Page 27 of Brilliance and Betrayal (The Diamond of the Ton Regency Mysteries #1)
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"A known evil is better than an unknown one."
—Unknown
T he Queen had not yet forgiven Charity for not telling her about her granddaughter. She made Charity wait for more than an hour before granting her a private audience at Buckingham House. That she chose the imposing green drawing room further underscored her displeasure.
When Charity finally gained an entrance, she found Queen Charlotte seated in the middle of the room on a high-back velvet chair, with no other seat in sight. Charity held her skirt to the side, sank low and kept her gaze on the floor.
A queen’s indulgence is neither lightly sought nor easily won, her mother whispered as Charity held her deep curtsey. There will be consequences to this course.
There would be consequences to any course, Mama.
But only in this one did Charity feel like she had any power to negotiate a deal that could protect Fitzroy.
It took a long time for the Queen to finally command Charity to stand up. “Your Majesty, I seek your justice and wisdom,” Charity said gravely, trying to keep her knees sturdy. “As well as ask for the Crown’s protection for Lord Fitzroy.”
Her Queen’s mouth gaped in surprise. “Pardon me, Your Grace, but— what ?”
Charity was never one to beg. If someone had told her one week ago that not only would she be begging the Queen, she would be doing it on behalf of Lord Fitzroy, she would have ordered them committed to Bedlam. Yet here she stood now, doing exactly that—carefully measuring her words out as she recited what she had rehearsed.
“Since I left your side yesterday, I have learned that Lady Fitzroy is doing more than whispering destructive thoughts to your granddaughter, ma’am. Her involvement with the man of business—the acts against the Dutch—the princess was only one head of a hydra. We have run one head through, and already another has taken its place. I cannot yet guess where the next head might strike—but I know where the last one did. While Fitzroy was trying to parley with Cameron, one of his men passed a message from Lady Fitzroy to her son, and it came at the point of a dagger.”
She explained everything Lord Ravenscroft had told her transpired from the moment he and Lord Fitzroy had left St James’s palace together. The plan to parley with Cameron. The meeting. The fight, and McGrath’s words about Lady Fitzroy sending her ‘love’ to her son.
The Queen was grave, thinking it over, but Charity did not dare let her think too long on it.
“Your Majesty, Lord Fitzroy has been gravely injured. He lies, fevered and insensible, in a doctor’s surgery in the slums—all because Marian Fitzroy considers her son an obstacle to her and her plans. He knows how many of her resources are on English soil. Why else would she attempt to kill her own son, unless she felt he was dangerous? Which means… he is more valuable to you alive, as one of your weapons to be used against her.”
Queen Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, but Charity felt a small surge of triumph. She had the Queen’s undivided attention now, and if anything might help Fitzroy, the knowledge that his life would spite his mother could. “I am sorrowed, of course, to learn of his dire condition, but I fail to see what that has to do with me. If he lives, I would be happy to discuss his future. If he does not, then he is no weapon, is he?”
Charity swallowed, gathering her thoughts. She had held tight to a vain hope that dealing with Marian Fitzroy would be enough. Instead, she was going to have to maneuver through the other trickery she had uncovered.
“My Queen, I am afraid there is more. Lord Fitzroy needs not only your protection, but also your forgiveness.”
“Duchess,” the Queen finally said smoothly, her gaze fixing on Charity’s face. “Why do I feel like you are about to destroy my peace of mind?”
Charity swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. “Fitzroy is entangled in a web that spans from the underbelly of London to the House of Lords. He holds more than his mother’s secrets in his head. Others will be competing to either win his loyalty for themselves, or prevent others from gaining it as well.”
“You mean his mother is not the only one who will be marking him for death, which makes it far more complicated to keep him alive. But you think he is worth our effort.”
“For what he knows about his mother alone, I think so, yes. But Marian Fitzroy is not the only one who has dreams of manipulating the throne, and I think her son can expose these factions.”
The Queen’s eyebrows lowered fractionally, and inwardly, Charity held her breath. The canny old Queen despised the idea of being manipulated by someone—which made it thrice as important that Charity showed no sign she was employing the same tactics against her sovereign.
“Factions like the members of the ton who do not like Prince William of Orange and talk about seeing the betrothal talks ended?” The Queen smiled, showing a threatening number of teeth.
This was the part that Charity had agonised over the entire time she was making her plan. Because Peregrine was unconscious, she did not even know if Selina’s statement that he had been planning to sicken Prince William were true.
But did she believe him capable? Or that someone might have manipulated him into such a task? Or that the Marchioness of Normanby had the power to level a credible accusation against him regardless of whether he had been planning to do it or not?
Oh, yes.
So Charity was going to tell the Queen that Peregrine Fitzroy was guilty of playing a part in conspiring to poison Prince William of Orange. Because in the end, it did not matter whether or not it was true.
