Ramage & the Renegades by Dudley Pope

Volterra.”
    â€œWell, no, I did not,” she admitted. “It was—how do you say?—
redundant.
Lord Hawkesbury, His Britannic Majesty’s Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, says it is quite all right for me to go back to Volterra and he is arranging my passports so—
allora!
”
    The Earl took a deep breath. “My dear, we are only trying to protect you when we strongly advise you not to go to Volterra!”
    â€œI know,
caro mio,
but my mind is made up. There will be so much for me to do in Volterra!”
    â€œYou’ll find it very different from when you left. You may well discover that people you trusted have—well, behaved differently from what you expected.”
    â€œHad a right to expect,” Gianna said, an unexpectedly grim note in her voice. “This is another reason why I must go.”
    â€œWhat can you do alone?” Ramage asked harshly. “A dagger in your back would solve many problems for those with power.”
    â€œYou could take Paolo,” the Earl said, “although it’d be a pity to interrupt his training.”
    â€œNo,” Gianna said emphatically. “Paolo stays with Nicholas.
Come si chiama?
—not all my eggs in one basket!”
    Ramage felt completely helpless. They had all argued the whole question since the first reports in the newspapers that a Treaty would be signed. From the first Gianna had said she would go; from the first the whole family had argued against it, refusing to trust the French. He had progressed through gentle reasoning to angry arguments; he had wanted to seize and shake her, refusing to believe she could be so stubborn. His mother was probably right: very early on she had told Nicholas: “She has a strong sense of duty. I am sure she understands the danger, but she feels she must risk it because she is the ruler of Volterra, and with the war ended she can at last return to her people.
Noblesse oblige,
my dear Nicholas. You men admire Lovelace for writing ‘I could not love thee dear so much, lov’d I not honour more,’ but when a woman says the same thing you do not understand.”
    Clapping her hands, as if to signal a change in the topic of conversation, Gianna asked Ramage: “And you—how did you fare at the hands of milord St Vincent?”
    â€œWe sail again as soon as the dockyard finishes the refit.”
    â€œBack to the Mediterranean? That would be fortunate.”
    The Earl interrupted to save Ramage from the risk of provoking an angry outburst from Gianna. She was clearly on the verge of one of her “imperious” moods.
    â€œHis orders are marked ‘Secret’ so we can’t ask him. All I’ve been able to worm out of him is that it will be a long commission—six months or more.”
    â€œThere you are!” she said. “You were expecting to be half paid!”
    â€œPut on halfpay,” Ramage gently corrected. “Yes, obviously the size of the Navy will be cut, and I expected …”
    â€œWhy would the government cut the size of the Navy if Bonaparte is not to be trusted?” she demanded.
    â€œBecause politicians are fools and optimists,” the Earl said contemptuously. “They want to cut taxes to have everyone cheering and voting for them.
They
do not have to fight and die to correct their mistakes.”
    â€œYou can take Paolo with you?” she asked Ramage.
    â€œYes, of course—but whether or not he will want to come when he hears of your plan …”
    â€œHe has no choice; I say he stays with you.”
    Ramage shrugged his shoulders: he found it impossible to be gracious, understanding or patient with a woman who deliberately handed herself over to Bonaparte as a hostage.
    â€œI have to go down to Chatham tomorrow. Do you have any messages for him?”
    â€œWill he have any leave before I go?”
    â€œThat depends when you go.”
    â€œNext week,” she