Shall We Dance? (34 page)

“None. And the more I listen to him, the more I know that he cares not a snap for the queen but only his own ambition. He was particularly put out to see Her Majesty's gown this evening, and demanded that I take charge and see that she makes less the cake of herself. As I said, or even if I haven't, the man wears on me.
Now where has Nate dragged Georgiana off to again? We're supposed to be inspecting the arrangements and pointing out where everyone should sit as the queen receives her guests.”

“I should imagine they're in the gardens, billing and cooing. I can only envy them.”

“And me,” Amelia said with such seriousness that Perry threw back his head and laughed, which immediately brought him to the queen's attention.

“Ah, Brentwood,” she said, holding out her hand. “Come amuse me while everyone dances about, sorting earls from viscounts and the ladies from the mere misses. If the pecking order is not correct we will be bombarded with such weeping and gnashing of teeth that we won't hear the music. I would dance, you know. You have my permission to lead me into the second set, as the duke over there will cut up stiff otherwise.”

Perry bowed. “An honor I do not deserve, Your Majesty.”

She motioned for him to move closer. “And yet I'm told by my ladies that you don't dance. But you couldn't say no to your queen, could you? Oh, don't scowl. I have so little real power, allow me to wield it where I might.”

“With your permission, ma'am, I should ask that you allow me to waltz with Miss Fredericks.”

“Amelia? So that's the way the wind blows, does it? I thought there was something about the girl these past weeks. But no. It is their queen who will be on the tongues of all of Mayfair tomorrow, not you. I refuse. You may not dance with anyone save me. You are to be
my coup. And, may I remind you, Amelia is
mine.
I decide for her.”

“As you say, ma'am,” Perry said, bowing once more, and then the queen waved him away as she took up her thronelike chair at the very center of the line of chairs positioned in front of the velvet draperies.

“You look angry,” Amelia said, having returned from speaking with Mrs. Fitzhugh, who appeared ready to faint at any moment. “What did the queen say to you?”

Perry took Amelia by the elbow and walked her to the far end of the ballroom. “She commanded me to open the second set with her, and forbade me to dance with you. She reminded me that you are hers and that she decides for you. And she can damn well go to the devil!”

“Shhh!” Amelia warned him. “I don't mind. Really. It's enough that you wanted to dance with me.”

“No, pet, it's not. The queen was warning me off. Blast it, Amelia, we have to settle this. We have to confront her. Or are you willing to spend the rest of your life dancing to her tune?”

Amelia blinked furiously, her eyes bright with tears. “Don't do this, Perry, please don't do this. Once the trial is over, once Her Majesty is crowned along with the king…”

“That's not going to happen, Amelia. He'll never allow it. She'll be the queen in name, but that's all. She'll end her days here in Hammersmith, unless she takes it into her head to go traveling once more. And you'll go with her? Is that what you're telling me? And
all for a secret you refuse to share with me—me, the man you swear you love?”

“I do love you. I want to tell you. But it's not—”

“Don't say it again, Amelia. Don't tell me it's not your secret, because it damn well is.”

He looked at her for long moments, shocked at his own vehemence, amazed that he could love her so much and still she wouldn't trust him.

“All right, Perry,” she said at last. “I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything and anything you want to know. If you need that in order to really love me, then I'll tell you.”

“Christ,” he said, stabbing his hands through his hair without a care for his appearance. “No, that's not it. Is that what you think? That hearing the truth would have me running from you? Amelia,
nothing
could make me leave you. Nothing. If you don't believe that, we
have
nothing.”

She bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit he'd come to adore.

“Don't tell me. I don't want to know. I don't
have
to know. If you leave England, I'll follow you. If you stand with the queen until the bitter end, I'll stand beside you. I mean it, Amelia. Don't tell me.”

“Until the queen is gone,” Amelia said, and he wiped a tear from her cheek with his finger. “Then I would very much like to tell you. I'm near to bursting as it is. Oh, Perry, I love you so much.”

He needed to hold her. He looked across the room, saw that Mrs. Pidgeon was taking charge of the queen
and her court with all the strength of purpose of a sheep dog herding its flock. “We've still got a few minutes. Let's step outside.”

