By the King's Design Read Online Free PDF

food into his mouth. “I hear the Americans have declared war on us. Lord, but those people cannot tolerate an ounce of authority. Why the complaint about impressments of their merchant sailors into our own navy? Half of them are British deserters anyway. Serves ’em right to be captured and put back where they belong.”
    â€œWell, I think the Americans are incensed because they believe we’re infringing on their national sovereignty. I suspect having British frigates stationed in their harbors to inspect every ship sailing in and out has made them a bit testy.”
    â€œI suppose. Clive says the Royal Navy is superior to the ragtag American fleet and that the Americans should realize their place on the waters.”
    â€œClive is indeed patriotic,” she said.
    â€œBut you agree with him, don’t you, Belle? He says a wife should support her husband in all things.” Wesley was eyeing her warily.
    Was this some kind of pre-marital test? In her daily busyness, she’d forgotten her recent vow to talk to Clive about her intention to continue with her business. And they were only a couple of weeks from their wedding without him ever having uttered a sound about her not doing so, making it easy to assume that all would be well and affable between them.
    Perhaps it was time she had that discussion with her betrothed. But she had to address her brother first.
    â€œI certainly agree that our navy boasts faster ships and better sailors. Clive and I share the same opinion on that and many other matters, and I’m sure he’ll have no cause to regret marrying me.”
    Wesley seemed satisfied enough with her answer, and signaled the innkeeper for another glass of port.
    As the liquid was poured from the ewer, Wesley wiped his knife on his napkin. The innkeeper offered to bring out apple puffs and some of his wife’s sweet orange wine, which Wesley accepted enthusiastically.
    The distraction was enough to move him on to other news.
    â€œSo not only are the Americans rebelling to our west, but the French popinjay has invaded Russia to our east. We can but hope that Tsar Alexander squashes that brute Napoleon once and for all.”
    â€œIs that what Clive says?” Belle asked.
    â€œYes. He said that—” Wesley stopped in midsentence. “Are you mocking me, Sister?”
    â€œIndeed not. I have the greatest respect for my intended’s opinion, and so wished to know what he thought on the matter.”
    â€œRight. Well, Clive says that the Russians will finally give Napoleon the drubbing he deserves. And it will serve our esteemed Lord Nelson’s memory, too.”
    Lord Nelson had been dead seven years now from his wounds suffered at the hands of the French during the Battle of Trafalgar. She and Wesley were young teenagers then, with barely an understanding of events outside Leeds, much less in the world at large.
    Clive’s influence over her brother was growing.
    Well, it was only right that her future husband and her brother be as close as brothers themselves, wasn’t it?
    A small dessert platter was set before them, and the innkeeper proffered the new variety of wine. Belle waved off the drink and took one of the miniature pastries. The interior filling was piping hot and sweet. Wesley took no notice of the apple puffs, but instead took to his glass with gusto.
    I hope he won’t be in his cups soon.
    Belle overheard a bit of conversation from a table nearby and introduced it into their own. “They say the Prince of Wales has instituted another rule in his war against his wife. While the Princess of Wales is at Windsor for the summer, she can only see their daughter once every two weeks.”
    The war between George and his wife, Caroline, was well-known throughout England.
    Wesley shook his head. “They’re like a pair of battling roosters who—”
    They were interrupted by a commotion in the outer taproom. Everyone in the