If the marchioness told the Queen before Charity did, it was going to be much more difficult—perhaps impossible—to get his life spared, and whatever the real truth was, it could do nothing more than possibly ease her wretched guilt.
“Not mere talk, ma’am. I fear they nearly succeeded.”
“Explain what you mean at once, Duchess Atholl!” she snapped.
Charity held up one hand in temperance, steeling up her courage. I hope you will forgive me for what I am about to do.
“I have reason to believe Fitzroy may have been blackmailed to participate in a second plot to poison the prince. At the same event.”
The Queen shot to her feet, her face changing colour in a most astonishing way. But what was terrifying was the sudden spectre of death that clung to her cheekbones, just beneath the surface. “How dare he do such a thing!”
“Please, Your Majesty,” Charity begged her. “Grant me enough time to explain. I do not seek to excuse him. I am not even certain it is true. In his fevered state, he said a great many things. This was one of them. He begged for forgiveness.”
Uncertainty flickered on the Queen’s countenance, and the light of blind rage left her eyes. “Who put him up to this? Who is responsible for it?”
“Ma’am, I do not know,” Charity lied. “His ramblings ranged wide and in his condition, I had no way to direct them.”
She had suspicions, certainly, but no evidence. Selina would laugh off any direct questions on the topic. Her friends Lords Chandros and Pembroke were powerful, male, and could simply deny everything.
“This is what you want to beg a pardon for? A wild confession with the unfortunate stink of possibility.” The Queen tilted her head.
Charity bowed hers in regret. “I cannot help but think he is a better man than we believe him to be. But because of Lady Fitzroy, Peregrine is caught between the hammer and the anvil, and it would be a shame to waste his steel by letting others bend him to their own designs.
“You have enemies without. He can join with them, unmask them, expose the people who seek to guide England’s future from the shadows. Yes, you could see Fitzroy hanged and be rid of the nuisance he presents, but in doing so, you would lose your only means of unraveling the truth. And more importantly, you will lose the only one who knows how his mother truly thinks. All he needs is a safe place to recover, and the care of a competent physician.”
She took a step closer, lowering her voice to something near a whisper. “Your Majesty, I do not ask for his mercy. I ask for prudence. You trust me. Let me bring him to heel, and you shall have a hound that sniffs out these other traitors who are trying to stop the wedding. Absolve him of suspicion. Give him to me, and I will see that he ensures your desire in this matter is fulfilled.”
The Queen slowly settled back into her chair, but the sharpness in her eyes did not fade. “You ask for prudence, Duchess, and you ask for Fitzroy’s life. And in return, you offer me—what? A solution to a minor problem? A finger on a leash you hold until the princess’s marriage?” Her voice was cool, assessing. “Unacceptable.”
Charity’s stomach twisted, but she held her ground. “Your Majesty, if he is made?—”
The Queen lifted a single hand, silencing her. “Stop. You have made excellent points for his continued existence. And you are right. I can see how far too easily he could become a danger no matter how much better we think he might be. You will have him spared—but only under my terms.”
Queen Charlotte pressed the tips of her fingers together, staring at her just long enough for Charity’s breath to catch in uncertainty. Finally, the old Queen continued. “A man’s life is worth more than a solution to a temporary nuisance. If I grant him a pardon, he will be given a purpose. One that ensures his absolute loyalty.”
Conditions. Charity suspected the Queen would apply her own.
“Fitzroy will not be yours to control, nor will you stand between him and my will. I will expect him to do all that I say, even if those orders are delivered through you. He can start by rooting out the very factions that sought to use him, destroying them before they can strike again.”
Charity’s pulse pounded in her ears. “F-for how long?”
The Queen’s smile was slight, but it did not reach her eyes. “For as long as I have use for him. His pardon is on the condition that he serves me—bound by his life and future to the Crown.”
Charity’s mouth had gone dry. She had known the Queen would exact a price, but this—this was a collar of iron, a life sentence wrapped in the silken folds of royal favour. “If he… if he survives the fever, I will offer him the choice.”
“No, Duchess,” the Queen informed her. “I am not offering this choice to him. I am offering it only to you. A tool does not get to choose what hand wields him, and do not think I have missed the fact that you sought to make this bargain for him without consulting him on the matter.”
Her smile was slow, deliberate, and all teeth. “For your part, I will insist that you may take no action without my awareness. I expect to be kept better informed than you have done so far. And I expect you to manage Fitzroy.”
“So… make your decision now. If you agree to the bargain, I will pardon Lord Fitzroy. But hear me well: I will make you swear to me that he will uphold his part in the bargain, Duchess Atholl. If either of you fail to abide, I will retract that protection.”
Charity felt as if the cord were wrapped around her own neck instead of his. She could hardly breathe, and what little she could manage sounded loud in her ears. If he lived, Peregrine was going to be furious that she bartered his life away.
But… at least he might live.
She curtseyed deeply. “You are gracious, Your Majesty.”