Chapter 33 #2
And finally, it was the five of them standing together, glasses in hand.
Thorne, whose left arm was tucked in a sling beneath his coat, kept finishing his glass and setting it aside so he would have his only useful hand free.
But both Ravenscroft and Selina were partaking in a friendly competition of some sort.
Charity wasn’t certain whether it was to annoy Nathaniel by keeping his hand full, or to see if they could successfully get the knight three sheets to the wind.
Finally, when Thorne held onto his last glass—a full one—giving them both a darkling look, Ravenscroft turned his attention to Perry.
“What am I to call you now?” he moaned to Perry theatrically.
Ravenscroft had unwisely been trying to match drinks with Sir Nathaniel.
“‘Canary’ is now too undignified. But to call you ‘Your Grace?’” The dandy made a brief, rude noise, scowling.
“The Duke of Drama? No, I have to think hard on this.”
“I suppose ‘Fitzroy’ is out of the question,” Peregrine remarked dryly.
“Yes, of course it is out of the question,” the older man said testily. “It isn’t fair for you to continue to call me ‘Maggie’ and not have a sobriquet of your own.”
Charity smothered a grin, turning her attention away from the two bickering men.
Selina and Thorne were turned slightly towards one another.
The knight’s face was flushed slightly with embarrassment as Selina adjusted his medal on his lapel, taking care to avoid jostling the sling holding his heavily bandaged hand.
Then she took the full glass from his hand, drinking from it herself.
Oh, goodness. Charity had to bite back a laugh at the stunned expression on his face. Quickly she turned away, pretending she hadn’t seen it. Thorne might be entirely too honourable for the flirtations of someone as titled and devious-minded as Selina, but… he was a man grown.
And stranger relationships had blossomed.
They all moved next door, where they were enveloped by a sea of well-wishers.
All those who had kept them at arm’s length were suddenly desperate to rectify their mistake.
Peregrine was courteous to all the court vipers, his old charm and cunning reasserting itself.
But the set of his shoulders was easy. Charity no longer saw a man who was currying favour and a stockpile of secrets to have weapons at hand with which to protect himself.
He was safe enough now to let that go, too.
It took Prinny approaching to chase people away long enough for Charity to catch her breath.
“I trust you are pleased with your reward, Your Grace?” the Regent grinned briefly like a troublesome boy. “My aide will be in touch regarding the formal induction at Windsor into the Order.”
“I am indeed honoured, Your Highness,” Perry replied. “The Crown has been remarkably generous in its recognition. But there remains one debt unpaid. Someone who lent their assistance that night, who lacks the social polish and invitation to appear at court.”
“Oh?” Prinny shifted forward, curiosity driving his brows up. And then, looking at Sir Nathaniel, he leaned in conspiratorially. “Are you suggesting I need to knight another man?”
Peregrine smirked, also leaning in. “No. But… he has asked if he might have the opportunity to see the infamous ‘Regent’s closet’ and meet you in the flesh. I have already warned him you may decline.”
“Colour me intrigued, Fitzroy. Who is this mysterious man with so bold a request?”
Perry finally looked a touch uncomfortable, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Red Hand.”
The Regent’s eyes rounded. “The bludgeoner?” he whispered. “The one who helped us find Goldbourne’s counterfeit press?”
“Among other things,” Peregrine hedged. “If you would rather not—or if you deem it unsafe—”
Charity assumed that the Regent was going to sputter with indignation, but instead the man laughed as if this was the most fun he had had in ages.
“A visit to my closet, you say?” Prinny lit up.
“Delightful. Lady Vivienne will be outraged, which suits me well. I am tired of her, anyway. I daresay I could use the company—no one appreciates fine brocade like a notorious outlaw. I shall send a personal invitation. Monogrammed.” He flagged down a passing footman with a flamboyant flick.
Then, swiping a fresh glass of champagne, he turned with glee. “Come. Let us go provoke Lord Castlereagh. It’ll be tremendous fun watching him try to scold us through clenched teeth.”
Charity assured Perry she would be fine and then went off for a private word of her own. Her gaze was set on the Queen, who stood near the window, as though waiting for Charity’s approach.
“Your Grace,” the Queen said, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “The set of your mama’s mouth suggests that humble pie does not sit well with her.”
Charity turned to find her mother across the room, cheeks flushed scarlet as she reckoned with the consequences of her own schemes.
It was not her reaction that surprised Charity, but that the Queen had noticed it at all.
When she turned to face Charlotte again, she found that Her Majesty’s expression had already settled into its usual, serene composure.
“Come, Your Grace,” the Queen continued, her tone soft but firm.
“I would not have reigned this long without learning to read the hearts and ambitions of my court. Your mama ever pursued glory—it took me too long to see she would chase it at any cost. So she shall remain there, cut off from the heights to which you have ascended.”
“A duchess again,” Charity murmured. “I am sure I have you to thank for the unexpected honour.”
“I would not burden you with her stain,” the Queen said, her fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve as if to dismiss the matter. “Let ‘Lady Fitzroy’ die with that woman and fade from memory. The Duchess of Fitzroy will mean what you make of it.
“Now, what do you think of young Leopold there?” the Queen asked, angling her head toward the far end of the room. “He appears quite determined to charm my granddaughter.”
Indeed, the princess was deep in conversation with Prince Leopold, with Lark keeping a fond watch over the pair. Charity thought back to the dinner at Frogmore, when only Leopold had cared enough to check on the Princess’s state. He had chosen to remain behind when the other royals departed.
“He is certainly worthy of her consideration, Your Majesty.”
The Queen nodded, the faintest sigh escaping her. “You are welcome to visit us at Windsor this summer. I am sure the Princess would appreciate your advice as she considers her prospects.”
Though the invitation seemed innocent enough, Charity sensed there was a test underneath. Did she truly intend to take advantage of her newfound freedom?
“You are most kind, but Perry and I have arranged to go north, to Northumberland, to be exact. We will fetch the young Duke of Atholl from his school and spend the summer en famille with the duke and duchess and their new darlings.”
The Queen smiled, and Charity sensed she had passed the test. “Please convey my respects and congratulations.” She adjusted her gloves, preparing to move away, but Charity raised a hand to stay her.
“If it pleases Your Majesty, we will return to London in time to join you in celebrating the new year.”
“So be it,” the Queen replied, her lips curving in approval. “I will see your names added to the guest list. Safe travels, Your Grace. You go with my sincere thanks.”