“Can we walk in the gardens?” he offered.
“No, don’t be silly. I cannot possibly walk about with some soldier.”
He rubbed his chin. “There is that word ‘silly’ again. I vow it is being overused, even if it is spoken in three different languages, and in such a pretty voice.”
She posed against the balustrade, one white hand daintily placed on the railing. Her white dress looked fresh and cool, but she would develop freckles if she went about frequently in the sun with such a low-cut, short-sleeved dress.
She had had freckles, those many years ago.
“You have a delectably tiny waist, Princess,” he said.
“Compliments now, Edward? Does that mean you are no longer angry with me?” Her eyes seemed to grow larger.
“It is hard to stay angry with someone so beautiful. Especially when I can still taste her lips.”
Her cheeks colored at his words and she glanced away.
“Why didn’t your family marry you to someone else?” he asked. “A woman of your station, with a fortune in your face?”
Her eyes met his. “A fortune in my face, but not in my purse. There are not so many men a woman like me can marry.”
Not closeted at home in Scharnburg. In a small, damp castle, worse than Canada, from all reports. “I take your point. I am sorry you had to stay home all of these years.”
“Life might have been different, but it was not. At any rate, the queen has agreed to see you,” she said, surprising him.
“Then why didn’t you write me?”
She smiled, that cat-in-cream look playing about her lips again. “I was curious to see how long it would take you to find me.”
“You are an imp.”
“I would have written you tomorrow. Your audience is in two days. Come prepared with stories of your military postings and you might be able to stay a while.”
“Our royal father is revered in Canada, you know. Would she like stories of him, do you think?”
“She always does, cannot ever get enough. But from you, it might be an unpleasant reminder of realities.”
He slammed his fist against the stone, only inches away from her delicate fingers. “I do not stay away from my regiment during a time of rising unrest to tell my half-sister pretty stories. So tell me, Princess, what am I to do?”
“Moderate your tone, sir, first of all. Remember, you came to see family, and if you could not see your mother, you might as well see the queen.”
“And you.” He knew his breathing was elevated and his expression fierce. But had he not a right to be so, when every expectation had been stripped from him? He knew his father, Prince Edward, had not planned to die so suddenly, but still, why had he done this? Was his second wife such an improvement on the first? His father had been a complex, sophisticated thinker, and not a young man. Three healthy sons had been a better bet than one daughter. Had he been so sure his German princess wife would bear him a more royal son?
“And me. I am glad we were able to meet again.”
He ground his teeth, at that moment despising both the prince and his grandfather. And Murdo, too, for forcing to an end the only real romance he’d ever wanted. “Now what? You want me to act the mincing fool so the queen does not send me away?”
“I would not do that, she likes a strong man, but her sense of herself is such that she will not bow before anyone, nor should she.”
“Of course not. I know that.”
She nodded.
“I’ve heard from Sir John again, this morning. I have not opened the letter yet.”
“Burn it,” she advised. “You will never get what you want through his offices.”
He folded his arms. If he’d really believed his aims were just, he’d have planned this meeting better. “Thank you for securing my audience. Do you think I can become my sister’s friend? Will that help me?”
“Do you have enough time? She does have a kind heart.”
“I have funds secured now, and legal aid.”
She touched his arm briefly. For her height she had such dainty hands. “One day at a time.”
“Thank you for your guidance. You are my best friend here in London.”
“I am flattered to be called your friend,” she said. “But I wonder if you will ever smile.”
“I could answer you with a coarse, soldierly joke,” he told her. He saw a woman pass the palace window behind them. “But I wouldn’t want to besmirch your maidenly ears, Princess. You had best go. I think someone is looking for you.”
“It is your fault I am still a maiden,” she teased.
“My cousin’s fault,” he said. “He set my mother on us.”
“Neither of our mothers were pleased.”
“But mine is dead now. Think carefully before you follow your mother’s dictates.” The woman passed by the window again. Was she glancing out?
Be careful,” the princess advised. “I wouldn’t want you to be arrested.”
He bowed. “Thank you for your concern. I will see you on Saturday.” The exasperating woman hadn’t seemed the least surprised that he’d risked expulsion or far worse to see her, when all she needed to have done to prevent it was send him a blasted letter. She bore careful watching, this wife of his.
~
Two days later, Charlotte sat in a straight-backed chair in the corner of a red and gold drawing room as Edward kept the queen and her ladies spellbound with his tales of service in Canada. Victoria thrilled to tales of moose and caribou hunting in the snow. He’d even, along with his brothers, killed a predatory black bear once, apparently. Edward claimed he’d had the head and some of his better moose antlers sent back to Linsee Castle.
“We imagine the duke was pleased to receive your tribute,” the queen said.
“Yes,” he agreed modestly, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his spotless uniform coat. “If you are ever in Scotland, my aunt, Lady Abigail, would be pleased to receive you and show you the trophy room.”
“We look forward to seeing much more of my kingdom in the future.”
