Edmund found his father in the library, where he spent most of his free time pouring over books on archaeology and antiquities. He'd made tidy sums in the past from selling blackmarket items from dusty old tombs.
"Father, I need your advice," said Edmund.
Lord Withenstrop was a blustery man of middle height and large girth, but he paled in comparison to his pushy and overbearing wife.
"Well sohn, dane't fie stand there loohking fancy ah foohl. come, take ah pew and lets chinwag. Absolutely top hole - I have to say."
Edmund sat in a large leather chair opposite his father.
"It's mother. Princess Amelia will be at my little do and mother insists that I try to monopolise her time for the evening. What do you suggest I do, father?"
"What doh one suggest? One suggests that you, my old bean, figure this one out for one's self, young man. You, my old bean, have come of age and it's time you, my old bean, sorted out your own troubles. Besides, I will still have to live with your muhthah once you've gone out ohn your own!"
Edmund could see that his father was going to be of no help at all. No he really was in a quandry. The only other person he could think to turn to for advice was his mate Rodney, Lord Sommerfield. It was that or tey to reason with his mother.