A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,64

act—not on three ships, not on the agreed-upon fifteen—nor will I allow Arthur or Perry to act, until I have written assurance from President Madison that he will not declare war on us, now or once the king is removed and we reestablish open trade between our two countries. Without that letter to protect us, we cannot and will not proceed with any part of the agreement. If we are to go down, Mr. Donovan, we go down together, we and your president.”

Donovan’s smile was maddening, infuriating, unsettling. “And now, Sir Ralph, I believe we have a problem. I have the paper you requested in my possession—but I have orders not to turn it over to you until the full shipments of arms and money are on their way to the West Indies.” He spread his hands wide, palms up. “What to do, Sir Ralph, what to do? Paddy—the time, if you please.”

“Almost nine, Tommie,” Dooley responded, slapping his own hat on his head. “Time we were heading back. I have to get up and seek out a Mass tomorrow morning, don’t you know. We aren’t all heathens like you, sleeping till noon on the Lord’s day.”

“You heard my friend, gentlemen,” Donovan said, holding on to the door latch as he turned to face the room. “I can’t keep a man from his religion, now can I? Sir Ralph? I do hope you can work things out among you. As you said, we are all peace-loving people. You don’t want war. We don’t want war—having beaten you so soundly already. We both, I believe, also admire money and power very much. So much alike, we patriots. Do let me know what you decide.”

A moment later, Donovan and Dooley were gone and the room was deathly quiet.

But not for long.

“You said too much, Ralph,” Sir Peregrine began.

“You’re too suspicious,” Lord Chorley interrupted. “He seems pleasant enough—”

“What? What? Can we go now? Georgie, dear girl. Promised to wait for me. I have to strike while the iron is hot, if you take my meaning, before some fortune-hunting snip cuts me out.”

“Oh, go on, the lot of you!” Sir Ralph exploded, waving his hands in dismissal. “We’ll meet again on Monday. Just get out of my sight. I have more important things to do than listen to a roomful of old women!”

They were gone within a minute, leaving Sir. Ralph alone in the dining room, his wine untouched, his supper still in the inn’s kitchens, uncalled for. He looked toward the curtain, waiting for the Earl of Laleham to show himself.

He appeared a moment later, dressed in his impeccable black, his head tied up with a black silk handkerchief, a square of white linen pressed to the corner of his mouth to catch the drool that persisted in slipping from between his lips.

“Well? Happy now, William? I told him everything you said for me to, and still he acts as if this is all some lark. I say we abandon the entire scheme. We could just as easily pocket the money and sell the goods and ships to the French.”

“Who would end by ruling England,” the earl whispered from between handkerchief compressed teeth. “The Americans consider themselves to be honorable. They’ll take what we offer and then believe themselves our allies once we come to power. It’s Donovan who’s out for himself, don’t you see that? He’s no fool, no matter how much he delights in playing the buffoon. He could be dangerous, unless—”

Sir Ralph sat forward, leaning his elbows, on the table. “Unless?”

“Offer him something.”

“What?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Ralph. Ask him. Must I do the thinking for all of us? As you and I both know—and as those doltish idiots Stinky and Perry and Arthur proved tonight—everyone wants something.”

Sir Ralph slid his hands beneath the table, where he could ball them into fists unobserved. He was becoming very weary of taking orders. “I told you, William. He wants Marguerite.”

The earl’s cheeks went very white against the black silk handkerchief. “Then it is up to you, Ralph, to convince him otherwise. If you fail, he’ll have to die, and he’s of no use to us dead. Follow after him tonight, Ralph. Learn all about him. See where he ‘frolics.’”

“And then?”

Sir Ralph looked away as William smiled, the constricting black silk turning that smile into an unappealing grimace. “And then you will report back to me, Ralph. I am in charge, you know, and not you. Don’t take your role too seriously, for