Dangerous Deceptions (29 page)

The blood drained from my cheeks and took all possibility of intelligent reply with it.

“Now, now, no need to look that way. You’re not being dismissed. It’s not come to that, or anything like it quite yet. So, buck up, eh?” He patted my shoulder. I think it was in a fatherly way. I was too busy wrapping my thoughts around the words “you’re not being dismissed” and “quite yet” for more nuanced reasoning.

“But we’re in an important time, Miss Fitzroy, and we must all keep up appearances.” Prince George tapped the side of his nose. “It’s all about appearances. My father, he appears to care more about Hanover than Britain. Doesn’t improve his standing among the lords of the land, you begin to see?”

“Ermmm . . .” I confessed.

“Ha! That might be what I said to Her Royal Highness when she talked this way to me.” He chuckled again, and I laughed, because it was what one did when royalty was amused. “Now, you understand how it is for us. There’s the ones that pay us court, and we must pay court right back to them. It’s our job to be open, bright, entertaining, you see? That’s what your Englishmen like from their king. By showing them the glitter and the flash”—he waved one hand vaguely in the direction of the gardens beyond my blank walls—“we show how much we care for those same lords and the land they hold. Makes ’em more inclined to let things continue on as they are. D’ye see now?”

“Yes, sir. I think so.” What he meant was that it made the aforementioned lords less inclined to attempt yet another change of royal horses.

“Quick on the uptake, just like she said. Good.” The prince nodded vigorously. “All of us inmates here, we have to keep up our appearances, no matter how high or low. Not a woman living doesn’t know all about that, eh? Now, appearances for a man, they’re different, but must be kept up just the same, you know. There’s things he’s got to be seen to do, or there’s persons—some of them very important persons—who’ll think he’s not so much of a man as he might be. And that’s bad for a king, ain’t it? And since there’s no way out of it, it’s best to do it in a way that don’t disturb things too much. Now do you see?”

He was talking about Mrs. Howard. I was standing here with my eyes lowered, all dutiful attention, listening to my prince talk about the necessity of keeping a mistress so that he looked like a true man to the lords of the land.

The Prince of Wales was taking me into confidence. The heir to the throne wanted me to understand, to remain loyal to him and his wife, and not to make waves about Mrs. Howard. He did not want my naive young self put off by the convolutions of court sophistication.

He and his wife, for reasons of their own, wanted me here. I didn’t know whether to cry out in triumph or expire on the spot from the weight of this understanding. At the same time, I couldn’t help but notice that was the second time this man had referred to himself as king. Not prince. King.

“I do see, sir,” I said. “And . . . if I may, sir . . . Mr. Walpole spoke to me recently of certain stirrings that might be happening, from the north, since Lord Tierney left for Paris—”

“Er? Eh?” The prince’s face shifted, and for the first time, perhaps, I saw that I was looking not at a velvet aristocrat, but at a soldier.

“I think he is not mistaken, and I think I may be about to be able to put some names to the actors, as I have been requested to do by Her Royal Highness.” I stopped. “But I will have to be making use of appearances before I can be sure.”

The prince, my prince, nodded once. “It’s good, it’s good. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Will be most interested to see what comes of it, Miss Fitzroy.”

I made my curtsy. His Royal Highness patted my head, much as he had his daughter’s, and took his leave. The footman closed the door, but not without a judicious glance at me.

At another time, I might have worried what rumors this private word between His Royal Highness and myself would give rise to. But I did not spare a thought for that now. Those rumors were nothing compared to the ones I was about to set in motion.

I had five days until Thursday and the next drawing room. It was barely enough time. I had to bring Monsieur Janvier in for extra lessons, not in fighting or dancing this time, but card playing. Julius Sandford had challenged me to a game, and he would not find me less than ready.

Naturally, there had to be a flurry of letters sent. I had to let Matthew know what I was planning, and when. I had to invite Sebastian to the next drawing room and pretend that I did not know Sophy would have already issued an invitation of her own. Finally, I had to make sure a separate, formal invitation reached Lord Lynnfield and the Honorable Mr. Julius Sandford.