 

“I
F YOU WERE
but to step this way, My Lord, and take your seat?” Esther Pidgeon said, longing to grab the doddering old man by his hair and drag him to where she wanted to put him. “Yes, yes, thank you, Your Grace, and your lady wife, as well, please?”

How she detested this lot of aged, overfed and treasonous creatures who had dared defy her Florizel to pay court on that ridiculous harlot of a queen.

But all that would end tonight, and in plain sight of these ragtag witnesses, so that her Florizel would be held blameless in the tragedy.

Esther spared a moment to look up at the huge chandelier that hung directly above the queen's chair, then to the velvet-covered chain that ran across the ceiling to be tied to the wall behind the draperies.

The chandelier was raised and lowered with that chain, for cleaning, to fit it with candles, or simply to light them for an evening such as this. Then it was raised up once more, the chain carefully secured. And abandoned, with no one close by to see when the chain snapped.

Such a terrible accident!

The harlot queen would die. Others would die or be badly injured, but that was the price they'd pay for turning their backs on Florizel. And Amelia Fredericks would die, if not tonight, then tomorrow, perhaps as a victim of her own grief. Yes, that would do nicely.

Barely able to contain her glee in anticipation of seeing her brilliant plan unfold, Mrs. Pidgeon went on the hunt for another group of the queen's most favored guests, herding them into their seats before the doors opened and those already lined up on the stairs, stuffed together like cattle, were allowed in to make their bows and curtsies to the doomed queen.

 

“H
OW IS THIS
, Nate?” Georgiana asked, dropping into yet another curtsy, this time holding on to the left side of the skirt of her new gown, rather than the right. “Better?”

“It would be, I suppose, if you weren't looking ready to topple. Here now, I've got it. You keep your one hand on my arm, get that gown out of the way with the other, and try it again. There you go, Georgie! Now remember, I'll be bowing at the same time, so hang on. It wouldn't do to have you sliding off my arm.”

Georgiana let go of her skirt and wiped her gloved hands one against the other. “Is it too late for Gretna Green, Nate? I mean, if this is only the beginning, by the time we're married I'll be worn to a frazzle. I'd much rather we just ran away.”

“Oh yes, that would put you in tight with m'mother, I must say. Right before
your
mother takes off my head. Even Aunt Rowena is talking flowers and guest lists, instead of harping on how she saw the queen, toes cocked up, in her tea leaves. Not that we haven't already seen her knees.”

Georgiana tried to cover her giggle with her hand.
“What do you think of Her Majesty's gown, Nate? Do you think it will become all the rage?”

“Not for my wife, it won't! Some things is private, Georgie. Not that I'm the sort that cuts up stiff at anything new, but I'll have no truck with the world ogling my wife. Those knees are
mine.
”

“Oh, Nate, you say the sweetest things sometimes,” Georgiana told him, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Look, here come Amelia and Perry. Yoo-hoo! Over here! Come hide with us!”

“I think it's too late for that, love, now that you've screeched out where we are. See? Now here comes Clive, and he's got that Nestor fellow with him.”

 

“A
ND
I
SAY
we don't tell him.” Bernard Nestor was all but skipping to keep up with Clive as they crossed the terrace. “And tonight of all nights? Why tonight?”

“Because I don't like her, that's why. My poor Dovey, pushed all behind the door while that one struts about, puttin' herself in charge. Dovey's that sick about it.”

“That's still no reason to tell His Lordship she could have heard us talking. Besides, Mrs. Fitzhugh is a total failure at housekeeping for a queen. I had to tell her three times that a duke is higher than an earl. Everybody knows that.”

“Only those what care,” Clive said, continuing on his way across the terrace. “I just have a bad feelin', keepin' things from His Lordship. We got ta tell him about the bird.”

Clive halted, his face going red, when he realized
he'd been looking at Nestor and not paying attention to the fact that he'd all but walked into Sir Nathaniel…which Nestor might have told him, but the idiot man was so busy bowing to Miss Fredericks as if she was royalty that Clive could have walked straight through Sir Nathaniel without a word from him.

“What did he say, Nate?” Georgiana asked. “Did he say
bird?
He did, he said
bird.
”

“Is there something wrong, Georgiana?”

