Uncharted, p.7
Uncharted, page 7
“Guards!” Crawford lurched forward. “My lady, are you all right?”
Of course I was. The count should have been far more concerned about the boy, because at that moment, four fully grown men seized him. The boy cried out as he disappeared under a barrage of uniforms and the butt of a rifle.
“Stop!” I was moving before I knew it. Behind me, the count called out, but I ignored him as I hopped down from the carriage. The boy struggled, caught by the collar of his coat.
“Let me go!” He got a solid kick at the guard’s shin before he could react, and the boy was rewarded for his trouble with a harsh shake and a slap across the face.
“Stop!” I strode across the stones, practically at a run, as the boy struggled again.
“Filthy brat!” The guard lifted his hand, and I leaped, grabbing hold of his thick wrist and pulling him off balance before he could hit the child again. He must not have seen me coming at all, because he tilted and cursed, and the boy slipped free of his grasp. He might have made a run for it, but there were three other guards to take up the work of their colleague. One kicked out savagely and caught the boy’s ankles, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“No!” I reached for him then yelped as a hand caught my veil and pulled me back. “Let go of me!”
“Stop!” The voice rang out over the mounting chaos, and everyone froze. The count stalked toward us. His face was red, his eyes so narrow, they were nothing more than black slits.
“Your Worship!” the guard who still had his hand in my hair said. “These two were—”
“Unhand the lady.”
“But sir, she—” Whatever the guard was going to say was cut off by the count’s fist against his jaw. He yelped, and he let me go. I tumbled to the ground.
“That lady is your future queen.”
“But—”
I ignored the sound of fist and skin connecting again and scrambled to the boy who now lay curled on the ground. I put a hand on his shoulder. He jerked, but then he rolled, staring tearily up at me.
“Are you all right?” I asked. He nodded, and I pulled him upright into a hug.
“My Lady George.” The count was still fussing behind me. “I’m sure we can find someone who will deal with the boy. If you would just—”
“Is your mother here?” I asked the boy. He nodded into my neck. “Should we go find her?” He detached himself but clung to my hand. Without a look behind me at the count’s reaction, we walked toward the crowd at the gate, now larger with gawkers no doubt drawn by the commotion. Women and children pressed against the guards, who were struggling to hold them back. As I approached, the boy let go of my hand and ran into the arms of a woman who gathered him up and sobbed.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” she said to me.
I stayed on the opposite side of the guards, but I smiled. “No harm done. No reason to hurt him.”
“I couldn’t have borne it if they’d taken him away. We’ve lost so much already.”
“Your husband?” There were so many strained faces in front of me. So many women, some even younger than I was, some old and shrunken by age and starvation.
“And my brother. Please.” The woman reached out despite the guards and grabbed at my skirt. “Please. You have to help us. You have to tell them. We’ll starve if they don’t—”
“Get back!” The count stepped between us.
“Please!” The woman’s voice rose, and the crowd behind her picked up the sound, echoing it in a collective moan.
“I don’t know what I can—” I tried to say, but the noise was growing, people pressing in. The guards struggled to hold them back, and more soldiers came to join in holding back the human tide coming through the gate.
A hand gripped my shoulder, gentler than the one that had pulled my veil. I turned to fight off whoever was there, but it was Crawford. His grip was firm, but his eyes were wide and sympathetic.
“We can’t help them. Not like this,” he said. I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “You’ll only stir them up more. Please, my lady. Not like this.”
I glanced over my shoulder. The boy and his mother had vanished, but the crowd was swelling. Angry voices rose, ignoring the guards’ orders to stand down.
A familiar flash of glasses in the sun caught my attention, and for a moment, my heart stopped. But then I looked back, and whatever I’d seen must have been a trick of the light. Where I thought I’d spotted Niall, looming tall and lanky at the edge of the crowd, there were now only unfamiliar faces.
I followed Crawford back to the carriage. The horses were dancing nervously in place. I ignored the count’s offered hand, instead hitching my skirts up and climbing back into the carriage on my own. As soon as he joined me, the door was slammed shut, and the carriage lurched forward.
“You’re a fool,” Crawford said.
“They were hurting that boy! I couldn’t let them.” I adjusted my veil. The hair beneath it had come loose, and I wouldn’t be able to fix it without taking it off completely, which was something I couldn’t do until we returned to the palace.
