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By the time she left, the corridor leading to the royal box was empty. No matter. She could slip into the back of the small room and lean against the wall if necessary. The Queen might not even notice her tardiness.

But unfortunately, all heads turned to glance back when the guard swung open the door. Queen Charlotte’s gaze narrowed. She did not turn Charity away. Worse, she motioned for the man beside her to give up his seat, freeing a place for Charity at her right.

A seat in the front row, where all the people in attendance would be staring at her. Charity smoothed her features into placid acceptance, bobbed a quick curtsey, and then settled onto the wooden chair.

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Charity lowered her gaze, frowning as the candlelight illuminated the yellow stain on her glove. She covered that hand with the other, striving for calm. “I am at your command, ma’am.”

You are a duchess now, darling. Untouchable. Charity’s mother had voiced those words shortly after the wedding ceremony, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. At that moment, Charity had believed her mother spoke the truth, that a title could shield her from life’s horrors.

But now she knew better; a shield was only as strong as the bearer.

The Queen sniffed. “Everyone here is at my command, Your Grace. But you and I both know that some of the bows and curtseys disguise treacherous hearts and minds. I invited you here tonight so that you might be reminded of the size of your challenge. Look around you. Which boxes contain allies? Which ones host my enemies? Can you identify them all?”

Who were the crown’s enemies? Charity raised her fan and flipped it open, swaying her hand gently to cool her flushed skin. She arched her neck left and right, and studied those around them through a lidded gaze.

Lady Pelham had returned to her box, and was whispering in the ear of the woman at her side.

As if sensing Charity’s gaze, the two women glanced her way.

Charity inclined her head in a slight nod, like a ruler acknowledging her subjects.

Lady Pelham scowled and then swung her head around to look at the stage.

She was only fool enough to take Charity on. Not the Queen.

The aristocrats were all happy to squabble amongst themselves, but few would dare to threaten anyone higher. What could they hope to gain?

There were no members of the Order present that evening, or at least none so far as Charity was aware. They were one of the factions determined to stop the royal engagement, but Peregrine had suggested there were others.

Who else wanted to prevent the joining of the English and Dutch thrones? Her eyes stopped on the three couples seated together in Lord Holland’s box, on the far end of their level.

She was not well acquainted with the politicians who were not aristocrats.

She did, however, know many names and faces.

Some of the most vocal complaints against the royal engagement came from the Whigs, and in his younger days, Prinny had counted them among his friends.

But once he assumed the regency, he turned on the reformers in favour of the established Tories.

Charity allowed her gaze to roam before returning to the box. Would they do something to prevent Prinny’s wedding plans?

“So you are not blind to our challengers,” the Queen murmured.

“The Whigs are whipping up public sentiment against our future alliance. Prinny refuses to deal with them, so it falls to me. If the men can be brought to heel, it will be by their wives. Go to them as my emissary and see if you can convince them of the benefits of a friendship with the Crown.”

“I will do my best,” Charity promised.

“You will do nothing less than succeed,” the Queen corrected her. “Now, what of our falcon? Where is this list he promised to deliver?”

Peregrine was on the hunt, but not for members of the Order, as the Queen wished him to do first. “He took a few days to recover from his wounds, and has been intent on seeking out signs of his mother’s influence. Given all that happened, he judged her the greatest threat.”

“To him, or to my dynastic plans?” the Queen asked, not waiting for an answer.

“Tell him to adjust his priorities, lest I be forced to do so for him. Our foreign guests are due to arrive in two weeks’ time, depending on the winds.

Prinny plans to announce the formal betrothal at the welcome event.

You and the falcon must ensure nothing stands in our way. ”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

The Queen shifted position, turning to the soprano gracing the stage. The woman’s voice rose higher and higher, her voice filled with so much anguish that it sent chills down Charity’s spine. For a rare moment in time, all the whispered conversations stopped.

