A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,63
journey in Washington rather than in the hands of His Majesty’s loyal troops. It’s an ingenious plan, actually, and I compliment you, Sir Ralph. England will be paying for arms it doesn’t get and America will be receiving both. I commend you.”
“I am neither interested in nor needful of your compliments, Donovan,” Sir Ralph shot back, refusing to take up the empty chair beside Stinky’s, the lopsided one that had been set aside for the American. “I should be able to arrange the full fitting out of three top-of-the-line supply ships by the end of the month. They will carry foodstuffs, blankets, medicines, and other supplies necessary to our troops. The captains, three of our best, will be told they are under orders to sail for the West Indies on a highly secret mission of the gravest importance, where they will then report to an official of the company whose name you have just given us. It will be up to your agents to commandeer the ships and crews for your own use once they’ve arrived. As far as my government will be concerned, the ships will have been lost in storms as they made for the Peninsula.”
“I don’t care if your government thinks the ships were chewed up by hulking great sea monsters on their way to China, Sir Ralph,” Donovan said cheerily, rising and motioning for Dooley to gather up his hat and greatcoat. “I think you’re wasting my time. Three fully loaded ships is less than a quarter of the number you originally promised.”
“True, Mr. Donovan,” Sir Ralph answered, slipping into the chair the American had just vacated. He felt better now, more in control. “However, it’s also three ships more than you will receive, unless I have something more concrete than your assurances your president will not simply take what we are offering and declare war anyway. It’s imperative your government merely show its teeth, and not bite. We want you to have enough well-equipped ships to harass ours and make us look foolish, while at the same time our soldiers lose battles on the Peninsula because they are badly supplied. When England is forced to sue for peace with France, we need to know we will not be threatened by you colonials as we go about the business of removing the imbecilic Farmer George from the throne and his parasitical, spendthrift sons from the succession. It is imperative England be rescued from its warlike folly before she destroys herself. We want, need, nothing more than we do peace with the rest of the world. If we are all equally strong, no one will seek war, and England and your so-called United States will be free to trade with each other once more.”
“Fancy that, Tommie!” Dooley exclaimed, helping Donovan into his greatcoat. “It’s just like you said it would be. Well, almost, except for that last bit. Shame on me, for doubting you. Oh—sorry about interrupting you, your lordship. Go on. I’m listening.”
“I think not. You’ve said too much already, Ralph,” Sir Peregrine said forcefully. “As I already warned you, this man has ambitions of his own, and I think he acts more from personal greed than patriotism. He’s Irish first, remember, and we all know they’re not the sort to be trusted.”
Lord Chorley, who had been busying himself throwing a pair of dice, one hand against the other, tugged on Sir Peregrine’s sleeve. “Don’t go casting aspersions on the fellow’s ancestors, Perry. It’s not nice. What do we care what the American wants? I just want my debts gone.”
“I think my sweet Georgie would like some of Prinny’s jewels,” Lord Mappleton said consideringly, stuffing a handful of grapes into his mouth. “And maybe that monstrosity he’s building in Brighton. We could use it as our summer home.”
“You’re paper-witted, shortsighted buffoons, the pair of you,” Sir Peregrine stated firmly. “Debts! Jewels! You have absolutely no understanding of the benefits to be accrued from the power we shall wield, the monies we could direct toward studies of the sciences and literature and art.”
Sir Ralph looked to each man in turn. The meeting was getting out of hand. His cohorts were wallowing in their own blockheadedness and greed and the American was preparing to leave, just as if he had been the one to call for the gathering in the first place and had now motioned for adjournment. He slapped his palms against the bare wood of the table, to bring everyone back to attention. “I will not