Page 15

She requested a quill and paper and dashed off a fresh note, entrusting it again to her young servant. An hour passed before the footman returned. At least this time he carried a reply.

However, it was not what she had hoped.

The marchioness had sent a handwritten note of her own, saying she was unwell and not accepting guests that day. She would be happy to receive the duchess once she had recovered and would send a note in the coming days to arrange a time.

Charity crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it aside. She was stymied at every turn.

Bring me the names of those responsible—or bring me Lord Fitzroy himself . The memory of the Queen’s voice was like the shadow of an axe falling across both of their necks.

Where else could she look for answers? A moment of deep thinking surfaced a possibility. Had not Queen Charlotte charged Charity with discovering what the Princess of Wales truly thought of the pending engagement?

The little spitfire of a princess had caused trouble once before. It was not inconceivable that her hands were still making a mess of the pie, and that was something she could investigate on her own. She wiped toast crumbs from her hands with a linen napkin, then rose from her chair.

Enough. She was tired of waiting. Of chasing whispers and dodging closed doors. If the Queen wanted answers, Charity would find them—starting with the one person who couldn’t refuse her entry.

Charity found Princess Charlotte in good humour—and not alone. Her rather infamous guest needed no introduction, though one was made.

“Your Grace, what a delight to see you,” said the princess. “Have you met the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg?”

The woman beside her looked up at once. Catherine Pavlovna, who was sister of the Tsar of Russia in addition to her title as Grand Duchess, was a handful of years older than Charity, five and twenty.

But she was an unsettling person. Already she carried herself with the calm assurance of someone used to commanding a room and keeping it.

Her choice of gown was precise, her jewels deliberate, and her expression absolutely unreadable.

“I have not had the honour to meet Her Imperial Highness,” Charity replied with a shallow curtsey, watching Catherine cautiously.

The Grand Duchess gave a small, elegant nod, approval and mischief flashing briefly in her eyes at Charity’s cautious appraisal.

Something in Catherine’s expression gave her a strong impression of someone who might possess a kindred soul with the likes of the Marchioness of Normanby.

Wickedly sharp—and in more ways than one, given the stories of how much she was a thorn in the Prince Regent’s backside.

No wonder Catherine and Princess Charlotte had struck up a friendship.

“At last, we meet, Your Grace. I have heard of you. One always hears about the interesting women who keep the wheels turning, yes? Even in quiet places.”

Charity smiled faintly as she sat beside the princess. “Turning? That seems a far more glorious way than is appropriate to describe someone who is only here to be helpful to Her Majesty.”

The Grand Duchess’s lips twitched. “Then we shall get on famously. I, too, like to be helpful.”

Charity could not decide what to reply to that loaded statement, so she merely smiled.

The princess poured tea to fill the silence. “We were just discussing current events,” she said. “It seems I missed quite the scene at Burlington House. But we heard that you were there.”

“I should think you were fortunate to have missed it,” Charity replied, mildly reproving. Prinny would hate her having this conversation with the princess, and especially in front of the Grand Duchess. “It was certainly a diversion I could have done without.”

“A little shouting is not dangerous. It is the silence that comes after which ought to worry your father,” the Grand Duchess said conspiratorially to Charlotte.

“That may be true in St Petersburg, Your Highness,” Charity said, flicking her eyes up from her cup to meet Catherine’s. The woman’s smile widened fractionally at Charity’s polite double barb. “But here in London, what they have done is still a crime.”

“Of course, Your Grace. But why bother calling something a crime if no one bothers to punish it?” She stirred her tea, idly, as if they were discussing the weather instead of matters of power and sedition. “These ‘shouters’ were released, yes?”

Dangerous territory. Charity nodded thoughtfully, as if considering the question philosophically.

“Not all were released, Your Highness. I favour attempts to be just. Most forms of governance seem to have their benefits and drawbacks,” she said slowly.

“But most of us have to live within the rules of the courts we inhabit. Flaws and advantages alike.”

Catherine gave the princess a look that Charity would have called pouting, had it been worn by a child ten years younger. As if disappointed she could not get Charity to indulge in such a scandalous topic of conversation.

“Speaking of flawed arrangements—Princess, you were saying the Prince of Orange is to call this afternoon?” Charity asked Charlotte to force a turn of conversation.

“I am to walk with him in the garden this afternoon,” Charlotte said, sounding anything but pleased. “I suppose one must do what is expected. But I still find the effort of conversation exhausting!”

“The art of great conversation is not important for Prince William to possess,” the Grand Duchess said caustically.

“You are only marrying him for his title, his bloodline, and his power. And perhaps there may be another benefit or two,” she lifted her eyebrow suggestively at Charity, who gave her a vaguely reproving look in return.

“Although that can be acquired elsewhere, yes, Your Grace?”

The princess laughed, covering her pinkening cheeks. Charity also felt her face redden.

“I am certain you are right, though I am hardly an expert on the matter,” Charity finally replied to the Grand Duchess, once she found her words. “My own marriage lasted all of two weeks.”

The Grand Duchess sipped her tea, then added, “I married for diplomacy. I buried my husband without needing to learn to love him. I have travelled since—alone, unwatched, and with a purpose. I speak to whom I please, I go where I will, and I do not ask permission.” Her gaze cut sideways to Charlotte.

“It is astonishing what becomes possible when one stops waiting to be allowed, Your Royal Highness.”

“Do you see why I enjoy her company so much?” the princess whispered to Charity.

Only because she flatters you, encourages your rebellion, and horrifies your family, Charity thought repressively.

No wonder the Queen and Prinny were at their wit’s end with this one.

