"Nell and I might venture to Bath at some time later in the year, mother. But we rarely have the time, I'm afraid, with business as it is here. If one wants to keep ahead of the game, one has to be in London." He said.
He shrugged, "I am sure everyone will be themselves, mother. How effectively that can be moulded into a loving family until is something I shall be very interested in seeing." He told her, glancing at Nell to make sure the boy hadn't down the small measure of alcohol too quickly. That was the last thing Harry wanted now, for Nell to get tipsy, but it wouldn't have looked right for him not to have offered his mistress a drink, not when everyone else had had one. It had been too much to hope, of course, that Nell would decline such a kind offer.
"Lord Hurst is the Duke of Devon, mother." He explained, although perhaps their was a faint hint of a tired sigh, "The cousin of the Prince Regent. A much more impressive title than that of the Mountford-Miles'. They are country bumpkins in comparision." He said, leaning back in his chair. "But any title's a title." And he hoped that he'd have his own soon enough.