A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,16
surely. Then it must be you, Totton. Yes, I believe I can imagine you enjoying crowing over your fellow man. Dooley—can you see our dear friend draped in royal purple? Or am I wrong, and you and your fellows wish to emulate America and throw open the British Empire to the glories of democracy?”
Dooley snorted. “Now there’s something none of us will ever live to see. They’d have to free Ireland, boyo, remember? And what would these Bugs do for fun, I be asking you, iffen they couldn’t rape the Auld Sod whenever the mood took them?”
“You’re being impertinent—the pair of you!” Sir Peregrine objected, bringing his closed fists smashing down on the desktop, so that the busts of Socrates and Homer rattled. “Our aspirations are none of your concern. I have not asked why you’ve taken on this commission. And what do you covet as reward for your patriotism, Donovan? An ambassadorship? A Cabinet post?”
Donovan smiled around the cheroot. It was best to smile, he’d found, when he felt most like pounding a fellow into flinders. There was always time for violence, but a person stood to win more than a single battle by dueling with his wits. “Me? A simple newspaper publisher and landowner from Philadelphia? Sir, you must have confused me with the late, greatly missed, Benjamin Franklin, another humble journalist from Philadelphia, but one whole worlds more talented than I. Let me assure you, Sir Peregrine, I have absolutely no political ambitions. None whatsoever. Isn’t that correct, Dooley?”
“Not the way I heard it,” Dooley grumbled rather loudly into his haphazardly tied cravat—the clearly disgruntled assistant getting a little of his own back by letting slip information that his superior obviously did not wish made public.
Dear Dooley. Thomas had banked on the fact the Irishman was never slow to pick up on a hint, and he hadn’t been disappointed. Dooley had sensed that Thomas wished Sir Peregrine to think he had found a soul mate, a fellow as greedy and ambitious as himself. Let Sir Peregrine think he “understood” him. Thomas felt sure it would serve to lower Sir Peregrine’s guard if the man were to believe he could measure the American co-conspirator with his own yardstick.
“But as I was saying, Totton,” Thomas continued quickly, after turning his back on Dooley, “it came upon me last night—rather suddenly, as I remember—that you and your brethren, in your zeal to undermine your own country, might just as easily apply to France as to America. Or both. With France, you have another ready market for your diverted goods and armaments. My president would not much care to see France built up, even if she has been our ally. Bonaparte is too unpredictable, too greedy for power.”
“There will be no dealings with the French,” Sir Peregrine stated firmly, rising to his feet, which left him a full, unimpressive head shorter than Thomas. “Sir Ralph would not countenance it!”
Sir Ralph. Now he knew who was in charge. This was almost too easy, Thomas decided. Sir Peregrine peeled like a grape, dispensing information almost without prodding, eager to show his superior knowledge. “Ah, yes,” he said, nodding, “you must mean Sir Ralph Harewood, our mutual friend at the Admiralty. You’re correct—he’s been doing a splendid job of managing your attempted treason thus far. My president is most impressed. Very well, Totton. I’ll suspend my suspicions for the moment. And now,” he said, stubbing out his cheroot in a marble dish that he sincerely hoped was dear to the heart of Sir Peregrine, I suggest you begin to bluster and steam at the ears as you show my assistant and me the door. We wouldn’t want Grouse to return to see us chatting like bosom chums, now would we? A too-congenial scene might raise suspicions.”
“What? We’re going to leave without the bread and cheese?” Dooley pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t seem fair somehow, boyo.”
”Little ever is in this life, Paddy,” Thomas told him as he waved his arm, inviting Dooley to precede him back through the maze of statues.
They had almost reached the double doors leading to the antechamber when the carved wooden panels were flung open unceremoniously and Miss Marguerite Balfour swept into the room like brilliant sunshine appearing after a summer storm. “Perry, where are you hiding in this mass of marble? You simply must come with me at once! I know we promised to meet tonight at Lady Sefton’s, but I have just this afternoon discovered