Page 24 of Tempting the Marquess

Chapter5

Four excruciating balls,two pairs of ruined boots, five shattered brandy glasses and an irate Gentleman Jackson threatening to resign as his boxing trainer. In every way, a damned unimpressive list of achievements for the pastweek.

Frowning, William shifted again on one of the hideously uncomfortable high-backed chairs considered essential to Whitehall’s most secure room. He certainly was on a roll, although his increasingly volatile temper had not prompted any requests for dawn appointments. Yet.

But he could feel the walls closing in. His avoidance of Lady Samantha since his birthday dinner had been criticized by all and sundry. White had even summoned him to question his lack of progress. What was he supposed to say? I’m sorry, I can no longer interrogate this subject because I like her too much? I want to bed her so badly it is driving memad?

Thank God today he could focus on a routine state affairs meeting. It truly didn’t matter what topics Liverpool, Castlereagh, the senior cabinet, and a few select peers—including Alexander—debated, anything would be a welcome respite from lusting after a tiny blushing blonde.

“Goddamned French. Damn all of them, every one, tohell.”

William’s gaze shot up at Castlereagh’s uncharacteristically snarling tone, and sighing, he conceded defeat to the continuation of a bloody awful April. “What have they done now? All our allies are adhering to the Seventh Coalition treaty, are they not? Napoleon can’t have any truly powerful friends in Europe.”

“He shouldn’t. But then he shouldn’t have escaped from Elba either, and he did. The Corsican devil is clever and efficient and won’t stop until he’s taken over the whole damned world.”

“So what exactly has he done?” William asked, unease prickling his neck at the possibilities the cunning little chess master might have engineered.

“He’s ordered a general mobilization. Tens of thousands of men,” Castlereagh replied, and his furious stare veered away to circle the table. “Also, a party of Wellington’s exploring officers who travelled to Paris to gather information, ran into trouble. There was a fierce skirmish. I’ve just received some rather garbled messages stating Colonel Lord Langley, who led the party, was injured. A few say seriously.”

At the mention of Alexander’s younger brother, a decorated soldier, brilliant leader, and one of the few people the taciturn Wellington had ever openly praised, William’s gaze flew to his friend.

Alexander smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure Robert is fine. Probably a minor flesh wound which has increased in severity as the news has travelled.”

William nodded, more for Alexander’s benefit than to express his agreement. While early, unconfirmed reports could be wrong, to have multiple messages say the same thing was troubling. Not to mention the impending disaster that could unfold if Napoleon rebuilt his Armée du Nord and began to march. Hell. Mobilizing the combined forces of Britain, Austria, Prussia, and Russia could take many months. And so many of His Majesty’s finest had been lost in the brutal and bloody Peninsula Wars, and the War of 1812 which had only ended in January in the New Orleans debacle.

The silence lengthened, only broken by the arrival of two clerks carrying some papers. Unfortunately for one of them, the unexpected and unnerving quiet in the room caused him to stumble and drop the documents he was holding.

William’s temper frayed, and he glared at the young man. “Not anticipating a career in intelligence, I trust.”

“I’m very sorry, my lord,” the clerk stammered, flushing scarlet as he dropped to his knees to gather the scattered reports. “It won’t happen again.”

Surprised looks bored holes in William’s head from all directions, and guilt and frustration only further sharpened histone.

“One hopes not. It would certainly be unfortunate to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of your countrymen because delivering documents was quite beyond your capabilities.”

“Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord,” the clerk choked out, pale as milk. After placing the now neat stack of papers in front of Liverpool, he practically sprinted from the room, his colleague close behind.

The meeting continued for another three excruciating hours, the sun well set by the time he and Alexander emerged.

Giving his neck a weary rub, William lifted his other hand to hail a hackney until Alexander’s voice halted him. “A drink is in order, along with some decent food. Brooks.”

“All right,” he replied, shrugging. One drink at the club wouldn’t hurt as he was probably only going to spend the evening with a bottle anyway. Twenty minutes later they were comfortably seated in a private room, complete with roaring fire, trays of rare roast beef, creamed potatoes, and crisp green beans, and glasses of excellent brandy.

Interrupting the companionable silence, Alexander cleared his throat and pinned him with a hard stare. “Your recently acquired temper is becoming the talk of London, but it’s only today I’ve witnessed it for myself, and I am appalled. Granted, clerks can be annoying, but the set down you gave that stripling was rather extreme, especially from someone who used to scatter parchment on an hourly basis. What the hell is the problem?”

William scowled. “The problem, as you so delicately phrased it, is coddling clerks helps no one. Intelligence relies on those reports—what if they had been mixed up? More lives could have been lost. Don’t you think there are enough English families in mourning?”

Alexander snorted derisively. “Try again.”

“And say what?” William retorted. “I’m behaving like a damned boor and it all started at bloody Almack’s?”

“Excuse me? Almack’s? What the devil were you doing there?”

“If you ever bothered to look at the piles of invitations people send, you’d have known Westleigh asked us all to go to support his cousin’s comeout.”

“Why?” said Alexander, his expression easing to perplexed rather than irritated. “I cannot imagine anyone from the Forsyth family tree being horribly unattractive. Is she completely dim? Entirely without charm or personality?”

“No!” William snarled.