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“But surely, if it’s as bad as that, someone must know. Scandals always travel so quickly, don’t they?”
“The only person I know in all of London who knows more than I do about some things is the Earl of Iddesleigh. But he has all those children now, so...” She shrugged and sipped her tea.
Beck.Of course he knew. She thought back to how insistent his wife had been that they not say a word. “It hardly matters at all, really. I was merely curious. My interest is in Mr. Ashley.”
“Nowthereis an honorable young man,” Lady Radcliff said. Although she couldn’t remember if he’d been the bad sport or not.
The other thing Lila had learned through the years was that people—women in particular—tended not to believe the worst of a man if he was handsome and rich. No matter what had happened between Ashley and Douglas, no matter the source of the animosity, Lila was confident that Douglas would not take kindly to Ashley as a suitor for Princess Justine.
She had explained it all in a letter to Valentin.
Sometimes absence makes the heart grow fonder. And sometimes the desire to see an old nemesis lose above all else will make the heart grow fonder still.
It was the unspoken scandal about William Douglas that had her puzzled. As soon as she could, she would call on Beck again.
After meeting with Lady Radcliff, Lila had arranged to meet Mr. Ashley, and ascertained from his mother that he did indeed have the means and connections to marry a woman like Princess Justine. His mother’s eyes had sparkled like stars when she realized what Lila was after. When Lila inquired of Mr. Ashley about his feelings for Lord Douglas—she was justified, as he was an acquaintance of Robuchard’s—Mr. Ashley had blinked and then said he couldn’t possibly know, as his only dealing with him had been years ago, and it had been a small disagreement.
Lila didn’t believe that. Men did not hold grudges over some slight at the hands of someone they hardly knew. But Mr. Ashley was a gentleman and would not ruin this opportunity for himself.
He claimed to be quite content with his life and felt certain a royal princess would find nothing to recommendhim,but nevertheless, he would be happy to make the royal princess’s acquaintance. He said he had not been afforded the opportunity the last time she was in London and had heard that she was sweet and unassuming.
Lila hoped her face didn’t reveal how his description of Princess Justine’s supposed attributes annoyed her. Why would anyone believe thatsweetandunassumingwere virtues?
Ah, well. She’d realized years ago that she could not change the attributes by which women in society were judged.
Now, to set things into motion.
THEDAYAFTERLady Aleksander’s return, Justine and Amelia spent the better part of the morning and luncheon at Windsor Castle in the company of Queen Victoria. They had knitted their socks for the soldiers, and afterward, the queen said she enjoyed drawing. Amelia had gone off with Princess Victoria to do something entertaining, and Justine had remained with the queen and attempted to draw the tableau that the butler set before them: a teapot and a teacup and saucer, artistically arranged before a vase with garden flowers, some of the blooms drooping onto the teapot. Queen Victoria had gifted Justine with a leather-bound sketchbook. “You will find that if you draw every day, your skills will improve. But you must apply yourself to the task.”
“Je,Your Majesty.” She tried with all due diligence to improve her skill while the queen instructed her on any number of subjects.
Lady Aleksander was in the salon when the sisters returned to Prescott Hall. She stood up and curtsied and said with much delight, “A sketchbook!”
Justine looked down at her hand.“Je.”
“I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“Perhaps because I am not.” She opened the sketchbook and showed Lady Aleksander what she’d drawn. Lady Aleksander frowned slightly as she studied it, even tilting her head to one side. “Is it a...?”
“Teacup.”
“Oh!” she said, brightening. “So it is.”
“Her Majesty is fond of drawing.”
“And talking,” Amelia added.
Justine shot her a look. Amelia sighed. “I didn’t say it to Lady Bardaline. Lady Aleksander doesn’t care what I say.”
“You don’t know that,” Justine said. What did they know about the lady, really, other than Robuchard had recommended her?
Amelia gave an impatient sigh. She did not like to be corrected.
Lady Aleksander graciously turned the subject, probably fearing an argument would break out between them, and Justine wasn’t certain that it wouldn’t—her sister could vex her like no other. On the other hand, she trusted no one like she did Amelia.
“Do you find your meetings with the queen useful?” Lady Aleksander asked.
“Of course,” Justine said automatically. Unlike Amelia, who seemed to have less regard for decorum every day, she knew how to answer so as not to invite questions.
