Weston had nodded but not responded. It was a very good sign that she was approving of whatever praise Lord Ledderbey had handed out. He supposed it was not surprising that she would express concern over his habit of harrying the French. Perhaps she was concerned she would end a widow, which would mean she’d considered a wedding.
He’d retired to his room when they arrived to the house. As Stockton undressed him, he said, “Do you think these forays we’ve done to harass the French…well, do you think they’ve been necessary? Or have they been me attempting to prove I’ve contributed something to the war effort?”
“Can’t it be both?” Stockton answered.
“I don’t know. Lord Ledderbey thinks it is more my own vanity that has caused it. He does not outright say so but I think that’s what he means. He says the navy is well able to keep track of the French and harass them when they like.”
Stockton shrugged. “I’ve never thought too deeply about it, my lord. I guess I just thought it was fun.”
“It was fun, was it not?” Weston said. “Apparently, though, it is not a wise sort of fun for a duke’s heir. Especially if that heir wishes to wed.”
“Are you wishing to wed?” Stockton asked.
“Possibly.”
“Not to the loud one, though?”
“No, not the loud one.”
“Your duke’s daughter, then.”
“Yes.”
“Even though some foreigner has been skulking around Cornwall, trying to track you down? I doubt he’s looking for you only to have a polite conversation. I don’t think a duke’s daughter will like that very much.”
“No, that matter must be resolved before anything can go forward.I am almost certain it was the Count di Compressio. Once I get his portrait, it goes to Cornwall to be confirmed and then sent to the navy.”
“Does he know it’syou, though? What I say is, you may know it’s him, but does he know you’re the Mosquito?”
“I am not certain. He might. This evening, I asked him if he’d ever been to Cornwall. He looked surprised, and a bit rattled, as if I’d caught him out.”
“Rattling the cage of somebody looking to do you harm is usually not a good idea,” Stockton pointed out.
“Well perhaps not, but it’s done now.”
“Mr. Malberry and I have hired trained men to act as your waiters for the trays of food that are to go round at this Cornwall party. If there is any trouble, they’ll be droppin’ those trays and stepping into the fray.”
“Let’s hope there is no fray,” Weston said. “Lady Valor is already spooked enough over my lifestyle.”
“But you’re gonna change the lifestyle.”
“I think at this point I must. I must find another way to harry the French that does not involve such personal danger. It’s been pointed out that I am irresponsible in doing it. I just do not know what we can do otherwise yet, but there must be something.”
“Aye, we’ll think of something,” Stockton said. “It’s become a regular hobby to be a thorn in their sides. We had ’em spooked. Spooked sailors are bad sailors.”
Weston agreed. He hoped they could think of something that was both effective and not a risk to his person. It was going to be a delicate balance between ensuring that Lady Valor felt secure and ensuring the French felt insecure.
In the meantime, he reflected on the evening. He’d escorted Lady Valor round Lady Jellerbey’s rooms, sweeping her away while the count was not looking. Lady Letitia had the count cornered and wasfiring off questions about his Sardinian villa when Weston suggested they take a turn.
Among other interesting things they’d talked about, Lady Valor mentioned that the duke considered his door open to his heir and he was to be free to walk over at any time. The duke thought that even though he’d been to dine, he ought to have a closer look at the house and poke around the rooms as he would be the master of it someday.
Weston said he’d nothing planned for the following day, so maybe he would. Lady Valor had nodded in approval.
So, that’s what he would do. He should probably bring flowers of some sort. He had a vague idea that was done as a usual thing. Last evening, he’d asked her what colors she most favored. She’d said very dark blue and sunny orange. Lord Ledderbey had an abundance of marigolds around the estate in Cornwall and they were exceedingly orange. He left them in pots and claimed that pests were repelled by them.
Certainly, a florist must have them.
*
