Carola Dunn Read Online Free PDF Page B

living happily ever after with her soldier husband.” She sighed.
    “We don’t know which lord, not even his rank,” Frank explained. “So he’d be of no use for obtaining a position with Rothschild.”
    “He’s of no use for anything practical,” said Fanny caustically. “I cannot imagine why I brought him into the conversation.”
    “So you are the granddaughter of a peer! You’re right, I fear, the relationship alters nothing since the family doesn’t acknowledge it.”
    She tried to turn it into a whimsical joke. “We can’t even boast of him, alas, since we don’t know his name or rank.”
    “A pity!” he said with smile. “I’m glad you are too sensible to repine, Miss Ingram.”
    Though grateful for his sympathy, Fanny had had enough of the subject. “Frank, pray pour some more beer for Mr Solomon. Lord Roworth, you have been so busy spoiling Anita, you haven’t eaten a bite.”
    “I had a late breakfast, and a hearty one.”
    Fanny gave him a mocking look. She was very well aware of where and why he had breakfasted late.
    Frank pushed back his chair and stood up. “I have to get back to Braine-le-Comte,” he said. “Slender Billy wants to march us around a bit this afternoon.”
    “I met the prince at Headquarters this morning,” said Felix, as Anita slipped down from his knee, her mouth all stained with strawberry juice, and ran to hug Tío Frank. “He’s an engaging young man, full of fire and enthusiasm.”
    “I’ve heard Old Hookey was terrified, while Slender Billy was in charge alone here, that he’d start the war without waiting for his allies. It’s to be hoped his enthusiasm don’t rush us into calamity,” said Frank dryly, swinging the little girl up for a kiss.
    The silence that followed this reminder of the perils of war was broken by Anita’s piping voice. “Where’s Clamity? Don’t you want to go there, Tío?”
    Frank laughed, his face suddenly younger. “No, sweetheart, I most certainly don’t. I must be off; duty calls. You be a good girl and mind your Tía while I’m gone.”
    “I awways do,” said Anita with dignity.
    Fanny had errands to run, and Solomon begged the privilege of accompanying her. He was a bank courier and a Jew, but he reminded her strongly of the young officers she knew so well, and she was perfectly at ease with him. She found his evident admiration mildly flattering. Not for the world would she let him see that it also amused her.
    “I shall be glad of your company,” she assured him cordially.
    They took Anita, so Felix was left in peace to finish his report. He ended with a verbatim account of a conversation in the park between Wellington and Mr Creevey, which that inveterate gossip had repeated to all and sundry.
    “Now then, will you let me ask you, Duke, what you think you will make of it?”
    “By God! I think Blücher and myself can do the thing.”
    “Do you calculate upon any desertion in Bonaparte’s army?” Mr Creevey had persisted.
    “Not upon a man,” the Duke assured him, “from the colonel to the private, inclusive. We may pick up a marshal or two, perhaps, but not worth a damn.”
    “Do you reckon upon any support from the French king’s troops?”
    “Oh! don’t mention such fellows!” Wellington’s braying laugh rang out. “No, I think Blücher and I can do the business.” He pointed at a British infantryman, a private, strolling by in his scarlet tunic with a girl on his arm. “There, it all depends upon that article whether we do the business or not. Give me enough of it and I am sure.”
    That ought to please Nathan Rothschild, who supplied the gold to pay “that article,” and whose family had loaned Louis XVIII hundreds of thousands of pounds, the fate of which hung in the balance.
    Felix blotted, folded, and sealed his missive. Impatient now to call upon Lady Sophia, he waited for the others to return, then sent Moses Solomon on his way.
    “But he only just arrived!” Fanny