by Deborah Hale
After their disastrous interview, he’d hardly slept a wink. Now fatigue propelled his thoughts along darker paths, spiraling downward. What if his abrupt, clumsy proposal made Hannah too uncomfortable to remain at Edgecombe? What if it made her decide to accept Lady Benedict’s invitation and leave his household altogether?
Much as he had come to care for his children, Gavin knew they needed Hannah far more than they needed him. He’d begun to believe that, with her support and guidance, he could become the kind of father Peter and the little ones needed. Without her, he had little confidence—only crippling doubts.
By the time his coach neared London, Gavin was convinced he’d failed his children, just as he had failed their grandfather and their mother. Perhaps this was Providence’s way of saying he ought to concentrate on making use of his natural gifts rather than trying so hard to do something at which he might never succeed.
“When we reach the city, take me to Berkeley Square,” he ordered his coachman during their final stop for fresh horses. “Number forty-three, the home of Lord Benedict.”
He wanted to let Sebastian know he had come to town to offer his assistance in keeping Bonaparte off British soil. He would support any effort to have the former emperor detained somewhere secure, until he no longer posed a threat to peace in Europe.
As it turned out, the viscount had not yet returned home when Gavin arrived, but Lady Benedict made him heartily welcome. “Have you a place to stay in London, Lord Hawkehurst?”
Gavin shook his head. “My family once had a townhouse, but it was so seldom used while I was away at war, I sold the leasehold. I mean to stay at the Cavalry Officers’ Club if your husband wishes to contact me.”
“That will not do at all,” the lady insisted in a decisive manner that reminded Gavin of her friend Hannah. “You must stay with us. That way I can make certain you rest and eat properly and do not fall ill again.”
When he tried to protest that he did not wish to inconvenience them, Lady Benedict refused to listen. “It is the least we can do after my husband summoned you to town when you are barely recovered from your wounds and still in mourning. Hannah would never forgive me if I let any harm come to you while you are here.”
“I suspect your friend would blame me more than you.” Gavin avoided Lady Benedict’s discerning gaze, fearful that she might glimpse more than he cared to reveal. “But if you are determined to have me as your guest, I must accept your kind hospitality with my thanks.”
“Excellent!” Her ladyship rang for a servant and ordered rooms made ready for Gavin, his coachman and footman. While she was at it, she ordered food and tea for him as well. “This will be a welcome opportunity to repay a little of the hospitality you showed Lord Benedict and me during our stay in Kent. Forgive me for saying so, but you look more tired and unwell now than you did then. I hope our visit did not overtax your strength.”
“No indeed,” Gavin assured her. “I felt quite well while you were at Edgecombe, but the long carriage ride from Kent has tired me more than I expected.”
“Men.” Lady Benedict gave an indulgent chuckle. “I have yet to meet one who did not underestimate any obstacles to his particular plans or exaggerate them for a task he was reluctant to undertake.”
Gavin could not deny her observation. Its critical edge was tempered with humor. “Is that fault entirely confined to men, do you suppose?”
Her chuckle blossomed into a peal of hearty laughter. “I believe you have me there, sir.”
“What is all this frivolity?” Lord Benedict demanded in a tone of mock severity as he strode into the room. “There are momentous events afoot these days, you know.”
When Gavin tried to rise to greet him, Sebastian waved for him to remain seated as he extended his hand.
“All the more reason we need a little laughter to lighten the gravity,” Lady Benedict observed with a fond smile at her husband.
The way they looked at one another, Gavin suspected his host and hostess would have exchanged a kiss if he had not been present. Once again he felt a pang, not of envy but of longing for a happy marriage like theirs, where each loved the other equally. Had he underestimated the obstacles to a union with Hannah Fletcher or had she exaggerated them?
“How did your discussions go today?” Lady Benedict asked her husband. “Has General Bonaparte’s future been settled yet?”
