‘You did not say it.’ Arthur laughed drily.‘Oh, I have had my rewards. I was made a lord after Talavera, then an earl, and a marquess for Salamanca and now the Order of the Garter. Our Spanish and Portuguese allies have conferred dukedoms on me, and so our soldiers call me, though with some measure of jest. I dare say that in time I may even become a duke of England. But these are all baubles, Somerset. Baubles. What drives me is not a title, nor some ribbon, nor a bejewelled star, but the prospect of a Europe free from French tyranny. That is a cause worth fighting for, and dying for if need be. Do I make myself quite clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Arthur stared at him for a moment and then clapped his hands together. ‘That’s that, then. Are there any other matters requiring my attention?’

Somerset could not help smiling. ‘Just one thing, my lord. It arrived from London today. I shall fetch it.’ He hurried out of the room to his desk in the anteroom. A moment later he reappeared with a velvet case the size of a large book. He set it down on the table, together with a small note addressed to Arthur in the unmistakable spidery writing of his wife Kitty. He broke the seal and opened the letter and read the brief message.

My dearest Arthur,

I know how you dislike my intruding upon you when your mind is set on military affairs and the duty you owe to your country. It is some months since I last received a letter from you, and it seems I learn more about you from the newspapers and the gossip of the wives of your officers than I do from your hand directly. My Arthur, I know that I am not the wife you deserve. I know it more and more with the passage of each year. Yet I love you, and our children love you, and long for you to return to us. I know that you cannot before the war is over, and while we wait please know that we take the most intense pride in what you have achieved for our nation. In token of which, I forward the enclosed, sent to us from Windsor, and trust that it will remind you of the affection in which you are held by so many. Your loving wife, Kitty.

Arthur refolded the letter and returned it to the table. He knew that he should feel guilty, but that sentiment refused to stir in his breast. Just a deadening certainty that Kitty spoke the truth, and that he would never be able to care for her in the way that she wanted.