By Steve Pemberton
Piers, Viscount Montmorency was a man of steel, a man of courage, a man who looked very much the same as Thor, hammer of the Gods. He prided himself on his ability to hold his own against the unpredictably of his foes, when engaged in dangerous sword fights which would often bring uncertainty amongst even the bravest of men about their chance of survival. Piers, Viscount Montmorency was thankfully gifted with the talents of being quick witted and nimble on his toes, pretty much as a ballet dancer would be.
Or so he had thought anyways, in a time long since passed. For now Piers, Viscount Montmorency had the memory of a goldfish. Having come upon the misfortune of suffering a heavy blow to the face and head when he had been whipped forcefully from his horse by a low hanging tree branch while hunting boar one summer’s day. Having not noticed it because he had been too busy showing off and peering over his shoulder at the pretty girls, who were out to enjoy the fresh air and the wolf whistles of Piers, Viscount Montmorency. Unknown to Georgiana she could be still very lucky because Piers, Viscount Montmorency may mistake her for her sister.