That Hathaway Girl by Harper Kate

Author:Harper, Kate [Harper, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-11-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Henry Paget was not what one would call a man about town. He did not affect the popular affectations of his more optimistic peers. Nip waists, dashing hairstyles and hours spent fretting about the fall of his cravat were as alien to him as attending a dance at Almack’s, a prospect he had never had to endure as he had no young female relatives to offer his support. Henry’s life revolved around spending time with like-minded gentlemen and, basically, troubling his brain as little as possible. His pursuits included gambling (most men would wager on anything, including snail races or the length of time it would take Mr. Percy Falstaff to fall off his ridiculous Cuban heels), shooting and drinking. All good, solid pastimes for a fellow with no particular social ambitions. Henry was proud to say that he had none and did not aspire to developing any in the future.

He had come to London to support his friend Roth and, in his own somewhat muddled way, he had been attempting to assist him by keeping an eye out for Westcott. He could, at least, identify the man thanks to having laid eyes on the blighter some months before. They had not been introduced but somebody had pointed him out at one of the assemblies and if nothing else, Henry had an eye for faces, although he was utterly hopeless with names. Not that he had any great expectation of finding Westcott in London. Privately he believed that the last place Alistair Westcott would be was among the over populated environs of the city. Roth had it in his head that the man was coming here, however, based on a conversation he’d had with an acquaintance he had tracked down in Winchester. It had made his friend extremely tense, as Alice was coming up to London to sample the city’s delights. Henry might not be the brightest, but he knew how disastrous a meeting between Roth’s sister and the man who had come very close to ruining her would be. Despite Henry’s deep dislike of town, he had offered to come along.

‘Two pairs of eyes, eh?’ he said heartily.

‘You’re a good friend, Henry,’ Roth had said, with genuine feeling.

‘Now don’t go getting all maudlin on me,’ Henry had protested nervously. ‘Anything I can do and all that rot.’

Which had produced a laugh and a clap on the back, much to Henry’s relief. Theirs was an odd friendship that had come about more by accident than anything else. Roth was the deep thinker, always had been. At school the man had kept his nose in a book almost as much as he’d been on the rugby field. Henry, on the other hand, had appreciated the more physical aspects of Oxford. He did not begrudge Roth his brains but he was just as happy not to be overburdened with them. People who thought too much invariably found themselves in some quandary or another and who needed that?

Life was for the living. If a man was beset by troubling thoughts, well… that’s what brandy was for.

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