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Queen Charlotte brushed a strand of grey hair from her temple and surveyed the pair with cool detachment.

“My diamond and the falcon—together again before me, and again, not by summons. How rare. How ominous. Especially after what the sheets have been whispering about the both of you at Vauxhall. I hope I am not about to hear about the need for a special license.”

She flicked an eye in the direction of Peregrine, who stood and inclined his head. “No, Your Majesty. You wanted us to ignite a firestorm of talk, and that is what we did.”

“Then I am hoping that that stunt of yours bore fruit. Duchess?”

“We have a new avenue to explore, yes. Lord Fitzroy was attacked outside of a bank while investigating what appears to be one of Marian Fitzroy’s accounts, Your Majesty,” Charity said smoothly as she rose from her curtsey.

“There is the possibility that one of the bankers might be aiding our enemy, either by choice or as the result of blackmail.”

The Queen’s bosom heaved once in annoyance. “I see.”

These vagaries, they had decided, were safe enough to tell Prinny, as there was nothing he could do that would not exceed his authority.

Not without calling on the Home Secretary’s help.

Queen Charlotte would be similarly bound, compelled to ask Sidmouth to investigate with the assistance of a magistrate or runners.

And Sidmouth, now, was conveniently… busy.

Which meant the Queen would also have to continue using indirect assistance.

“We were hoping to speak with the marchioness because of her connections amongst the ton . She may know the reputation of the bankers enough to speculate without the risk of needing to set foot inside of it,” Charity explained further.

“No.” The Queen’s flat reply stunned Charity into another round of silence.

She had expected to face difficulties, but the sharp edge to Charlotte’s voice offered no quarter. “But, Your Majesty, it is the truth?—”

“No,” Queen Charlotte intoned again, “I will not be put off. I am nobody’s fool, Duchess Atholl.

I am most certainly not yours. I find your repeated attempts to seek out Lady Normanby quite suspicious, especially since my guards reported that a certain falcon was present when she was invited to visit. ”

She raked a quick look over Peregrine. “I do believe you, that Lord Fitzroy was attacked. But if you think you can appease me with half truths, you are quite mistaken. You see, I rather think you both know more than you are letting on, especially about the disaster currently playing out in the main hallway. You will explain everything to me. Now. Consider it an order. If I agree that the marchioness’s insight is warranted, I will call for her to join us. ”

Charity forced her fingers to let loose of the muslin of her skirt, from where they had latched on in the face of the Queen’s anger.

She shifted her weight onto her heels, subtly ceding the floor to Peregrine, whose eyes flickered slightly as he considered what information he would have to give away.

“Your Majesty tasked me to find both my mother and the Order. You were clever to suspect Lady Normanby of being more than she seemed. But the marchioness was my key to reaching the others, and I could not lose that connection. What became apparent only after the riot was that Lady Normanby also wanted my help, as she suspected my mother of planting one of her accomplices within the Order’s ranks.

That is what made following my mother’s trail so important. ”

The Queen’s face clouded as he recounted events from the riot onward, explaining how he had seen the chancellor’s hasty departure from Cavendish’s ball, the effort to cast blame on Selina and Sidmouth, the incident at Goldbourne’s bank, and Mr Vesey’s story about the debt and Eldon’s efforts.

Charity noted Peregrine said nothing that involved the remaining three members of the Tribune.

He didn’t bring up the attack in the gardens, nor any of the details about how exactly he had found a connection to Goldbourne.

He also, for obvious reasons, said nothing of their private conversations nor her overnight stay.

When Peregrine finished, Charity waited for Charlotte to call them on their further omissions. But instead, the Queen seemed nearly lost in thought.

“There were bankers there that night, at Burlington House,” the Queen said instead, casting backwards in her memories. “I remember snide whispers about it—though that scandal was quite forgotten after the riot.”

Peregrine nodded. “Goldbourne was among them.”

“Tell me, Lord Fitzroy.” The Queen suddenly fixed him with a look that was for once absent of her usual casual discontent. “Do you have a theory concerning the men she has chosen as targets? Why these, and not others?”

“Just the notion that they were enemies of my mother. And the marchioness was caught up in it, I suspect, because she was best in a position to catch Goldbourne’s activities. She has many friends in Parliament.”