“When you’re queen, you can save as many little boys as you like. But what you did was pointless at best and dangerous at worst. If the prince—”
“What would the prince do? Would he have stepped aside and let the guards beat that child?”
Crawford swallowed. The carriage jolted to a halt. We were still within the grounds of the admiralty office, but the sound coming from the gate was farther away.
I fidgeted in my seat. What had I been expected to do? Sit in this ridiculous contraption and look the other way?
“What do the women want?”
He shifted, brushing at a fleck of dirt on his coat. “Their husband’s pensions.”
“And?”
He gritted his teeth, but finally, he spoke. “And the admiralty won’t pay it out until it can be proven that the men are actually dead.”
I inhaled sharply. The only thing I could think of was Lou, whose body had never been brought home.
“But that might never happen.”
The count nodded. “If no bodies are found, and if the men don’t return, then after a year—”
“A year? What are they supposed to live on for a year? What good is their grief if there’s no way to pay for food for a year?”
He set his jaw. I was overstepping what he expected from a gentle lady, but whatever my heritage was, I was no princess.
The carriage jostled as a door was opened, and like a gust of fresh air, Prince Beverly climbed in.
“Ridiculous. A bunch of old fools who still think my father is in charge. Driver!” he bellowed. I stared out the window as the carriage rolled forward once more.
“How was the meeting, Your Highness?” Crawford asked mildly.
“Oh, don’t call me that. You know I hate it when you’re formal,” the prince growled. “They wouldn’t listen. They’re insisting on sending more ships out. I said it wasn’t safe. I said their own incompetence had sunk my best ships, but will they listen?”
The carriage rolled out a separate gate from the one we’d come through. This one was smaller, and there was no sign of the stricken women who had been waiting at the other one.
The prince leaned forward and patted my hand. “I hope that wasn’t too boring for you. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have gone there at all, but the navy can barely function without my attention. I promise you, this afternoon will be much more enjoyable.”
I tucked my hand into my sleeve and continued to stare out the window.
I was a fool. Crawford had that part right, although his reasoning was flawed. It wasn’t my fault. The last few days had been surreal chaos, and all I could do was fight not to drown. But the two men in front of me would be disappointed if they expected me to step into line and not speak out when someone was being hurt. My days in the print shop were over, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make changes.
“Why is your hair exposed? And what happened to your dress?” The prince’s brows were drawn together. I followed his gaze. My dress was dark with mud just above my knees. I rubbed at it but only succeeded in smearing it.
“There was an incident,” Crawford said.
The prince’s attention snapped to him. “An incident? How long was I gone for? What sort of incident?” His steely eyes swung back to me. “Did you leave the carriage?”
I bit back the retort that no, I’d just managed to find mud inside his immaculate carriage. Instead, I said, “The guards were assaulting a boy.”
“After he assaulted you!” Crawford said.
“After he what?” Beverly’s voice rose.
“A bit of garbage does not make an assault.” I stared pointedly at the count.
“Garbage?” the prince asked.
“The child slipped into the courtyard from the crowd. He threw—” The count explained, but Beverly cut him off, still speaking to me.
“And you intervened?”
“They were hurting him!” This was what I’d feared when Jeremy had sneered that I would be leaving his house. This was what I’d imagined when I’d cried in Niall’s arms. This spoiled, self-centered prince who couldn’t see why the incident in the courtyard was anything but a personal inconvenience.
As if to prove my point, Beverly slumped back in his seat. “This is perfect. How could you be so thoughtless? We’ll be late now.”
My fury stumbled. “Late?”
Beverly muttered something to himself. I waited, but he didn’t say anything further.
Finally, the count spoke. “It’s my mother’s birthday. She’s also the prince’s aunt. There is an evening planned in her honor at the summer gardens. We were going to have lunch with her first as a private gathering to welcome you into the family. Did no one tell you?”
“No.” My face flamed in embarrassment, even though I wasn’t responsible for my ignorance.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” The prince glared at my stained skirts.
“It’s not as if I fell on purpose. They were hurting—”
“Yes, a poor, unfortunate child who had only attacked the carriage.”
“There was no attack! There was one desperate child!”
“Any such act of defiance against the crown is punishable by death.” His tone was flat as he said it. It wasn’t a threat, just a statement of fact.
