Chapter 27
“Trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.”
―St Theresa
Since he had reached the age of majority, Peregrine had disliked having people fawn over him. But the people in his house kept touching him now. Steering him. Distracting him.
The contact of his odd little family was grounding him. Helping him emerge from the fog. When his words faltered, or his thoughts drifted back into a darker place, they brought him back to task. He needed their touch. They needed him, so he found he didn’t really mind.
Charity’s lady’s maid was enough of a battle-axe to actually refuse to leave the chair beside Charity. At least, she pointed out with a sniff, until he had a chance to freshen himself up.
Her defiance was so surprising that he couldn’t find it within himself to be offended. Especially when he had to concede she was correct. He needed a shave. And a change of clothes, he supposed.
By the time Croft—and the magpie, who invited himself in—had finished with him, he was turning back into something much more…
human. Ravenscroft kept himself from being ejected by being useful.
Not only did he fill Perry in on every single scrap of information they had collected, no matter how seemingly irrelevant, he also pulled more from Peregrine about both confrontations with his mother.
Peregrine agreed it was important that every detail be shared equally. After all, should something happen to one of them, the others would need it to carry on. With his mother’s plans nearly to their critical points, things were growing exceptionally dangerous for all of them.
“Will Prinny give you enough of an opportunity to leave, should the worst happen?” Perry asked the magpie discreetly. “Perhaps you should bring Antoine here.”
Ravenscroft patted his cheek. “I appreciate your mothering, Fitzroy, but I have things in hand. Still, the offer of shelter in the worst case is appreciated.”
With a finger, the magpie poked the sachet Charity had made for Perry’s birthday deeper into Perry’s pocket. It was his third attempt to hide the little bag away. Perry’s fingers kept drifting toward it, pulling it back into view.
“There. You are a fit presence for the Grand Duchess. If we can get her to show,” Ravenscroft grumbled, checking his watch.
The calling hours were long over now. But Peregrine was certain that Sidmouth would turn up, especially if Catherine Pavlovna did not. When Selina had written to him, she told him about the note from the Princess, should he need help convincing the Grand Duchess to come.
The afternoon waxed and waned into the evening by the time an unmarked carriage pulled into the Fitzroy estate’s drive. Selina had directed the others into a receiving line in the front hallway, with her at Peregrine’s side.
Viscount Sidmouth emerged first, immediately turning to offer his gloved hand to the Grand Duchess to assist her descent.
“Your Imperial Highness,” Perry greeted her, bowing his head appropriately. “Welcome to my home.”
Catherine smiled neutrally at him, and then turned her head to Lady Normanby, who gave her an appropriate curtsey. The Grand Duchess’s expression as she surveyed the disgraced Lady Normanby was… not pleasant.
“Well. I was given to understand that the Duchess Atholl was ill. But I must say, Lady Normanby, finding you playing hostess here in her absence is… peculiar,” the Grand Duchess’s words were biting. But at least she was not cutting Selina. Yet.
“Give me time to explain, Your Highness. And a bit of grace for the irregularity. There is a great deal of ‘peculiarity’ in what we are about to tell you,” Peregrine said calmly.
Catherine Pavlovna’s eyes flickered. “I should say so, given that Sidmouth convinced me to fabricate an excuse to leave my lady-in-waiting behind. He said that time—and discretion—was of the essence.”
She allowed herself to be led inside to meet the others, and they all moved into the drawing room.
Peregrine and Selina wasted no time in explaining the situation about Lark’s unexpected marriage.
Suddenly Lark found she had replaced Selina as the persona non grata in the room, withering under the Grand Duchess’s open-mouthed glare.
Viscount Sidmouth looked equally horrified, but at least his attention was split between Perry and Selina. Selina had been unwilling to couch any of the truth in her letter, so he was as flummoxed in the learning of it as the Grand Duchess.
Really, all they needed to make this debacle complete would be Castlereagh tearing his hair out in the corner, bemoaning what this would mean for the talks in Vienna.
“Your Imperial Highness,” Perry said insistently, pulling Catherine’s hostility away from Lark.
“I give you my word. My sister harbours no ill intent towards either Prince Nicholas or the Tsar. Any malice is on my mother’s part alone.
Lark and Nicholas are young. Lark says he professes to love her, and he believed he could successfully plead his case to your brother.
