truly necessary, Bey?" Brand asked as they strolled back inside the house.
"The king's command?"
"You can usually get the king to do as you wish."
"You overestimate my powers. You know of Lady Arradale's obsession with the earldom's seat in the House of Lords?"
Brand grimaced. "Rosa mentioned it. For a clever woman, she can be foolish - the countess, I mean."
"If even you cannot see any justice in it - "
Brand glanced over. "Are you saying you support her cause?"
"I support the essential logic of it."
"As well say an eldest daughter should inherit a title when there are sons."
"Why not?" Rothgar couldn't resist asking. Levelheaded Brand could rarely be stirred like this.
" "Strath! But then the whole thing would go through her husband to another family."
"The property would continue in her family. Rather more reliably than through a man."
Brand frowned at him. "You're not serious, are you?"
"Consider a world in which inheritance is by age, and if the inheritor is a female, her husband takes her name. Why not?"
Brand shook his head. "Bey, if you go around preaching that idea, you'll end up in Bedlam."
Rothgar laughed. "That, my dear, is precisely my point. However, it has nothing to say about the justice of the countess's cause. Now," he said, as they sat in the drawing room to wait for the countess to be ready to leave, "I want you to keep alert in this region for the unruly French."
"Here?" Brand asked.
"Anywhere in the north. I know you plan to live quietly, but news travels, especially of foreigners. With peace, some French are visiting England, and some, alas, are spies. Invasion through Ireland is still a threat, and you might hear of matters on the Lancashire coast. If you hear anything suspicious, send word."
"Does it never stop? I suppose Bryght and Elf have orders, too, on their trip to Liverpool."
"Of course, though I have my own people there. King Louis has a burning desire to be avenged for defeat in the past war."
Brand sat up straight. "The devil you say. He'd be mad to restart hostilities."
"Not if he waits for the right moment. One of his acting ambassador's duties is to find, perhaps create, that moment. The Chevalier D'Eon is not to be underestimated."
"A notable swordsman too, according to Bryght. A man who doubtless knows others of that type. Did he have anything to do with that duel with Curry?"
Rothgar didn't want to get into these matters, especially with Brand, who should be enjoying a carefree marriage. A mistake to have asked his help. Too many mistakes these days. Anyone might think that he was distracted.
"The chevalier and I are on extremely cordial terms," he said.
Brand frowned, undeceived. "Be careful, Bey. From what I hear, that duel was a close-run thing."
Noises in the hall indicated that it was time to depart. Rothgar rose. "All the interesting adventures in life are." He embraced Brand. "Ignore French spies. Grow turnips and babies, and be happy."
"I wish I could give you the same command. But I have one. Don't harm the countess. She's more vulnerable than she appears."
"She'd shoot you for saying it. I intend her no harm, Brand. Only good."
Brand looked at him. "That's what I worry about."
Rothgar laughed and left to set out on a challenging journey south.
By the time they stopped for the night at the Swan in the bustling coaching town of Ferry Bridge, Diana was exhausted. They were expected, a whole floor already claimed and prepared for them, but rather than comforting her, this strained her even more. She was accustomed to traveling in state, but not in quite such grand state as this.
It was the long day's journey which had worn her down, however - that and the marquess's complete lack of interest in her. As planned, she'd provided herself with a number of interesting books, but she'd also hoped to talk to him. The presence of the servants would make it completely safe, and she longed to learn more of his mind.
He, however, had spent the whole time working through what appeared to be important documents. These had even been increased in the mid-afternoon by a courier who had intercepted them and delivered a thick sealed package.
During each break to change horses, he had courteously strolled with her, making effortless small talk about the countryside, or the lighter aspects of national affairs. Even when they stopped to eat it had been the same.
She'd recognized that these were skillfully woven barriers and felt mortified. Clearly Fettler had told him of