I had to invite both Molly Lepell and Mrs. Howard to drink a private cup of tea and enlist their aid for the drawing room, and the plan.

But even more urgently, I had to retrieve the money for the jewels I had sold. My plan might be sound, but it was even more expensive than giving a private dinner. Fortunately, Mrs. Egan proved as good as her word and was able to fetch a respectable price for the four pieces of jewelry I gave her to copy, along with the three I passed on from Molly.

Molly was duly grateful to receive the purse containing her share of the spoils. So grateful, in fact, that she was willing to speak to the master of Leicester House on my behalf. Leicester House was a grand mansion on the same street as St. James’s Palace that had the unusual function of being a sort of secondary palace when the royal family was in residence. Courtiers who could not afford, or had not been invited, to take rooms in the palace proper could find apartments there for themselves or their guests. Molly’s good word, bolstered by my freshly acquired coin, reserved a modest suite of rooms there. That suite was, may I add, rather more spacious than my rooms at the palace and had not one but two windows.

What Olivia told her parents about where she was going and what she was doing, I do not know. But she arrived at Leicester House with her maid, Templeton, and enough trunks to give even Norris, who was directing her fetching and carrying, pause.

“You don’t intend to go back, do you?” I said, watching the footmen heave yet another box up the stairs.

“Not if I have to beg in the streets,” Olivia replied.

This time I felt absolutely no guilt at all about counting coins in my mind. I might be in the confidence of royalty, but that confidence was fickle, and it tended to last only as long as success did—and it did not always bring monetary reward.

But I could not dwell on this. It would paralyze me with doubts I had no time for. I simply kept working and explaining. I explained part of my plan to Her Royal Highness in German, my command of which was improving rapidly. I explained rather more of it to Olivia, as she already knew most of the parts I did not dare explain to Her Royal Highness. I had ample proof that my mistress was a tolerant and practical woman, but one did not tell the Princess of Wales one had already turned thief, housebreaker, and cardsharp until it became absolutely necessary.

There was exactly one person to whom I told the whole plan. When I was finished, I looked up at Matthew with a single question in my mind.

“Have I gone mad?”

“I don’t know,” he answered me. We were in my room. The supper had just finished, and I was supposedly here to change my mantua for the princess’s usual private party.

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

“You could run away with me.” To cement his argument in favor of this suggestion, Matthew kissed me—a long, slow, warm kiss of the sort he was particularly expert at.

“Yes,” I agreed as soon as we were able to bear breaking away again. “That is a much better idea. I’ll pack the dog, and we’ll go at once.”

Unfortunately, Guinevere was not inclined to let me or Matthew anywhere near her pups, so we had to abandon that excellent scheme. But Matthew did agree to act as Olivia’s escort to the drawing room. In fact, he insisted upon it.

So it was that when the night of the drawing room arrived, the two people I loved most in the world were in my chamber when I emerged from my dressing closet.

“Peggy!” cried Olivia. “Is that really you?”

Matthew said not a single word. But the look on his face was that of a starving man presented with a banquet. I let myself smile and curtsied to them both.

The dress was new. It was sea green silk and figured silver satin over saffron petticoats. Pure white lace fell in four tiers to cover all but the tips of my fingers. The square neckline was cut to within a hair’s breadth of propriety, and the expanse of skin and bosom it revealed was powdered with a blend of Libby’s own creation that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. I wore my new stomacher as well, with my special jeweled pin in plain sight, and my little silver blade in its hidden pocket. I did not truly believe this evening would end in blows, but Sebastian was attending, so one could never be entirely sure.

I also wore my mother’s sapphires at my throat and carried the all-important talisman of her fan in my hand. My hair was pinned with more sapphires and strings of gold beads that cascaded down my neck and shoulders to glitter among my dark curls. The patch by the right corner of my mouth was a blue heart. The patch beneath my left eye was a tiny black bird.

I’d intended this to be my costume for the prince’s birthday celebration, but I was going into battle tonight. It made no sense to do so in anything but my best armor. Even Libby looked pleased as she hurried out to see to some final preparations.

