Page 60 of A Torn Allegiance
“Certainly, if you are impressed by status, rank, or money. See there, that man?”
“Yes, your prime minister?”
“Very good. Lord Perceval himself, with his wife.” She pointed in another direction. “And that is a group of three of the most powerful dukes in England.”
“Your father is not one of them?”
“He would be a fourth, I believe. But you see the Duke of Grant, whom you’ve met.”
“Yes, and his son,” Hayes said unenthusiastically.
Lord Harcour looked in Lady Elsie’s direction multiple times.
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” They continued walking, and Hayes answered her curiosity. “I’m looking for anyone here who might be a friend to France.”
She stopped walking, her face draining of color.
“Are you well?” He peered closer and placed a hand at her back, but she did not sway or swoon.
“Yes, I—I think so.”
“I certainly hope so. You’ve gone white as a sheet.”
“Have I? I’m not certain what has come over me. But, Prince Hayes, why are you seeking supporters of Napoleon?”
“To root them out, naturally. Or to avoid them, as Prince Marc would have me do.”
She didn’t appear as though she believed him, and well she shouldn’t, really, since he wasn’t being completely honest. But he could not involve her in the dangerous dealings of a group such as the one he’d stumbled upon. They were ruthless. They’d have to be, to turn men against home and country. Hayes could hardly contain his disgust.
Though she still didn’t look overly like she believed him, she played along in many regards, pointing out those who had stuck to French fashions most frequently even during the war, those who served French food and wine. She gestured to the former French aristocrats who had escaped to live in the safety of England. She pointed out those who were only tolerated in England as ambassadors because they must be. The English were polite, after all.
“But not Lamoreaux,” Hayes noted.
She stiffened again. “No. He is not welcome at St. James’s, I wouldn’t think.”
“Is he more of a concern than most?”
“More loyal to France. He is here on official French business and makes no apologies for it. He wouldn’t be invited here or to the office of the Secretary of War or to associate with the admiral, for example.” She turned away. “Unless, of course, he is invited to talk about official business—treaties and the like.”
“I just cannot fathom an enemy to England walking about as though he were a welcome part of the country.”
“I don’t understand it myself. But that is the way of things. People don’t work very hard to welcome him. He is here as a hawk, waiting for a weak animal to show itself as prey.”
“That is very descriptive of you.” They approached a table of food, and Hayes gestured toward one end. “Would you like some of these cheeses? We have them in Oldenburg, and they are my favorite.”
“Then, yes, certainly.” She stepped closer. “Tell me more of your country.”
Hayes filled a plate for her and then began to talk of Oldenburg. The more he talked, the more relaxed he felt. “The northern border is probably the most spoken of, and I can see why. It boasts a stunning harbor with tall, towering rocky shores; my youngest brother, Layton’s, castle presides on the north end of the bay, and the family palace, my home, hugs the heart of the bay. No one can see it without feeling of its beauty, right here.” He held a hand at his heart.
“I imagine it to be lovely. Has anyone painted its likeness?”
“Many have tried, and few have come close. I hope one day you will see it.”
She lifted her lashes. “I would like that.”
“I wish it above almost all else.”
