chapter one ~ 1878

The Earl of Kensall came down the stairs to breakfast at precisely eight o’clock every morning.

His years of training in the Army had made him a very punctual man. He disliked being late himself or being kept waiting by anybody else.

It would have been impossible for anyone looking at him not to be impressed.

Over six feet tall he had square shoulders and was beyond dispute extremely handsome.

Ever since he had been a boy he had been acclaimed for his outstanding good looks and women had fallen into his arms even before he had asked their names.

He was not particularly conceited, but he was well aware of his own importance and determined that his way of life should be one of dignity and success.

As Head of the Family he was looked up to and revered and indeed it was a large family.

The family members turned to him for advice and, when they received it, carried it out to the letter.

His properties, including his large estate in the country, were run in a methodical manner that made him the envy of every other landlord in the County.

The Earl was now nearly thirty, but in many ways he was considerably older than his years would suggest to even a casual observer.

He was extremely intelligent and, when he spoke in the House of Lords, he always held an attentive audience.

The Prime Minister and other leading Statesmen were known to consult him regularly, especially on matters where the National interest was concerned as well as protection of his country from hostile Powers overseas.

The extraordinary thing was that despite his manyaffaires de coeur, he had not yet married.

Naturally his older relations were continually begging him and even nagging him to do so.

“You must realise, Norwin,” they urged him repeatedly, “that you need an heir with several younger brothers in reserve to make sure of the succession for your fortune and illustrious title.”

The Earl knew that their anxiety rested on the fact that his father had produced only one child, namely himself.

The whole family had been terrified that, while he was abroad serving in the Army, he might have been killed or severely wounded in battle.

That he had survived was in part due to his habitual good luck, which was the envy of all his friends and colleagues.

He was fully aware that the Betting Book at White’s Club in St. James’s recorded a number of wagers about him, such as whether he would be married before the end of the year or perhaps whether one of the more determined of the ambitious ‘Mamas’ would capture him to the humiliation of the others.

He had, however, managed deftly to avoid a great many traps that had been set for him over a number of years and so had remained a bachelor.

Older members of the prestigious Jockey Club, who he was closely associated with on every Racecourse, had often as a last resort approached him.

First they would congratulate his Lordship on his horse being first past the Winning Post in a hotly contested race.

Then they would comment on what a magnificent stallion he had recently acquired and would exclaim,

“As I have some excellent mares, it seems such a pity that we don’t breed a champion between us!”

“It is certainly an idea,” the Earl would murmur.

Then came the inevitable invitation.

“Why not come down to stay for a few days and see what I have to offer, my Lord? Incidentally, my eldest daughter, who is just eighteen, is extremely beautiful.”

The Earl would realised that this was yet another trap and so he would of necessity decline the invitation tactfully.

Now he crossed the hall to the breakfast room, which was considerably smaller than the dining room.

Kensall House in Park Lane had been in the family for two generations, while Kensall Park in Hampshire had been in the possession of the Earls of Kensall for nearly four hundred years.

Kensall Park was a magnificent Tudor mansion and it had been altered and expanded extensively by generation after generation of the family

The present Earl’s grandfather, who was the sixth in succession, had made it more comfortable and more luxurious than it had ever been before.

The present Earl, however, had added extensively to the Picture Gallery as he had a taste for art that had not been noticeable among his antecedents.

He was thinking now whether he should buy a very fine picture by Holbein, the famous German artist.

It had been offered to him by its owner before being put up for sale at Christie’s auction house in London and it would very certainly be a magnificent addition to his already splendid collection.

However, the Earl had a distinct feeling that, if he bought the picture privately, it might cost him more than if he bid for it in the sale room.

The butler had timed him to the minute.

As his Lordship entered the breakfast room, the butler came in at the other door.

He was carrying in a silver coffeepot which he set down on the silver tray at the top of the table. He then placed carefully beside it the day’s editi