Free Tested by Fate by David Donachie Page B

wistful Mary Moutray. “As long as the lady is not toying with you.”
    Nelson put his head in his hands. “I cannot believe she is,though I admit that my letters have yet to receive a reply.”
    “Have you asked for one?”
    Nelson fixed Millar with a petulant stare. “I don’t see the need.”
    Millar might be half the sailor Nelson was, but when it came to the fair sex he had a better idea of procedure. He tried to keep his exasperation out of his voice. “She is a widow, sir, dependent on her uncle, who is stiff when it comes to doing what he perceives to be right, and mindful of the opinion of others. She cannot volunteer herself to you without you requesting it.”
    Nelson’s blue eyes opened wide with revelation, though inwardly he felt foolish. “I never saw that, Millar. How could I be so blind?”
    His premier denied himself the pleasure of telling him that in matters of the heart his blindness was as complete as it was when it came to his servant. Millar had often hinted that Nelson should remove Lepée, who grew more drunk and less respectful in equal measure. Nelson couldn’t see that the man who had nursed him down the San Juan river was not the same person now. He was a thieving rogue and rude with it. But this was no time to ruminate on that: there were more pressing matters to attend to.
    “That, at least, you can repair, sir, but I beg you to allow yourself time. The most pressing thing is to see off this suit from the planters.”
    “The most pressing thing is for you to take over here, Millar, while I have Giddings get the cutter rigged and head for Nevis.”
    “Nevis?”
    Again Nelson showed the petulance of a man who hated to be thwarted. “How can I be idle in such a matter?”
    “You’ll end up in a debtor’s cell.”
    Nelson brightened then, looking for all the world like a mischievous boy. “Only if they know I am ashore. But since I shall depart and return in the dark, I shall confound them.”

    John Herbert loved to worry and he did not confine his anxieties to his own cares. With Captain Horatio Nelson a frequent visitor inthe last two months he had taken on the burden of his concerns too, though it didn’t take precedence over the care of his garden, which they were, at that moment, walking through. “It must be another several weeks yet, Nelson, before you can hope for any reply from London.”
    Nelson nodded agreement, though the subject bored him and he did not want to talk about it. He half suspected that Herbert had deliberately brought it up to avoid engaging in the one his visitor desired. It had been a strange interlude, these last few months, with the planters huffing and puffing yet fearful to go too far until Nelson heard from the Admiralty, a message they feared might praise his high-handed actions.
    Even more odd was the way he had to skulk about in his cutter, leaving ship and returning in the dark, sneaking ashore on Nevis and making his way to Montpelier in secret. But if things had gone badly on water, they could be said to have progressed on dry land. He was far from having an arrangement with Fanny Nisbet, but enough had been imparted in a dozen meetings and over fifty letters to convince him that a formal request for her hand in marriage would not founder on an objection from that quarter. He was desperate to pin down Herbert, who was eel-like in his determination to avoid being ensnared.
    Now good manners overrode Nelson’s impatience and forced him to reply. He acknowledged the truth of what Herbert had said. They talked of Admiral Hughes, due to be relieved, too taken with imminent departure to bother with his second-in-command.
    “He is determined to get away before the hurricane season makes it too dangerous. I think he’s only awaiting the arrival of Prince William.”
    At that name Herbert lifted his head. “You know the King’s son, do you not?”
    This was a question he had asked before. The prospect of royalty being present in the islands