Page 22 of A Fierce Wind

Chapter 5

The Prime Minister and his retinue arrived late that afternoon just as Freddie was coming down the stairs in search of a brandy before dinner. Although he had taken off his sling, pleased he no longer appeared the wounded man, the lingering pain in his shoulder was a constant reminder of that night in Granville. The night he feared he might lose Zoé to a republican’s musket ball. That she was safe in West Sussex hardly signified since, upon their return, she would be following him into Brittany, a province in open rebellion against the revolutionary government.

Save for his sister and Madame de Montconseil, who had left earlier for a ride around the estate, Zoé and the others had changed for dinner and were now gathered with Richard and Annie in the parlor awaiting the Prime Minister whose carriage had just pulled up in front of the estate.

“That blue brocade silk becomes you, Pigeon.”

“You like it?” she asked, her gray eyes glinting with delight. “Tante Joanna selected the fabric for me in Jersey.”

“I do.” With her hair done up with dark ringlets framing her ivory face, she appeared a French temptress.

Carter announced Pitt shortly thereafter and he and two other men he’d brought with him joined the rest of them in the parlor.

A head taller than his companions, who Freddie took to be his secretary and valet, Pitt dressed in modest style, a black frock coat and breeches, white waistcoat and simply tied cravat. His stockinged legs rose above silver-buckled shoes. He wore his brown hair shorter than Freddie’s and combed back from his strong features.

“I must apologize for the short notice, Torrington,” he said, taking Richard’s offered hand, “but the matter about which I must speak to you is of considerable urgency. I’m paying visits to all the peers on the southern coast between Brighton and Southampton.”

“Now you have me intrigued,” said Richard.

Freddie’s interest suddenly piqued. What could the brilliant leader of the British government have in mind? He had come as a friend, surely, for he and Richard had been good friends for years, but Freddie did not expect it would be a social visit. The Prime Minister was always working, particularly in time of war.

“I’ve brought my secretary who keeps track of my commitments,” said Pitt, introducing the member of his staff traveling with him, who promptly faded into the background.

Turning to the matter of his own introductions, Richard said, “You know my wife, Lady Torrington, of course.”

Annie offered her smile and her hand to the Prime Minister, who gently shook it. “Lovely as always, my lady.”

“And I believe you know Jean Donet, comte de Saintonge. His wife, my older sister, Joanna, should be here soon. She is out just now showing one of our guests the countryside.”

Donet extended his hand. “Mr. Pitt.”

Pitt shook Donet’s hand. “Welcome to England, monsieur.”

A small smile crossed Donet’s face, making Freddie think there was something in the Prime Minister’s greeting that the Frenchman found amusing. As a French privateer during the American war, Donet had surreptitiously entered London many times with no welcome whatsoever. And, as a smuggler, his ship had often lingered off England’s southern coast.

Richard motioned to Freddie. “You might not remember my younger brother, Frederick, but you have been introduced before.”

“I do remember meeting Frederick,” Pitt said, shaking Freddie’s hand. “He has that familiar auburn hair and eyes of the West family, though ’tis been some time. Have you remained in West Sussex since I last saw you?”

“No,” replied Freddie. “Monsieur Donet asked me to join his business sometime ago and that took me to France and the Caribbean. Most recently, I have settled on Guernsey where Monsieur Donet makes his home now in the wake of the revolution.” Though Donet was well aware of Freddie’s work for Captain d’Auvergne on Jersey and Evan Nepean in London, they did not openly speak of it to others.

Lastly, Richard introduced Zoé. “I don’t believe you have met Monsieur Donet’s niece, Mademoiselle Zoé Donet.”

“I’ve not had the pleasure,” said the Prime Minister, fixing his dark eyes on Zoé.

From the look the Prime Minister gave her, it was clear he approved of Donet’s ward. Pitt was thought by all to be a confirmed bachelor but that didn’t stop Freddie from experiencing a pang of jealousy.

A few years younger than Richard, who was all of thirty-seven, Pitt had a remarkably youthful appearance for a man who had governed England for more than a decade, almost all of it during wartime. One would have expected more lines, more wrinkles, a more haggard appearance, yet Pitt’s handsome visage was virtually unlined, his eyes brimming with intelligent gleam.

Having been gone from England for several years, most of what Freddie knew of William Pitt’s administration came from the newspapers and Jo who followed closely England’s politics.

If the Prime Minister admired Zoé, Freddie could hardly fault the man. She had grown into a beauty of great charm and keen wit. But the last thing he wanted was another hero served up for her impressionable heart when he planned to claim it as his own.

Zoé inclined her head to Pitt, her eyes smiling. “Prime Minister.”

Pitt bowed. “Mademoiselle.”

To Freddie’s relief, Richard chose that moment to turn to Pitt. “Some refreshments?”