Why Kings Confess

Chapter 22

A sharp, bitter wind slapped into Sebastian’s face as he walked up St. James’s Street toward Piccadilly. Settling his hat more firmly on his head, he became aware of an elegant town carriage drawn by a beautifully matched team of dapple-grays slowing beside him. He heard the snap of the near window being let down, saw the crest of the House of Jarvis proudly emblazoned on the door panel.

He kept walking.

“I had a troubling conversation this morning with a certain overwrought and somewhat choleric Parisian,” said Charles, Lord Jarvis.

“Oh?” Sebastian turned onto Berkeley. The carriage rolled along beside him.

“You simply cannot leave well enough alone, can you?”

Sebastian gave a low, soft laugh. “No.”

His father-in-law was not amused. “With any other man, I might be tempted to hint at all sorts of dire consequences to life and limb-your life and limb. But in this case, I realize such tactics would be counterproductive. Shall I appeal instead to your better nature?”

Sebastian drew up and pivoted to face him. “My better nature? Do explain.”

The liveried coachman brought his horses to a standstill.

Jarvis chose his words carefully, obviously conscious of the listening servants. “I’ve no doubt that by now you know what’s at stake here. Given your oft-stated attitudes toward this war, I should think you would be anxious not to do anything that might interfere with a process that could save lives. Millions of lives.”

“Oh? And when have you ever cared about saving lives?”

Jarvis’s face lit up with what looked like a genuine smile. “Seldom. However, I am well aware of which arguments are most likely to appeal to you. And what is at stake here is real.”

Sebastian studied his father-in-law’s arrogant, self-satisfied face, the aquiline nose and brutally intelligent gray eyes that were so much like Hero’s. Sebastian knew of no one who was a more ardent supporter of the institution of hereditary monarchy than Jarvis. In Jarvis’s thinking, Napoleon Bonaparte was an upstart Corsican soldier of fortune whose ambition-fueled ascension to the throne of France threatened to undermine every foundation of civilization and the social order. All of which made it exceedingly difficult for Sebastian to believe that Jarvis would countenance any peace treaty that might result in Britain’s retirement from the field of battle, leaving Napoleon still enshrined as Emperor.

Sebastian said, “I fail to understand how my simple inquiries could possibly threaten even such a delicate process.”

“You don’t know everything.”

“Oh? So enlighten me.”

But Jarvis simply tightened his jaw and signaled his coachman to drive on, the horses’ hooves clattering over the paving stones, the body of the carriage swaying with well-sprung delicacy as the team picked up speed.