Free Blaze of Glory by Michael Pryor

should be very fine indeed , he thought.
    'Think, George,' Aubrey continued, 'a relaxing weekend
in the country. Plenty of good food, fine accommodation,
interesting company . . .'
    George grinned. 'A pity you're perfectly dreadful at
shooting.'
    Aubrey shrugged. 'I've had all the lessons. I'm
adequate.'
    'Adequate? I suppose it depends on what you mean. If
you mean that you haven't actually shot yourself by
accident, then by all means describe yourself as adequate.'
George laced his fingers together and placed them on his
chest. 'I'll come, then. I might be able to spare you some
embarrassment.'
    'I'm honoured.'
    Aubrey's father shot, of course. And played golf off
scratch, was an expert bridge player, a champion horseman
and sailed in international ocean races. Any pursuit
that important men indulged in, Sir Darius Fitzwilliam
was a leading light.
    And here Sir Darius was asking Aubrey, for the first
time, to deputise for him.
    Aubrey decided that the official request meant that this
was too important for an informal approach. This was the
Leader of the Opposition needing someone to stand in
for him. Aubrey felt a momentary glow at the trust this
implied, but it faded when he realised that it was also a
challenge, as was Sir Darius's wont.
    Deputise. A simple word, but it was full of meaning.
Aubrey knew he was able to chat to Bertie well enough,
but 'deputise' meant more than that.
    He tapped the letter in his pocket. Why didn't he give me a list of duties? he thought, but he knew the answer. It was
like the dinner table challenge of the night before. The
test was how Aubrey responded to such a broad brief as
'deputise'.
    Aubrey ran through some possibilities. Observe. Be
discreet. Keep up the Fitzwilliam name. Be diplomatic.
Report back.
    They set off again. In the distance, past the hockey
field, the cadet corps were drilling. Fragments of shouted
commands drifted to Aubrey, sounding like the yipping
of excited dogs.
    'It's a special weekend, George,' he said as they
mounted the stairs to their room. 'The Crown Prince has
asked some Holmland diplomats along.'
    George raised his eyebrows. 'So soon after the sinking
of the Osprey ? Won't that be a little . . . well, awkward?'
    'That's one of the things the Crown Prince is good at,
smoothing over awkwardness. Much better than the
King, at the moment, anyway. The Elektor of Holmland
has publicly apologised for sinking our cruiser, the
Holmland navy has expressed regret and called it a tragic
error. Our government is apparently taking them at their
word and trying to patch things up.'
    Aubrey was sure that the King had had something to
do with the invitation. It was probably another of his
efforts to show all Albion what splendid fellows the
Holmlanders were. As they had to be, ruled by the King's
cousin. The Elektor of Holmland was one of his many
kin on the continent and the King couldn't bear to see
disharmony between the two countries. His efforts were
genuine – as were the headaches they caused the Crown
Prince and the government.
    With the messy situation on the continent, especially
the constant strife between the nations on the Goltan
Peninsula, Aubrey was not about to disagree with
attempts to keep the peace. Although he wondered what
the wives and children of the lost sailors from the Osprey would say.
    'Prince Albert enjoys hunting?' George threw open the
door. The help had made the beds and rearranged
the mess so it looked almost habitable again.
    'Lord no, he can't stand it.' Aubrey stood at his desk,
pushing his hair back out of his eyes.
    George sat in the comfortable chair and unfolded the
newspaper. 'I must have missed something. Prince Albert
hates hunting but he's holding a gala shooting weekend
and inviting a horde of Holmlanders to come along?'
    'Duty, George. It's all about duty. Host the Holmlanders.
Show them what a decent lot we are really.
Emphasise the family ties, too, with Bertie playing the
expansive host with one and all.'
    Aubrey pulled a book