Mr Stoke met his eye. “May I say, my lord, that I shall be glad?”

“Mighty pretty of you,” grinned Sherry.

Mr Stoke regarded the tips of his fingers. “I believe I have repeatedly informed Mr Verelst that the sums of money drawn by Mr Paulett for the maintenance of Sheringham Place and Sheringham House have appeared to me to be in excess of what could be considered necessary. I fancy your lordship is aware of this.”

“Lord, yes, you told me of it an age since! I shall leave all that business — the estate, you know — in your hands, Stoke,” he promised.

Mr Stoke permitted himself to smile primly. “I fancy I may assure your lordship that Mr Paulett will not out-jockey me,” he said.

“No, I’ll wager he won’t! But never mind that now! The first thing is to find a house.”

“But has your lordship forgotten that there is already a house belonging to you in Grosvenor Square?”

“No, that’s just it: we don’t like it. Just been to take a look at the place, and of all the curst gloomy holes I ever was in — why, it’s worse than Brooks’s! What we want is a snug little house where we can be comfortable.”

“Do I understand your lordship to be desirous of disposing of Sheringham House?” asked Mr Stoke, very much shocked.

“No need to do that,” replied Sherry, in a large-minded way. “Dare say we may take it into our heads to remove there one day, and in the meantime there’s my mother to be thought of. Got to have somewhere to stay when she comes to town, after all.”

Mr Stoke, who was of the opinion that the dowager’s handsome jointure was more than sufficient to enable her to buy a house of her own, looked as disapproving as he dared, and said: “Your lordship can scarcely have considered the expense of maintaining a fourth establishment.”

“Dash it, I’ve only got two places! Oh, you’re thinking of that little hunting-box you procured for me in Leicestershire, are you? I don’t count that.”

“Oh!” said Mr Stoke rather faintly.

“I’m a rich man, aren’t I?” demanded Sherry, stretching his long legs out before him.

“Your lordship is a very rich man, but — ”

“Of course I am! And that reminds me, we must settle a few of my debts. Stupid sort of a business, but I may as well be beforehand with the world, at any rate to start with.”

“That, my lord, was what I had in mind,” said Mr Stoke. “Your lordship was good enough to entrust me with the task of ascertaining the extent of your lordship’s obligations, and I fear that the sum — ”

“Badly dipped, am I? Oh, well, you’d best sell me out of the Funds, and be done with it! No need to pull a long face: it’s my money, damn it all! But first I must have a house I can live in.”

Mr Stoke knew his lordship too well to argue with him when it was plain, from the obstinate look round his mouth, that he had made up his mind. The best he could hope for was to be able to persuade Sherry into hiring instead of buying a house, and with this end in view he began to discuss the size of the proposed establishment, its locality, and the most expeditious way of acquiring it. Hero soon lost interest in the conversation, and left her chair to go and look out of the window into the busy street. When the Viscount at last rose to go she was employed in drawing faces on the dusty window-panes.

“If ever I saw such a troublesome chit!” exclaimed Sherry. “Now look at your glove! What’s more, I dare say Stoke don’t like to have his windows looking like that.”

Mr Stoke, watching in some amusement her ladyship’s conscience-stricken scrutiny of one dirty fingertip, said that he thought her window sketches brightened the room, and earned a grateful smile. The Viscount then swept his bride off to make a preliminary tour of the best furniture warehouses, and his man of business, having escorted them to their phaeton, returned to his office and sat for quite some time gazing at the faces on his window, and pondering what would be the end of his client’s most extraordinary marriage.

The bridal couple spent the rest of the day in the delightful occupation of choosing furniture. They wandered about several warehouses, attended by solicitous salesmen; and after squabbling lightheartedly over the rival merits of Hepplewhite and Sheraton, and loudly condemning each other’s taste in hangings, they laid the foundations of their future home by purchasing a set of gilded chairs covered with straw-coloured satin, a wine-cooler, a tambour top writing table, a crystal lustre, and a shaving stand, which happened to be just what Sherry had been wanting for months past.

Such an exhausting day naturally put the writing of a letter to the Dowager Lady Sheringham out of count, and by way of whiling away the evening Sherry escorted his bride to Vauxhall Gardens. Here they danced, supped in one of the booths on wafer-thin slices of ham, and rack-punch, and watched a display of fireworks. Hero enjoyed every moment of it, and since she made no objection to Sherry’s quizzing the prettiest women present, and was happy to dance or to stroll about with him, whichever he preferred, he was able to gratify her by declaring that he had always known they should deal famously together.

