“I’ve been going over it,” Braydon said. “If not a Protestant German hoping to inherit in decades, what about the Jacobites?”
“After all these years? Are there any claimants left?”
“I believe the next in line is the King of Sardinia.”
“If I were him, I’d stick with a simpler situation and a much better climate.”
“Resist a bigger realm and greater wealth and power?”
“I’m not ambitious. Don’t understand the disease.”
“Blessed soul. Very well. What about the French? They’re always ready to set Britain at sixes and sevens, and another spurt of Jacobite action here would suit them.”
“There’d be nothing to it. Scotland’s not going to rise again, and who else?”
“The Irish?” Braydon offered. “Supporting a Catholic claimant?”
“Any attempt to put a Catholic on the British throne would lead to civil war.”
“Which would suit France nicely.”
Beaumont grimaced. “Ah. It would indeed. It’s a long plan, though.”
“It is. The Regent pointed out that working through the existing royal family could take us into the second half of the century.”
“You’ve discussed this with him?”
“For my sins. Sidmouth was summoned, and I had the misfortune to be with him at the time.”
“A large part of military survival is not being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Beaumont remarked. “The royal dukes aren’t the healthiest lot, are they? I don’t see old bones in any of them, but, as you say, the princesses, especially the spinster ones, are tougher.”
“Queen Charlotte, Queen Augusta, Queen Elizabeth—”
“Hold on,” Beaumont said. “Charlotte is the Queen of Württemberg! The King of Württemberg might well wish to add Britain to his domain, and he’d only have to knock off the males to get there.”
Braydon hadn’t thought of that. “Damn you. How the devil do we investigate a foreign monarch?”
“More to the point, why have you dragged me into this?”
“Desperation.”
Beaumont smiled. “Fair enough. At least the solution’s simple. All the princes who are free to marry must do so with all speed, and provide an abundance of legitimate British heirs.”
“But will they do it? They’ve been altar-shy all their lives.”
“Fault of the damned Marriage Act, but a brush with gunpowder might have toughened their nerves.”
“Death or marriage?” Braydon asked. “The would-be assassin might have done Britain a good turn.”
“As long as he or she doesn’t succeed on another occasion.”
“I was wondering who else of Hawkinville’s gentlemen are in at the moment. Lord Arden? Lord Amleigh? Mr. Delaney?”
“None of those, though Amleigh’s in Sussex, thus close enough to summon. Sir Stephen Ball’s in Town. M.P. and lawyer.”
“Isn’t he a radical?”
“Say, rather, a reformer. Hawkinville often consults him.”
