The Perfect Royal Mistress by Diane Haeger Read Free Book Online

rolled his eyes. He, like the others, knew what would come next. The views of the king’s secretly Catholic brother were well known to this intimate council. An alliance with Catholic France was his standard proposal. Accepting money from the French would mean an end to the Dutch hostilities, and a respectable sum for England in the bargain.
    “Your Majesty could still accept Louis XIV’s generous terms. Then the Dutch would become inconsequential. After all, why have you sold our sister to his brother, if not ultimately for a treaty with France?”
    “Keep Minette out of it,” Charles interjected, stiffening. “We are talking about war.”
    “The terms with France are still too high,” Buckingham put in. “If there were even a hint that His Majesty meant to convert England to a Catholic country, there would be anarchy the likes we have not known since—” He bit off his words, but the reference lay raw still between men who had survived the dark days of Oliver Cromwell, watched a king’s murder, and had worked for the Restoration of his son, who now reigned.
    “Since my father was brutally butchered right outside these walls, you meant to say? His death will not be in vain, by God! I will rule as he ruled, bravely and boldly!”
    “The country is glad to have Your Majesty,” Arlington amended, purposely seconding Buckingham. “We rejoiced openly in your Restoration. But England is a staunchly Protestant country.”
    “I have it on sound authority that not everyone is so staunch,” James said quietly.
    “This is taking us too far afield from the point,” Buckingham interjected. “England requires money, and ahead lies two distinct paths toward realizing that. One will require continued sacrifice at sea, but earn great wealth in our certain victory. The other, while asking less sacrifice, calls for an intolerable spiritual compromise.”
    “And a dangerous deception to my subjects,” the king added. “We need a sound victory if we are ever to rebuild London.”
    “Mark me,” said Clarendon. “You shall all rue the day that you continued on with this.”
    The king looked at Clarendon, his father’s trusted adviser, trying to recall what he had seen as worthy in the advice of a fearful old man. His gaze then slid to Buckingham and Clifford.
    “We need money. The Dutch have more than enough,” decreed the king. “Any treaty with France contains the provision that I declare myself a converted Catholic king. And, at the moment, that is a price even I am not willing to pay.”
    “Why not make Louis a counterproposal?” offered James. “Protect our harbors from attack, then wait and see.”
    Clarendon stood, then hunched over, his knuckles meeting the oak table. “You know perfectly well we cannot afford the cost of manning docked ships! The city cries for rebuilding, and there are still the effects of the last plague with which to be reckoned. It would be a foolish waste of money, Your Majesty, one which your father, the king, would never have allowed!”
    The king settled his eyes first on the broad-shouldered Clarendon, then on his brother. “At least we must man our unused ships that are still in the harbor. Keep them at the ready. As they are, we are vulnerable should the Dutch decide to retaliate.”
    “Keeping them at the ready will cost more than we have,” Clarendon grumbled. “You must propose a truce with the Dutch and put an end to all of this, no matter our circumstance, if you have a prayer of rebuilding London!”
    “James, are you prepared to continue on as Lord High Admiral, leading us at sea in spite of our difference of opinion on this?”
    “My duty is to serve my king.”
    Charles arched a brow. “And your duty to your God?”
    “I shall pray that the will of one shall follow the path of the other.”
    “And George, what of England if the prayer goes unanswered?” asked the king.
    “Then we are all doomed, a devastation throughout the world the likes we have never seen