Charlotte noticed the distinct pause as Edward processed his half-sister’s pointed remark before he responded. “My aunt is an excellent chatelaine. The locals consider her something of a saint. She’s devoted herself to their care. It’s all farm country there and sometimes people have rather gruesome injuries as a result, but she is always there to help.”
“We have reflected on how one family can produce rather dissimilar children. Our father, for instance, is considered the best of his generation.”
Edward sat up even straighter, with the air of a hunting dog scenting prey. Charlotte knew the queen had given him an “in” and probably hadn’t meant to. She suspected the pleasant chatter was soon to be at an end.
“He is revered in Canada,” the colonel agreed. “I have enjoyed acquiring such mementos of his travels as I could manage. Especially in Halifax, where he spent time.”
“Will you be called back to your regiment soon?” the queen inquired.
“No, I have as long as I need to take care of my business. My commanding officers understand the situation.”
“Colonel.” The queen giggled nervously. “There is no situation. Whatever you think, you are mistaken.”
“Madam, I am the son of a prince and the grandson of a duke. Surely you can see the insult to both our shared blood and the Linsee blood. Should our father’s blood bow down to obscurity?”
“You are distinguishing yourself in your military career,” said the queen. “I understand you have been mentioned in dispatches twice.”
Charlotte saw the colonel’s chin lift. She winced. Brace for it.
“How can that possibly be enough for me? When I must know the truth of my mother’s marriage? She was a good woman.”
“Colonel,” the queen said, as if admonishing her dog Dash.
Edward had been holding a teacup, but he placed it into its saucer and dropped it onto the table. The fine china rattled b
ut did not break. “Obscurity, penury, and a lonely, childless old age. That, madam, is what I face, and I will not stand for it. Our father’s blood demands I fight.”
“Your grandfather should have taken care of your finances,” the queen said. “You cannot expect me to settle funds on you.”
“I don’t want funds from the Crown. I want my day in front of the prime minister. I want recognition of my mother’s marriage. You have been told our father was the best of men. Then give me the opportunity to show you that my brothers and I are men cut from the same cloth. Give us a chance to show my papers.”
“We cannot help you,” the queen said, her plump face stubborn.
Edward’s hands balled into fists. “Yes, you can. You should, and you will.”
“If you wish to go into politics,” she said, “then resign your commission and stand for a seat. That is what I recommend. It is unfortunate you were born a mere mister, but that is the reality.”
“Our father would not be proud of you,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
Charlotte twisted her fingers into her skirts until the fabric wrinkled disastrously. The queen’s profile had gone quite pink.
“Our father made you what you are,” she said. “We are aware that he chose military careers for you, rather than an education that might lead to some other life. He never requested anything for you from the king. We have our father’s complete archives.”
“I would not be too certain of that, madam. Your mother and mine hated each other. I have certain proof that our father acted in poor faith toward my mother.”
“My mother was a lawfully wed, Christian woman.” The queen did not continue, but her insult was implied.
“My mother was Roman Catholic, it is true, but not until after I was born.”
“We shall never know the full story,” the queen said complacently. “But we are content to leave the situation as it is. You are a credit to our military and we suggest you rededicate yourself to advancement in your career.”
He opened his mouth, but the queen rose, forcing him to do the same. After he bowed, his lips compressed to a tight line, he turned to Charlotte. His expression softened for a moment before he backed to the edge of the room and walked out.
“They do teach them how to bluster,” the queen said, when the colonel was gone.
“He is a wonderful storyteller,” one of the other ladies who were in the room offered. “I would love to hear more of his tales in that lovely voice of his.”
“He’s so attractive,” a young maid-of-honor said with a giggle.
The queen’s reaction to that remark was to grimace. Sadly, Victoria was not a beautiful woman herself, nor did she have their late father’s considerable stature. It could be said that Edward was far more his father’s child than she. Yet, the diminutive queen had the throne, and he had nothing but a commission.
Charlotte knew he wouldn’t simply disappear. She wondered what he would do next to obtain his goal.
The queen rose and began to pace the room, her color still high. When she reached Charlotte’s chair the princess was forced to rise and accompany her.
“We should like to walk the terrace,” the queen said.
Footmen hurried to open the doors and the queen swept out, followed by her ladies. When they were out of doors the queen breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
“We cannot give him what he wishes. Our throne must be seen to be secure. We know what Uncle Leopold and Lord Melbourne would advise. For England’s sake the colonel needs to go back to his regiment, and soon. Impress that upon him. For England.”
Charlotte bowed her head. She did not wish Edward to go, though she didn’t want to examine that desire too closely. “Do you want me to send him a letter to that effect, Your Majesty?”
“No, go to him in person,” the queen said. “Some things should not be put into writing.”
“You are asking me to visit a bachelor gentleman in his rooms?” She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back. Did the queen know?
“Take a maid with you, Charlotte,” the queen said irritably. “Who else can we trust? We know why you are here, and it is not to make love to an impoverished, untitled military officer. You are too sensible to lose your head over a handsome man with no prospects.”
No, the queen suspected nothing. “Should I go now?”
