“Certainly not,” the queen said firmly. “I will not have anybody think me so capricious, for one. I greatly admired Miss Wilcox and as much as she has inconvenienced me, I cannot say I positively dislike her now. After all, what might I do for my dear family at that age? Absolutely anything, is the answer. Did I not board a ship and sail through three storms to marry the King of England? Do you suppose I had not learned the history of Henry VIII and his queen-murdering habits as a part of my early education? I can assure you that I did. Oh, nobody would mention it to me, of course, but I wondered about it. A king had murdered one queen through exile and inattention and two by an executioner’s blade. His daughter, Bloody Mary, murdered Lady Jane Grey, then his other daughter murdered Mary, Queen of the Scots. Then it was Charles I’s turn to step up to the scaffold as if the English people had not had enough blood. What sort of barbaric land was this that welcomed regicide? I thought I risked my very neck to board that ship, but that is what one does for family.”
Jasper had not had any idea that the queen, as a young girl, had thought herself contracted on her way to treachery and murder. How brave she’d always been, even then!
“Further,” the queen said, “I think we may use Miss Wilcox’s unfortunate circumstance to advantage. She has been sent to spy, and so let her. But from now on, she will only discover flattering reports about the king and my son.”
“What do you think of?” Jasper asked, not certain what at all flattering could be said about either of them at this moment in time.
The queen pressed her forefinger to her lips, as she did when she was thinking. Suddenly, she smiled. “You shall set the following trap. A report that claims the king was attacked in the garden at Kew by an unknown assassin and fought back bravely, wounding the villain. The intruder escaped but was badly hurt. We now make valiant attempts to search the area for likely suspects.”
The queen leaned back in her chair. “Let us see ifthatgets printed in the newspapers. I rather think not. However, it will put a bee in the Stuart’s bonnet to think it so. After all, if someone attempted regicide, he must wonder who it was and what they were after. Such a thing would interfere mightily in his plans. My son would become king and, indolent and self-indulgent as he may be, there is not a hint of madness about him. The Stuart might even worry that he’d be blamed, once his residence in the country was unmasked.”
“Clever,” Jasper said quietly. “Yes, exceedingly so. It may press the Stuart to become more bold as he may think there is a clock ticking somewhere. Bold often leads to mistakes.”
Though Jasper did indeed think the queen’s plan clever, he found he failed to mention his thoughts on Miss Wilcox remaining in the house. How could he? What was he to say?Your majesty, the only fly in the ointment is that I find myself besotted with Miss Wilcox and it will take all my strength to stay away from the lady.No, that would not do at all. Yet, he must stay away. He must find a means of staying away.
“I find myself disappointed in Miss Wilcox,” the queen said sadly. “She really did seem a cut above the other young ladies one encounters these days. I wish she had confided in me, but that would have put her father in danger and I suppose no dutiful daughter would do it. Not even for a queen.”
Jasper only nodded. He supposed he must just be grateful that the queen was who she was. Another sort of lady might have Miss Wilcox in the tower before dinner. Of course, to do such a thing, she would have been forced to bring the regent into the matter. That was something neither of them wished for—Prinny’s ability to keep a secret was in direct correlation to how much wine was served him, and too much wine wasalwaysserved him.
The queen rose and said, “Do what must be done, Langley.”
He bowed and she sailed from the room, the doors swinging open on her approach. The dogs made one last threatening snap at him and trotted after her.
*
Georgiana spent thenext days in a constant state of both anticipation and perplexity. She made it a point to be in the drawing room as early as possible and to be there alone as often as possible. Just in case Lord Langley should wish to say something to her.
He did not. In fact, if she saw him at all, it was only the back of his coat as he left the house. He was like a thief in the night, silently slipping out and not seen for the rest of the day.
It was strange, even when she’d been sure she would see him she did not. On one of their few nights in, Lady Mendleton had been certain her son was to dine with them. But then, he’d sent a note claiming he was tied up at his club. What could tie one up at a gentlemen’s club? A card game?
