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“The moment I heard, your father sent for the smelling salts. My own daughter, promenading through Vauxhall with Lord Fitzroy. Have you entirely lost your reason?”

—Lady Cresswell, in the unread letter to her daughter

I t was the seventh of June, and London was aflutter with news of the arrival of the foreign guests. By early afternoon, the city’s residents lined the streets along the carriage route, beginning at Hyde Park and continuing through to the gates of St James’s Palace.

Behind the palace gates, footmen in livery and hurried maids darted through the corridors in a flurry of movement.

Garlands adorned the entrance, and the air inside was thick with the scent of fresh roses.

Excitement thrummed through the halls—an electric undercurrent that seemed to hum along the marble floors and rise straight up the spine.

Inside, Prinny’s only child paced restlessly, pulling a handkerchief through her fingers. She had appeared composed enough at luncheon, smiling at the guests and delicately picking at her food. But the moment she’d made her escape with Charity, the mask had slipped.

“What if he means to make the announcement today?” she cried, spinning around to face Charity. “Someone will ask and he will forget that I have not yet agreed to the engagement, and then?—”

“Your Highness,” Charity said gently, cutting into the histrionics.

“The announcement of your engagement will be an occasion in its own right—not a footnote to a royal welcome. You’ve nothing to fear.

” She paused, then added with a pointed look, “Unless, of course, you’re not planning to accept the match after all? ”

“I—I mean—” The princess faltered long enough that Charity began to fear the worst. But at last, she gathered herself.

“I’m almost certain, Your Grace. It’s all just dreadfully overwhelming.

Everyone speaks as though it’s already settled.

” Her voice grew more agitated. “I know Papa and Grandmama want what’s best for me, truly, but Prince William is so dull.

And what if I hate living in the Netherlands?

The Grand Duchess called it quaint. Quaint ! ”

Charity’s and Lord Ravenscroft’s recent visit to the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg had not tempered the woman’s mission to drive the Prince Regent to an early grave.

Her brother was due to arrive within the hour, and Charity had little hope the Grand Duchess would be better behaved instead of turning towards the worse.

Frustration bubbled up in Charity’s throat, causing her to voice words she would have otherwise bitten back.

“However well she means, you do yourself and your family a disservice by allowing her to be the arbitrator of your future happiness. Life’s unpredictability is its only certainty, Your Highness. ”

The princess flopped onto a settee, wrinkling her skirt, and laid a wrist over her brow.

“How am I meant to make the right decision?” She sighed heavily, but set about straightening herself up before Charity could intervene.

“Ignore me, Your Grace. I slept poorly last night. I will do as my father expects. But please, promise me you will stand near my side in the receiving line.”

“It would be my honour,” Charity assured her, holding out her hands to help the princess back onto her feet. “You barely touched your luncheon; it is no wonder your head is spinning. I will ring for tea and sandwiches. Fortify yourself and I will see you again in the throne room.”

The princess blinked back tears, managing a fragile smile before granting Charity leave to go.

Charity pulled the door closed behind her and leaned against it for a moment, ignoring the guard stationed just beside.

Today, of all days, the girl had to get cold feet again .

And the fate of the nation quite literally rested on paying attention to the foreigners in the hopes they could unearth Marian Fitzroy’s hiding place.

How could the princess imagine coming second to anything else when she has been told that it is her own decision which will have the greatest impact on England’s future?

The voice of reason was, unfortunately, correct.

Charity smoothed her skirts, taking a moment to settle her emotions.

Yes, much rested on the outcome of the next few days, but Charity did not have to face it alone.

And while she stood at the young woman’s side, she would be well-placed to gather hints of where Perry’s mother had gone to ground.

Peregrine was likely waiting for her in the throne room, keeping half an eye on the door while he circulated amongst the members of the ton . Desire to see him again urged her feet into motion. She was nearly at the throne room doors when she heard her mama’s voice ringing sharply in her ears.

Slow your pace, darling!

Charity’s feet slowed of their own accord at the order .

It allowed the woman walking behind her to close the distance between them. “That is much more appropriate, Charity dear. A duchess glides, not runs.”

Charity’s head swung around and she rocked to an abrupt halt when her gaze landed upon her mother’s countenance.

“ Mama ?” she asked, too dumbfounded to say anything else.

“You are surprised to see me?” Lady Cresswell hissed. “Have you read any of my letters? I see you have not, else you would have known to expect me.”