Matthew left Olivia’s side. He took my hand and pressed it to his mouth. He began to speak, but I rested my fingers over his lips.

“There’s no time,” I told him, not without a great deal of regret. “We’re expecting company.”

“Are you sure he’ll come?” asked Olivia anxiously. “You didn’t say if you got an answer—”

But my answer came there and then. A furious pounding began at the door. I made a flourishing gesture with my fan as Olivia moved to open it. On the other side stood Sebastian Sandford—fist raised and face flushed. He was also breathing hard. Probably, he’d bolted up the stairs and down the corridor to come make this particular noise.

Displaying his usual understanding of propriety, Sebastian strode into the room without waiting for an invitation.

“What in God’s name are you playing at!” he roared.

Matthew stepped forward. Sebastian was the taller of the two of them, but when he saw the expression on Matthew’s face, he was the one who fell back.

“My brother’s down there!” The menace in this statement was much reduced by the fact that Sebastian had to deliver it over Matthew’s shoulder.

“Then he must have received my invitation,” I replied. “Surely you heard we were introduced the other day at Sir Oliver’s house.”

At this, Guinevere lifted her head and growled.

“Quiet. Naughty thing,” remarked Olivia.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Sebastian said, plainly expecting me to be shocked by this revelation. He, of course, was unaware that not knowing what I was getting myself into had become my most consistent modus operandi
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“My brother will not forgive you if he thinks you’re trifling with him.”

“And, worse, he might think you put her up to this,” remarked Olivia as she moved to stand beside me.

Sebastian blanched and stared at us all in disbelief. Whether this was because of what was said, or because he found himself thoroughly and unexpectedly outnumbered, I could not tell.

“Contrary to what you may think, Mr. Sandford, I do know at least some of what’s happening,” I told him, coolly. “And since you’re here, I have an offer to make you.”

“Oh, do you?” Sebastian snorted. “Miss Howe was sure you’d have something up your sleeve.”

“I never keep my cards up my sleeve. They slip out far too easily.” I made certain his gaze was on mine before I spoke my next words. I spoke them slowly and evenly. “I do not wish you to mistake me, Mr. Sandford, so I will be plain. I know your father and brother have Jacobite sympathies. What I do not have is proof. If you were willing to supply that proof, I could take it to certain persons who would make good use of it.”

Sebastian was silent for a heartbeat, and another, and another.

“If I might even consider doing so ridiculous a thing,” he murmured, as if he was afraid the walls themselves were listening, “what would it get me?”

“You would be free to go about your business, which is something I know you want as much as I do.”

Again Sebastian fell silent. The moment stretched out. Olivia shifted her weight impatiently, and I silently pleaded with her to hold still. Sebastian was looking at me. He saw the richness of my dress and how well I occupied my room in the palace. He was thinking about power, and about freedom, and, I was sure, about Sophy Howe. If he agreed to this, there would be no need for either of us to face down his brother and father in the drawing room. I could send a note straight to Mr. Walpole, and all would be done.

“And the post?” he asked finally.

I was ready for this. I had spoken to Her Royal Highness about the matter. “The word I have been given is that your chances of securing a post would be greatly increased if you came forward publicly. It would exonerate you and clear your way to any available preferment.”

“I can’t do that. They’ll kill me.” He said this flatly and with certainty.

From what I had seen of his family’s capacity for casual violence, I did not doubt him at all, but neither did I intend to let it change my position. Instead, I lifted one shoulder in the elegant shrug so much favored by the ladies of court, indicating that whatever he did, it was all the same to me.

“You little bitch,” croaked Sebastian.

“I beg your pardon?” said Matthew, very, very softly.

Sebastian backed away another step. Then he smiled, and as he did, I saw his brother in his eyes.

“So, there it is. You’ve seen Julius. You think, ‘There’s the power in that family. What do I need Sebastian for? He’s nothing at all next to his brother.’” The words were soaked in an old and sour bitterness. “Think again, my fine miss. You’re not the only one with friends at court now. I will have that post, or I will have you. It’s your choice.”