Chapter 8
“Where secrecy or mystery begins, vice or roguery is not far off.”
—Samuel Johnson
After he returned Lark to the Pulteney, Peregrine went back to the estate to change carriages and set out for Ascot.
For someone leaving from St John’s Wood, the trip would be a long, dull carriage ride with an overnight stay.
Charity would not be obliged to leave London until the morning.
He wished there had been time to visit his duchess before they left town, to make sure she and Selina had weathered their own mission all right, but their schedules worked against him.
Will Hodges had been skeptically watching Perry pace at every horse change, not accepting the guise of stretching his legs.
“You know,” the man muttered, “if his lordship might be inclined to stir hisself in good time tomorrow, we can intercept Her Grace’s carriage at Egham.
You can ride the last leg with her an’ drive her to distraction instead of me. ”
Peregrine took a breath to issue a curt retort and then halted. “Hodges,” he replied, “that’s a brilliant idea. I could kiss you.”
“Don’t, my lord.”
“I could. That does not mean that I would.”
Hodges had issued one of his more expressive grunts, and Peregrine let the man be.
He had an idea for mischief to plan for his duchess.
Hodges could continue on with the carriage to Ascot without him.
Since they would only have the races together—Charity would be obligated to attend the event at Frogmore—he would have to make his own way home anyhow.
Setting off in good time the next day, they arrived in Egham well in advance of most of the others travelling to the races.
He located a spot to wait and found a spritely child willing to spy for him.
Around luncheon, when the boy informed him that Her Grace’s carriage was at The Red Lion, he made his move.
It wasn’t easy or gentlemanly to wheedle the duchess’s servants into assisting with his plot.
Their willingness to comply came at a rather steep cost to both his honour and his purse.
He had to swear to them that they would suffer no repercussions of his little stunt, plus a guinea each to buy their silence.
But the price was worth it, because her reaction was every bit as good as he hoped it would be.
Charity stifled a shriek and clutched her bosom as the footman threw open the carriage door, revealing him lounging inside, perfectly at ease. He gave her a bright, devilish grin, pleased with himself for the surprise. She put her hands on her hips and scowled at the footman for not warning her.
“Don’t be mad at them, Sparkles,” he waggled his finger at her. “I promised them you would be pleasantly surprised to find that I was here.”
Finally, she lost the battle to maintain her stern expression, and she smiled.
“I am very happy to see you,” she agreed quickly, darting an apologetic glance back at her footman as she let him hand her inside.
“But perhaps you might find a way to surprise me that doesn’t scare me half out of my wits the next time? ”
“I shall never make such a promise,” he breathed, framing her face lovingly in his hands after the footman closed the door. “Surely you never imagined that marrying me meant I was going to stop irritating you.”
“So I get to look forward to such antics on a daily basis for the rest of my life?” she asked, trying for archness. Instead, she sounded far too happy about it.
Her eyes sparkled at him the way that he adored. He would never confess to her that he had chosen her sobriquet for her eyes—not the title of the diamond. That secret was for him alone.
He tossed his hat across onto the other bench. “Well, possibly not daily…” he murmured against her lips. “I wouldn’t want to lose the element of surprise.”
They had perhaps an hour’s journey before they reached Ascot. He didn’t intend to waste a moment of this chance to show her how much he had missed her in their time apart.
Between languid caresses, Charity told him about what had happened at the Pulteney.
“Suddenly the reason she encouraged Lark to meet with me becomes clear,” Peregrine exhaled, considering the consequences of this. “We were both neatly occupied and out of the way.”
“I feel terrible about it. Again, the marchioness shielded me, and I couldn’t think of a single thing I could do to help her that would not have made things worse.”
Peregrine had shifted to stretch his frame along the squab, letting his knees press against the carriage wall so that his head lay in her lap while she uttered her confession. “I never should have told you that you were my fatal flaw,” he said.
She blinked, looking down at him. “Why not? It was true,” she murmured.
“Now you think it is your duty to prevent an incident if you are nearby when it happens. And you feel like it is your fault when we are hurt.” Peregrine looked up at her through his lashes.