“Whatever offence has arisen was born of fear and confusion, not design. We have asked you here hoping to set matters right, not to deepen the wrong. If this tangle is to be undone with the least amount of harm to two innocents and the relationship between our two nations, we sorely need your help and understanding.”
The Grand Duchess turned to him. “You wish me to accept in your sister’s innocence, Lord Fitzroy, but given that your sister spent the last months with your mother instead of you, perhaps you may see why I have difficulty believing it.”
“Ask Nicholas,” Lark said, tears streaming down her face.
“To be sure, I will,” the Grand Duchess said coldly.
“Because unfortunately, Lord Fitzroy, you have possession of information that sounds of truth. Constantine had resolved to renounce his claim in favour of Nicholas. It is a fact known to very few. Not even Nicholas himself is yet aware of it. I must inform my brother at once, so that he may annul the marriage.”
“Wait—” Sidmouth held up a hand to keep her from standing. “Marrying Lady Lark to Nicholas is not enough to put her on the throne, and that would surely be Lady Fitzroy’s aim. There is more to this.”
Perry agreed. “She needed to convert Lark to Orthodoxy at the very least, which means my mother did not do this alone. And that means the Tsar has an enemy in his court.”
That certainly caught Catherine’s fierce attention. “Lady Lark,” she purred, pinning the girl with a fierce glare, “who is your krestnyy roditel? Your godparent.”
“Countess Yelena Orlova,” Lark said softly. “She was there for both my conversion and our wedding.”
When he felt Selina’s eyes boring a hole into him, he remembered. That was the woman who had helped orchestrate his mother’s scandal of Selina in the coffee shop. It seemed there would be a line forming of women who had a bone to pick with the countess.
“But the person who approached Red Hand was a man,” Peregrine added. “There is more than one traitor. He will likely be working to ensure the Tsar meets his end before the delegation leaves.”
“If I had to wager,” Sidmouth said, teeth gritted, “the attack will happen at the GuildHall Banquet. The Tsar will be seated at the Prince Regent’s side. Perfect for an assassination.”
“My brother will not allow such treachery to pass unpunished,” the Grand Duchess said. “Lady Fitzroy will be sent away at once, and I shall advise His Imperial Majesty against attending the Guildhall Banquet. It is no longer safe.”
“That will tip our hand that we have found the plot,” Selina warned.
“Hyde Park’s military review has the benefit of chaos for the assassin, but your mother will want a captive audience paying attention to her efforts.
We could lay a trap to take advantage of such hubris.
Besides,” she said, turning to the Grand Duchess, “surely you do not wish to let your traitor escape to try again another day?”
Catherine’s bosom heaved once in pique. But she inclined her head. “I cannot presume to decide for my brother,” she said evenly, “yet I concede there is sense in your proposal. I shall take my leave.”
Peregrine nodded, his chin dropping as he tried to force his mind to keep to the task.
Discussing his mother’s future victims kept pulling his attention away from this room.
To a past victim. In defiance of all protocols and gentlemanly behaviour and the guests in his house, all he wanted was for everyone to leave so he was free to return upstairs.
“Wait, Your Imperial Highness,” a baritone voice cut in, snagging his faltering attention.
The Grand Duchess met Sir Nathaniel’s blue eyes, inclining her head politely as she waited for Thorne to say his piece.
“Forgive me, ma’am, for any rudeness of my words,” he explained, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment to speak with the sister of the Tsar.
“I intend no offence in asking you this, and I ask only as a mission of mercy. Her Grace is not merely ill; she is dying. Lady Fitzroy told Lord Fitzroy that she had made the acquaintance of another skilled herb woman while she was in Russia. One who excelled in making poisons. If any doctor in the Russian entourage knows about the poisons of the east… for Lord Fitzroy and Her Grace’s sake. ”
“And possibly the Tsar’s too,” Ravenscroft added. “We do not know how Lady Fitzroy was planning on killing the Tsar.”
The Grand Duchess’s lips parted. “Do you know the name of that poisoner?”
“Lizaveta,” Perry mumbled, his throat growing achingly tight.
Catherine’s face darkened with… something. A complex series of expressions flitted across her face. “Direct me to the duchess. Please,” she ordered Selina, rising from her seat.
Peregrine sat dumbfounded for an instant, looking at the people who had remained behind. And then he hurried after them. By the time he got upstairs, he found Catherine sitting beside his wife, examining Charity’s bruised wrists.