Too far, George, too far. I took a long breath, staring at my husband-to-be. Could I do this? Truly? Would it be better to infuriate him to the point where he took my head now? He’d said he would.
Don’t be stupid. I’d only known him for a day. Too soon to give up. There had to be a way to survive.
I mirrored him and slumped back in my seat. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll be dead within the year anyway.”
He scoffed. “Now you’re being dramatic.”
“Crawford told me.”
Beside the prince, Crawford blanched. “I did?”
“You said they were the poorest. The most desperate. Without their widow’s pensions, those women and their children will starve.”
Beverly laughed. “Don’t be silly. There is more grain in the fields this summer than there has been in a decade.”
“And how will they pay for it? What good is grain if there’s no way to buy it?”
The carriage fell silent. The two men stared, and I stared right back. Wretched Prince Beaverly would know the kind of woman he was going to marry.
At last, the prince sighed. “What exactly are you asking for?”
“I’ve been served more food in the last day than those women will see in their households for the next month. Surely something can be done.”
He sighed. “This is what you want?”
“It’s what anyone would want.”
He watched me for a minute longer, and I kept my shoulders square and my chin level. Never mind my muddy dress or my twisted veil. We would be equals.
“Crawford,” Beverly said.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
The prince’s eyes never left me the whole time he spoke. “Send a message to the admiralty. Tell them the palace grain stores will be made available to any of the families whose men are currently missing at sea.”
“Sir—”
“It is a wedding gift from the Lady George and myself to our people. Until the matter of the missing is resolved, none of them will be allowed to go hungry.”
Heat poured over my ears and down the back of my neck. I’d won.
“It will be done,” Crawford said.
Could it be that simple?
Beverly leaned across the carriage and gently clasped my hand. His expression had gone soft, like it had been in the garden that morning.
“Will that do?” he asked.
I studied him, adrenaline still fizzing in my veins. It was so hard to read him. Maybe with time I would learn. But today, I didn’t truly know if I’d won or lost.
“Yes.” I wouldn’t thank him. Not when what we’d just agreed on would affect so few families. There were so many more who would still struggle.
“Can we carry on with our day now?” He traced a finger over the sparkling bracelet on my wrist. “Please, George. I would like us very much to be friends.”
I wanted to be angry at him. Wanted to list all of his offenses against his people. But antagonizing him more wouldn’t produce the right results over the long term. I had time. Niall had always said we needed to be strategic in our resistance. There was time for me to change him and Redmere, too.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Beverly.” He grinned an earnest smile that had me blushing despite myself. I couldn’t help it, particularly when I caught sight of the spark of approval in Crawford’s eye as he watched us silently.
“Beverly,” I said.
“George and Beverly.” He laughed. “We’ll be quite the pair.”
5
We returned to the palace because my muddy dress was unacceptable for my role. The prince said we would cancel the lunch.
“My aunt is a bit of a snob anyway.” He grinned, and Crawford laughed softly beside him.
A rider had been sent ahead of us, and Rosie was pacing anxiously in the hall as I entered. She was a flurry of activity. When we returned to my room, I was stripped out of my dress with such force that I nearly fell.
“Take off your boots.” Rosie tossed the muddy dress in the corner. “The laundress is not going to be pleased about that skirt at all.”
“My boots?”
“George.” Rosie’s eyes were wide, and she heaved. “You can’t wear those boots to meet a duchess. If I’d known that was where he was taking you when you left the garden this morning, I would have insisted on putting you in something finer.”
“You won’t even let me choose my shoes?”
“Those ridiculous boots you wore yesterday say you can’t be trusted.”
Rosie called for lunch—more endless trays, and I resolved to speak to someone in the kitchen as soon as possible—then began the arduous task of dressing me to meet a duchess. My heart fluttered. The announcement we’d read at Niall’s said my engagement would be formally announced at the duchess’s birthday, and then Beverly and I would be married in a week.
When I was dressed again, the prince and I rode out in the carriage together. The count had gone on ahead.
“He hates riding in these things,” Beverly said. He’d also taken advantage of the return to the castle to change his clothes. That morning, he’d been dressed in a severe black coat, nearly military in its cut, but he’d replaced that now with one that was dark blue, trimmed in black fur. It was the opposite of the dress Rosie had put me in, which was the color of pewter and trimmed at the neck and cuffs in white fur like a rabbit’s, though I suspected it was made from something far more wild than the commonplace rabbits that had lived around my father’s house and fed us on more than one evening. The sleeves flared from the elbows like the gown I’d worn at the dressmaker’s shop, and I found myself unconsciously tugging at the hems, trying to keep my wrists covered.
