Chapter 26
Margaretha
I shifted on the bench,angling myself to peek between the trio of men standing around me. Across the room, Count Egmont was still speaking with that wretch, Lady Jakelina.
“But, Comtess, weren’t you frightened of drowning?” Baron Pempflinger asked me. “I’m sure I should be.”
I turned my attention from the count to the fluffy-mustached baron, masking my irritation behind a smile. “I doubt that. With many a lady whispering of your valor on the battlefield, I’m certain you’re incapable of fear.”
He straightened himself taller and puffed out his chest.
Not to be outdone, Sir Lamberg stepped closer, commanding my attention and cutting off my view of Egmont.
“Ishould have enjoyed it,” he said. “In fact, I’ve boated downriver alone many times. At night.”
The other two men exchanged skeptical glances, but I answered with an arched smile.
“Ah, Sir Lamberg is of my way of thinking. Boating downriver is far more exciting in the dark.” Glancing away from Lamberg’s surprised face, I scooted to the right, regaining my slotted view of the count. Though still in conversation with Lady Wretch, his sights strayed from her, moving across the room in my direction. But could he even see me through the assemblage of buffoons standing before me?
“Lord Krell.” I reached my hands out to capture the massive paw of the third, quieter man in the trio. “You are forgotten on this side of the party. Come. Stand over here where I can better hear you.” I pulled him closer to me, moving him to my left until I had a perfectly clear view of the count. Egmont glanced over then, his eyes meeting mine for the first time that evening, and I smiled and dropped my gaze to affect embarrassment at beingcaught watching him. If Belinda could see me now, I suspect she would be proud. The subtleties of flirtation had taken a keen eye and a concerted effort to master, but over the last eighteen months I had made that effort, studying the other courtiers and putting into practice all Belinda had taught me.
Squeezing Krell’s hand, I asked, “That’s much better now, isn’t it?”
He reddened and nodded.
“And what do you have to say about my daring boat ride?” I asked him.
“I, uh . . . that is, if your ladyship is . . . I wouldn’t presume, uh—”
“I’ve no doubt you’re an excellent oarsman. Should you like to take me on your boat sometime?” I glanced back toward the count but found only Lady Wretch picking up her needlepoint frame to pierce away her solitary evening. Where had Egmont gone? My eyes scanned the room until they landed on the count sitting down at the chess table. He nodded a bow, and I answered with a broad smile before realizing Krell was still stammering through some kind of invitation to join him at boating.
“You are too gracious. I should enjoy that immensely. Would you gentlemen please excuse me?”
The men spoke over one another—granting me leave and thanking me for my time or expressing hopes to have our conversation again repeated—while they stepped back to let me pass with my wide, swishing skirts.
Count Egmont watched me bid the men farewell, but when I moved toward him with singular focus, he dropped his sights and bowed his head over the chess board, resting his fists against his cheekbones.
I set my hands on the back of the chair opposite him, an excited smile hovering on my lips. “Here you are again. You haven’t tired of defeat?”
“I’m persistent,” he answered without looking up.
Pulling back the chair, I took a seat and moved my black piece. “So am I.”
I folded my hands in my lap, watching the top of his bowed head with hopes that he might speak first this time, but he remained silent.
“How is Lady Wr—Jakelina?” I coughed to cover my near blunder.
“She is well.” He put his white pawn into play. “And how is your passel of admirers?”
I moved another pawn. “Take care, Egmont, or you’ll raise my hopes that you harbor jealousies.”
He met my eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips before he set out his piece. “Where is the queen this evening?”
“Preparing for her brother’s arrival on the morrow.” I answered his move with another hasty advance of a pawn. “I’d hoped to meet him when he was last in Brussels, but he was too ill with the gout.” The ache of remembered disappointment smarted as I recalled the kaiser’s last visit. Dalwigk had been wrong about the prisoners; Samuel had not come.
“He is quite regal.” Egmont’s observation returned me to our conversation.
“So I’ve heard. His son is said to be regal too.” Leaning over the table, I bent my head to be on a level with his own and added in a whisper, “But rumors speak to the queen developing a nervous spasm whenever her councilors talk of Prince Felipe’s arrival. As the queen’s favorite adviser, I should think you able to confirm such reports.”
