![]() ![]() ![]() “Only certain peers are able to get by with that in London nowadays, St. Lord Weston, whose friendship with Rhys also went back to boyhood, flashed him a wry grin. Without them, restaurants would be forced to close, and we should never dine out again.” A fortunate thing for us they are able and willing to pay. “The middle class won’t dine at any establishment unless peers frequent it. “Everything,” he answered at once, turning to accept a glass of champagne from a footman. “What do middle class sensibilities have to do with you caging meals at the Clarendon?” ![]() Standish, an old acquaintance from days at Oxford and his host for the evening, laughed. “Thank heaven for middle class sensibilities.” “No peer should ever pay at the Clarendon,” he explained to Lord Standish later that night at the opera. He consoled himself with a superb beef fillet and a fine bottle of French Bordeaux, and by some clever timing, he was able to duck out without paying the bill, a practice at which he’d become quite adept the past few years. After studying reports from various land agents, bankers, and attorneys, his spirits were nearly as low as his bank balance, and he had no choice but to dine that night at the Clarendon. Rhys spent Monday reckoning up what little he had in ducal income and Tuesday wading through the complicated mire of the De Winter family debts. ![]()
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