“Tomorrow, when he is calmer. Then on Monday he can make arrangements to return to Quebec. It is for the best. We will have peace.” The queen considered. “Give him what is in our purse. He may have debts to pay before he leaves London.”
Charlotte nodded as the queen called for refreshments. She did not dare argue further, despite knowing her entreaty would have no effect. A little while later Victoria returned to the palace and her dispatch boxes, leaving Charlotte to stare blankly at the gardens and wonder what she would say to her husband.
She could not advise such a man to give up too easily, but she would relay the queen’s message to him and see how he reacted. That might tell her much about his character. Besides, she wanted to see him again.
Chapter Six
Charlotte had managed to obtain five guineas to give to Edward from the queen’s purse. They clinked irritatingly as the carriage moved on the bumpy roads toward Jermyn Street. Five guineas was such an insult. What would it pay? A greengrocer? But the queen was not one to have money. Charlotte had dared to ask one of the young secretaries for more before she’d left the palace.
The secretary had smiled flirtatiously. “Need a dress bill paid, ma’am?”
She stared at him. “With clothing like this, you think I have a dress bill that needs paying?”
Flirting came so naturally with Edward, but she couldn’t think of how to do so with this man. Or any other, it seemed. Dinner had become a vast wasteland of silence around her. She was gaining a reputation as a dullard. “The queen wants me to have it for a special charity,” she said with regal authority.
With a dramatic sigh, the secretary had given her a bank note for twenty pounds, which Edward could cash at the Bank of England. At least he might be able to pay off his servants with that.
The maid she’d brought with her sneezed constantly in her corner of the royal carriage, breaking into her thoughts about her mother’s wishes that she find a rich husband, versus her own desire to know her husband better. She should have noticed the girl’s reddened nose before she left, but the girl had seemed eager for an outing.
“Don’t mind me, Your Serene Highness. Horses make me sneeze.” The maid punctuated her words with another sneeze.
“Yet there are no horses in the carriage, Birdie,” Charlotte said ruefully.
“I have a follower who is a stable boy. He makes me sneeze somethin’ terrible,” the girl admitted, sneezing again. “I canna be around him for long.”
“Perhaps not visiting him at all would be the best choice. You don’t want to lose your position over illness.”
“No, ma’am. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
The girl’s reddened eyes held tears when she dared to meet Charlotte’s gaze.
“Stop seeing the lad and no one will ever know.” Charlotte turned away and peered out of the window, wishing she could take her own advice, in her impoverished siblings’ best interest.
She was always startled by the sheer amount of street noise when she left the palace. Everywhere were hawkers, costermongers, and advertisers. The shouting and smells were overwhelming on such a warm summer’s day. She was forced to open a window and the calls from hawkers, begging citizens to buy their wares, floated in through the window.
Her equally impoverished husband appeared to live above a tailor’s shop, a far cry from a decade before when he’d resided in a castle. The carriage stopped in front of it and a footman handed her and the maid down.
“We won’t be long,” Charlotte told him. “Stay nearby.”
They went up a flight of steps to find Edward’s rooms. When she rapped at the door it was opened
by a thin, bandy-legged man with a shock of faded orange hair. He did not compare favorably to the queen’s servants.
“I am Princess Charlotte,” she announced. “Is the colonel receiving callers?”
The man’s already somewhat protuberant eyes bulged out farther. “A princess, eh? I dinna hear so good.”
“Yes, Mr.—” She paused.
“Milne. Quintin Milne, ma’am. I be the colonel’s valet.”
“Very good. I have a message for him.”
He nodded and picked at a tooth.
“Could you call him for me, please?”
Birdie, though safely away from anything resembling a horse, sneezed again. The valet’s mouth dropped open in horror. He scuttled back and closed the door in Charlotte’s face.
“What an extraordinary person,” she murmured. Within moments, she heard the murmur of men’s voices behind the closed door but couldn’t make out anything specific. A minute after that, the door opened. The colonel had one hand on the door and the other arm was still pushing through the sleeve of his coat. He must have been in his shirtsleeves.
As he pushed buttons through holes he blew hair off his forehead, then rubbed his eyes.
Adorable. “Were you napping, Colonel?”
“Late night, Princess,” he said, leaving her to wonder what he’d been up to the evening before, after he’d left the palace. With a pang, she realized his life had gone on. Career, family, women. Of course there had been women, perhaps even last night. One kiss would hardly bind him to her memory. She was a desperate ninny, a child in comparison, with no real womanly experiences since that summer in Scotland.
She gathered her courage. “Are you going to invite me in?”
“Not with that maid. Quintin’s been mortally ill recently. I won’t subject him to a sick girl.”
“It’s horses, sir,” Birdie said. “Honest. I can never ride in carriages without sneezin’.”
“Even so, I won’t risk his health. Princess?” He gave her an expectant glance as if it was no small thing for her to enter his private rooms alone.
Damn the man for daring her to do it. She sighed. “Guard the door, Birdie. It will not be locked, or even closed completely. If you have concerns, feel free to enter for my protection.”
The Princess Dilemma: A Victorian Royal Romance Page 8