Page 22 of A Torn Allegiance
“Surprised they let in the undesirables?”
Hayes did not respond, but that was his precise thought.
“The treaty has been signed.” Lamoreaux eyed Hayes. “Sweden declared war on England.”
“I had heard.”
“Oldenburg is surrounded on all sides by the French and at sea as well. The world is watching you now. What will Oldenburg do? You know, the British wonder at your presence here in England.” He sniffed. “They are not the loyal allies you imagine. Their trust is shallow.”
“They can have no reason to suspect me of any wrongdoing. I’m a guest of the royal family as well as the Duke of Sumter.”
“I tell you as a friendly warning only.” Lamoreaux adjusted his sleeves. “Perhaps your allegiance might change. Sweden was wise to make the declaration.”
“We are allies with Britain. Our declaration was made last year.” As a result, with the assistance of the British navy, they’d protected themselves from France and the very man standing to his front.
“Join Sweden. Declare war on England, and you will be a friend to France when this is over.”
The room felt smaller, the musty air growing more restricting, and Hayes knew their conversation was now finished. “I am in Britain for reasons other than to discuss our position in the war. Oldenburg has made our allegiance known. Our oceanic borders are protected, and we are greatly indebted to England for their aid. We are successfully managing just how we wish to without your assistance. You are wasting your time.”
As Hayes turned to leave, Lamoreaux’s next words grated. “But are your southern borders safe from invasion?”
Hayes’s blood turned to fire, but as he faced Lamoreaux again, he stood taller and said only, “They are, sir. Mark my words.” Then he left the room, a new alarm simmering inside him.
Outside, the corridor had cleared. Hayes no longer wished to return to the ballroom. He needed some fresh air, anything to clear his head before he had to return to the frivolous conversations taking place in that room.
He longed for Lady Elsie’s company. She was a sensible balm, and he suspected she might have wise thoughts on a great number of matters.
But he was loathe to return to the ballroom only to see her surrounded by hopeful suitors while he sought for an opportunity to speak with her alone. He made his way toward what looked like an outside entrance. The door did lead outside, but to a dark alley that appeared unsavory enough that he shut the door again and turned to make his way back to the ballroom. Perhaps he could find a short respite before he had to engage in social niceties.
But as soon as he returned to the room, one of the women he’d been introduced to, a Lady Willow, stepped forward. “There you are.” She sidled up closer to him. “You’ve been sought after. I think you missed a set with Lady Alice, and I’m next, you know.”
He didn’t quite groan, but a frustrated noise arose that he had to cover with a short cough. “Of course, and I will make my apologies to Lady Alice directly.”
His mind raged with a myriad of emotions while trying to make sense of the offer and subsequent threat from France. He needed more information about Sweden. He needed to speak with his father, which was impossible. And now he was even more grateful for his invitation to St. James’s tomorrow. A conversation with Prince George had just risen to the utmost importance.
After a swift and sincere apology to Lady Alice, he stood in a line across from Lady Willow. She seemed pleasant enough, but he hardly heard any of the words that poured from her exuberant mouth. He danced past Bartholomew, and Hayes had never been so happy to see a man. “Have a moment after this set?”
“Card room?” Bartholomew managed before they separated.
They passed each other again, and Bartholomew added, “Of course, if you can make it there, I will be much surprised.”
“I know you aim to be funny, and I might ordinarily think you so, but I am much frustrated at the moment.”
When they passed again, Bartholomew was still smiling. “My apologies.”
Lady Willow was a lovely dance partner, and Hayes felt a bit of guilt for not paying her much attention.
He passed Lady Elsie, and all other thoughts quieted. Their hands touched, and he held hers for as long as possible until they separated.
When they returned to each other, he smiled a welcome to her, but her eyes held questions, suspicion almost.
And then their moment passed and he moved farther up the row to face the next woman.
When the dance ended, Lady Elsie waited just off the floor in a rare moment of solitude. He hurried to make it to her side, but Bartholomew joined him before he got to her.
“What is it, friend?” Bartholomew said.
“Pierre Lamoreaux.”