The letters Charity had allowed to pile up on the sideboard of her study, unopened and unread. Less urgent than the other matters occupying her attention.

“Is Papa here?” Charity blurted, leaning sideways to see past her mother’s golden hair.

Her mother gave her arm a sharp rap with her fan. “He is in the throne room, where we ought to be. I gave thanks not to see you there and immediately set out to find you. Here, at least, we might speak without interruption. I have questions.”

Questions which would require more time to answer than Charity could spare. “You can come over tonight, or tomorrow. I must check my diary, but I am certain I can find a window when I am free.”

“I will do no such thing,” Lady Cresswell muttered, seizing her daughter’s arm and steering her firmly toward the nearest retiring room. “If I am to endure society’s scrutiny, you will first address my concerns. The whispers are appalling, Charity—scandalous beyond comprehension!”

“The princess’s attempted poisoning?” she asked hopefully.

“ Lord Fitzroy, ” Lady Cresswell hissed, her cheeks blotched with fury. “Unchaperoned carriage rides. Waltzing at Vauxhall. And if the rumours are to be believed, far worse.”

All that and more, Mama—and I intend to do it again, Charity thought, almost giddy with defiance.

She had entered into her entanglement with Peregrine knowing her family would disapprove.

That they would never understand. It was one thing to accept that truth in the quiet certainty of her own room.

It was quite another to face her mother’s livid expression in the corridor of St James’s Palace.

“Mama, it is not so simple—” she began.

This was not the time nor the place. Not that Charity had any hope her family would understand, but surely they would not deny her love after all she had faced.

“Not simple?” Her mother’s gasp turned heads from those waiting in line to enter the room. “Have you given him permission to court you?”

“I—”

A fanfare of trumpets rang through the air, cutting off Charity’s words. Lady Cresswell dug her nails into her daughter’s gloved arm, but Charity shook her free.

“I must get inside. I am to stand beside the princess, Mama.”

Lady Cresswell narrowed her gaze, searching her daughter’s face for any hint of a lie.

Charity forced another false smile on her face, hating that her mama’s disapproval could reduce her to a feeling like a child. “All will be fine. You will see. I am still, as ever, in the Queen’s good graces.”

With that, Charity pivoted and hurried to the open doorway, wielding her title and position at court like a knife to cut through the people waiting to get in. They stepped aside, allowing her to go ahead, and then closed ranks again, blocking Lady Cresswell from following.

Flames flickered in the chandeliers hanging overhead, making the precious jewels sparkle at the necks, wrists, and ears of the women of court.

But none dazzled so much as the crown atop the head of Queen Charlotte.

She sat upon her throne, beside her son, her bearing betraying none of her advancing years .

The floor in front of the thrones was clearing, the guests forming two lines of reception on either side. Charity caught the Queen’s eye and bowed her head in obeisance. Then Charlotte’s gaze slipped sideways, in a pointed reminder of where Charity was supposed to be standing.

There was no time to search out Perry, to tell him her parents were there.

Or perhaps he had already spotted her father across the room, and was looking for her even now.

The whispers carried on the air, speeding her steps.

Only when she stood at what would be next to the princess’s left hand did Charity properly search the room.

Peregrine stood on the far side of the crowd, his shoulders feigning ease. But Charity saw the truth in the line of his jaw, clenched just a shade too tightly. He must have felt her gaze on him, for he turned—and their eyes met across the distance, the din of the room fading for just a moment.

He lifted one brow in silent question. Did she still want him to go through with their plan?

It was the height of foolishness, expecting him to flout society.

To expect him to abandon his station and come to her side.

She had asked, but neither of them had known her parents would arrive today.

It would be far simpler to shake her head.

To tell him to stay where he was. To delay the inevitable reckoning.

But she loved him. To retreat now would extinguish the light she had fought so hard to kindle in Peregrine’s eyes. That, she would not do. Not for her parents. Not for anyone.

So she smiled, steady and sure, and gave him the smallest nod.

The princess joined her, entering the room through a side door. Charity did not turn her way. Instead, her eyes never left Perry’s as he excused himself, cutting between the people jostling for a place at the front, and crossed the empty space in the middle of the room .

He did not touch or speak to her. He did not need to in order to state his claim.

All he did was pivot into place on her left, standing in a space his title alone did not warrant.

From the side of her eye, Charity watched to see how Queen Charlotte would react.

The woman stared studiously ahead, not remarking on the breach of protocol and thereby giving tacit approval.

And Charity ignored the rising whispers from the rest of the ton .