Canning broke in. “Veseul and I will be dining at White’s. Care to join us?”
Gervase shook his head with feigned regret. “Sorry, I’ve several hours’ work ahead of me.”
“In that case, there is a brief matter of business I’d like to go over with you before I leave.”
When Gervase looked pointedly at the French count, Canning said impatiently, “We can speak freely in front of Veseul. No one loathes Bonaparte like an exiled royalist.”
Gervase said nothing, just continued to look at the count. Unfazed by that cool regard, Veseul smiled broadly. “I’ll wait downstairs for you, George. Suspicion is an occupational hazard in St. Aubyn’s work.” Touching his fingers to his brow in a mocking salute, he left.
When they were alone, the foreign minister scowled at Gervase. “You were bloody rude to Veseul.”
Gervase settled back behind his desk. “The man is almost certainly a French agent. Strictly off the record, I’d advise you to be careful what you say in front of him.”
Canning looked startled as he settled in the one straight wooden chair that the small room offered guests. “That’s a damned serious accusation. Can you prove it?”
“If I could, Veseul wouldn’t be wandering around loose,” Gervase said dryly. “I may never have proof. I am merely suggesting that you mind what you say in front of him.”
The foreign minister nodded thoughtfully, then turned to the business that had brought him here. “The information you provided made the Copenhagen campaign a success.”
Gervase shook his head. “I just coordinated information from a number of sources. Military intelligence doesn’t win battles. Soldiers do.”
“Yes, but lack of military intelligence can lose a battle.”
“True,” Gervase agreed, curious where this was leading.
“You’re very good at what you do. Getting you to take this post was one of the best things Pitt did.” Canning’s voice was clipped and his compliment sounded grudging.
“I’d be surprised if that is all you came here to say.”
“Quite right.” Canning’s eyes wandered a bit, then came back with a snap. “They say that you have the best information files in the country. Do you also keep them on Englishmen?”
“No.” Gervase’s voice was flat. “If you want ammunition to use on your opponents, look elsewhere.”
Canning grimaced. “More concerned about someone having ammunition to use on me.”
Gervase sighed. “Canning, I am here for one reason only: to contribute what I can to sending that Corsican bastard to the hell he so richly deserves. I’m not a politician and have no interest in becoming a minister or gathering power for myself. That’s why I survived the fall of Addington’s government last spring, and I fully intend to survive the fall of Portland’s administration, and as many other governments as we have between now and the time Napoleon is defeated.”
Canning smiled crookedly. “With the amount of laudanum Portland takes every day, he probably won’t even notice when his government collapses.”
Gervase glanced at his visitor sharply, wondering if Canning was trying to provoke him into saying something indiscreet. Perhaps not; Canning was notoriously plainspoken.
The minister continued. “Came here to thank you, St. Aubyn. I took a lot of criticism over the Danish campaign. Public opinion was on the side of the Danes, and we came off looking like thieves and bullies. If it weren’t for you, we might have been losers as well, which would have been far worse.”
Gervase frowned. The Copenhagen business had left a bad taste in his mouth. “I didn’t like it either, but you were right to invade Denmark. If you hadn’t, Bonaparte would have taken the Danish fleet and used it against us. Without our superiority at sea . . .” He shrugged eloquently.
The last statement needed no completion. One by one the Continental powers had fallen, until only Britain held out. It was a stalemate: the French could not defeat the British at sea, and Britain was unable to take the battle to Napoleon on land. If the British ever lost their marine superiority, Bonaparte would invade and the long war might be over, with Britain one more nation bowing to the emperor.
The direction of the conversation caused Gervase to mention something he’d been considering. “The action you took to secure the Swedish fleet should keep the Baltic Sea a British lake, but there’s another neutral navy at risk: the Portuguese.”
Canning nodded glumly, the weight of affairs falling heavily over him. “I’ve been concerned about that. Do you have reason to believe the French will try to annex it?”
Gervase gestured at the papers piled on his desk. “I’m piecing together information now. The full report should be ready in two or three days, but my guess is that if the Portuguese aren’t persuaded to remove their fleet within the next few weeks, Napoleon will have it.”
Canning pursed his lips in a soft whistle. “That soon?”
“I’m afraid so.”
The foreign minister frowned for a moment, then smiled wryly. “It’s time I made myself even more unpopular. At least the Portuguese are more likely to listen to us than the Danes were.” He stood indecisive for a moment. “Thank you. Been told to be wary of you, but I expect that was just politicking. I think you look sound, and your recommendations have always worked out.”
