Godschale did not answer directly. 'Admiral Gambier is even now assembling a fleet and all the transports we will need to carry an army across to Denmark.'
'Invade? The Danes will never be willing to capitulate. I think we should wait-'
'Do you indeed?' Godschale studied him hotly. 'D'you believe Denmark 's sensibilities are more important than England 's survival? For that is what we are talking about, dammit! ' He almost snatched a glass from a servant and drained it in two gulps.
The orchestra had struck up a lively gigue but many of the guests seemed unwilling to leave the great terrace, and Godschale guessed why.
At the Admiralty this morning he had told Bolitho of this reception, how it would prove an ideal setting where deeper matters of state might be discussed without arousing attention. Bolitho had replied calmly enough but left no doubt as to his conditions.
He had said, 'There will be many ladies there, my lord. You will have not had time to arrange an 'official' invitation for me as I am ordered here.'
Godschale spoke aloud without realising it. 'He simply stood there and told me he would not come here unless he could bring that woman! '
Inskip let out a deep breath of relief. He had imagined that Bolitho might have brought even worse news with him.
'Are you surprised?' Inskip smiled at Godschale's discomfort; Godschale, whom he had heard had a mistress or two in London. 'I have seen what Lady Somervell has done for Bolitho. I hear it in his voice, in the fire of the man.'
Godschale saw his secretary making signals from beside a tall pillar and exclaimed, 'The Prime Minister! '
The Duke of Portland shook their hands and glanced around at the watching eyes. 'Handsome levee, Godschale. All this talk of gloom-rubbish, is what I say! '
Inskip thought of Bolitho's men, the ordinary sailors he had seen and heard cheering and dying in the blaze of battle. They hardly compared with these people, he thought. His men were real.
The Prime Minister beckoned to a severe-looking man dressed in pearl-grey silk.
'Sir Paul Sillitoe.' The man gave a brief smile. 'My trusted adviser in this unforeseen crisis.'
Inskip protested, 'Hardly unforeseen-'
Godschale interrupted. 'I have had the matter under constant surveillance. There is a new squadron in the North Sea with the sole duty of watching out for some move by the French, any show of force towards Scandinavia.'
Sillitoe's eyes gleamed. 'Sir Richard Bolitho, yes? I am all eagerness to meet him.'
The Prime Minister dabbed his mouth. 'Not I, sir! '
Sillitoe regarded him impassively; he had hooded eyes, and his features remained expressionless.
'Then I fear your stay in high office will be as short as Lord Grenville's.' He watched his superior's fury without emotion. 'The French Admiral Villeneuve said after he was captured that at Trafalgar every English captain was a Nelson.' He shrugged. 'I am no sailor, but I know how they are forced to live, in conditions no better than a jail, and I am quite certain that they were inspired more by Nelson-enough to perform miracles.' He looked at them almost indifferently. 'Bolitho may not be another Nelson, but he is the best we have.' He turned as a ripple of excitement ran through the guests. 'Forget that at your peril, my friends.'
Godschale followed his glance and saw Bolitho's familiar fig-ure, the black hair marked now by grey streaks in the lock above that savage scar. Then, as he turned to offer her his arm, Godschale saw Lady Catherine Somervell beside him. The mourning was gone, and the hair which was piled above her ears shone in the sunshine like glass. Her gown was dark green, but the silk seemed to change colour and depth as she turned and took his arm, a fan hanging loosely from her wrist.
She looked neither right nor left, but as her glance fell on Godschale he swore he could feel the force of her compelling eyes, and a defiance which seemed to silence even the whispers which surrounded her and the tall seaofficer by her side.
Godschale took her proffered hand and bowed over it. 'Why, m'lady, indeed a surprise! '
She glanced at the Prime Minister and made a slight curtsy. 'Are we to be introduced?'
He began to turn away but Bolitho said quietly, 'The Duke of Portland, Catherine.' He gave a small bow. 'We are honoured.' His grey eyes were cold, and said the opposite.
Sir Paul Sillitoe stepped forward and introduced himself in the same flat voice. Then he took her hand and held it for several seconds, his gaze locked against hers. 'They say you inspire him, m'lady.' He touched her glove with his lips. 'But I believe you inspire England, through your love of him.'
She withdrew her hand and watched him, her lips slightly curved, a pulse flickering at her throat in the strong light. But when she had searched his face and found no sarcasm, she answered, 'You do me a great kindness, sir.'
Sillitoe seemed able to ignore all those around them, even Bolitho, as he murmured, 'The clouds are darkening again, Lady Catherine, and I fear that Sir Richard will be required perhaps more than ever before.'
She said quietly, 'Must it always be him?' She felt Bolitho's warning hand on her arm but gripped it with her own. 'I have heard of Collingwood and Duncan.' Her voice shook slightly. 'There must be others.'
Godschale was poised to interrupt, his carefully prepared words flying to the wind at her sudden, unexpected insistence. But Sillitoe said, almost gently, 'Fine leaders-they have the confidence of the whole fleet.' Then, although he glanced at Bolitho, his voice was still directed to her. 'But Sir Richard Bolitho holds their hearts.'
Godschale cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken and especially because of the watching faces around the terrace. Even the orchestra had fallen silent.
He said too heartily, 'A sailor's lot, Lady Catherine-it demands much of us all.'
She looked at him, in time to see his eyes lift quickly from her bosom. 'Some more than others, it would appear.'
Godschale beckoned to a footman to cover his embarrassment. 'Tell the orchestra to strike up, man! ' He gave a fierce grin at the Prime Minister. 'Are you ready, Your Grace?'
Portland glared at Sillitoe. 'You attend to it. I have no stomach for this kind of diplomacy! I will discuss the situation tomorrow, Godschale. There is much I have to do.'
Again he turned to leave but Bolitho said, 'Then I may not see you again before I sail?' He waited for Portland 's attention. 'There are some ideas I would like to offer-'
The Prime Minister eyed him suspiciously, as if seeking a double meaning. 'Perhaps another time.' He turned to Catherine. 'I bid you good evening.'
As Godschale hurried after his departing guest Bolitho said in a savage whisper, 'I should never have brought you, Kate! They sicken me with their hypocrisy and over-confidence! ' Then he said with concern, 'What is wrong- have I done something?'
She smiled and touched his face. 'One day you are across the sea, and now you are here.' She saw his anxiety and tried to soothe it. 'It is far more important than their false words and posturing. When we drove here today did you not see the people turn and stare-how they cheered when they saw us together? Always remember, Richard, they trust you. They know you will not abandon them without lifting a hand to help.' She thought of the impassive Sillitoe, a strange creature who could be friend or enemy, but who had spoken like a truthful man. 'You hold their hearts, he said.'
There was a small stone-flagged passageway which led out on to a quiet garden, with a solitary fountain in its centre. It was deserted; the music, the dancing and the wine were on the far side of the house.
Bolitho took her arm and guided her around some bushes, then held her closely against him.
'I must speak with them, Kate.' He saw her nod, her eyes very bright. 'And then we shall leave.'
'And then?'
He lowered his head and kissed her shoulder until she stiffed in his arms, and he felt her heart beating to match his own.
'To the house on the river. Our refuge.'
She whispered, 'I want you. I need you.'
When Sir Paul Sillitoe and Inskip returned to the terrace with Godschale they found Bolitho watching a small barge as it was manoeuvred downriver past the Isle of Dogs.
Godschale said brightly, 'You are alone?'