But then the male lead stepped forward, adding his voice to hers, and shattering the quiet. The Queen lost interest in the theatrical display and again looked Charity’s way. “My granddaughter will need your support in the coming days.”

The arrival of the foreign guests would necessitate even more pageantry than usual. “I will clear my diary so that I am free to accompany her whenever and wherever needed.”

“It is not the public events which have me concerned. I do not believe for one moment that my granddaughter has abandoned her efforts to get out of this engagement.”

“Surely the princess learned from her error—” Charity ventured.

The Queen flicked open her fan and covered her mouth, preventing onlookers from reading her lips. “She is young and impressionable. She can be twisted to other people's whims.”

Charity could not refute that. However, “I understood that the Prince Regent is keeping his daughter under lock and key. If no one can access her?— ”

“ Some people cannot be turned away,” the Queen muttered.

“The Grand Duchess of Oldenburg has requested permission to pay the princess a visit. If she were anyone other than the sister of the Tsar, we might have declined. I do not trust that woman. She is far too headstrong. She will give my granddaughter ideas. Counter them!”

Everyone wanted to use the princess to their advantage, but few took the time to get to know the girl.

Princess Charlotte was caught between two impossible choices.

If she married the Prince of Orange, her mother would be banished from England’s shores.

If she refused the match, the princess would face the wrath of both Prinny and the Queen.

Charity was no longer sure which outcome was best.

The Queen has no interest in your opinion on the royal plans, the logical speaker pointed out.

Charity flipped her fan closed and laid it in her lap. “I will speak with the princess, Your Highness. Is there aught else you wish of me?”

“You speak as though I have asked so little of you. Seeing Prinny’s efforts come to fruition is your only focus, Your Grace. You are to ensure that our falcon does his part, and that young Charlotte falls into line. That will cover two of my three greatest concerns.

“Now, paste a smile upon your face so that all may know how grateful you are to have my ear. Orpheus will soon consign his true love to the depths of Hades. I will leave before then. I have no wish to witness a tragedy this evening.”

Charity wished she could say the same. The ill-fated lovers struck too close to her reality. Perry had tried to show her a way forward. Instead of keeping her eyes on him, she had looked back to the Queen, snaring him in obligations to the crown.

Finally Charity left the opera, climbing into her carriage and directing the driver to see her home. She was in no mood to venture on to any of the other gatherings to which she had been invited.

She locked herself inside her bedroom. What had seemed a life of privilege and safety now felt like a prison. She grabbed a quill and dipped it into the pot of ink, her hand hovering over the ivory foolscap.

She needed advice, and she knew of only one person who might understand her plight. Her friend Grace, who had suffered under the edicts of the Crown and somehow survived. But when it came to asking for guidance, she drew up short.

What help could Grace truly offer? What if she gathered her child and came running to Charity’s side, putting herself in the sights of Lady Fitzroy? Charity could not ask that of Grace, not after all her friend had risked to save her once before.

She dipped her quill again, penning the remainder of the message with a careful hand. Instead of a request for help, she sent a warning.

My dearest friend,

I cannot begin to put into words everything that has transpired in London since I last saw you.

But I expect you'll hear this sooner rather than later—there is scandal afoot again.

When is there not, you are likely asking?

This time, it involves the Prince of Orange and his betrothal to the princess. Or his lack of one, rather.

I wish I dared speak my next words more plainly, but tell your husband to be on guard.

I believe there is a possibility that our dear departed enemy, Lady F, has again set her sights on England.

To what end her ambition lies, I am not yet certain, but if she decides to take aim against the throne, it would be easy for her to place me in the crosshairs as well.

Do not worry for me; I am taking precautions. But I would not want you and your family to be caught unprepared if she decides to retaliate against you .

Your husband may be particularly interested in the news of Lady F’s son, Peregrine. He is back from the front, and he has already found himself in trouble with the Crown once again. Some would think me a fool, but I have my doubts as to his guilt.

Fear not, I will keep you apprised of anything I uncover. Please do the same, should any news pass your way.

All my love, Charity