The Shadow of Albion (22 page)

Majesty’s Royal Governor would hardly cooperate with one of the sans-culottes,

but young master Qambit isn’t likely to be all that forthcoming about who’s paying

him when he acts the distressed traveler.“

„And the governor is in the unenviable position of being in rebellion against his

soi-disant Emperor but not necessarily upon terms with England,“ Wessex finished

for him. „Still, one supposes there might be a certain amusement to making Gambit

Corday walk all that way.“

„It isn’t up to us,“ Koscuisko reminded him. Wessex could tell from his friend’s

abstracted tone that Koscuisko – like Wessex – was occupied with the pretty puzzle

of what could possibly be important enough to draw Saint-Lazarre back to France,

where every man’s hand was against him and his capture could be a highly profitable

affair. What information could he have gained – and not shared – from among the

Royalist factions with which he was in touch that could possibly have motivated this

clandestine flight?

„But I must be off upon my rounds – I need to tell one lady that I’m leaving her

for another,“ Koscuisko announced provocatively. „And there is packing to see to

and old haunts to, er, haunt before the Endeavour sails.“ He drained his glass and

got to his feet, reclaiming gloves, hat, and stick with easy grace. „At any rate, you

may console yourself with the knowledge that while I suffer along before the mast I

shall be forced to be a very pattern-card of virtue, and nothing at all of interest can

possibly happen.“

„No,“ Wessex agreed, rising to his feet to see his comrade out. „The fun will start

when Princess Stephanie arrives, and King Henry must persuade Jamie to accept his

bride.“

But consideration for a parent’s feelings was very far from Wessex’s mind a

fortnight later when he attended upon King Henry on the evening of the Court

Drawing-Room.

Wessex had managed to put from his mind until that very morning the knowledge

that he was promised to the Dowager Duchess of Wessex’s ball this evening – a ball

thrown at Herriard House to celebrate the Marchioness of Roxbury’s belated

presentation at Court. But once he’d unfortunately remembered that interesting fact –

with the aid of Atheling, who wished to know if his master would wear ball dress or

regimentals for the momentous occasion – it had refused to leave his mind. He’d

spent the morning at his desk in Bond Street (for the members of the White Tower

Group had as many despatches to read as any other political, and Misbourne did not

encourage the removal of such sensitive material from the premises) and his

afternoon at White’s; but as the shadows of evening had drawn nigh he had returned

to his Albany rooms to dress, and then had made his way to St. James Palace.

He’d been ushered into the King’s presence at once, but mis caused no

comment, as it was publicly known that King Henry frequently sought Wessex’s

advice upon matters pertaining to the Army. And so King Henry had; for

three-quarters of an hour the two men, monarch and subject, discussed the

difficulties of supplying an army across a stretch of water over-amply supplied with

eager French men o’war, the delicate awkwardnesses of precedence caused by a

battlefield cluttered with kings, archdukes, and princes, and the notorious

unreliability of the irregular troops that were more harm man help to Lord

Wellesley’s Peninsular Army.

„Your young friend Koscuisko has arrived safely in Copenhagen,“ King Henry

said, „and has found everything much as I expected that he would.“

Of course Koscuisko had not been forced to sail upon the Endeavor as an able

seaman, but neither had he sailed under his own persona, that of Illya Koscuisko,

late of His Polish Majesty’s Household Guard, a charming, scapegrace fellow with a

taste for low company. Such a presentation would not gain him access to Princess

Stephanie’s suite, nor would it be in the least likely that such a raffish fellow would

attend on such an important occasion in the first place. Wessex knew Koscuisko

had adopted any of half a dozen disguises while aboard the warship, to vanish as

soon as she made port and reappear in Denmark in yet another guise.

„And that is, Sir?“ Wessex asked politely, though his innate caution warned him

that His Majesty was making his way slowly toward the reason he had called Wessex

into colloquy this evening.

„Oh, disorganization and delay – the French envoy, that turncoat Saint-Germain,

is naturally doing all he can to sway the Prince Regent from his agreement. But Sir

John is a diplomatist I trust absolutely to talk his way around any obstacle, and so I

imagine the convoy will be on its way here only slightly behind schedule. Which

brings me to the matter I particularly wished to raise with you, Wessex.“

Every sense was sharpened to a fever pitch of alertness, but Wessex did his best

to give the King no sign of his apprehension.

„As you may be aware, Prince Jamie is… perhaps not entirely reconciled to

Princess Stephanie’s arrival,“ King Henry said with odd tentativeness.

Wessex stiffened. While it was common knowledge that Jamie abjured the match,

what was common knowledge was not necessarily a subject for common gossip. „I

am certain that the Princess is all that is amiable,“ Wessex said a bit stiffly.

Henry smiled. „I am glad to hear you say so, but you know that everyone will not

agree. Mr. Fox is already calling for appeasement, and the Prince’s Party cannot like

a move which they will only see as a drawing of new factions into an old war.“

Assuming, of course, that the Danes jump the way we wish, Wessex thought to

himself. Aloud he said: „I am certain that time will persuade them that they are

misinformed. Prince James is of quite an age to marry, and Denmark…“

„Is very far away, and this poor girl will be all alone here among us – and I am

afraid that Society’s view of the suitability of the match will be very much informed

by whether or not the ton approves of the Princess… which is why I wished to

speak to you privately this evening.“

Unconsciously, Wessex braced himself for the blow.