Sebastian sank onto the sofa beside her with a frustrated sigh. “There are some who recall the civilities he showed them years ago in Paris. They claim the government has no right to imprison any man without a trial, particularly if he did not intend to surrender to Captain Maitland, as he now claims.”
“There can be no question the man has a dangerous degree of charm,” said Gavin, “if it continues to work for him after all these years.”
Sebastian nodded grimly. “That is the other problem. If he is packed off to the South Atlantic, who can be trusted to oversee his exile while remaining impervious to that charm? I fear Bonaparte will turn the full power of it upon his custodian until the poor fellow lets his guard down at an inopportune moment.”
Gavin wished Hannah could understand the perilous nature of the situation as the viscount clearly did. Then perhaps she would not imagine he was using it as an excuse to abandon his children.
“That is why I am so delighted to have your support,” Sebastian continued. “The men who argue for Bonaparte’s rights have never seen the carnage he wrought. Perhaps you can make them understand the danger he could still pose.”
“I shall endeavor to assist you in any way I can,” Gavin replied, though he could not dispel a host of doubts about his ability. He had no great powers of persuasion he could call on. As an officer and a peer of the realm, he was accustomed to giving orders, not arguing or cajoling.
At that moment, servants appeared bearing refreshments.
“I told Lord Hawkehurst he must stay with us,” Lady Benedict informed her husband as she poured tea for the gentlemen. “He has been most obliging to accept my invitation.”
“Well done, my dear.” Sebastian exchanged a doting smile with her as he took the cup she offered him. “Already you are proving invaluable to me in my work.”
Gavin and Sebastian discussed their strategy further until Lady Benedict insisted their guest must retire to rest from his journey. Gavin was grateful to get to bed for he felt weary after the long drive. Perhaps Hannah had not been foolish to fret about his health after all.
Thoughts of her hovered in his mind as he drifted toward sleep. Was there any way in the world he might persuade her to remain at Edgecombe now that he had put her on her guard with his ill-considered proposal? He feared she would never be willing to remain there while he was in residence. What option did that leave him?
The next day Gavin and Sebastian ventured forth to Whitehall to speak with anyone in the cabinet who might give them a hearing.
“Does it matter what the Whigs have to say about the disposition of Bonaparte?” Gavin knew his father would have gloried in this sort of political activity. He felt out of his depth and rather sullied by the whole process. “The Tories are the party in power.”
“True.” Sebastian shrugged. “But several of the cabinet ministers are married into Whig families—the Lennoxes, the Burkes, the Leveson-Gowers. Who knows what they may be hearing on the subject around their dinner tables?”
“Lord Bathurst is my best ally,” he continued. “We worked together to support Wellington during the Peninsular War. As Secretary for War and the Colonies he will have more influence in this matter than anyone but the Foreign Secretary, who has gone to France.”
With some difficulty, they secured an audience with Lord Bathurst, who looked rather harried. “Lord Hawkehurst, an honor. I was well acquainted with your late father.”
“I hope you will not hold that against me.” The words burst from Gavin’s mouth before he could prevent them.
Fortunately the other two gentleman laughed in a way that sug
gested they had not enjoyed the most congenial relationships with their fathers either.
“There are some who favor imprisoning Bonaparte in Dumbarton Castle,” Lord Bathurst explained, “like General Simon, who also broke his parole.”
Sebastian shook his head. “That would play into the hands of those who wish to see him stand trial.”
The Colonial Secretary did not argue the point. “Others propose Fort Valetta on the island of Malta.”
“Too near France,” Sebastian objected. “Having Bonaparte there would invite no end of schemes to liberate him.”
“What about Saint Helena?” asked Gavin. “I have heard it mentioned as a possible place of confinement, and I believe a better situation could not be found. It is remote, easy to defend and difficult to escape.”
“True enough,” Lord Bathurst acknowledged. “But there is one difficulty and it is not inconsiderable.”
“What?” Gavin and Sebastian demanded in chorus.
