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The marquess tossed the paper aside and motioned for them to join him in a glass of wine. "My best wishes to you and Jack. It's a daunting task, to battle Soult?—"

"Actually, we came looking to discuss a more pleasant subject than war with you," interrupted Rafael.

"Golf," explained Adrian.

Bowmont's eyes lit with a rather rapturous light." Ah, golf! Did I tell you about the marvelous course in Dornach, up in the Highlands, where I played in a roaring gale?—"

Adrian gave an inward wince, wondering how anyone could speak of such an experience as if it had been a pleasant experience.

Rafael cleared his throat. "Er, yes, I believe you did, Jamie. Several times, in fact. What we were hoping for, actually, was some advice..." He went on to outline their particular problem.

"Hmmm." Bowmont passed a speculative eye up and down Adrian's tall form for several moments.

"Hmmm. Good set of shoulders. Strong legs.

" He steepled his fingers under his long, aristocratic nose and let his lids fall to half mast. “ I've seen you wield a racquet at Hampton Court and it appears you have balance and timing as well. Hmmm..."

Finding his usual reserve stretched past its limit, Adrian could bear the hemming and hawing no longer. "Well? Can you help at all?" he snapped.

The marquess smiled. "Patience, Marquand. Patience is one of the first things you must learn about golf. It does not do to get in a temper on the course."

"You need not worry on that score, Bowmont," he replied through gritted teeth. "I assure you that I am more than capable of keeping my emotions under tight rein."

"Adrian is top of the trees when it comes to facing down the odds," added his friend.

The marquess darted a quick look at Rafael. "So I’ve heard," he replied softly. "It takes a cool fellow indeed to face a crack shot such as Darlington and put a bullet in his shoulder."

"It was what he deserved. I don't have much tolerance for liars and cheats."

"Yes, I have heard that as well. Just as I have heard that you have little tolerance for the sort of debaucheries favored by a fellow like Hertford. Is that true?"

Adrian's jaw tightened. "I should hope my own reputation would be answer enough to that question.

" There was a perceptible pause. "If you are satisfied, perhaps if you could spare an hour or so, we could ride out to Houndslow Heath in the morning and you could show me a thing or two about knocking the ball?—"

"I'm afraid that would be of little help.

" He held up his hand to forestall the retort he saw forming on the viscount's lips.

"First of all, I'm not so sure I would be very good at explaining all the nuances of the golf swing as I'm a neophyte at it myself.

And most importantly, one of the keys to a good round of golf is being familiar with the course—the terrain, the prevailing winds, the position of the bunkers?—"

"Bunkers?"

"Pits of sand," piped up Raphael. "Nasty. Very nasty."

"My advice to you is to head to St. Andrews as soon as possible," continued Bowmont.

"I know an excellent chap up there who is not only the finest clubmaker in all of Scotland, but an excellent teacher to boot.

Although he's in great demand, at my request I'm sure he'll be able to rig you out with just the right mashies, spoons and niblicks for your size and swing. "

Adrian was beginning to feel he was listening to a foreign language.

"And best of all, he is on intimate terms with all the local caddies?—"

"Caddies?"

"The fellows who carry your clubs," explained Rafael.

"Aye," added Bowmont with a nod. "But a good one is much more than a mere pack mule.

In addition to helping find an errant ball and judge distances, he can save you several strokes a round through knowing the nuances of the course and the local conditions.

That may well be the difference between victory and defeat. "

He grinned. "Trust me, Marquand, for a man in your position, an experienced caddie will prove more than invaluable.

I daresay he'll become the best friend and ally you have.

And Philp will be able to make sure that you have the most skilled one of the lot.

I shall write to him tonight and see to it. "

"We can't thank you enough for your help, Jamie," said Rafael. "It's more than sporting of you."

The marquess took a long sip of his claret as he regarded the viscount.

"You may repay the favor by thrashing that smarmy bastard's hide," he said quietly.

"Hertford's unsavory reputation extends well beyond London, and his presence at his estate near St. Andrews is about as welcome among the local folk as a storm from the North Sea blowing down the Firth of Forth. "

His voice dropped even lower. "There are murmurings that he's forced himself on more than one respectable girl from the town.

The people there have become my friends, and if I had a shred of proof that would stand up in court, I'd see him clapped in irons just as quickly as I can swing a bottle-nosed driver. "

His broad mouth compressed in a tight line, squeezing away all traces of his earlier good humor. "With such despicable behavior, it’s no wonder that the English, especially ones of title, are not much welcome across the northern border. So make short work of him, Marquand."

