A Thoroughly Compromised Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

now.’
    Ah, it was to be a pre-emptive action then. He was good at that. Jack took the liberty of pouring himself a brandy at the sideboard. He took a seat and expertly flipped up the tails of his evening wear, sliding a careful glance at Gladstone. He had personal reasons for not liking the man. Gladstone made no secret of his contempt for Jack’s inferior birth and first-generation title. But professionally, the man possessed an astonishing acumen for foreign intelligence.
    â€˜Tell Wainsbridge what you’ve told me,’ William said.
    Gladstone cleared his throat. ‘Venezuela is con testing its shared borders with British Guiana. They wish to extend their boundaries. It goes without saying that we are not interested in giving up our claims to that territory.’ Gladstone stood up and walked to a long table, gesturing for Jack to follow.
    With a long finger, Gladstone traced the boundaries on a map spread before them. ‘The border in question is south-east of the Essequibo River.’
    Jack nodded. He was one of the few who under stood the magnitude of rivers in British Guiana. The marshy topography of British Guiana made coastal rivers the only thorough fares into the interior. ‘This is no small contention. We’re dealing with approximately thirty-thousand square miles of property.’ In a land of marshes and rivers, such territory was worth squabbling over.
    Jack looked up from the map, back to where William sat. This information was not new to him. Indeed, it had been at the root of his presence at the Fotheringay ball. What he didn’t know were the motives behind it. ‘Do we have any speculations as to why Venezuela is suddenly interested in this section of territory?’
    For centuries, ever since Britain had first staked a claim to Guiana in the sixteen hundreds, Spain had not done more than establish a handful of missions along the border. The border had been undefined and peaceful. Of course, it was an in de pen dent Venezuela now, not Spain that shared the border. Perhaps after a little over ten years of independence, Venezuela was flexing its muscle in the region.
    â€˜That’s where you come in, Wainsbridge.’ William leaned back in his chair, hands steepled.
    â€˜Of course, anything, your Majesty. I am always at your service,’ Jack said easily, hiding his apprehension. He’d had to train himself over the last few years to stay alert in William’s presence. The man acted more like a retired naval officer—which he was—than royalty—which had been a far-fetched possibility once. It was easy to forget that the tall, white-haired man with a soft chin and friendly eyes commanded a nation. Being with the man felt almost ordinary, like being with a beloved uncle until one remembered that, unlike the uncle who could be refused, one could not refuse the king.
    â€˜As you know, you’ve been asked to determine how real rumours of this border dispute are. I am interested in hearing how your evening went with the Venezuelan delegation.’
    â€˜I met them, but just barely.’ Jack eyed Gladstonesuspiciously. None of this was urgent or beyond what he already knew. Why the emergency summons?
    Gladstone flicked a glance at William. ‘There’s been a further development. One of the gentlemen in the delegation is heavily influenced by a private and powerful consortium of Venezuelan businessmen who are eager to profit from the boundary dispute. We want to identify him as quickly as possible. It is believed the gentleman, whoever he is, may be in possession of a forged map that shows Venezuela’s “preferred” boundaries. He may try to pass it off as a legitimate document and use it as evidence to force a new treaty of limits.’
    Jack immediately thought of Calisto Ortiz, his smooth manners and his ‘ombudsman’ attachment to the delegation—official but unofficial. Jack returned to his chair and sat