“Do you not like the dress?” he asked as I pulled on the sleeve yet again.
“It was very . . . thoughtful.”
“Yes, well, I heard that your brother wasn’t able to provide you with an acceptable wardrobe, so it was my pleasure to do so. In private, like tonight, a little frivolity is acceptable, don’t you think?”
Acceptable for whom? For him and his friends? Even the dressmaker wouldn’t make a dress like this. The pewter fabric shone a little too brightly, and the fur was too white and would draw attention. No woman I’d ever seen would wear a dress like this unless they had a prince on their arm to shield them. What a privilege he offered. Freedom, as long as I was willing to accept his gifts and fine words.
Many people would have been more than willing to make the trade.
I forced myself to hold still as Beverly reached for my hand, tangling our fingers together. Then, as if the touch were not enough, he sat on my side of the carriage so we were pressed together from knee to shoulder. “What man wouldn’t want to look after his wife? You’re going to be very popular tonight,” Beverly said, stroking a thumb over my knuckles. He wore a heavy gold ring encrusted in rubies on his heart finger, and the metal warmed against my skin.
“Will there be very many people?” I asked, trying to think of some conversation topic that wouldn’t be loaded with half-answers and winks that made me squirm.
“A few hundred, I should think.” He said it casually, then laughed when I gaped at him.
“A few hundred?”
He kissed my knuckles, and I was too shocked at what he’d said to pull my hand away.
“They’ll all want a glimpse of you, the future queen, of course, but you’ll only be expected to speak to a handful of them. I’ll stay with you the whole time.” He squeezed my hand, bringing it to his chest. “George, please don’t think that what happened yesterday is any indication of how it’ll be for us. We’ll be there together, and I’ll protect you.”
I bit my lip. There were so many questions. Why would I need protecting? How would it be for us? If there were a few hundred people who were well-connected enough to be invited to a duchess’s birthday celebration, what had possessed him to choose me as a wife?
Of course I was. The count should have been far more concerned about the boy, because at that moment, four fully grown men seized him. The boy cried out as he disappeared under a barrage of uniforms and the butt of a rifle.
“Stop!” I was moving before I knew it. Behind me, the count called out, but I ignored him as I hopped down from the carriage. The boy struggled, caught by the collar of his coat.
“Let me go!” He got a solid kick at the guard’s shin before he could react, and the boy was rewarded for his trouble with a harsh shake and a slap across the face.
“Stop!” I strode across the stones, practically at a run, as the boy struggled again.
“Filthy brat!” The guard lifted his hand, and I leaped, grabbing hold of his thick wrist and pulling him off balance before he could hit the child again. He must not have seen me coming at all, because he tilted and cursed, and the boy slipped free of his grasp. He might have made a run for it, but there were three other guards to take up the work of their colleague. One kicked out savagely and caught the boy’s ankles, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“No!” I reached for him then yelped as a hand caught my veil and pulled me back. “Let go of me!”
“Stop!” The voice rang out over the mounting chaos, and everyone froze. The count stalked toward us. His face was red, his eyes so narrow, they were nothing more than black slits.
“Your Worship!” the guard who still had his hand in my hair said. “These two were—”
“Unhand the lady.”
“But sir, she—” Whatever the guard was going to say was cut off by the count’s fist against his jaw. He yelped, and he let me go. I tumbled to the ground.
“That lady is your future queen.”
“But—”
I ignored the sound of fist and skin connecting again and scrambled to the boy who now lay curled on the ground. I put a hand on his shoulder. He jerked, but then he rolled, staring tearily up at me.
“Are you all right?” I asked. He nodded, and I pulled him upright into a hug.
“My Lady George.” The count was still fussing behind me. “I’m sure we can find someone who will deal with the boy. If you would just—”
“Is your mother here?” I asked the boy. He nodded into my neck. “Should we go find her?” He detached himself but clung to my hand. Without a look behind me at the count’s reaction, we walked toward the crowd at the gate, now larger with gawkers no doubt drawn by the commotion. Women and children pressed against the guards, who were struggling to hold them back. As I approached, the boy let go of my hand and ran into the arms of a woman who gathered him up and sobbed.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” she said to me.
