Read Leopard in Exile for Free Online Page B

battlefield as he
    likes, without fear of opening the throne to a German prince."
    "As you say, sir. But securing Denmark as our ally seems to me to be a great cause for rejoicing,"
    Wessex answered with studied mildness.
    "If only because England has been the midwife of peace between Denmark and Russia," Malhythe
    riposted. Wessex smiled to himself. The Grande Alliance fought only slightly more fiercely against
    Napoleon man it did within its own membership.
    He was about to say more, when a motion at the doorway stopped him. He turned toward the
    movement, as he did hearing Malhythe bite down upon a fervent oath of displeasure.
    The man standing in the doorway was dressed in black velvet and diamonds, supporting himself upon a
    tall ivory cane. The tail of his silvery wig cascaded down his back. Wessex knew him. All the players of
    the Shadow Game knew him. But what in the name of the infernal saints was Baron Warltawk doing at
    Prince James' wedding breakfast?
    He excused himself hastily from Malhythe, moving toward Warltawk. But before he could reach him,
    Sarah had appeared at his side, her court dress changed for a similar gown cut a la mode .
    "Wessex!" she said, innocently pleased at having located him in the press. "I just saw the Lord
    Chamberlain—" she broke off, gazing at the peculiar figure in black velvet, who was moving slowly
    among the press of guests. "Who is that?"
    "In his youth they called him 'Warltawk King-breaker,'" Wessex said meditatively. "He is a Jacobite who
    fled abroad in '69, and has lived virtually retired since the Revolution forced him home again. And I
    wonder very much what he is doing here."
    The bell signaling that it was time to go in to breakfast chimed, and Wessex and his lady sought their
    places in the order of precedence.
    "Is he important, this Warltawk?" Sarah asked as they rode toward Herriard House at the end of a day
    of toasts and speeches. The festivities had dragged on until there was barely enough time for the wedding
    guests to retreat and prepare themselves for the various balls and routs of the coming evening.
    "He was once," Wessex said uncomfortably, unwilling to speak of things touching so nearly upon his
    other life. "Sarah, I do not wish to involve you—"
    "Pooh!" said his wife roundly. "You are involved—how can I not be? And if it is gossip you want, who
    better than I—a weak and feeble woman—to get it for you?"
    Wessex sighed. His better self warred against his practical nature, and, as usual, lost. "What I want to
    know," he said, gazing at the roof of the coach, "is who he sees, and why. Especially if it is any of the
    Albionese." The Duke wondered abruptly where Sarah would stand upon the question of a New World
    revolution. In her world, such revolutionaries were looked upon as heroes.
    "Anything else?" Sarah asked helpfully.
    Wessex shook his head. He never forgot that the enemies of England could make his wife a pawn on the
    chessboard of Europe, and what she did not know, she could not reveal. There were secrets he must
    keep, even from her.
    Herriard House was forty covers at dinner. Tables had been brought from storage, and the doors
    between the dining room and the withdrawing room thrown open to accommodate the vast length of
    linen-draped table. Most of those attending would go from here to the Wedding Ball being given at
    Buckingham House this evening, and even the Duke and Duchess of Wessex would make a token
    appearance there before returning to preside over their own festivities.
    Looking down the table, Wessex had a moment's fervent wish for the presence of his partner, Illya
    Koscuisko. The volatile Pole was a master of disguise, and would have no difficulty in ferreting out the
    things Wessex so urgently wished to know. But Koscuisko was still able to operate upon the continent,
    and had been away on assignment for several months.
    Warltawk's presence in London complicated tilings. Wessex was looking for a French spymaster and