"I promise you I shall do my best, Bowmont. Of that you may be sure."

"St. Andrews?" Baron Hylton set down the delicate Sevres teacup in surprise and turned his startled gaze upon his daughter. "St. Andrews?" he repeated, his tone becoming even more incredulous. "In Scotland?"

"Yes, Father." Lady Honoria carefully rearranged the napkin on her lap. "That is what Lord Marquand's note said. He has written one to you as well."

Noting how his wife's pinched face had already tightened in concern, Hylton leaned his considerable bulk forward in his chair. "You haven't by chance already... quarreled with the viscount?" His eyes narrowed. "Good Lord, I've just sent the announcement into The Gazette?—"

"Hardly, sir. I should hope that I would never give His Lordship reason to quarrel with me," she responded primly. "He writes that it has something to do with a... a family matter."

A sigh of relief escaped the Baron's lips as he fell to slicing off a chunk of the broiled kidney on his breakfast plate. "Good gel, I know we may depend on you to act with the utmost of sense, especially now that you have managed to bring the fellow up to scratch."

"Yes. Of course you may," she murmured.

Her father smiled through his chewing. "To think that you will soon be a countess, my dear.

And future mistress of one of the oldest estates in England.

" His expression then darkened considerably.

"That is, if the old reprobate earl doesn't manage to make a muck of things by tossing what little he has left of his fortune onto the gaming tables.

Especially Woolsey Hall. The devil take him if he ever?—"

"Fitzwilliam! Please reserve such vulgar language for your clubs," chided Lady Hylton.

"Er, sorry." He took a large swallow of tea and turned his attention back to his daughter.

"But there is always the possibility that the old rakehell might squander away what is left of his fortune.

In fact, I was almost of a mind to have you look to one of your other admirers for a proposal, given Marquand's recent family history. "

"Don't be silly, Fitzwilliam, you know quite well that the Chittenden Earldom is one of the oldest and most respected titles in the land.

It cannot be gambled away," spoke up his wife in a tight voice.

She shot another quick glance at her daughter and seemed to be somewhat reassured by the absence of any visible emotion.

"No matter that the behavior of the viscount's father is beyond shocking, Honoria did very well by attaching him.

From all that we have seen and heard, he is a true gentleman and cares a great deal for his heritage, as well he should.

I cannot think he would ever allow Woolsey Hall to slip through his fingers. "

Honoria broke a crust from the untouched toast on her plate. "As to that, perhaps you had better read Lord Marquand's note, Father."

The fork hung poised in mid-air.

With a sharp intake of breath, Lady Hylton rang for the butler and ordered the silver letter tray to be brought in without delay. The baron broke the wax wafer and scanned the short note. "Hmmph!"

His wife grew a shade paler.

"Just as I feared. Something havey-cavey is going on.

" His eyes came up from the thick cream parchment.

"It seems Marquand is required to leave for Scotland this very morning in order to engage in some.

.. sporting endeavor to save Woolsey Hall.

" After another moment of careful perusal, he laid the note aside.

"Well, I suppose we must consider it our duty to lend him a measure of support," he announced, spearing the morsel on the point of his knife.

"I was already engaged to visit Jolliffe's estate near Kelso at the start of shooting season.

It isn't that far out of the way to make a short visit to St. Andrews first. Might as well keep an eye on what is going on. "

"All of us?" demanded his wife.

"Don't see why not." He shot a look at his daughter.

"But if Marquand should fail, I've a good mind to tell him he's forfeited his chance and that you are going to cry off from the engagement.

No matter how old and respected his title is, it ain't nearly as valuable without a grand country estate attached to it, eh missy?

And with your looks, my dear, you can always look higher than an impoverished Earldom.

Why, I could tell the Marquess of Pierson would be interested if given a little encouragement. "

"But Father—" She caught herself and fell silent.

"He'd be a fine catch, even if he is a tad older than you are."

"If that is what you want, then I shall of course abide by your wishes," replied Honoria softly. Her father seemed oblivious to the subtle note of irony in her voice, but Lady Hylton cast a searching look at her daughter and fell to twisting at the rings on her fingers.

"Well," he continued after slurping off the last bit of his tea." I suppose it won't hurt to wait and see how Marquand fares before we make any final decisions. Time enough to cast him aside for a better prospect if things don't work out to our advantage."

Honoria ducked her head to hide her expression. Calmly folding her napkin into a neat square, she set it beside her plate. "Shall I begin packing?"