“As a port of supply for Orient-bound ships, Saint Helena is under direct control of the East India Company, which has always been most jealous of its prerogatives.”
Though inexperienced in politics, Gavin knew Lord Bathurst spoke the truth. As the uncrowned, unelected ruler of much of the Orient, with revenues that would have ransomed a hundred kings, the East India Company answered to almost no one. What other commercial enterprise held a seat in the British Cabinet?
“In that case,” he declared, “we must appeal directly to the president of the Board of Control.”
“Be my guest.” The Colonial Secretary did not look as if he fancied their chances of getting anywhere. “Perhaps Lord Buckinghamshire will pay more heed to you than he has to me.”
Gavin and Sebastian had even more difficulty getting in to see that gentleman than they had with Lord Bathurst. But at last he consented to give them a brief audience.
“Gentlemen.” Lord Buckinghamshire looked them over with the air of a man who had better things to do with his time. “How may I assist you?”
Since he seemed in a hurry, Gavin did not beat about the bush. “You may oblige Britain and all of Europe by giving over control of Saint Helena to His Majesty’s government as a place of exile for Napoleon Bonaparte.”
“Not that again.” His lordship’s expression hardened. “It is quite out of the question. The island is a vital port of resupply on the route to the Indies. Need I remind you of the fortune brought into this country by the East India trade? Where do you suppose the money came from to finance the war against Bonaparte in the first place? There are other locations he might be kept that will not inconvenience the company.”
“None as remote and secure.” Gavin could feel his temper rising. He was so far out of his element, cooling his heels outside stuffy offices in Whitehall and trying to talk sense to men who cared more about safeguarding their privileges than about peace. “Surely the company can abide a little inconvenience to prevent another war.”
“There is always a war going on somewhere.” His lordship picked up a document from his writing table and began to read it—no doubt a signal that he considered their interview over. “Commerce continues and even thrives on conflict. I advocate letting Bonaparte go to America, where he can pay his own expenses rather than living off British hospitality. Now if you will excuse me, I have urgent business to which I must attend.”
The curt dismissal lit a fuse to Gavin’s temper. He leaped from his chair, strode to the table and snatched the paper out of his lordship’s hand. “What could possibly be more urgent than preventing another Waterloo? Have you no heart, sir, or no conscience?”
Lord Buckinghamshire shrank from Gavin and called for a guard, but Sebastian dragged him away before anyone came.
“At least you managed to get the man’s attention,” the viscount muttered in a rueful tone after Gavin had calmed down and tried to apologize for his behavior. “It is my fault. I should never have summoned you to town while you are still recovering your health and the battle is still so fresh in your mind. There is a reason good soldiers seldom make good politicians.”
Gavin could imagine his father pointing out all the things he’d done wrong. What had made him think he could do anything but a great deal of damage by interfering in an area about which he knew so little?
“Perhaps it would be better if you return to Edgecombe and complete your recovery,” Sebastian concluded. “Your children need you far more than I do.”
Did they? Gavin wondered as he prepared to leave the Benedicts’. He was not naturally disposed to fatherhood any more than he was to diplomacy. Sooner or later he was bound to make mistakes for which they would pay the price. Perhaps he had already with his ill-considered proposal to Hannah Fletcher. The children might fare better without him, just as Sebastian would.
Deeply entrenched beliefs argued in favor of that, but a soft voice of newborn confidence insisted otherwise. It reminded him that the children might blame themselves if he left. It reassured him that choices and effort mattered more than natural ability. Surely the things he cared most about deserved his best effort—not once, but repeatedly until he got them right.
With that in mind he set off to the home of Lord Buckinghamshire. The gentleman had not yet returned for dinner, but his wife expected him at any moment and invited Gavin to wait.
“What in blazes are you doing here?” his lordship demanded when he caught sight of Gavin in his sitting room.