Clive rolled his eyes. Now Miss Fredericks was asking questions and looking queer at him, while Nestor was still bowing and scraping like a looby best hauled off to Bedlam. “It's nothin', miss. I was just wantin' a word or three with His Lordship, beggin' yer pardon.”

Perry, who had been amusing himself playing with a curl on Amelia's nape, looked up in some impatience, for he had managed to get Amelia to the terrace, but no farther. “Nestor, stop bowing, please. What is it, Clive?”

Clive shifted his eyes toward Nate and Georgiana, then to Amelia and last to Perry. “It's…if we could just maybe walk a ways, sir?”

“No,” Georgiana said quickly. “I think you should say whatever it is right here. You said something about a bird? Nate, don't you remember? Aunt Rowena saw a bird.”

“Pity she can't see the bats in her own belfry,” Nate said, looking at Perry as if for help. “It's nothing. Just my batty old aunt. Ha! Batty. Belfry. That was rather good, Georgie, don't you think?”

“Hush, Nate,” Georgiana said, looking at him lov
ingly. “Perry? Aunt Rowena told us she saw a bird bringing death to the queen. Now, I know that's just silly, but now that—what's your name? Oh, thank you. Now that Clive here is talking about birds, I really think we should, well, listen to him.”

Clive was digging the toe of his new evening shoe into a space between the flagstones. “Thank you, miss.”

Perry looked at Amelia. “Why do I feel I've lost total control of all of these people?”

“Possibly because you have,” Amelia said, smiling. “Go on, Clive, tell Miss Penrose about the bird. Is it a large bird? Perhaps an albatross?”

“No, miss, whatever that is. Not a bird at all. Just Mrs. Pidgeon.”

Sir Nathaniel slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course! Bird. Pidgeon. Pidgeon's a bird. Well, if that don't beat the Dutch. There, are we done now?”

Behind Clive, Nestor began to moan.

“Clive, if you might elaborate?” Perry prompted.

“Huh?”

“Tell us more, Clive, please,” Amelia said kindly.

“Tell
her?
I don't think so, Clive,” Nestor said, at last finding his voice.

“Nestor,” Perry said, “do you know that, inside my head, I have already counted to two? Remembering that I have made it a point never to count to three? Clive, tell me what you feel I need to know.”

Clive's eyes went wide as he looked at Perry. “We was checkin' on the place last thing at night, just like yer always said ta do. So we're walkin' and we're
talkin', and him over there was goin' on about you-know-who, sir, and callin' her you-know-what, sir, like he does, much as I kept tellin' him ta shut his potato trap and stop sayin' such, and when I turned myself about, there was the bird.”

Perry's lips tightened. “Oh, do go on, knowing that I'm riveted to your every word.”

“Well, sir, Bernard here said as how she probably didn't hear him, and I said as how yer should know—I did, sir, I did say just that!—and he says oh must we, all twitterin' and scared and so I says as how His Lordship has fair enough on his plate anyhows, and then we figured that we're two and she's only the one and we could keep an eye on her right and tight.”

“Clive, please…” Nestor said, stepping half behind the smaller man.

“No, no, we tell it all now. And then, M'Lord, Dovey was cryin' that terrible because the bird wouldn't let her have anythin' to do with this here party here tonight and that fair broke m'heart, and then she said who did she think she is lordin' over her because it was Dovey what took her in, and I started thinkin' that if Dovey only met up with the bird here then maybe the bird isn't His Lordship's bird and maybe we should be watchin' her even more and tellin' yer about her, seein' as how if His Lordship didn't send her like he did us then maybe somebody sent her and—” Clive stopped, drew in a long breath. “Dovey isn't likin' her anymore, sir, and that's a fact.”

“Well, that was clear as mud,” Nate said, which earned him a jab in the ribs from his betrothed.

“All right, thank you, Clive. Nestor. I'll take this under advisement. However, from the way Mrs. Pidgeon is glaring at us from the doorway, I do believe it time we took up our places inside. Nestor, back to your duties, but keep yourself handy. Clive, you come with us, immediately after you straighten that neck cloth.”