Chapter 3

*

*

*

Their plates, licked clean, had been pushed back on the table to make room for their feet as brother and sister lazed before the warm fire, replete for once. Spider’s eyelids kept drooping over his eyes, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

“I wonder what Lord Helford would say if he knew we’d dined on his generosity tonight?”

“Bah! He’s so rich he keeps fifty servants kicking their lazy heels, supposedly looking after an estate he never even visits. Lord Bloody Helford can rot as far as I’m concerned. I hope he has a miserable night, wherever he is,” she said, licking her fingers one last time.

************************

Lord Helford, as it turned out, was having anything but a miserable night. He had just dined sumptuously at Arlington House with the most important men of the realm. Baron Arlington, the secretary of state, employed the most superlative French chefs and was renowned as London’s host supreme. Tonight had been neither ball nor banquet, but simply a meeting where business was discussed, and yet the food had been as lavish as the entertainment had been daring.

Madame Bennet’s Naked Dancing Girls were served up as appetizer along with the smoked trout and the latest sensation from France called champagne. The men at table who had so wished had made their selections for postmidnight assignations, and then they dutifully attacked their food and the pressing business at hand.

King Charles II’s face had settled into moody lines of cynicism as he listened to the advice offered him.

The Duke of Buckingham weighed up the men in the room, trying to pinpoint each one’s vulnerability so he could use it to best advantage at some later date.

Sir Thomas Clifford, Lord Ashley, and the outspoken Scot, Lauderdale, seemed to be arguing, while Jack Grenvile, newly created Earl of Bath, and Lord Helford both looked on with tolerant amusement.

“Gentlemen, the Dutch fleet is trying to run England off the map and I’d like to know what we’re going to do about it,” said Charles bluntly. He smarted from the humiliation of the ships Holland had captured. The British navy was his pride and joy. He knew that the only way to make his nation a great one was by her sea trade. England must rule supreme over the seas of the world or she would be poor forever.

“At the risk of becoming a repetitive bore,” drawled Buckingham, “the only answer is war.”

Charles said, “Wars cost money, George. We’re not all as flush in the pocket as you.” George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, had one of the largest private fortunes in England.

Buckingham said blandly, “What about the dowry?”

Charles rolled his dark eyes. “The three hundred thousand pounds is not yet in my coffers and my spies tell me Portugal is now offering over half of it in sugar and spices instead of gold.”

“Sugar and spice and everything nice,” said Buckingham maliciously, “that’s what you get for trusting all to Clarendon.” Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon and Chancellor of England, was conspicuous by his absence. He was hated by all but the King.

“Portugal didn’t marry me,” said Charles, “it married English sea power. That’s why they gave us their prized colonies of Bombay and Tangier. The Dutch are now making a mockery of that sea power.”

Every man in the room had made a great deal of money over the last three years, recouping all their losses of the lean years they had spent in exile. But only a fool would have been unable to make a fortune in London with its relaxed policy of free enterprise. So now it was their responsibility to see that England prospered as she should.

“Everything always boils down to money whether you’re discussing a whore or a nation,” said Lauderdale bluntly.

Charles sighed. “I need more money for ships, more money for spies, more money for bribes.”

“We must continue to harry the Dutch fleet without actually declaring war on them,” said Arlington.

“Two years we’ve been coursing that hare and haven’t caught it yet,” said Charles cynically.

“Grant me letters-of-marque against the Dutch,” suggested Ruark Helford. He had been one of Prince Rupert’s Privateers preying on Parliament’s shipping while Cromwell ruled.

Jack Grenvile grinned. “Breathes there a Cornishman who isn’t a pirate at heart?”

Ruark quipped, “You should certainly know.”

Charles looked at Ruark. “You could be effective in Cornwall, Ruark. Smuggling is rampant. No wonder my tax coffers are bare. Every man and his mistress finds a way to get ’round paying excise tax. Everything imported here is supposed to be taxed whether it’s tobacco from America, wine from France, or Venetian glass. So what happens? Instead of sailing into London and paying the taxes, they slip it in the back door along the Cornish coast. I’ve decided to make you the magistrate and high commissioner of the whole region. Catch and punish the smugglers and we’ll see the tax money roll in.”

Helford raised his eyebrows slightly at Charles, who nodded imperceptibly in answer. Yes, there would be a great deal more involved than catching petty smugglers. A base in Cornwall was an excellent cover for international spying.

“’Od’s Fish, I don’t know why you bother us for advice when you seem to have all the answers,” drawled Buckingham.

Clifford quipped, “Well, so long as one of us uses his brains, that leaves the rest of us free to indulge our other organs.”

The meeting broke up at midnight and Lord Helford walked back to the palace with the King. They cut through the old Mulberry Gardens west of the palace.

“Never thought I’d live to see the night you went dutifully home to a wife,” said Ruark, laughing.

Charles gave him an amused look. “I’m not the only one present who needs an heir … you’re not that much younger than I.”

Helford sobered. “I could tolerate a wife if I didn’t have to see her outside the bedroom.”

“Tolerance with women isn’t your long suit, Ruark.”

The two men could have been brothers. Both had the animal strength of a six-foot physique, black hair, dark skin, and impeccable manners.

“This business of smuggling,” Charles said quietly. “The goods coming in aren’t nearly so damaging as the information that’s being smuggled out. Put a stop to leaking my navy’s secrets to the Dutch for me, Ru.”

“I’ll finish up my business in London and as soon as you sign my letters-of-marque I’ll be ready to leave.”

“Perhaps I should ask you to seek out your brother Rory and give him the letters-of-marque,” said Charles.

Ruark Helford stiffened. “Rory’s dead,” he said quietly.

“A convenient rumor the scoundrel circulates for some dark reason of his own, I have no doubt,” said Charles, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.

“Is that an order, Your Majesty?” he asked coldly.

Charles nodded his head. “I think his services will be invaluable to me.”

“Give my regards to the Queen, Your Majesty,” said Ruark Helford, bowing formally.

Charles hid a grin. He knew he had hit a sore spot mentioning the pirate Rory. “My regards to you mistress. I don’t envy you explaining why you must desert her for Cornwall.”

Ruark Helford’s brows drew together slightly. “I don’t explain myself to women, Sire.”

Charles laughed. “One day you’ll meet your match, Helford. ’Tis the fate of all libertines, my friend.”