the event. After all, none of it had been his doing. “Very simply, in late January a young boy brought the packet of letters to my home in Surrey. A footman received them and placed them on my desk.”
“Ah.” Blakemore scratched his chin. “And who was this boy?”
“The footman said he was a short, stocky lad of about ten or so. He did not give a name.”
“Hmm.” The earl stared off toward the windows. “Lady Blakemore’s roses have done exceedingly well this year, especially the reds.” He seemed to have forgotten their conversation, at least for a moment. Then he focused again on Winston. “Perhaps we should question your footman a bit more. Find out what we can about that lad.”
Winston’s heart sank. He had no doubt the letters were authentic, but he had still been in mourning over Father’s death and had not thought clearly how to handle the matter. “Harry had been with us only a few weeks, and the work did not suit him. He left in February to join the army, and I have no idea of his fate.”
“Bad luck, that.” Blakemore clicked his tongue and gave his head a little shake. “In any event, your quick thinking in delivering the letters to the Home Office was brilliant. Why, you saved our country and the Prince Regent from great disgrace, not to mention saving old Louis’s very life. Will you not reconsider espionage?”
“I thank you, sir, but no.” Winston lifted a hand to cover an artificial cough while he considered how to make his excuses. He must take care not to sound overly proud of something that had come his way through no effort of his own. Nor must he sound judgmental of those who chose to spy. Father had often chided him for both pride and judging others too harshly. “Of course, I understand some men are called to employ subterfuge, even as the Scriptures tell us that both Moses and Joshua sent out spies to explore the land of Canaan. But the Almighty has not directed me to such a path.”
Blakemore chuckled in his jolly, mellow way, but the wiliness in his eyes dispelled all impressions that he was anyone’s fool. If that were not enough for Winston to trust him, he had Father’s recommendation. Look to Blakemore and Bennington for your examples, my son. They will not lead you astray. In his four months in London, Winston had come to admire both earls. Now that Bennington was consumed with family matters regarding several of his eight offspring, Winston was grateful that Blakemore would consider stepping in as his mentor. Now if he could persuade him to take him to Paris as part of his diplomatic entourage, Winston would have achieved a cherished dream.
“I admire your determination to seek God’s direction, for above all, we must receive our orders from above.” Blakemore pointed upward, and his expression softened. “Kings and princes come and go, nations rise and fall, but only God is eternal.”
“Indeed.” Most Englishmen, Winston included, would say England was eternal as well, for she clearly had the blessing of the Almighty. Still, he was pleased to hear Blakemore speak of his faith, for it affirmed all that Father had said about him.
“Now.” The earl sat forward in his chair. “Concerning your request, why do you wish to accompany my little band to France? What do you hope to gain?” With his lighthearted tone, the earl might well have been asking why Winston wanted to tag along on a picnic.
“To serve God by serving my king and country.” And to obtain through his own efforts the earldom the old king promised to Father. But he would not bring up that matter. At least not until he knew Blakemore better, and Blakemore knew him.
“Very commendable.” The earl slapped his hands on his chubby knees. “Just what I hoped to hear. And furthermore, I believe you, my boy. You are a credit to your father.”
“Again, I thank you.” Even as warm satisfaction filled Winston’s chest, his mind sprinkled bits of icy doubt on the earl’s last affirmation. While other gentlemen might praise him, Father had never quite given his full approval, nor had God. All the more reason to continue his quest for righteousness through serving his king or, in this case, the Prince Regent.
“Now, about another matter.” One of the earl’s bushy eyebrows rose while the other one dipped.
Winston sensed his peer was about to impart some sage advice or dire warning. He did not know whether to be honored or concerned. “Yes, sir?”
“Scripture states that whoso finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor of the Lord. It is my conviction that every gentleman who enters the diplomatic corps must be married. An agreeable wife provides stability, settles something in a man’s heart, not to mention fulfills the duties of hostess for those obligatory entertainments.” Once again, his expression grew wily. “Have you found a wife, my boy?”
Winston cleared his throat, feeling the pinch of embarrassment. “I have not, but not for want of trying.” The only two ladies who had attracted his interest had chosen others, two brothers, in fact.
“Ah, yes.” The earl chuckled. “Well, never mind that. Plenty of fish in the sea.” Again one eyebrow lowered. “I noticed that you sat with Lady Blakemore’s companion at Drayton’s supper last night. Did you find Miss Hart’s company agreeable?”
Winston’s cravat seemed to tighten around his neck. He felt the need to loosen it, but clasped his hands together to prevent such a self-conscious gesture. “Agreeable. Yes. Entirely pleasant.”
Blakemore leaned back with a frown. “I gather you have some reservations about the young lady.”
At this perfect opening for his questions, Winston gave a slight shrug to suggest he was indifferent, though his emotions were far from detached. The young lady had occupied his thoughts since last night and even more so since this morning, when his discussion with Edgar had generated a certain protectiveness toward her. But it would not do to confess such feelings to the earl. “In truth, I know nothing of her family or her pedigree. Perhaps you can enlighten me.”
Blakemore blinked and gripped his round chin thoughtfully. “Why, I have no idea. Lady Blakemore would not have hired her without the proper pedigree.”
“Of course not.” Winston hoped his question had not cast aspersions on the countess. From Blakemore’s good-natured expression, he guessed it had not. Still, it would help if he knew whether Miss Hart came from the gentry or the aristocracy.
“However, if she does not suit you, then do not give the matter another thought.” Blakemore stood, and Winston had no choice but to do the same. Nothing had been settled by their discussion, but he dared not press the matter of accompanying the earl to France, lest he cause offense. Following him toward the door of the chamber, Winston had a clear view of the top of Blakemore’s balding head, which barely reached his own shoulder. Yet so much character and power resided within the shorter man that Winston could not help but hold him in great esteem.
The earl stopped abruptly and faced Winston, wagging a paternal finger in his direction. “I would not have you marry in haste, my boy, but if you can find a suitable wife by mid-August when our party leaves for Paris, then all the better for your ability to serve king and country at my side.”
Winston’s heart raced. The earl had just as much as said he was accepted as part of the delegation to the French. At least, it sounded that way. “I thank you, sir. I shall certainly make every effort to do so.”
“Now, you must excuse me. I have some correspondence that will not keep.” Blakemore opened the office door and beckoned to his secretary. “Radcliff, see Winston down to the ladies, will you?”
“Yes, my lord.”
