Who made him so conveniently both brilliant and prominent, proud and unwilling to play deaf and dumb?
He fit the shape of this "pot" too perfectly.
The entrance of the Earl's residence at 14 Berkeley Square was already lined with servants, their expressions tense, as if they had been forewarned of their master's foul mood today.
The rain trickled down the brims of the footmen's hats, but no one dared to lift their heads to look at the Earl's face.
The Earl of Dalmo jumped down from the carriage, his boot heels landing steadily on the slippery cobblestones.
He neither held an umbrella nor took the rain gear handed by the servant, but simply flung his cloak aside and strode into the entrance hall.
His private secretary, also his cousin-in-law, Mr. Edward Ellis, had arrived in advance and was standing at the door waiting for him with a stack of documents.
