The Spider's Touch by Patricia Wynn

land from Queen Anne. It was said that he was constructing a house as grand as Versailles to stand as a reminder that it was his might and his talent that had beaten the Sun King. Sarah, his duchess, never ceased to complain about the architect Vanbrugh and the slowness of his work, but it was a different complaint of hers that came into Hester’s mind now.
    Lord Lovett’s questions about the Duke reminded her that, according to the Duchess, the promise of funds had never been fulfilled. She had repeatedly appealed to Parliament, but no matter how grateful the people had been after the Battle of Blenheim, Marlborough was no longer their favourite, so her complaints fell on deaf ears.
    The peers surrounding him now were Whigs, where once he had been a Tory. But that was before the Tory Party had pushed for a peace with France. The Whigs had opposed it, seeing the conquest of France as a way to advance their overseas trade.
    Peace had brought its own troubles, of course, with soldiers flocking home only to find themselves without pension or pay. But they had a new champion now, the Duke of Ormonde. He, also, had been a general in the war with France and had always been popular with the troops. Handsome and dignified, he had an amiability that could easily undermine the appeal of any couple as arrogant as the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough.
    Here, surrounded by his supporters, though, Marlborough could feel secure in the King’s estimation. Not so, his Tory rival. Ormonde had come this evening, yes. Hester had spotted him in a shadowy corner near the entrance, deep in conversation with a lady. But a pamphlet had circulated, criticizing him for allowing the mob to use his name. Everyone said that Mr. Defoe had written it as a friendly warning to Ormonde to renounce his Jacobite friends, the men behind the riots, if he did not want to lose his good name and anger the King. To Hester’s best knowledge, Ormonde had ignored the plea, keeping silent about the riots. She wondered if he simply relished the evidence of his popularity. But it was true that the more crimes the public committed in his name, the greater the risk that he would be blamed. King George had already removed him from his command. And Ormonde was certainly not loved by the current ministers, certainly not the ambitious gentleman from Norfolk, Mr. Walpole.
    She became aware that Lord Lovett was waiting for her response.
    “You asked if his Grace need ever fear banishment again. He does not appear to have that worry,” was her safe reply.
    He raised one eyebrow to upbraid her for a cowardly response. Then, changing directions, he brought them back onto more familiar ground.
    “We have yet to establish the extent of your affection for the Court. Would you care to be banished, Mrs. Kean?”
    Slanting a look at him, she tried to read the seriousnous of his question, but his sardonic expression confounded her.
    “Are you asking if I could give up the Court, now that I have experienced it?” she said.
    When he did no more than shrug, she thought of a dream she had often indulged herself with and sighed. “I can imagine a situation in which I could remove myself from the Court and from London without the slightest hesitation or regret, but since that particular situation is never likely to arise, I admit, I should hate to trade all this activity for a quiet life somewhere else.”
    “Do you not fear being banished for your impudence?”
    She knew that he was teasing her, and took pleasure in the notion, but recalling his earlier comments, she thought she should give a prudent answer.
    “It would be unwise for a woman in my place to complain of anything here, my lord. Or to laugh at anything either.”
    “Oh, you mustn’t worry that I shall betray you, Mrs. Hester. It is a pleasure to find a woman with a sense of the ridiculous. May I confess that I was not aware of the cleverness concealed behind those placid, grey eyes of yours?”
    Hester tried to hide the