was blessed with a square jaw, young Harry had a pronounced slope from weak chin to the point where his throat dived into his neck-stock. In profile, he resembled an otter.