I stayed on the opposite side of the guards, but I smiled. “No harm done. No reason to hurt him.”
“I couldn’t have borne it if they’d taken him away. We’ve lost so much already.”
“Your husband?” There were so many strained faces in front of me. So many women, some even younger than I was, some old and shrunken by age and starvation.
“And my brother. Please.” The woman reached out despite the guards and grabbed at my skirt. “Please. You have to help us. You have to tell them. We’ll starve if they don’t—”
“Get back!” The count stepped between us.
“Please!” The woman’s voice rose, and the crowd behind her picked up the sound, echoing it in a collective moan.
“I don’t know what I can—” I tried to say, but the noise was growing, people pressing in. The guards struggled to hold them back, and more soldiers came to join in holding back the human tide coming through the gate.
A hand gripped my shoulder, gentler than the one that had pulled my veil. I turned to fight off whoever was there, but it was Crawford. His grip was firm, but his eyes were wide and sympathetic.
“We can’t help them. Not like this,” he said. I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “You’ll only stir them up more. Please, my lady. Not like this.”
I glanced over my shoulder. The boy and his mother had vanished, but the crowd was swelling. Angry voices rose, ignoring the guards’ orders to stand down.
A familiar flash of glasses in the sun caught my attention, and for a moment, my heart stopped. But then I looked back, and whatever I’d seen must have been a trick of the light. Where I thought I’d spotted Niall, looming tall and lanky at the edge of the crowd, there were now only unfamiliar faces.
I followed Crawford back to the carriage. The horses were dancing nervously in place. I ignored the count’s offered hand, instead hitching my skirts up and climbing back into the carriage on my own. As soon as he joined me, the door was slammed shut, and the carriage lurched forward.
“You’re a fool,” Crawford said.
“They were hurting that boy! I couldn’t let them.” I adjusted my veil. The hair beneath it had come loose, and I wouldn’t be able to fix it without taking it off completely, which was something I couldn’t do until we returned to the palace.
“When you’re queen, you can save as many little boys as you like. But what you did was pointless at best and dangerous at worst. If the prince—”
“What would the prince do? Would he have stepped aside and let the guards beat that child?”
Crawford swallowed. The carriage jolted to a halt. We were still within the grounds of the admiralty office, but the sound coming from the gate was farther away.
I fidgeted in my seat. What had I been expected to do? Sit in this ridiculous contraption and look the other way?
“What do the women want?”
He shifted, brushing at a fleck of dirt on his coat. “Their husband’s pensions.”
“And?”
He gritted his teeth, but finally, he spoke. “And the admiralty won’t pay it out until it can be proven that the men are actually dead.”
I inhaled sharply. The only thing I could think of was Lou, whose body had never been brought home.
“But that might never happen.”
The count nodded. “If no bodies are found, and if the men don’t return, then after a year—”
“A year? What are they supposed to live on for a year? What good is their grief if there’s no way to pay for food for a year?”
He set his jaw. I was overstepping what he expected from a gentle lady, but whatever my heritage was, I was no princess.
The carriage jostled as a door was opened, and like a gust of fresh air, Prince Beverly climbed in.
“Ridiculous. A bunch of old fools who still think my father is in charge. Driver!” he bellowed. I stared out the window as the carriage rolled forward once more.
“How was the meeting, Your Highness?” Crawford asked mildly.
“Oh, don’t call me that. You know I hate it when you’re formal,” the prince growled. “They wouldn’t listen. They’re insisting on sending more ships out. I said it wasn’t safe. I said their own incompetence had sunk my best ships, but will they listen?”
The carriage rolled out a separate gate from the one we’d come through. This one was smaller, and there was no sign of the stricken women who had been waiting at the other one.
The prince leaned forward and patted my hand. “I hope that wasn’t too boring for you. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have gone there at all, but the navy can barely function without my attention. I promise you, this afternoon will be much more enjoyable.”
I tucked my hand into my sleeve and continued to stare out the window.
I was a fool. Crawford had that part right, although his reasoning was flawed. It wasn’t my fault. The last few days had been surreal chaos, and all I could do was fight not to drown. But the two men in front of me would be disappointed if they expected me to step into line and not speak out when someone was being hurt. My days in the print shop were over, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make changes.
