Chapter FourThe Marquis was permitting his valet to help him into his riding coat when there was a knock on the door.
On the dressing table lay several crumpled cravats that had not been tied to his liking.
The one he wore was perfect, exactly the width, height and twist ordained by Beau Brummel, who had invented that particular style.
As the Marquis pulled his coat into place, he knew that it was a trifle looser than it had been when he first wore it. As if he realised what his Master was thinking, the valet said,
“You’ve lost weight, my Lord. Your Lordship’s taking more exercise than you do in London.”
“That is true, Harris,” the Marquis agreed, “and incidentally drinking less.”
“It becomes you, my Lord.”
As the Marquis did not reply, the valet went on,
“Quite a number of your Lo
