Free B006O3T9DG EBOK by Linda Berdoll

suppers. His white hair and well-tanned countenance made Alistair a most distinguished-looking man. As it happened, Orloff knew how to fill a table. Twenty ladies and gentlemen joined him that evening. Some of them were witty; all of them were rich.
    Orloff announced, “I must have you come round tonight.”
    Alistair’s suspiration was deep, but he seemed agreeable, “Although my Brothers of the Blade have my compleat devotion, I must admit I am much in want of other society.”
    Orloff pressed his card into Alistair’s hand.
    “Do come round. There will be gentlemen there who would be much in want of hearing what you have to say.”
    Although he did not promise, Orloff was pleased when Alistair appeared at his door. His coming was a great coup. Orloff liked to sprinkle his soirées with gentlemen of different stripes. A self-deprecating gentleman with a noble countenance and decent wit was difficult to find. As they talked, Orloff learnt that he was correct about Mr. Thomas. His greatest assets lay beyond the card table. They shared an eagre interest and keen understanding of the political climate.
    When the gentlemen retired from the ladies and their interminable rounds of Whist, they escaped to Orloff’s handsomely appointed smoking-room for cigars, serious drinking, and brash talk. Affairs of the state were the preferred topic. Orloff was backing a coming man for Parliament and was in active pursuit of good heads to join him. To gain everyone’s attention, he was not above agitation.
    He announced, “The rioters taken to streets after the Westminster elections were equal to what was seen in Paris.”
    As no one else had a comment, Alistair replied, “It was said had they been well armed and well-drilled, the mobs might have done real damage.”
    His remark was greeted by a scattering of laughter, no one quite certain if he spoke in jest.
    Now that a common enemy was left to die old and alone at St. Helena, another ogre had to take his place. The emerging Labour movement gave the defenders of the probity good reason to panic. Any call for change in the existing order was viewed as a wedge opening the door for a French-like atrocity. Any alteration in social rectitude was tantamount to erecting a guillotine in Hyde Park.
    If the French had taught them anything at all, it was that change—of any sort—was to be fought at all costs.
    Therefore every gentleman hushed when another man reported, “Lady Hatton had forty windows smashed by a collection of rock-wielding children. My wife says we must board up our house at Brighton lest it be torn to bits.”
    Alistair spoke again, soothing, “Tell your dear wife that Dragoons have been stationed in every town from Coventry to Bristol. I am certain we are all safe”
    Despite alleging a great distaste for politics, Alistair had an eagre opinion on each point—including Wellington. He stood solidly behind him.
    He explained, “I owe the man a great deal. Had he not learnt that I attended Eton, my epaulettes would have been scorched off my shoulders in the Peninsular War.” He furthered his point by saying, “A classical education is a necessity for all officers.”
    There were murmuring nods of approval from all. Lord Orloff, however, saw Wellington as remiss.
    “Why have you not been given a knighthood, sir? They have handed them out like flower petals to men of far less standing. I shall speak to Wellington on your behalf.”
    As everyone knew, Wellington’s success in Spain won him many honours and, more importantly, large estates and cash awards. He was the man of the hour.
    Alistair insisted, “I fear that in the peninsular conflict I was merely a scribe of Wellington’s greatest achievements, not the author. Indeed, with the resumption of hostilities I spent more time interpreting his missives to Blücher than upon the field of battle.”
    “Still...” said Orloff.
    “If you please,” insisted Alistair. “I beg you do not speak upon my