Free The Piccadilly Plot by Susanna Gregory

Frances rose to leave, too, unwilling to linger in her husband’s place of work
     when he would not be there.
    ‘I suppose you had better tell me what you learned in Africa,’ said the Earl, waddling towards the door. ‘I know you wrote
     me a report, but I could not be bothered to read it.’
    ‘I did, and it was very interesting,’ said Frances, makingChaloner warm to her even more. ‘Your assertion that Tangier is a hard posting, miles from the centre of power at White Hall,
     does explain why honest men refuse to accept jobs there. Only the dross, who cannot get anything else, are—’
    ‘A hard posting?’ interrupted the Earl uneasily. He turned to Chaloner. ‘Do you think the Portuguese cheated us when they
     gave it as part of the Queen’s dowry, then?’
    As the man largely responsible for negotiating the royal marriage contract, he was the one who would be blamed if that transpired
     to be true. And Chaloner thought it was – he strongly suspected the Portuguese had been rather glad to be rid of it.
    ‘The harbour is not all that was promised,’ he hedged. ‘It is too shallow for warships, and is open to northerly gales. But
     the garrison is building a mole to protect it, which should help.’
    ‘A mole is a sea wall,’ interposed Frances, eager to show off the knowledge she had gleaned from reading Chaloner’s commentary.
     ‘And when it is finished, it will provide British ships with a safe haven in the Mediterranean. This will re-establish us
     as the greatest maritime nation in the world, by letting us control the Straits of Gibraltar.’
    ‘The problem is that only a fraction of the money we send is spent on the mole,’ explained Chaloner. ‘Most is siphoned off
     by corrupt officials. The new governor, Sir Tobias Bridge—’
    ‘A damned Parliamentarian,’ grated the Earl. ‘I argued against appointing him, but he was the only person willing to do it.’
    ‘What happened to his predecessor?’ asked Frances of Chaloner. ‘Lord Teviot? We heard rumours about his death of course, but
     I felt we never had the truth of it.’
    ‘He took five hundred soldiers to chop down a wood,’ Chaloner replied, thinking that she was right to be suspicious: there
     had definitely been something odd about what had happened that fateful day in May. ‘His scouts told him it was safe, but in
     fact a large enemy force was waiting. Teviot repelled the first wave, but then he made a fatal mistake.’
    ‘He skulked back to the town?’ asked the Earl, his interest caught. ‘Instead of pursuing them, and showing the devils what
     British infantry can do?’
    ‘The opposite. He thought he had managed a rout, when it should have been obvious that he was being lured into a trap. All
     but thirty of his men were killed.’
    ‘And Teviot died too,’ sighed the Earl. ‘I did not like him personally – he was arrogant, greedy and stupid – but no one can
     deny his courage.’
    ‘The fact that his scouts told him it was safe bothers me,’ said Chaloner, more to himself than his listeners. ‘I raised the
     matter with them when we travelled home together on
Eagle
, but they refused to discuss it.’
    ‘Then perhaps you had better look into that affair, too,’ said the Earl. ‘As you point out, good men are not exactly queuing
     up to accept duties in Tangier, and if rumours about dangerously incompetent staff start circulating, no one will ever volunteer
     again.’
    ‘You want me to go back?’ asked Chaloner, heart sinking. He had hoped to be home for a while.
    ‘Not before you have caught my thieves and exposed whoever plans to kill Pratt. But if these scouts are in London, then there
     is no need for foreign travel. You can question them here.’
    ‘But I have questioned them, sir. They were unwilling to talk.’
    ‘Then try harder. I am sure you have cracked tougher nuts in the past. That gives you three different assignments, which
     is a lot, but I am sure you will manage. However,