The aide-de-camp looked at him pityingly.
'So you have not been informed?' he asked. 'As always the man most concerned is the last to know. When you sail with your despatches to-morrow you will have the honour of bearing Her Grace with you to England.'
'God bless my soul,' said Hornblower.
'Let's hope He does,' said the aide-de-camp piously, nosing his wine. 'Poor stuff this sweet Malaga is. Old Hare bought a job lot in '95, and every governor since then seems to think it's his duty to use it up.'
'But who is she?' asked Hornblower
'Her Grace the Duchess of Wharfedale,' replied the aide-de-camp. 'Did you not hear Lady Dalrymple's introduction?'
'But she doesn't talk like a duchess,' protested Hornblower.
'No. The old duke was in his dotage when he married her. She was an innkeeper's widow, so her friends say. You can imagine, if you like, what her enemies say.'
'But what is she doing here?' went on Hornblower.
'She is on her way back to England. She was at Florence when the French marched in, I understand. She reached Leghorn, and bribed a coaster to bring her here. She asked Sir Hew to find her a passage, and Sir Hew asked the Admiral — Sir Hew would ask anyone for anything on behalf of a duchess, even one said by her friends to be an innkeeper's widow.