Why Kill the Innocent (Sebastian St. Cyr #13)(42)

The Duchess gave another of her brittle smiles. “I think we can all contrive to keep warm. The snow will make it unique, don’t you agree? Like our own exclusive Frost Fair.”

“Quite,” agreed Hero, thinking Lady Leeds’s inflammation of the lungs obviously wasn’t severe enough to keep her from braving the elements in her quest to give a party that would be the talk of the ton.

“I did see something recently that made me wonder about Mrs. Ambrose,” said young Lady Arabella, walking with Hero to the door.

“Oh?” said Hero. “What was that?”

“I was here earlier than Mama one day and happened to glance out the window just as Mrs. Ambrose was letting herself out the gate. There was a carriage waiting for her in the lane. I thought it odd enough that I paused to watch, which is how I happened to see a gentleman step forward just as she was closing the gate behind her. They spoke for a moment. Then he helped her into the carriage and climbed in after her.”

“When was this?”

“Two weeks ago last Thursday.”

“Do you remember anything about the carriage?” asked Hero.

“It was a nobleman’s barouche. I know because I saw the crest on the door—a gold chevron against an azure background, with a rampant lion below and two castles above.” The girl gave a slow, knowing smile that came perilously close to being a smirk. “Perhaps you’re familiar with it?”

“Yes,” said Hero, who had grown up with the Jarvis coat of arms. “I believe I am.”





Chapter 24

“‘Then the Lord put forth his hand and touched my mouth. And the Lord said unto me, Behold, I have put my words in thy mouth.’”

Jarvis ostentatiously bowed his head as the glorious Stuart-era poetry of the King James Bible echoed around the soaring interior of the sixteenth-century chapel. He’d never been a particularly devout man, but he had a healthy appreciation for the role religion played in maintaining order and the hierarchy of being. And so he was careful to be seen attending services every Sunday, for it was important that members of the ruling class set a good example for the ignorant masses below them.

He often worshipped here, at the Chapel Royal in St. James’s Palace, both because its schedule was set to accommodate the late-rising habits of His Highness the Prince Regent and because he appreciated the exclusivity of its congregation. Attendance today was sparse, owing no doubt to the severity of the weather. But one of the few worshippers present was that abrasive Whig politician Phineas Wallace. And because Jarvis knew it would irritate the man, he found himself faintly smiling as the reading continued.

“‘See, I have this day set thee over the nations and over the kingdoms,

to root out, and to pull down,

to destroy, and to throw down,

to build, and to plant.’”

Unlike Jarvis, Phineas Wallace was not known for his regular church attendance. But the fiery Whig orator had been trying without success to arrange a meeting with Jarvis for days. And so Jarvis was not surprised when the Baron fell into step beside him as they left the chapel at the end of services.

“I take it you wished to speak to me?” Jarvis remarked pleasantly.

“I know about your scheme,” said Wallace, his voice pitched low.

Jarvis paused to extract his snuffbox from his pocket and flip it open. “I never imagined that you did not.”

Wallace threw a quick glance around and leaned in closer. “It’s madness, all of it. Why tie Britain to the Dutch in a way that will obligate us to come to their defense? The people of this land are on their knees after more than two decades of war; they need peace and prosperity, not more war. The cost of defending the Netherlands would break us in every way imaginable. Break us!”

Jarvis lifted a pinch of snuff to one nostril and smiled. “The Bourbons will not move against the House of Orange.”

Wallace gave a harsh, breathy laugh. “You genuinely believe that the French will meekly accept the Bourbons back on the throne? After twenty-five years of liberté, égalité, and fraternité?”

“After twenty-five years of liberté, égalité, and fraternité, there are scarcely enough Frenchmen left alive to sing ‘La Marseillaise,’ let alone object to anyone we should choose to place at their head.”

“It won’t always be so.”

Jarvis closed his snuffbox with a snap and stepped out onto the snowy flagway. “Then when that day comes we shall have our dear allies the Dutch as a bulwark against a resurgent republican France.”

Wallace kept pace with him. “This isn’t actually about the Dutch or even the French, is it? It’s about Prinny’s bloody crusade to rid himself of his wife. He thinks that with Bonaparte defeated and Charlotte forced to live most of the year in the Netherlands, Caroline will leave England for the Continent, and then he’ll finally be able to push through a divorce.”

“Do you blame him?”

Wallace’s thin nose quivered with his disdain. “She is his lawfully wedded wife and has borne nothing but insult and abuse from him since she first landed on our shores.”

“And you think that excuses her behavior, do you? What of the opprobrium he has borne as a result of her conduct?”

“Oh, please. Everyone with any sense knows he paid that Douglas woman to stand up and swear she saw the Princess give birth to an illegitimate son.”