“It is true, one never knows where life will take them, nor when chance will step in to change someone’s fate,” she said instead.

“I think I should like that, though,” Princess Charlotte said softly. “To stop waiting to be allowed.”

Charity looked from one to the other. The princess was too eager, the duchess too polished. There was an understanding between them. “Tell me, Your Highness,” she said, her eyes settling on Catherine. “Do you plan to reside in London for long?”

“For now, I go where life takes me, or where my brother needs me to be. I have travelled over much of the continent,” she replied without hesitation. “I do not understand the ways of your court. Why must your women be confined by the borders while the men range far and wide?”

“Well, there was a war that made travel more difficult,” Charity pointed out wryly.

“Such things are beyond consideration for one of us,” the Grand Duchess said, waving aside Charity’s concerns. “Do you know that Napoleon wished to marry me? He sent a delegation with a proposal.”

“What did you say?” Princess Charlotte asked with bated breath.

Catherine laughed. “I said no, of course! I could hardly accept such an offer. I found the nearest eligible bachelor and hurried to the altar.”

Heaven help them all if the princess got it into her head to run off with the nearest bachelor with a title and a pulse.

Charity broke into the woman’s story, needing to turn the conversation onto safer ground.

“If you have traveled so widely, perhaps you can share what the Netherlands are like? I am sure the princess will get the chance to visit soon.”

“Oh please, Your Highness. My mind is in a whirl trying to picture it. Tell me—is it true? Are there windmills everywhere?”

“I have passed through, yes,” the Grand Duchess replied. “Quiet in parts, prosperous in others. Very orderly. The kind of place that might be dull to rule, unless one were determined to stir it up,” she added with a wink.

Charlotte turned to Charity with a grin. “You must come with me when I go. I imagine I will have to visit, sooner or later.”

Charity offered a neutral smile, her thoughts already churning. “It would be an honour, of course. Though I can’t imagine you staying long. You seem far too fond of London.”

“Fondness,” said Charlotte, “is not the same as freedom.”

The Grand Duchess set her teacup down with a soft clink. “Well, I have imposed long enough. And I suspect I have said more than I ought. But I have always believed a woman should speak plainly to other women. It fosters great understanding and friendship. Do you not agree, Your Grace?”

“Fairly said, Your Highness,” Charity nodded.

“Your Highness, you must return soon,” Charlotte said warmly. “I do not care what my father says. We shall become the best of friends.”

“Perhaps I was wrong to refuse your father on his invitation of lodging,” the tsar’s sister said in a charming voice, her eyes glinting with devilish humour when Charlotte looked thrilled at the prospect.

“Should I abandon the Pulteney and move in with you here at Carlton House? Your father is so very entertaining.”

Charity nearly choked on her tea at the Grand Duchess’s words.

In three short sentences, not only had she had referred to her snub of the Prince Regent when she had set up court in a hotel, she implied that she could move into any royal residence she chose as her right.

And then insulted the Regent with a compliment.

“It was lovely to meet you, Your Highness,” Charity said politely, with a smile. “I do hope we will have a chance to spend more time together.”

“You can be sure of it, Your Grace. Perhaps if we strike up a friendship, Her Royal Highness’s father will allow the Princess to come visit me in your escort.”

The princess’s whole face lit up at the prospect of escaping the confines of Carlton House, even if only for a few hours.

All Charity could think was that the Queen would need to be informed.

Beyond a doubt, the Grand Duchess was a force of nature, a creature of subtlety, and certainly no shrinking violet.

Charity could not help but wonder privately if she might ever have a chance to watch the Grand Duchess go toe-to-toe at an event with the Marchioness of Normanby. Heaven help them all, they might decide to conquer a continent or something .

Once the tsar’s sister had taken her leave, Charity let silence sit for a moment before speaking obliquely in a low voice. “I hope you were nowhere near that disaster at Burlington House.”

Charlotte looked up at Charity keenly, taking her meaning. “No, I’ve been under lock and key since Tuesday. Papa seems half convinced I will poison another suitor or lead a revolution. Possibly both.”

Charity tilted her head. “And your mother? Is she keeping out of trouble?”

“As much as she ever does. Papa’s made it difficult for anyone to see her.

Even me.” Charlotte's expression shifted subtly.

“Not that it is much easier for people to see me right now. My father controls my visitors, my letters… he would have barred the Grand Duchess, too, if he could have done so without offending half of Europe.”

“You mean, if the Grand Duchess would let him,” Charity said with only faint irony.

The princess’s lips curled in amusement. Then she glanced down, as if preparing to broach something difficult. An uneasy feeling in Charity’s stomach became a full-blown warning bell.

“You have shown me how to survive a tragedy. I do not wish to be indiscreet, but I have heard the whispers about your debut season. I do not believe my grandmother arranged any sort of knight’s quest, and I am not prying.

Whatever happened is in the past. What matters is that you have not let it defeat you.

That is what I like about you. And I have found a way to respect it in the Grand Duchess. ”

“Tell me you are not planning anything foolish, like running away.”

Charlotte looked at her in horror. “No, not at all. It is my mother, you see. She will never be truly happy here in England, but she is afraid to go off on her own. I worry my father will not give her a choice, once I am not here to lobby on her behalf. The Grand Duchess… she is woman with no husband, no protector, and no permission, and yet she carves space for herself in the world. It is useful to think about. I want my mother to find the courage to stand apart from my father.”

The princess shook her head, brushing aside the deep conversation. “Enough sad talk for one day. Please—tell me where you’ve been, Your Grace. I am forced to survive on second-hand tales. Tell me everything. Which events have you attended? Who have you seen? Do not leave anything out.”