“The game of intrigue has never been a safe one. Secrets are dangerous. In war, there are times when sometimes your only duty is to make certain that the others will be able to complete their mission, and that is true even if you are only fighting a battle of wits.”
Charity’s lips flattened together in rejection of his words, and Peregrine turned towards her, pressing his forehead against her stomach.
“The marchioness took the blow, but in a way she and Sidmouth will recover from it,” he told her gently. “What my mother told you privately was information she could not allow the Prussian attaché to reveal, lest the blade bite both ways.”
“Did you know she had given spies to Sidmouth for your favour?” asked Charity, combing her fingers idly through his hair.
“I knew my favour was expensive. Now I suppose I know why.”
“Two spies, and then my mother—”
“Shhh. Not your fault,” he said lazily. The heat and her fingers tracing circles on his scalp caused his eyes to drift shut. “I should have waylaid your carriage earlier.”
She tweaked his nose. “So you could lay in my lap the entire journey like an oversized house cat?”
“I would be happy to trade positions, Sparkles.” He slit an eye and found her blushing, so he grinned and turned the conversation.
“My mother’s sponsor within the Russian court is likely an accomplice to her plans.
We should find them, if we can. She uses such connections hard and abandons them quickly, before they could use what they knew as leverage against her. ”
He had nicked her fan from her fingers earlier, and she had laughed at him for wielding it. So of course, he hadn’t given it back. He was still stirring the air currents playfully, making the loose strands of her hair flutter around her neck.
“I should stay close to the princess at Ascot. I was nearly beside myself when I saw Lady Fitzroy with her and the Grand Duchess,” Charity fretted.
“With Selina unwelcome in society, it may come down to mostly you and me, unless Thorne and Ravenscroft manage to come across something useful. Who might we prod for more information besides the Grand Duchess?”
“We might try His Excellency, Count von Lieven, the Russian diplomat in London. Or his wife,” Perry suggested. “We met them at the Barbour’s salon, remember?”
“I remember,” she said, the corner of her lips curling as she twined his hair around her finger. “Before we went to Vauxhall.”
The look on her face was soft at the memory, despite being attacked in the dark walk and having to patch him up after he bled on her dress. But perhaps those things no longer troubled her.
“Stay close to the princess. I will see if I might corner at least one of Russia’s royal family members,” he told her. “And perhaps speak to the von Lievens.”
“All right. Perhaps we can use Selina’s misfortune to try to determine people’s loyalties to Countess Orlova and your mother.” Charity glanced outside through the curtain, and then down at him. “I do love having you in my lap, but you had best sit up. We are almost there.”
Once Peregrine was upright and Charity had fixed his appearance, he reached over to pull aside the curtain.
They had had a few extra, stolen minutes as her carriage had joined the line forming to disembark guests.
The long approach had been full of carriages and curricles.
The smell of sun-warmed broken grass, horse sweat, and dust was strong enough to coat the tongue.
It was a grand sight. Ascot spread in a broad, grassy sweep under the open sky, racecourse marked out by rails and knots of spectators.
Tents, colourful parasols, and snapping pennants gave everything a bright, festive atmosphere.
They could hear the excited crowd even from where they waited in procession.
Perry pointed out the royal enclosure, gleaming with fresh white paint and gilt trim, flanked by a crowd of liveried footmen. They would join the sovereigns and the various dignitaries there.
Finally, it was their turn to alight. Charity opened her parasol to ward off the bright sunlight and some unfriendly speculation from the crowd. Together, they strolled towards the fenced area and were quickly escorted in.
Prussia’s king was holding court with the Prince Regent, and together they became the focal point for many of the lesser sovereigns. However, the Tsar was conspicuously absent—nowhere to be seen within the enclosure at all.
Other members of the Russian royal family were there, so Alexander must be…
somewhere. The Grand Duchess stood next to a stripling boy of seventeen.
Peregrine had been rather distracted during the initial welcome ceremony, but he was fairly certain the young man was Nicholas, the younger brother of the Tsar.
The various royal women had gathered to themselves to gossip and watch the track. Queen Charlotte and her granddaughter had a small space around them, partially occupied by some of the higher-ranking British ladies.