Confessions From an Arranged Marriage by Miranda Neville Page B

least curiosity about Blake’s opinion on any matter. “My impressions of what?”
    â€œKing Louis is in poor health and won’t last much longer. His brother Charles, the Count of Artois, will succeed him. Since he’s a man of little tact and extreme authoritarian views, there are many of us who expect him to try the patience of his subjects. It’s quite possible the Bourbons may lose the throne again.”
    â€œHah!” Blake said. “Having gained the habit of disposing of their monarchs the French may decide to keep in practice.”
    He detected a note of surprise in Gideon’s approving nod at this not particularly brilliant observation. “Precisely. And there are two possible replacements for Charles. The Duke of Orleans is the more likely and the more acceptable to us. But there remains a strong strain of Bonapartism among the French. Bonaparte’s son, the Duke of Reichstadt may live in Austria, but there are those who would like to see him Napoleon II, Emperor of the French, in fact as well as name.”
    â€œWe wouldn’t like that, would we? How old is this dangerous pretender?”
    Gideon looked annoyed. “No one stays twelve years old for ever. Besides, the point is not the boy himself, but his allies. What we wish to know is who, among the French notables, would be prepared to support his restoration, and who would prefer the Orleanists.”
    â€œThat’s all very interesting, Gideon, but what has it to do with me? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe it’s the job of our ambassador there to gather and report such information.”
    â€œCorrect me if I’m wrong, Blake, but you do know we are in opposition.”
    â€œI may be slow but even I don’t need a decade to notice that the other fellows are in power.”
    â€œNot for much longer, we hope. And when we take over I expect to be Secretary for Foreign Affairs. It is of considerable use to me to receive independent reports from the European capitals. Anything I learn that puts me a step ahead of the government gives the party an advantage.”
    â€œI’m flattered you should think me capable of discovering anything the embassy has missed. Actually, I think you may be a touch demented. No one ever talks to me of such stuff.”
    â€œExactly! No one expects you to care for anything but frivolity. Tongues that would be guarded to the presence of other Englishmen may wag freely in yours.”
    â€œFinally my stupidity may be put to use, you mean.”
    â€œYour reputation, rather. If I thought you stupid I wouldn’t expect you to recognize a fact worth reporting.”
    Good Lord. Kind words from Gideon. If he wasn’t stone-cold sober he’d be almost flattered.
    â€œI don’t need to tell you to keep this to yourself.”
    About to ask if he should mention it to Minerva, Blake held his tongue. He could imagine how gleefully she would latch onto the task. He wanted to do it alone, prove to himself, to Gideon, and perhaps even to his bride, that he wasn’t entirely useless. He also took a slightly malicious pleasure in depriving her of the kind of intrigue that would delight her. Let her wait until their return to London to become the leading lady of the opposition.
    â€œDon’t worry, Gideon,” he said, with his most winning smile. “There’s no one better when it comes to keeping a secret.”
    T hey reached Calais soon after dawn. Minerva was a good traveler, but even the best cabins on board were hardly luxurious and the crossing had been a trifle bumpy. Minerva assumed the lack of comfort had saved her from the attentions of her bridegroom the night of the marriage. Although she didn’t sleep well, her rest in the narrow berth was undisturbed by a nocturnal visitation from Blake. She had girded herself to endure what happened between them, but couldn’t deny her relief at the postponement.
    They were met at