“Oh, don’t fuss, Robert.” The countess gently chided her husband in a way that reminded Gavin of Hannah, as so many things did. “The young man only came to beg your pardon, and I believe you ought to hear him out. Goodness knows you have made more than one unfortunate remark in the heat of the moment.”
Right before Gavin’s eyes, the formidable politician transformed into a biddable husband. “Just as you say, my dear. Go on then, Hawkehurst, what do you have to say for yourself?”
What did he have to say that would not make a bad situation worse? Gavin wondered. Attacking his lordship and questioning his motives had done no good. It was no use trying to be subtle and diplomatic, for he was neither. He was a blunt but truthful man burdened with the consciousness of too many failures and the fear of committing more.
“I was wrong to speak to you as I did, sir. The truth is I was angrier at myself than you. And I did not want you to live with the regrets I will carry for the rest of my days.”
Lord Buckinghamshire looked surprised by that admission. “What sort of regrets?”
“That I did not do everything in my power to prevent Bonaparte from returning to make war a second time,” Gavin replied. “Last year when it seemed peace had been secured and the Allies permitted Bonaparte to retire to Elba, I doubted he would be content to remain there. Yet I did nothing to persuade anyone to place him under more secure confinement. I had excuses for my inaction, but they all seem hollow now. I should have come to London and pestered every minister who would give me a hearing. I should have gone to Vienna and made a nuisance of myself at the Peace Conference. If I had, perhaps…”
He paused to gather his composure, which threatened to desert him.
“Perhaps…” Lady Buckinghamshire prompted in a sympathetic tone.
“Perhaps I would not feel that some of the blood shed at Waterloo is on my hands. Perhaps I would not feel responsible for the death of my dearest friend. Today with Lord Benedict, I may have gone about it all wrong and it may have done no good. But at least this way if Britain must fight Bonaparte a third time, I will know I did everything in my power to prevent it.”
The deep scowl with which Lord Buckinghamshire greeted his appeal told Gavin he had only made the situation worse.
Strangely, that knowledge did not crush him. At Waterloo, he had tried his best to save his friend and just now he had tried equally hard to honor his vow. Something told him Molesworth would not condemn him for having fallen short. Nor would Hannah Fletcher.
Before Lord Buckinghamshire had a c
hance to blast him again, Gavin bobbed a respectful bow. “That is all I came to say, sir. I hope you will think on it and pardon me for trespassing upon your privacy.”
With that he strode away and returned to the Benedicts’ townhouse, where he found Sebastian in the entry hall conferring with his butler.
“May I impose upon your hospitality for one more night?” Gavin asked. There were matters he needed to consider carefully and decisions he needed to make. Another chat with Lady Benedict might go a long way toward bringing him clarity.
“You are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish.” Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. “But I must tell you—”
Before he could get the words out, the sitting room door swung open and Peter appeared. “I thought I heard your voice, Papa. Miss Hannah and I came up to town for a visit. We didn’t know you were staying here. Are you surprised to see us?”
Surprised? As Hannah and Lady Benedict appeared behind his son, Gavin felt as if all the muscles in his face had fallen slack. Peter and his governess were the last people he had expected to see in London. But more confounding than the shock of their sudden appearance was the questions it raised.
What did Hannah mean by bringing his son to town? Had she changed her mind about his proposal? Or did she intend to haul him home by the ear, like a runaway schoolboy? Perhaps she did not intend to return to Edgecombe at all, but had come to seek sanctuary with the Benedicts until Rebecca could find her a husband.
If his abrupt, ungallant proposal had forced her to leave Edgecombe, it would be a failure for which he might never be able to forgive himself.
Chapter Fifteen
COMING TO LONDON had been a fool’s errand. The dumbstruck look on Gavin’s face when he saw her and Peter left Hannah in no doubt of that.
The biggest risk she’d ever taken appeared likely to end in her worst disaster. Having experienced the bitterness of failure, she should not have been so quick to condemn Gavin for his fear of it. Part of her wished she could return to the moment of her decision and make a safer choice.