“Why is your hair exposed? And what happened to your dress?” The prince’s brows were drawn together. I followed his gaze. My dress was dark with mud just above my knees. I rubbed at it but only succeeded in smearing it.
“There was an incident,” Crawford said.
The prince’s attention snapped to him. “An incident? How long was I gone for? What sort of incident?” His steely eyes swung back to me. “Did you leave the carriage?”
I bit back the retort that no, I’d just managed to find mud inside his immaculate carriage. Instead, I said, “The guards were assaulting a boy.”
“After he assaulted you!” Crawford said.
“After he what?” Beverly’s voice rose.
“A bit of garbage does not make an assault.” I stared pointedly at the count.
“Garbage?” the prince asked.
“The child slipped into the courtyard from the crowd. He threw—” The count explained, but Beverly cut him off, still speaking to me.
“And you intervened?”
“They were hurting him!” This was what I’d feared when Jeremy had sneered that I would be leaving his house. This was what I’d imagined when I’d cried in Niall’s arms. This spoiled, self-centered prince who couldn’t see why the incident in the courtyard was anything but a personal inconvenience.
As if to prove my point, Beverly slumped back in his seat. “This is perfect. How could you be so thoughtless? We’ll be late now.”
My fury stumbled. “Late?”
Beverly muttered something to himself. I waited, but he didn’t say anything further.
Finally, the count spoke. “It’s my mother’s birthday. She’s also the prince’s aunt. There is an evening planned in her honor at the summer gardens. We were going to have lunch with her first as a private gathering to welcome you into the family. Did no one tell you?”
“No.” My face flamed in embarrassment, even though I wasn’t responsible for my ignorance.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” The prince glared at my stained skirts.
“It’s not as if I fell on purpose. They were hurting—”
“Yes, a poor, unfortunate child who had only attacked the carriage.”
“There was no attack! There was one desperate child!”
“Any such act of defiance against the crown is punishable by death.” His tone was flat as he said it. It wasn’t a threat, just a statement of fact.
Too far, George, too far. I took a long breath, staring at my husband-to-be. Could I do this? Truly? Would it be better to infuriate him to the point where he took my head now? He’d said he would.
Don’t be stupid. I’d only known him for a day. Too soon to give up. There had to be a way to survive.
I mirrored him and slumped back in my seat. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll be dead within the year anyway.”
He scoffed. “Now you’re being dramatic.”
“Crawford told me.”
Beside the prince, Crawford blanched. “I did?”
“You said they were the poorest. The most desperate. Without their widow’s pensions, those women and their children will starve.”
Beverly laughed. “Don’t be silly. There is more grain in the fields this summer than there has been in a decade.”
“And how will they pay for it? What good is grain if there’s no way to buy it?”
The carriage fell silent. The two men stared, and I stared right back. Wretched Prince Beaverly would know the kind of woman he was going to marry.
At last, the prince sighed. “What exactly are you asking for?”
“I’ve been served more food in the last day than those women will see in their households for the next month. Surely something can be done.”
He sighed. “This is what you want?”
“It’s what anyone would want.”
He watched me for a minute longer, and I kept my shoulders square and my chin level. Never mind my muddy dress or my twisted veil. We would be equals.
“Crawford,” Beverly said.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
The prince’s eyes never left me the whole time he spoke. “Send a message to the admiralty. Tell them the palace grain stores will be made available to any of the families whose men are currently missing at sea.”
“Sir—”
“It is a wedding gift from the Lady George and myself to our people. Until the matter of the missing is resolved, none of them will be allowed to go hungry.”
Heat poured over my ears and down the back of my neck. I’d won.
“It will be done,” Crawford said.
Could it be that simple?
Beverly leaned across the carriage and gently clasped my hand. His expression had gone soft, like it had been in the garden that morning.
“Will that do?” he asked.
I studied him, adrenaline still fizzing in my veins. It was so hard to read him. Maybe with time I would learn. But today, I didn’t truly know if I’d won or lost.
“Yes.” I wouldn’t thank him. Not when what we’d just agreed on would affect so few families. There were so many more who would still struggle.
“Can we carry on with our day now?” He traced a finger over the sparkling bracelet on my wrist. “Please, George. I would like us very much to be friends.”