„I mean to appoint the Marchioness of Roxbury to the position of Mistress of

Robes – “

Now Wessex could see where this was going, and cursed himself for not having

had the foresight to stow away upon the Endeavour, or visit the Cannibal Islands, or

shoot himself. The position of Mistress of the Robes was a high-ranking one in the

Royal Household… but it could not be held by an unmarried woman.

And King Henry was still speaking.

„ – I mean the Princess to be all the fashion; I will not have another arrangement

beneath my roof like Maria and her German Georgie – the man can’t even be

bothered to learn English; he’s hissed everywhere he goes. Princess Stephanie will

arrive in England by mid-July, and I should take it very kindly if you and the

Marchioness had wed by then. Roxbury has cut a dashing figure upon the Town for

years, and you are hardly an inconsequential fellow, Your Grace – the two of you

can sponsor the Princess in English society, and make certain that all goes well for

her. I need you to do this for me, Rupert.“

Wessex’s heart sank, but he could hardly refuse the King in such a small matter

when he had given up so much more than his honor in England’s service. If a Duke

and his Duchess would be of more use to the King than an unmarried Duke and the

freewheeling Marchioness of Roxbury, Wessex would marry the chit. The Royal

command had been given, and it did not occur to Wessex to disobey.

But Wessex’s tainted line ended with him; he would breed no more spies to

follow him. That vow Wessex would not break.

„I will not fail Your Majesty,“ Wessex said, bowing slightly. He wondered if the

Marchioness would be as agreeable to the King’s behest – but he had seen the

talisman she carried; as a member of the Boscobel League, one of that elite cadre

sworn to serve the interests of the King, she must be, once she knew it was the

command of the King himself.

Henry saw Wessex’s faint hesitation and mistook its cause.

„My dear Rupert,“ he said, smiling, „is it possible that you think Roxbury will

refuse you? I grant the girl has a high enough opinion of herself, but the family has

always been a great friend to the Crown – to save you the worry, I’ll ask her myself.

On your behalf, of course.“ King Henry smiled.

Sarah could not repress a last flutter of nervousness as she regarded her reflection

in the gilt-framed mirror. The archaic presentation dress, a peculiar anachronistic

confection of wide-sprung hoops and towering headdress, gleamed with white satin,

silver tissue, and enormous jewels of price. The design had been copied, in the same

fabrics but in a modern line, for the ball-dress she would wear later this evening.

Sarah only hoped her nerves would get her from here to there. Fortunately, the

Presentation was a very formal affair; she, along with perhaps a dozen other hopeful

damsels, would be ushered into one of the palace’s withdrawing rooms to await the

arrival of King Henry. There, each of them would be presented to the King and have

the opportunity to make dieir bows. It would all be over very quickly, so she’d been

told.

Out of consideration for her rank and precedence, she had been given a private

chamber to wait in while she put the last finishing touches on her costume, and she

and Knoyle had needed every minute to affix the egret-plume headdress – too high

to survive a trip in the carriage – shake out the yards of ice-white satin that made up

the voluminous skirt of Sarah’s gown, and finish sewing and pinning the Roxbury

diamonds to every available surface of the costume. Sarah glanced in the mirror. She

was pale with tension, and glittered as though her gown were sewn of ice, not silk.

Only a few more minutes now, she could see by the ormolu clock on me nearby

table, and they would call her to attend the King.

By rights, Sarah should have made her bow to the King at the same time she had

made her bow to Society, eight years ago. She could not at the moment recollect

why it was she had not done so men, though the stress of doing so now was

undoubtedly the cause of the strange and disturbing dreams she’d been having of

late. Perhaps once mis evening was over, the dreams would vanish, too.

If they did not, she did not mink she could stand it. If she had not had Miss

Bulleyn to confide in, the last few weeks would have been quite unbearable.

Sarah had wanted to invite Miss Bulleyn to her ball – and had, in fact, broached

the subject to her friend. But Meriel had brushed aside all Sarah’s hopeful

suggestions, saying only that her uncle would certainly not approve – and would

certainly find out. Sarah found herself nourishing quite a healthy dislike for Mr.

Richard Bulleyn, wherever he was – any man who would deny his niece such a

harmless and respectable entertainment as a ball given by the Dowager Duchess of

Wessex for her goddaughter was certainly no one that Sarah could be fond of, and

the future he was shaping for his niece by keeping her so secluded from Society was

certainly not an enviable one.

Not that Sarah’s own future looked that much brighter. She sighed. Despite her

triumphs, she was thinking of returning to the country just as soon as the ball was

over. The city was no place for her; whatever she was seeking, it was not to be

found here.

The melancholy tenor of her thoughts was interrupted by a tapping at the door.

Knoyle rushed to open it. A footman in formal palace livèry – gold-laced suit and

powdered wig – stood in the doorway.

„Lady Roxbury? King Henry has sent me to’ conduct you to the Withdrawing

Room.“

The Drawing-Room was crowded and overheated; the last glimmerings of dusk

were still in the sky, though the candelabra that lit the walls had already been lit and

the heavy scent of burning beeswax filled the air. Sarah concentrated on standing so

still that her diamonds barely flashed in the sweltering air and took the position that

the liveried footman showed her to without complaint, or any attempt to find a more

favorable one.

The salon’s walls were draped with thick falls of red velvet, interspersed with

brilliant gilt-framed mirrors, and the floor beneath Sarah’s diamond-sewn slippers

was a polished checkerboard of colored marble. On the gilded and painted ceiling

above, plump and glittering cherubs surrounded depictions of ancient kings – finding

swords beneath altar stones, drawing them forth from anvils, receiving them from

ladies rising up out of lakes. The three chandeliers sparkled with candles and