Dennis Wheatley: The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

"Hoity-toity!" Georgina mocked him. "What high principles we have, to be sure. But as your patron, Mr. Pitt, has the King's purse to play with no doubt you can count on his keeping you from beggary."

Roger ignored the gibe, and asked, "Is Mr. Fox bringing Mrs. Armistead with him?"

"Yes. His 'dear Betty' has become an institution rather than a mistress these days. He rarely leaves London now without her, and makes her place at Chertsey his home whenever the House is not sitting. She has some education and is not a bad creature, even if she did graduate by somewhat dubious ways from being a serving wench."

"How will his Grace of Bridgewater and his sister take her presence here? If Lady Amelia Egerton is as straightlaced as her brother I foresee noses in the air."

"There will be no awkwardness," Georgina replied easily. "They are old friends and I know their tastes well. His Grace will be perfectly happy talking of canals and coalmines with Papa, and Lady Amelia, like many another old spinster, finds the breath of life in scandal. 'Tis for her that I asked that delightful old rake George Selwyn. He will keep her amused for hours."

Roger laughed. "I had temporarily forgotten your artistry in mixing the most diverse types successfully."

"I owe much of my success as a hostess to it; yet 'tis easy enough. One has only to give a little thought to seeing that each guest is paired by love or interest to another and, their own happiness being assured, none of them will give a fig who else is in the party."

"All the same thou art a witch, my pet, in more ways than looking bewitching. Few other women would dare to brew the politics of both parties, the demi-monde and the aristocracy, industry and vested interests, a puritan Duke and an ex-member of the Hell-Fire Club, all in one week-end cauldron, without fear of its boiling over."

"You may add diplomacy," Georgina told him with a smile. "Methinks I had forgot to tell you that Count Sergius Vorontzoff, the Russian Ambassador, is also coming."

"And where does he fit into your scheme of pairs?" Roger asked with the lift of an eyebrow.

Georgina's smile became seraphic. "Why, I have asked him to amuse myself, of course; while you are playing backgammon with your crony, Droopy Ned."

"Seeing that Droopy is not a woman that hardly seems a quid pro quo."

"Indeed it is. The conversation of your friend will entertain you admirably twixt now and Monday; whereas I have yet to meet the female who could engage my attention pleasurably for more than an hour or two at a stretch."

"What sort of a man is this Muscovite?"

"He comes of one of the great families of his country. His father was Grand Chancellor to the Empress Elizabeth. One of his sisters was the mistress of her nephew, the ill-fated Emperor Peter III; while another, the Princess Dashkoff, entered the other camp, and play­ed a leading part in the conspiracy by which the present Empress Catherine unseated her husband and usurped his throne."

"I had meant, what is he like personally?"

"He is a dark man, not yet past the prime of life, with a clever, forceful face; and, I should hazard, is quite unscrupulous by nature. Underneath his culture there is a touch of barbarism which must give him a strong appeal to women. I met him at the Duchess of Devon­shire's several times this winter, and on the very first occasion he showed the good taste to express the most ardent desire to become my lover."

Roger frowned. " 'Tis my belief that you have asked him down with the deliberate intent to make me jealous."

"Lud no, dear man!" she replied airily. "We are both, thank God, far too sophisticated to fall a prey to such a sordid emotion. Did we not agree when first we became lovers that if either of us should choose to be unfaithful to the other no word-of reproach should mar our friendship?"

"I know it!" Roger stood up and walked over to the window. The dark blue eyes that he had inherited from his Highland mother had become a shade darker, as he went on a little sullenly. "Yet I am not of the temperament to stand idly by and watch another man making a play for your favours."

Georgina stretched and yawned. "Then m'dear, you are about to become a plaguey bore, and will be going back upon our clear under­standing. We agreed that we would remain free to indulge in casual amours if we wished, and tell or not tell of them as we felt inclined; to ignore such frailties in one another or, if in the case of either such a matter developed into a grande affaire , to separate without ill-will. 'Tis the only condition upon which I have ever entered on a liaison, or ever will; and you entirely agreed with me that, only so could two people live together and be certain of escaping sordid, wearing scenes of futile recrimination."

Turning back from the window Roger said quietly, "That was our pact, and I will honour it. But tell me, frankly. Is it your intention to start an affair with the Russian this week-end?"

She shrugged. "You know better than anyone how varied are my moods, and how unpredictable. How can I tell in advance what my feelings may be towards him upon closer acquaintance."

He scowled at her for a moment, then said reproachfully. "I've felt for the past week or two that you were becoming restless, and that we were no longer in perfect accord; but I had not thought that our parting was to come so soon."

"Dear Roger," she murmured, with a sudden return to gentleness. "I confess that my heart no longer leaps at the sound of your footfall coming to my room. But you too have lost something of your first fine rapture in me; and if you are honest you will admit it. A time always comes when even the best of friends should part for a season; and wise lovers always do so while there is still an edge upon their passion, instead of waiting for it to become entirely blunted. Only by so doing can they preserve a hope of coming together again with renewed zest sometime in the future."

"So be it then; but at least let our relationship remain unchanged throughout the week-end. Then I will take my congé with a good grace, and leave with your other guests on Monday."

She hesitated a second, then she said. "I am most loath to do any­thing which would give you pain. And think not, I beg, that I am wearied of you to a point where I would have you make so hurried a departure. Stillwaters is so lovely in the Spring, and there is no one with whom I would rather gather daffodils in the woods than your dear self. Stay on for a further week or two, and bear me company while you make your future plans. But for this evening and to-morrow I crave your indulgence to try my wiles on Sergius Vorontzoff."

Roger had too much pride to accept the proferred olive branch at the price. Instead, he snapped sarcastically. "From what you've already said 'twill need but little trying on your part to rouse the cave-man in this northern barbarian; and you must forgive me if I say that you seem in a positively indecent hurry to begin."

"Nay. 'Tis not that," she murmured, her tone still mild. "I'll admit the man intrigues me, but I would have been well content to wait until our affair was ended, had not circumstances forced my hand. The truth is Charles knows that the Russian has a fancy for me and wrote asking permission to bring him down. It seems that the Opposition are particularly anxious to gain his interest, and, naturally, if I decide to take him in hand I shall be in a position to exert a certain influence over him."

"May the devil take Charles Fox!" cried Roger angrily. "Damn him and his filthy political intrigues."

"Oh, be sensible, m'dear. 'Twill prove well worth my while to render him this service, should I find that my own inclinations coincide with his interests."

"Surely you would lose nothing by postponing the issue for a while?"