After a certain amount of days, Georgiana could not bear to sit in the drawing room longer. The room itself almost began to take on a despised aspect, so little did it bring her any happiness.
She took to walking in the small back garden for some relief from it. She could not quite give up all hope and made certain that Perry knew her location out of doors, in case someone looked for her. As she paced the small paths and sat on various stone benches and stared unseeing at the shrubbery, she took to explaining to herself the likely causes of Lord Langley’s absence. He worked for the queen, after all. His time was not his own. He might be knee-deep in some great mission for the lady.
Of course, he might not. He might just choose not to be in her vicinity. Perhaps she had misread him all along, but then he hadnotmisread her. Her cheeks flamed to consider the idea that he was never in the least interested, but that he had sensed her own interest. How that would seem to him! His mother’s latest project, a silly girl from the countryside without a farthing in her pocket, swooning over the great lord and he must now keep himself away to avoid an embarrassing situation.
“That cannot be so,” Georgiana said to Lady Mendleton’s prized China roses. The roses listened implacable, though she knew if she dared touch them they would retaliate by way of thorns.
She did not know what the truth was and supposed she would not until something positively happened. Jasper could not stay away forever.
Perhaps he would attend Lady Tredwell’s ball? Yes, of course, he must attend. Lady Tredwell was sister to Lord Mendleton, it would be a familial duty to go. It was to be a masque and had not Lady Mendleton said she’d made all the arrangements for it?
Georgiana had not the first idea of what particular arrangements had been made, as Lady Mendleton had only said she would be dressed perfectly for a lady of her age and innocence.
However she was dressed, she did not much care. She would get her answer there. Would he take her into supper, as he had done before? Or, would he not?
*
Jasper had resolvedto interview the stable staff regarding Miss Wilcox’s early morning jaunt in the park to determine if he might glean any information about her possible conspirators from it. Had she met with anybody there? Had she stopped anywhere and retrieved something—a note perhaps?
He’d gone back and forth on the idea, as it would be helpful to know, but might also tip off Miss Wilcox and whoever she was working for. The servants, though they would deny it under torture, were irredeemable gossips. It would not be a day before his questioning was known by all of them. It was not Carstares or Perry that would talk, but rather the junior servants. Both the stablemaster and the butler kept their own counsel as a matter of habit. Whether the news would cross out of the servant’s quarters and into the family realms he did not know. If it did, Jenny was the most likely vehicle to carry the information to Miss Wilcox. If Perry were to be believed, Jenny’s tongue was in constant motion regurgitating anything and everything that passed through her mind. Still, he had decided he must go forward, it might be the key to unraveling this mess.
He’d spent the past few days hardly living in his own house. He left early and returned late, spending most of the time at his club. While there, he did much as he would have done at home, scanning the newspapers, writing to the king’s staff and some men he employed to search out information, and attempting to think up ideas to expose the Stuart’s plot. The only difference was he was far less efficient in his work. For one, there seemed to be always some fellow about who attempted to drag him into a game of cards, or cajole him into wagering on something ridiculous like which hole an ant was likely to enter, or talk endlessly about a horse. For another, his own thoughts caused just as much distraction. Miss Wilcox seemed always to be before him, drifting in his mind like a dream he could not wake from.
Just an hour ago, before he’d left his house, she reallywasbefore him. He’d glanced out a window from the second-floor corridor before making his way down the stairs to cross the garden to the stables. It was lucky he looked, as Miss Wilcox was out there, determinedly pacing the garden paths. She was positively lovely in her lawn dress and straw bonnet, marching around as if she hardly knew she was meant to be admiring the shrubbery. Though she did not pause to retrieve anything, he supposed he’d have to search the bushes at some point to ensure there was no hidey-hole for messages.
As shewasout there, he was forced to slip out the front doors and make his way round the block and into the mews to get to the stable that way. He knew from the look on Carstares’ face that they would all consider it exceedingly odd—why had he gone for a walk round the block when he never went for a walk? It would be one more thing for them to talk about, he supposed.
