For My Country's Freedom by Alexander Kent

Prince patted her hand, beaming genially at her. “We will take more wine while these fellows replace the cloth.” He did not remove his hand and added, “There are so many things I wish to know.”
    â€œAbout me, sir?” She shook her head and felt the diamond pendant warm against her breast.
    â€œYou are much spoken of, Lady Catherine. Admired too, I’ve no doubt!”
    â€œI am loved by but one, sir.”
    Bolitho glanced at the footman who had replaced his glass. “Thank you.” The man almost dropped his tray, and Bolitho guessed that he was rarely acknowledged, let alone addressed.
    He looked down the table, and found Sillitoe watching him. Too far away to hear anything, but near enough to guess what the Prince was doing. What he did so often and so well.
    â€œMy spies tell me that you are a good horsewoman. Perhaps when Sir Richard is away you would join me for a ride. I adore horses.”
    She smiled, the light and shadow on her high cheekbones making her appear even more lovely. “I shall not come, sir.” When he leaned towards her she shook her head and laughed. “Not even for you!”
    The Prince appeared surprised and uncertain. “We shall see!” Then he turned to Bolitho and said, “All real men must envy you.” His irritation was plain as a woman several places away leaned forward and pitched her voice until it was audible.
    â€œI have wondered, Lady Catherine, and others must have asked you since that terrible shipwreck . . .”
    Catherine glanced at Bolitho and gave a slight shrug. This was familiar ground. His sister Felicity had put forth the very suggestion this woman was about to make.
    â€œWhat have you wondered, madam?”
    â€œAll those men in one small boat.” She looked around, her eyes just a little too bright. She had obviously not been warned about the Prince’s love of wine. “And you the only lady amongst them?”
    Catherine waited. Sophie apparently was not included in the ordeal. She was only a servant.
    She said coolly, “It is not an experience I would wish to repeat.”
    On the opposite side of the table, a worried-looking man with thinning hair said in a fierce whisper, “That is enough, Kathleen.”
    His wife, very much younger, tossed her head. “Things which women must do, but in front of staring eyes . . .”
    Bolitho said abruptly, “Do you never ask about the sailors who are at sea in all conditions, madam? How they live? Why they tolerate such conditions? Then I will tell you. It is out of necessity.” He turned towards Catherine. “I shall never forget her courage, and I would suggest you do not, either!”
    The Prince nodded and said in a stage whisper, “I expect that Lady Kathleen would have welcomed the experience!” His eyes were hard with dislike as the insinuation reached the woman in question.
    The remainder of the evening was an ordeal of endurance and discomfort. Another great course arrived, this time of guinea-fowl, oyster patties and curried lobster, with more wine to wash it down. Finally, a rhubarb tart was served with three kinds of jelly and, lastly, cheesecakes. Bolitho wanted to drag out his watch, but knew his host would see and resent it.
    He looked across at Catherine and she blew out her cheeks at him. “I shall not eat again for another month!”
    Eventually it was over. After the ladies had withdrawn there was port and cognac for the gentlemen—the latter, assured the Prince, not contraband. Bolitho guessed that most of the guests were beyond caring. The Prince detained them until the last, as Bolitho had known he would. He watched a servant bringing his hat and cloak, but before he could take them the Prince said in his thick voice, “Admiral Bolitho, may good fortune go with you.” Then he took Catherine’s hand and kissed it lingeringly. He looked into her dark eyes. “I never envied a man