Peregrine’s eyes narrowed slightly. He believed Charlotte had a theory; Charity knew it. “I will admit, I was also hoping to speak with Lady Normanby because she might see the shape of my mother’s pattern, now that Goldbourne has been exposed. Does Your Majesty suspect something?”

Charlotte shifted restlessly. “I would not be surprised that these men are also conveniently your mother’s enemies. But yes, I have a different suspicion. They may all be considered an attack on the Tory party.”

“But Cavendish—” Charity began, and then stopped. Cavendish was not the intended target. “The Whig points would be embarrassing to the Tories, if it looked like there was civil unrest and not even the aristocracy was safe from it.”

Peregrine was looking down at the floor, his eyes flickering rapidly as he thought the Queen’s words through. “One scandal might only displace a man. And the plan might fail. But if you take out the Lord Chancellor, and the Home Secretary, the Home Office, and cause civil unrest… ”

“You have a government at risk of dissolving,” Queen Charlotte said grimly. “Falling like a stout tree after several swings of an axe.”

“And even as we speak, the Tories are trying to stave off such an occurrence,” Charity said, awed by the audacity of Goldbourne’s and Lady Fitzroy’s plan. “But—even if Parliament were to dissolve, there would be new elections.”

“Yes, Duchess,” Charlotte agreed, her breathing coming faster as she began to quietly seethe.

“But for those months until those elections are concluded, England will be in a position of great diplomatic weakness. Which might be a prodigious boon for an enemy of our country as we squabble over Europe’s remains in Vienna.

Instead of spending time preparing for the negotiations over the spoils of the war, the government ministers will be running ragged, campaigning for their seats. ”

“And the royal visits!” Charity said with a gasp. “The world’s leaders will have a front row seat to the fall of the British government.”

Beside Charity, Peregrine’s head snapped up.

“The flyers whose presses couldn’t be tracked after the riots.

The counterfeiting. Even if Prinny is convinced to back the current government and we lay Eldon’s scandal to rest, a new crisis involving currency would be a death blow to the Tory party.

That will be the knife thrust that will be coordinated to happen within the week, once the sovereigns arrive. I am sure of it.”

“Creating that disaster would be spitting in the face of the monarchy, if my son averts this disgrace. And it could be an economic disaster for our nation. Both of which, Lord Fitzroy, I believe would suit your mother’s perverse sense of revenge.”

“It would indeed, ma’am,” he agreed grimly.

“Please, Your Majesty. We need the marchioness. The best we can hope for is that Mr Goldbourne forged a few bills to stir the pot. But where my mother is concerned, I am no longer of the opinion that she would think small. Lady Normanby is our best source of information on Mr Goldbourne. She may have some clue that helps us find the presses before it is too late.”

The Queen’s lips were pinched so hard, they were white.

But she nodded curtly. “You have made a believer of me, Lord Fitzroy. And let me say, you were correct; your mother was most certainly the more dangerous threat. While I do not consider the marchioness absolved of being my rival—not in the least—this will provide her a chance to prove that she is not a traitor to England. We may question her, together.”

She lifted a bell from a side table and gave it a ring.

The outer door swung open and a footman came in. At Queen Charlotte’s instruction, he brought over her writing desk and then waited patiently while she inked a note onto a scrap of paper. She sanded it, folded it, and sealed it with her stamp.

“Deliver this to General Billingham at Whitehall immediately,” she ordered, dismissing the servant to do her bidding. “Sit, the both of you. My neck grows tired from staring up at you.”

Charity eyed the pair of gilded antique chairs opposite the Queen as though they might swallow them whole rather than offer them a place to rest. She circled around and perched carefully on the edge, not daring to grow comfortable enough to rest her back against the wooden frame.

“Is the marchioness being held at Whitehall?” Charity said. Whitehall was but a few minutes away from the palace.

Queen Charlotte grimaced. “No. The Marchioness is not at Whitehall, nor any of my London properties. I did not want to risk someone getting the idea of attempting a rescue,” she said mildly, giving Peregrine a sideways glance. “So I put her out of all reach.”

Peregrine gave the Queen a slightly jaunty bow. “There was going to be no rescue, ma’am. I considered Lady Normanby to be safer in your hands while we were still trying to get a sense of who my mother’s agent was than she could be in mine.”