On the following day Mr Stoke waited on them with a list of the houses at present available in the fashionable part of town. He had also drawn up an advertisement of the marriage for insertion in the Morning Post. The Viscount gave his gracious permission to have it forwarded immediately; and the entire party then set forth in a hackney to visit the first of the houses on Mr Stoke’s list. This was condemned at once on the score of being too large; a second, in Curzon Street, had a very ugly fireplace in the drawing-room, which gave Hero an ineradicable distaste for it; a third was discovered to be situated only two doors from the residence of a family of whom the Viscount spoke with concentrated loathing; and a fourth had such a mean staircase that it would have been superfluous to have penetrated farther than the narrow hall. By this time, the Viscount was becoming bored with such domestic matters, and he began to talk of leaving Hero and Mr Stoke to finish the business between them. However, he consented to accompany them to one more house, which was situated in Half Moon Street; and by the greatest good fortune this proved to be exactly what he had had in mind all along. Hero was equally enthusiastic over it, and although Mr Stoke, with his patron’s dignity to consider, pointed out that the drawing-room was not handsome, and the bedchambers inadequate, his objections were overruled. Hero was already planning the decoration of the drawing-room; settling with Sherry that he should have the back dining-room for his library and the front room on the second floor for his bedchamber; and allotting to herself the room behind the drawing-room for her own bedchamber. To Mr Stoke’s reminder that she would require a dressing-room, she replied innocently that she had never had one, and could not conceive what she should do with one. Naturally, neither she nor Sherry saw the smallest necessity for penetrating either to the attics or to the kitchen premises in the basement: they supposed them to be like any other attics or kitchens, and in any event they could all be safely left to Bootle to arrange. Of far more importance was the redecoration of the reception-rooms and the hall. Sherry did indeed bethink himself of the staff that would be necessary for the comfortable maintenance of the house, but beyond saying that he didn’t want a butler like old Romsey, who would water the wine, and had no notion how many abigails were usually employed in an establishment of this size, he had no views to advance. He said that they would leave it to Stoke. Mr Stoke, who had foreseen that this would be the end of it, then inaugurated a discussion of the matter, during the course of which, Sherry, who had not attended to a word, wandered off to take another look at the dining-room, for the helpful purpose of deciding where his wine-cooler should stand. Hero was left with Mr Stoke, and at once shocked and enchanted him by confiding that she had no notion how many servants she ought to employ, but hoped he would not think it necessary for her to have too many. “For I dare say I shan’t know how to go on at all. At least, just at first I shall not, though I expect I shall soon get into the way of it.”

Finally, it was decided that a cook, a butler, two abigails, and a pageboy or footman should, in addition to his lordship’s man, her ladyship’s personal maid, a coachman, two grooms, and the Tiger, be sufficient to ensure the young couple a moderate degree of comfort. Mr Stoke engaged himself to interview all menials applying for the various posts, and to hire those he considered the most desirable. He then took his leave of his patrons and went away in an extremely thoughtful mood.

Nothing now remained except to choose the requisite number of carpets, chests, beds, tables, and chairs for the house. The Viscount, who had had enough of warehouses, conceived the happy notion of enlisting the services of his cousin Ferdy, to whose charge he consigned Hero, while he himself went off to Tattersall’s with Mr Ringwood.

Ferdy, much gratified by the confidence reposed in his taste and judgment, professed himself to be very willing to place both at Hero’s service, for not only was he always ready to gallant a personable female, but his knowledge of all matters of ton was extensive and extremely nice. He knew just what elegant knick-knacks a lady of fashion should have in her drawing-room, had no hesitation in deciding upon a wallpaper to set off the straw-coloured chairs, and was able unerringly to guide Hero’s taste in the choice of carpets and hangings. As it occurred to neither of them to consider the Viscount’s purse, Ferdy’s genius was allowed full rein, and the proprietors of the several warehouses they visited showed a flattering, not to say obsequious, attention to such an open-handed pair.

The Viscount, meanwhile, having, under Mr Ringwood’s auspices, purchased a very pretty mare for his Hero to ride, two high-stepping bays to draw her barouche, and a light-mouthed grey to run between the shafts of her phaeton, lingered only to add a neatish bay, described by the auctioneer as ‘complete to a shade’, to his own stables before dragging Mr Ringwood off to a coach-builder’s in St James’s Street. Here they had no difficulty in selecting a smart barouche with a yellow body; and a light phaeton. They were just about to leave the premises to go in search of a set of silver-mounted harness when an elegant travelling chariot caught the Viscount’s eye, and he at once decided to buy that too, since not only would it be quite out of the question for Hero to travel post — his mother, he knew, never did so — but he himself liked nothing better than to tool a coach-and-four, and would no doubt derive no small degree of pleasure from possessing a coach of his own. As the purchasing of this vehicle made it necessary for him to return to Tattersall’s to negotiate for a team to draw it, it was evident that the Viscount was spending money quite as lavishly as his bride.

When Hero learned that she was now the owner of no fewer than three carriages and eight horses, she turned quite pink, and after struggling for a few moments to express herself suitably, stammered out: “Oh, Sherry, it is just like K-King Cophetua and the beggar-maid!”

“Who the devil was he?” demanded Sherry.

“Well, I don’t precisely remember, but he married a beggar-maid, and gave her everything she wanted.”

“Sounds to me like a hum,” said her sceptical husband. “Besides, what’s the fellow got to do with us?”

“Only that you made me think of him,” said Hero, smiling mistily up at him.

“Nonsense!” said Sherry, revolted. “Never heard such a silly notion in my life! If you don’t take care, Kitten, you’ll have people saying you’re bookish.”

Hero promised to guard against earning this stigma; and after fortifying himself with some very tolerable burgundy from the hotel’s cellars, Sherry sat down to write a somewhat belated letter to his parent.

After a second day’s intensive shopping with Ferdy, there really seemed to be nothing left to buy for the house in Half Moon Street, except such dull necessities as kitchen furnishings and linen, and as Hero was getting tired of choosing furniture she greeted with acclaim Sherry’s suggestion that the rest should be entrusted to Mr Stoke to provide. “And I’ll tell you what, Kitten,” he added. “I’ve had a devilish good idea. We’ll be off to Leicestershire until the house is ready for us to step into. I’ve got a snug little hunting-box there: just the very thing for us!”