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swarm across our borders and dethrone our King?”
    Faversham reddened painfully under the silent glares of the men. “I only meant to imply that if they have made a vow to return the Stuart monarchy, it should not be taken lightly.”
    “And I state plainly and clearly, here and now, that the whole of the Scottish rabble assembled together could not pose enough of a threat to dampen my collar. They have no regular army, no guns, no artillery, no navy. Only bagpipes and swords to send against the most powerful, well-disciplined, well-equipped military nation the world has known.”
    Saying this, the lieutenant turned his back on Faversham, rudely dismissing him as a nuisance. The gentleman darkened to a throbbing shade of crimson as he started to slink away, and was as surprised as the rest of the company to hear a voice come to his defense.
    “I myself have always been of the opinion that it is healthier to take precautions against an enemy than to underestimate him completely.”
    In the sudden silence that followed, Hamilton turned slowly to address this new, quietly spoken challenge. The man was a stranger to the group, a business associate of Damien’s up from London.
    Garner’s jade-green eyes narrowed. “Montgomery, isn’t it?”
    “Raefer Montgomery,” the man acknowledged with a slight bow.
    “And you share Faversham’s opinion that the Scots pose a real threat to the safety of the English monarchy?”
    “The opinion I share is that I would not want to be too hasty in dismissing them as inept savages. They have, after all, managed to keep their own borders relatively sacrosanct for the past thousand years or so. Not even the Norman conquerors dared to invade in any force.”
    “Possibly because there was nothing across their borders to merit conquest,” Garner said evenly. “The land is barren, the weather unpredictable. You would have to be as thick-skinned as the savages themselves to survive there any length of time.”
    Montgomery smiled. “Yet we pay prime prices for their beef, mutton, and wool, not to mention the thriving black market that deals with their finer … uh … liquid spirits. Unless my palate has grown rusty on French wine, I detected a distinct Caledonian musk to the whisky we are enjoying this evening.”
    Sir Alfred cleared his throat noisily and started to splutter some hasty excuse, but no one was paying heed. All eyes were intent upon Montgomery and Hamilton Garner.
    “Might I ask your business, sir? And if I may be bolder still, your accent eludes me.”
    Montgomery swirled the contents of his glass in his hand. “I grew up on the Continent, Lieutenant: France, Italy, Spain. As to my business, it is import and export, and to that end I travel extensively in search of interesting and profitable acquisitions. My interest in politics—assuming that to be your next question—extends only insofar as it affects my profits and losses. However, like Mr. Merriweather, I enjoy examining both sides of an argument … and like Mr. Faversham, I am able to keep a relatively open mind during such examinations.”
    Lieutenant Garner studied Montgomery as closely as if he were studying an imminent opponent. The exquisite cut of the merchant’s indigo-blue frock coat, together with the silvered blue waistcoat and breeches, reeked of money and easy living, yet there was nothing soft or negligentin the strong, tapered hands or the broad, heavy shoulders.
    “Accepting your declaration of neutrality for the moment,” he mused, “and acknowledging that your interests are purely financial, you must agree a stable government would be more to a shopkeeper’s liking than outright war.”
    Montgomery absorbed the thinly veiled insult with a slight deepening of his smile. “On the contrary. If I were strictly a profiteer—hypothetically speaking, of course—I would be extremely anxious to see the two countries go to war. There are always incredible sums of money to be made in chaotic