“As Europe stirs itself to worry us again, I intend to appoint you as ambassador to Spain.”
As the promise of a monetary reward faded, Flynn cleared his throat and searched for an appropriate response. “A fine appointment, Your Majesty.”
King George bowed his head. “There will be some opposition, of course, but no one can deny you’ve proved yourself eminently worthy of the position.”
Flynn felt his temper rise along with his temperature. He glanced around at the room, the king always kept too hot. It was filled with sweaty, overheated people whose discourse had died away, their eyes resting on him. Thankfully, no one of any note was present. “Might I have a private word, Your Majesty?”
With one gesture, the king sent them all scuttling from the room.
Flynn took a deep breath as his diplomatic skills vanished under the weight of disappointment. “I am honored by your trust in me, Your Majesty. I’m distressed at being unable to accept such an exalted position.”
“Not accept it?” King George’s blue eyes widened in disbelief. He stood, hands on hips, a haughty rebuke hovering on his lips. “Not accept it?” he repeated. “Have you lost your reason?”
“I don’t believe so, Your Majesty.” Flynn sought to make his refusal sound firm and final. “I plan to return to Ireland. My estate needs to be put to rights.”
The king narrowed his eyes. “Since when has that concerned you? You patently dislike the place, and, to my knowledge, seldom visit it.”
“My ancestors have lived at Greystones since the fourteen hundreds,” Flynn said.
“Well, of course they did. Where else would they have lived? But what of it?”
“It’s a fine estate. I prefer it not to fall into ruin.” Flynn stood rigid as all hopes of a financial recompense vanished along with his eloquence.
King George scowled. “We are most displeased, Montsimon.”
“I regret that most deeply, Your Majesty.”
“So you say.” King George flicked a bejeweled finger in Flynn’s direction. “Remove yourself from my sight.”
“In my defense, I can only say that recent circumstances have changed my view, Your Majesty.”
Flynn rose from his bow to find the king’s shrewd gaze on him. “Might there be a lady behind this astonishing change of heart, Montsimon?”
“I do have expectations in that direction.”
“Ha! And who is this paragon who has ensnared a man so determined never to marry?”
“Lady Brookwood, Your Majesty.”
King George rubbed his chin. “Brookwood’s widow. A pretty piece. Good figure.” He nodded. “Can she not accompany you to Spain?”
Flynn refused to take Althea to an unstable country racked by civil war where she would often be alone. “I’m afraid not.”
The light of understanding shone in the king’s eyes, and a small smile curled his lips. A man often distracted by a pretty woman, the king appeared to have recovered his humor, but was not moved enough to open the public purse. “Perhaps our loss will be the Irish parliament’s gain?”
“Should my country have need of me,” Flynn said with a stiff bow.
“I will be in Ireland next year to open the new port. Perhaps we shall stay in that stone pile of yours.”
Flynn bowed low. “I should be greatly honored, Your Majesty.”
Cursing, Flynn emerged onto Pall Mall. His financial woes had not abated and were now destined to get a good deal worse.
*
Althea roamed thehouse, mentally rolling up her sleeves. She spent far too many hours dreaming of Flynn and their night together. She had expected him to be a consummate lover, but she never imagined lovemaking could be so… She had been so pleasurably exhausted she’d slept deeply, waking in the morning to find him beside her, naked, such a beautiful man. She shook her head.Enough!Such thoughts heated her body and made her yearn for him. Then fears for his safety rushed back to send her pulse galloping.
Desperate to distract herself, Althea had made a reconnaissance of all the rooms in present use. The wonderful proportions of the chambers were masked by ugly, dull, and dust-laden furniture, and worn, faded carpets. She planned to fill her days restoring order. She adopted a small room next to the breakfast room, which also looked onto the sheltered walled-garden where the climbing roses would be glorious in springtime.
