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“Almost ten years.”
“A lifetime.”
“A different lifetime,” she said, and her gaze went to the skies. “It’s growing late. We should get back.”
Without argument, he raised a hand, signaling to their groom to bring the gig, and Emily vowed to herself to exercise some restraint and keep her eyes on the scenery and not Mr. Galloway.
It was a vow she was unable to keep.
Chapter Four
Two days later, Will was still looking for a way to pull Lady Averley aside. The queen and her ladies were in the gardens of the palace, enjoying a sunny, warm afternoon. The royal children were among them. Vicky and Bertie, the two eldest, were attempting to fly a kite with their father’s assistance. Will gave encouragement, but his thoughts were on how he could penetrate the ladies’ inner circle without appearing too obvious.
The museum excursion had been both a success and a failure. He’d learned several important facts about Lady Averley. Firstly, she’d loved her late husband. There was nothing particularly unusual about this fact, but it would have been more to her advantage if she had loathed him. She’d loved him, and considering how young she’d been when they’d married, she had probably been sympathetic, if not in agreement, with his political views. And those views had not been favorable toward the queen.
Secondly, he’d learned Lady Averley was attracted to him. Will knew the signs well enough, though she had not been obvious about them. She hadn’t flirted with him or made any overtures, but she’d looked at him a bit too long at times and often when she thought he wouldn’t notice. This was a positive development. If she desired him, he might be able to use that to grow closer to her and discover what role, if any, she played in the attempt on the queen’s life.
And yet, as Bridget Kelly had pointed out in her note to him after the excursion, Lady Averley had done nothing at all suspicious. Neither Cal nor Bridget had seen her so much as look at another visitor to the museum. Which meant Will was no closer to discovering if she was a traitor than he had been before.
His gaze was drawn to an approaching figure, and he recognized Lord Palmerston, the Foreign Secretary, making his way toward the queen. He met the man en route and exchanged pleasantries. “I bring news that might interest you, Galloway,” the secretary remarked before approaching the queen and bowing. “I am sorry to intrude, Your Majesty. If I might have a moment of your time?”
The queen was holding Princess Helena, who chose that moment to begin to cry. The monarch looked about for the nanny, but she was engaged with Princess Alice. The little girl had caught her dress on a thorn. Will caught Lady Averley watching him, one brow arched, and he gave her an answering nod.
Challenge accepted.
“Ma’am, would you like me to take Her Royal Highness so you might have a word with your secretary?”
The queen blinked at him, seemingly speechless. Will stepped forward and held out his arms, and the queen handed the princess over. Will, who had indeed held and soothed many babies, settled the child in the crook of his arm and began speaking to her softly.
“What’s this now, little one?” he said.
She paused in her fussing to look up at him, her blue eyes wide, and he took that opportunity to move about in a rhythmic and soothing manner. The queen, seeing the princess was in capable hands, moved away with Palmerston to speak privately.
“She seems to like you,” Lady Jocelyn said, looking up from the chair where she sat with a sketchbook.
“Clearly, you did not exaggerate your talents,” Lady Averley said. “Princess Helena is quite enthralled by you.”
The baby was looking up at him with that wide-eyed gaze so typical of infants. She blinked slowly, seemed to consider crying again, but Will adjusted his movements, and she yawned instead.
“She’s tired,” he said, “and wants a nap.”
By that time the nanny had freed Princess Louise and hurried toward him. “Sir, I can take her.”
Will handed the baby off willingly, and the nanny hurried the little princess and her baby sister back inside the palace.
He scanned the garden and spotted the queen and Palmerston still speaking. The queen looked pale, her face as white as the lace she wore at the back of her hair.
“What is it?” Lady Averley asked. He glanced at her and saw she’d been watching him and followed his gaze to the queen. “Do you know what news he brings?”
“No.” Will smiled, remembering he was supposed to be the prince’s carefree friend, not an agent of the Crown. “What is it you are sketching?” he asked.
Lady Averley seemed not to hear his question. She looked back at the queen with concern. Was it concern for the queen’s well-being or concern that the monarch was being told something that would implicate her?
She rose and casually handed him the sketchbook. “Here.”
He glanced at it long enough to see that she’d made a decent attempt to sketch the two older royal children with the kite before lifting his eyes to her face. But she was studying the queen. Suddenly, she turned to the prince. “Sir! Your Highness!”
Will took in the scene immediately. The queen looked to be in some distress, and Lady Averley thought to alert her husband. It was a decent thing to do, not the sort of thing one would do if one wanted the queen dead. By now the prince had heardher calling and she gestured to the queen. Even as Palmerston stepped away, the prince hurried toward his wife.
