No, Godschale was a lot of things but he would have no stomach for a plan which might cast him down from his throne. If he had a weakness it was conceit, an actual belief in his own shrewdness. He had probably been used by Catherine's husband, convinced, as Belinda had been, that it was the only solution.
Bolitho gritted his teeth. He had no idea where Viscount Somervell was now, although he had heard rumours that he was on another mission for His Majesty in North America. He tried not to think about it, knowing that if ever they came face-to-face again he would call him out. Somervell was a duellist of repute, but usually with a pistol. Bolitho touched the old sword at his side. Perhaps someone else would cheat him of the chance.
Godschale handed him a glass and raised his eyebrows, 'Remembering, eh?' He sipped at his madeira. 'To great days, Sir Richard! ' He eyed him curiously. 'To happier ones also.'
Bolitho sat down, his sword resting across one leg. 'The French squadrons which slipped through the blockade-you recall, m'lord? Before I sailed for Good Hope. Were they taken?'
Godschale smiled grimly He saw the sudden interest, the keenness in Bolitho's eyes, and felt in safer waters. He was well aware that Viscount Somervell's wife was here in London, flaunting her relationship as if to provoke more hostility and rouse criticism. With Nelson it had been embarrassing enough; at least that affair had been allowed to rest. Nobody seemed to know where Emma Hamilton was now, or what had happened since his death at Trafalgar.
Godschale did not care much for Somervell's character and reputation. But he still had friends, some very powerful, at Court, and had been rescued from scandal and far worse by no less than His Majesty himself. But even the King, or more likely his close advisers, had conveniently removed Somervell from London's melting-pot until the problem of Bolitho's involvement was solved, or destroyed.
The admiral was sensible enough to accept that no matter how he felt about it, Bolitho was probably as popular in the country as Nelson had once been. His courage was beyond doubt, and in spite of some unorthodox methods and tactics, he did win battles.
In peacetime his affair with Lady Somervell would not be tolerated for an instant: they would both be shunned and barred from society, while Bolitho's own career would fly to the winds.
But it was not peacetime; and Godschale knew the value of leaders who won, and the inspiration they offered their men and the nation.
He said, 'The larger of the two enemy squadrons was under the flag of our old opponent ViceAdmiral Leissegues. He managed to slip through all our patrols-nevertheless Sir John Duckworth, who was cruising off Cadiz, gained some intelligence that a French squadron was at St Domingo. Duckworth had already been chasing
Leissegues, but had been about to give up when he had the news. He eventually ran them to ground, and even though the French cut their cables when Duckworth's squadron was sighted, he brought them to close-action. All the enemy were taken, but the hundred and twenty gun Imperial went aground and was burned. She would have made a formidable addition to our fleet.' He sighed grandly. 'But one cannot do everything! '
Bolitho hid a smile. It sounded as if the admiral had won the victory from this very room.
Godschale was saying, 'The other French force was brought to battle and lost several ships singly before fleeing back to harbour.'
Bolitho put down his glass and stared at it bitterly. 'How I envy Duckworth. A decisive action, well thought out and executed. Napoleon must be feeling savage about it.'
'Your work at Cape Town was no less important, Sir Richard.' Godschale refilled the glasses to give himself time to think. 'Valuable ships were released for the fleet by your prompt intervention. It was why I proposed you for the task.' He gave a sly wink. 'Although I know you suspected my motives at the time, what?'
Bolitho shrugged. 'A post-captain could have done it.'
Godschale wagged an admonitory finger. 'Quite the reverse. They needed inspiration by example. Believe me, I know! ' He decided to change the subject. 'I have further news for you.' He walked to his table and Bolitho noticed for the first time that he was limping. A problem he shared with Lord St Vincent, he thought. Gout-too much port and rich living.
Godschale picked up some papers. 'I told you about your new flagship, the Black Prince. A fine vessel to the highest requirements, I understand.'
Bolitho was glad he was looking at his papers and did not see his own rebellious smile. I understand. How like Captain Poland. Just to be on the safe side, in case something was proved to be amiss.
Godschale looked up. ' Chosen your flag captain yet, or need I ask?'
Bolitho replied, 'Under different circumstances I would have picked Valentine Keen without hesitation. In view of his coming marriage, and the fact that he has been continuously employed under demanding circumstances, I am loath to ask this of him.'
Godschale said, 'My subordinate did receive a letter from your last captain, offering his services. I thought it odd. I might have expected him to approach you first.' His eyebrows lifted again. 'A good man, is he not?'
'A fine captain, and a firm friend.' It was hard to think clearly with Godschale talking about the new ship. What had happened to Keen? It made no sense.
Godschale was saying, 'Of course, in these hard times, the lieutenants may be quite junior, and the more seasoned professionals that much older. But then none of us loses any years, what?' He frowned suddenly. 'So I would appreciate a quick decision. There are many captains who would give their lives for the chance to sail
Black Prince with your flag at the fore.'
'It would be a great favour to me, m'lord, if you would allow me the time to enquire into this matter.' It sounded as if he were pleading. He intended it to.
Godschale beamed. 'Of course. What are friends for, eh?'
Bolitho saw his quick glance at the ornate clock on the wall, an elaborate affair with gilded cherubs supporting it, their cheeks puffed out to represent the four winds.
He said, 'I shall be in London for the present, m'lord, at the address I have given to your secretary.'
Godschale's humour seemed to have faded; his smile was fixed to his mouth. 'Er, yes, quite so. Lord Browne's town house. Used to be your flag lieutenant before he quit the navy?'
'Yes. A good friend.'
'Hmm, you don't seem to be lacking in those! '
Bolitho waited. Godschale was picturing it all in his mind. Himself and Catherine together, caring nothing for what people thought. He stood up and readjusted the sword at his hip.
Godschale said heavily, 'I don't wish to fan old flames, but is there any chance of your returning… er… Dammit, man, you know what I mean! '
Bolitho shook his head. 'None, my lord. It is better you know now-I am aware that your lady is a friend of my wife. It would be wrong to promote feelings which are not to be returned.'
Godschale stared at him as if trying to think of some crushing retort. When it failed him he said, 'We shall meet again soon. When that happens I hope I will have fresh information for you. But until that moment, let me remind you of something. A French ball can maim or kill a man, but ashore, his person can be equally hurt, his reputation punctured in a hundred ways! '
Bolitho walked to the door. 'I still believe the former to be the more dangerous, m'lord.'
As the door closed Admiral the Lord Godschale smashed one fist down on his papers. 'God damn his insolence! '
Another door opened cautiously and the admiral's secretary peered around it.
'My lord?'
Godschale glared. 'Not a damn thing! '
The man winced. 'Your next appointment will be here very shortly, m'lord.'
Godschale sat down carefully and poured himself another glass of madeira. 'I shall receive him in half an hour.'
The secretary persisted, 'But there is no one else, m'lord, not until…'
The admiral exclaimed harshly, 'Does nobody in the Admiralty listen to what I say? I know all about it! But with luck, Sir Richard Bolitho will renew his acquaintance with Rear Admiral Herrick in the waiting-room. I wish to give them the opportunity to share old times. Do you see?'
The secretary did not see but knew better than to wait for another tirade.
Godschale sighed at the empty room. 'One cannot do everything! '
