‘ I’ll find, sir?’
‘Oh, yes. You’ll be for ever involved — at a personal level now — in the continued well-being of HRH. You’ll scan the Society pages of the press each day to check up on his health. You’ll be concerned by reports that he has a head cold; you’ll offer up a prayer when you hear that he’s strained a fetlock. It’s thanks to you he’s on his way home to York House tonight, hale and hearty, instead of the Royal Hospital, toes turned up, under a shroud.’
She stared at him with sudden insight.
‘Yes. It wasn’t your waltzing feet or protective arms that saved his life — it was your quick thinking and your annoying habit of exceeding your orders that did it.’ Joe reached across the table and patted her arm with a sticky hand. ‘I’m almost certain I know what happened tonight. I’ll say it now because I shan’t be able to pick you out for special commendation when we get to our meeting — well done! I’m not sure how gratified you’ll be to hear me say it — and probably better not tell your father — but this evening it’s my belief you handed the prince his life … on a plate!’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joe spooned up the last of his pudding and eased back his chair, eyeing Lily silently. She’d been the subject of that calculating stare before and responded by pulling her stole higher over her shoulders, a gesture he acknowledged with amusement. ‘No need for alarm. I was trying to assess the effect you’re going to have on the rest of the male company gathered in the ops room. Yes! I want you to be there!’ He answered her look of alarm. ‘Your evidence is pivotal — but dolled up as you are … well, I’m concerned that the officers present may unwittingly consign to you a somewhat inconsequential role. You look the part, Wentworth — royal girl-friend — flapperish, fox-trotting gadabout. I don’t want to see my men reacting to that image. Most unfair. I’d like you to change.’
‘You mean they won’t take me seriously if I present myself dressed as I was ordered to dress, sir?’
He ignored the rebuke. ‘I know these men. Effective and clever, but women haven’t played a significant part in their lives, I fear.’
‘Oh, I expect they all had a mother, sir,’ Lily said mildly.
‘One can never be certain about Bacchus … Oh, Lord! Bacchus! Give me your impressions when you’ve met him. He’s the handsome dark cove with the heavy moustache. Looks like a Sargent portrait of an Italian peasant, I always think — the hooded eyes follow you round the room saying, “I saw what you just did!”. You may wish to look away.’