I wanted to be angry at him. Wanted to list all of his offenses against his people. But antagonizing him more wouldn’t produce the right results over the long term. I had time. Niall had always said we needed to be strategic in our resistance. There was time for me to change him and Redmere, too.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Beverly.” He grinned an earnest smile that had me blushing despite myself. I couldn’t help it, particularly when I caught sight of the spark of approval in Crawford’s eye as he watched us silently.
“Beverly,” I said.
“George and Beverly.” He laughed. “We’ll be quite the pair.”
5
We returned to the palace because my muddy dress was unacceptable for my role. The prince said we would cancel the lunch.
“My aunt is a bit of a snob anyway.” He grinned, and Crawford laughed softly beside him.
A rider had been sent ahead of us, and Rosie was pacing anxiously in the hall as I entered. She was a flurry of activity. When we returned to my room, I was stripped out of my dress with such force that I nearly fell.
“Take off your boots.” Rosie tossed the muddy dress in the corner. “The laundress is not going to be pleased about that skirt at all.”
“My boots?”
“George.” Rosie’s eyes were wide, and she heaved. “You can’t wear those boots to meet a duchess. If I’d known that was where he was taking you when you left the garden this morning, I would have insisted on putting you in something finer.”
“You won’t even let me choose my shoes?”
“Those ridiculous boots you wore yesterday say you can’t be trusted.”
Rosie called for lunch—more endless trays, and I resolved to speak to someone in the kitchen as soon as possible—then began the arduous task of dressing me to meet a duchess. My heart fluttered. The announcement we’d read at Niall’s said my engagement would be formally announced at the duchess’s birthday, and then Beverly and I would be married in a week.
When I was dressed again, the prince and I rode out in the carriage together. The count had gone on ahead.
“He hates riding in these things,” Beverly said. He’d also taken advantage of the return to the castle to change his clothes. That morning, he’d been dressed in a severe black coat, nearly military in its cut, but he’d replaced that now with one that was dark blue, trimmed in black fur. It was the opposite of the dress Rosie had put me in, which was the color of pewter and trimmed at the neck and cuffs in white fur like a rabbit’s, though I suspected it was made from something far more wild than the commonplace rabbits that had lived around my father’s house and fed us on more than one evening. The sleeves flared from the elbows like the gown I’d worn at the dressmaker’s shop, and I found myself unconsciously tugging at the hems, trying to keep my wrists covered.
“Do you not like the dress?” he asked as I pulled on the sleeve yet again.
“It was very . . . thoughtful.”
“Yes, well, I heard that your brother wasn’t able to provide you with an acceptable wardrobe, so it was my pleasure to do so. In private, like tonight, a little frivolity is acceptable, don’t you think?”
Acceptable for whom? For him and his friends? Even the dressmaker wouldn’t make a dress like this. The pewter fabric shone a little too brightly, and the fur was too white and would draw attention. No woman I’d ever seen would wear a dress like this unless they had a prince on their arm to shield them. What a privilege he offered. Freedom, as long as I was willing to accept his gifts and fine words.
Many people would have been more than willing to make the trade.
I forced myself to hold still as Beverly reached for my hand, tangling our fingers together. Then, as if the touch were not enough, he sat on my side of the carriage so we were pressed together from knee to shoulder. “What man wouldn’t want to look after his wife? You’re going to be very popular tonight,” Beverly said, stroking a thumb over my knuckles. He wore a heavy gold ring encrusted in rubies on his heart finger, and the metal warmed against my skin.
“Will there be very many people?” I asked, trying to think of some conversation topic that wouldn’t be loaded with half-answers and winks that made me squirm.
“A few hundred, I should think.” He said it casually, then laughed when I gaped at him.
“A few hundred?”
He kissed my knuckles, and I was too shocked at what he’d said to pull my hand away.
“They’ll all want a glimpse of you, the future queen, of course, but you’ll only be expected to speak to a handful of them. I’ll stay with you the whole time.” He squeezed my hand, bringing it to his chest. “George, please don’t think that what happened yesterday is any indication of how it’ll be for us. We’ll be there together, and I’ll protect you.”
I bit my lip. There were so many questions. Why would I need protecting? How would it be for us? If there were a few hundred people who were well-connected enough to be invited to a duchess’s birthday celebration, what had possessed him to choose me as a wife?
