Blood on the Strand by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online

far from black
     and white: Bristol had done some very nasty things to Clarendon, but Clarendon had reciprocated in kind. ‘You debarred him
     from holding any official post because he is Catholic. I can understand why he finds that annoying.’
    ‘
You
take his side against me now?’ cried Clarendon in dismay. ‘I expected more from you! And it was not
my
decision to ban him – I was merely following the law. It is illegal for papists to hold political positions, and it would
     have been remiss of me to overlook the matter of his religion.’
    Chaloner had never liked the notion of religious suppression, mainly because history showed such tactics tended to breed fanatics.
     ‘Such a rigid stance will bring you trouble, sir,’ he warned.
    ‘It has already brought me trouble. Bristol hates me, and is recruiting like-minded villains to stand with him. His latest
     ally is the
Lady
.’ Clarendon’s voice dropped to a disgusted whisper when he made reference to the King’s favourite mistress. So intense was
     his dislike of the Countess of Castlemaine that he could never bring himself to utter her name.
    ‘I am sorry, sir.’ Chaloner
was
sorry;
he
would not want Lady Castlemaine as an enemy, and thought the Earl was in deep water if she had thrown in her lot with Bristol.
    ‘Did you know that Bristol spends so much time with the King – playing cards – that I am obliged to make appointments days
     ahead when I need to see him on important affairs of state?
And
he reeks of onions!’
    ‘Onions?’ asked Chaloner, nonplussed.
    ‘He has a penchant for them, although I cannot imagine why – they are peasants’ food. Perhaps he likes them because he is
     a papist.’
    Chaloner did not know what to say to such a distasteful remark.
    ‘I cannot forget that mocking laugh he just directed at me,’ Clarendon went on worriedly. ‘Do you think it means he knows
     something I don’t – he has instigated some plot that will see me harmed?’
    Chaloner was sure of it – a clever, ambitious man like Bristol was not going to let himself be deprived of lucrative honours
     without recourse to some kind of revenge. ‘You might be wise to be ready for—’ he began.
    ‘You are right. Forget the beggar – or better yet, investigate him in your spare time – and concentrate on learning what Bristol
     intends instead. That is far more important now. You must adopt a disguise and infiltrate his lair.’
    Chaloner’s pulse quickened. He liked disguises. ‘Do you have anything specific in mind, sir?’
    The Earl was thinking fast. ‘My London home – Worcester House – is due to be redecorated, and I have asked several famous
     artists to submit plans. Bristol’s abode on Great Queen Street is also in need of refurbishment, which means he is sure to
     try one of two things: poach the man I hire in order to cause me inconvenience, or try to recruit him to spy on me.’
    ‘You want me to pose as a decorator and—’
    ‘We call them upholsterers, Heyden.’ Clarendon rubbed his plump hands together gleefully. ‘This is an excellent plan! Why
     did I not think of it sooner? A spy in his own house! What could be better?’
    But Chaloner could see problems. ‘It
is
a good plan,sir, but there is one flaw: Bristol is notoriously short of funds, and cannot afford the services of an upholsterer – or
     be able to bribe one to spy on his enemies.’
    The Earl was not listening, however. ‘And because you know nothing about interior design, you can make a mess of his house
     at the same time. You speak Dutch like a native, so you can be Kristiaan Vanders from The Hague. I wrote inviting him to visit,
     but he is indisposed.’
    And there was another problem. ‘That would be inadvisable, sir,’ said Chaloner gently. ‘Vanders died three years ago. Can
     we choose someone else?’
    ‘No. This is a brilliant idea. My mind is made up, so do not argue with me.’
    Chaloner fell silent, thinking it was a good thing that