He packaged up the money before going to bed and dispatched it the next morning to Harrogate. By now Toby was bound to have put his heel through a stocking or his knee through his breeches or his toe through his shoes or… Well, the possibilities were endless. Bringing up a child was a decidedly expensive undertaking.

On the second day the ticklish decision of how best to approach his grandfather was taken out of his hands. There was a note beside his plate at the breakfast table, written in the all-too-familiar hand of the secretary. It was a summons to appear before the Marquess of Claverbrook at one o'clock precisely. The old gentleman did not go out much these days, according to Duncan's mother, but obviously he did not miss much of what went on beyond his doors. He had heard that his grandson was back in town. He had even known where to find him.

And it was definitely a summons rather than an invitation – /at one o'clock precisely/.

Duncan dressed with care in a coat of blue superfine that was neat and elegant but not in the first stare of fashion. He had his valet tie his neckcloth in a smart yet simple knot. He wore a plain fob at his waist and pulled on well-polished Hessian boots over his gray pantaloons, but plain black ones rather than anything more flamboyant. He certainly did not want to give the impression that he lived extravagantly – which he did not. "You do understand, Smith," he said to his man, "that I will be unable to pay you this week and perhaps will not be able to next week either – or the week after.