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A Matter of the Herberts, Part 2 (And not Pembroke AGAIN!)


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"As if the attentions were not constant enough, lady mother, now I must auction off my person for charity!" Tom complained, puffing his lip very inelegantly for a man of his birth and rank, and for a man who commanded ships' worth of men as a Captain. No matter that they really never left the channel or coastline. 


"Do not complain to me, Tom. Complain to His Majesty, if you must, the only person who prevails above the Queen," his mother replied, not bothering to look at him. Really he was acting quite stupid. 


"His Majesty is far above such silly entreaties."


"Your position gives you the latitude for silly entreaties. He dotes upon you like an uncle. Stop bothering me about it. Truly, call for some physic and feign illness if you are determined to be so sour about it." She paused. The she turned to look at him, "If you think I shall ask for you, then you are absolutely daft Thomas Herbert. Now, really, it is quite early to invade my parlour with pouts and passive demands, darling. You are quite capable, I am sure."





Thomas was uncertain how anything could happen to him between that morning and the shooting match  which would preclude him from being auctioned, but he knew that if it was to happen. It would be far more likely to happen if he loitered about the King's apartments with John Ashburnham, and so that is what he did.

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