“I believe those are picketers. I heard they may demonstrate here today. They must have gotten word that old Prinny was going to attend and want to get his attention.”

“Picketers? Protesting what?”

“Hard to say. It’s not like there aren’t a plethora of social ills to be concerned about. Crop failures and floods have meant food shortages. Industrialization of time-honored skills has led to loss of employment. The severity of the penal code has become ridiculous—men hanged for shooting a rabbit, children deported for stealing bread.” He scuffed his boot on the grass. “Pick your cause. Though I feel bad for the blighters, they’ll be lucky if they aren’t routed out of here before the Regent arrives. The current government does not take kindly to dissent amongst the masses. Their presence is one of the reasons I’m here today. To assess the level of discontent and to report back.”

Guilt flicked across Juliette’s skin. Bertie was right. There were many in need, many reasons for sections of the population to be disgruntled and dissatisfied. What was she doing to aid them? An archery tournament in Hyde Park seemed to pale in significance compared to the hardship others endured.

“Don’t get distracted. You have a job to do. The Thorndikes are working behind the scenes to improve the lot of all Britons.” Bertie held her gaze. “If you had not been born into this family, you would not have been in a position to stop a foreign spy from harming this country. Your position was given you by God. Use it. Be charitable and concerned for your fellow man, but don’t be ashamed to be an aristocrat. God didn’t love Onesimus more than he loved Philemon, though He put them into different situations in life. They were both called to serve, regardless of station. Help where you can, be compassionate, but use your position to better the lives of others.”

Such wisdom seemed odd coming from Bertie, who rarely spoke of spiritual things. He rarely spoke of serious things unless they were in the War Room planning a mission. The role of dilettante with a drinking problem came easily to him. The role of sage seemed foreign.

“Check in, compete, and enjoy yourself. I’ll be around.” He looked over her shoulder. “As will someone else, I see. Good morning, sirs.”

She turned. Duke Heinrich von Lowe waited a few paces away. Viscount Coatsworth was with him, and a pang hit Juliette that Agatha, being in mourning, was not able to attend social functions. However, it was nice to see familiar faces.

“Uncle Bertie, I believe I will call on Agatha later this afternoon, if that meets with your approval? I can tell her about today’s festivities and see how she is getting along.”

Bertie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Just a social call, right?”