The Ice Queen
Sasha Cottman
Copyright © 2019 by Sasha Cottman
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
My Gentleman Spy
To Dean and Laura
Chapter One
London 1817
“Please, Caroline. Just take someone’s name off your dance card and replace it with mine.”
“No. How many times do I have to say it?” came the sharp reply.
Julian Palmer, Earl Newhall, stopped in his tracks at the harsh words. He had been hoping to find a quiet spot away from the other guests at the ball in which to finish his brandy, but from the sound of the argument, he was in no such luck.
“I am not taking anyone’s name off my dance card. I don’t wish to dance with you this evening, Timothy Walters, and that is that.”
Julian waited, in two minds as to what he should do. Some men would turn on their heel and head toward the safety of the crowded ballroom, but Julian’s protective instincts could not allow him to ignore the edge of panic in Caroline’s voice. He stepped forward and turned the corner.
In front of him was a young couple. The man, whom he assumed was Timothy, had his back to Julian and was standing with his head bowed. As Julian approached, he turned. His face was flush with obvious frustration; beads of sweat sat on his temple. In his hand he held a dance card. It was still attached to Caroline’s wrist by means of a pale cream ribbon.
Caroline met Julian’s gaze. She looked him up and down, showing scant regard for his presence, then looked away.
Julian knew that look only too well. His mother was the supreme mistress of the disdainful glare. Pity the man who fell on the wrong side of her favor.
“What is the problem? Perhaps I may be of assistance,” he said.
“Everything is the problem. She is determined to vex me this evening. What is a chap to do when his lady will not save a place for him on her dance card?”
Caroline harrumphed. “Timothy, I have told you, I am not your lady and shall dance with whomever I please.
Julian had dealt with enough negotiations during his time as a diplomat in post-Napoleonic Paris to know when parties were at an impasse.
“Can I do anything to help resolve the situation? Help the two of you to find a happy medium,” he bravely offered.
Caroline snatched the dance card from out of Timothy’s grasp and marched toward Julian. She stopped in front of him. Her emerald-green eyes glistened with rage. “What you can do sir, is mind your own bloody business.”
With a whirl of skirts, she brushed past Julian and disappeared around the corner. Timothy quickly followed.
Julian closed his eyes for an instant as long-buried memories of his childhood resurfaced. How many times had his parents played out that scene? And every time his father would scurry after his wife and do her bidding. All in order to remain in her good graces.
“Don’t do it, my good fellow. That path only leads to misery and pain,” he muttered.
He downed the last of his brandy and went in search of another drink.
Chapter Two
Caroline Saunders arrived back in the main ballroom ready to commit murder. Timothy Walters was yet again pushing her to the limit.
“Ah, there you are, I was wondering where you had got to. Oh, and you found a friend. Walters, how are you?”
She forced a smile to her face. Her brother Francis did not need to know that the latest in a long line of persistent suitors was in grave danger of being stabbed through the heart with the pencil from her dance card.
“Yes, I was on my way back from the ladies’ retiring room when he found me,” she replied.
Alongside Francis stood his best friend, Harry Menzies. Harry had often stepped in to save Caroline from her overenthusiastic admirers. She caught the angry glare he shot at Timothy.
“You are not making a nuisance of yourself are you, Walters?” said Harry.
Timothy took a step back. Over his shoulder, Caroline saw several of her other gentleman admirers pointing in her direction. An excited cry rose from them as they hurried over to join the gathering.
“Miss Saunders!”
Francis rolled his eyes. Her regular circle of courtiers had found her.
“Well, I see you are set with your group of gentlemen friends. Harry and I would not wish to get in the way of you selecting your future husband, so we shall take our leave. I will be in the cards room for the next hour. See you at supper, Caroline,” said Francis. Her brother bowed low and added a flourish of his hand.
On any other night, Caroline would have simply laughed off his tease, but tonight she felt hot tears sting her eyes. With her older sister, Eve, recently married, suitors were now pressing their case for Caroline’s hand.
She turned to face her group of admirers, steeling herself for yet another long evening.
On the other side of the ballroom, Julian stood and watched proceedings. Gentleman after gentleman lined up to pay respects to the young woman who had been so rude to him. It was only when he felt a gentle tap on the arm that he finally looked away.
“Watching the latest batch of doe-eyed dandies throw themselves at the Ice Queen’s feet, are you? Fools, every one of them.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at his companion. “The Ice Queen?”
His late father’s mistress, Lady Margaret, snapped her evening fan open and held it in front of her face before leaning in. “Caroline Saunders. Father is French-born, hence the exotic looks. Mother, Lady Adelaide, is the sister of the Duke of Strathmore. Very good ton family. Miss Saunders is considered to be the most beautiful young lady in all of London society. A top catch in the marriage stakes.”
Julian nodded. Caroline did not have the typical look of an English rose; rather, she was more enticing. In the hallway, he had noticed her pale blond hair and green eyes. She was a stunning beauty by any man’s standards. It was little wonder
she had a court of admirers clustered around her, no doubt hanging on her every word.
She was a rare creature indeed, but bitter experience had closed his heart to that sort of woman. He would bet a sack of pennies that beneath her enchanting looks was a cold, hard heart.
“She might be beautiful, but she has a sharp temper on her. I had the misfortune of encountering her a short while ago. That tongue of hers could cut through leather,” he replied.
Lady Margaret snorted. “I don’t expect too many of her admirers have even noticed the disdainful way she treats them. They are just happy to be within her circle. Many men would give their right arm to be a member of her select court. And of course, the man who finally manages to secure her hand in marriage shall be the envy of all the others. Rumor is she has already turned down more than a dozen marriage proposals.”
One of the Ice Queen’s courtiers offered her a glass of champagne. She shook her head and waved him away. Another gentleman stepped forward and presented her with a glass of wine.
She accepted it, took one sip and with a loud huff of indignation promptly handed it back to him. She pointed to the back of the group and both hapless gentlemen retreated from her presence.
Julian and Lady Margaret exchanged a sideways glance.
“You know who she reminds me of . . .” Lady Margaret started.
“Do not mention her name,” Julian replied through gritted teeth. In the short time he had been studying her, she had displayed several of the more unpleasant traits of Julian’s mother.
Even after she had married his father, the Countess Newhall had continued to reign over her own select court of admirers and lovers. If there was one person in London who did not envy the man who eventually married Caroline, it was Julian Palmer.
“When the time comes for me to start looking for my countess, I shall be particular in the sort of woman I seek. I will not repeat the same miserable mistake my father did,” he said.
Lady Margaret nodded. “We all hope for that.”
Julian turned and met her gaze. “Rest assured, dearest Maggie, I will never marry Caroline Saunders.”
Chapter Three
The following morning, Julian was finishing a plate of eggs and pickled herrings when Lady Margaret arrived in the breakfast room. He took one look at the large navy-blue diary in her hands and his appetite disappeared.
It was never a good sign when Lady Margaret produced her diary and even less when her face displayed the look it currently did. It meant she wanted to announce something big. Julian didn’t like unexpected announcements.
“I have some good news and some not so good. Firstly, I have been thinking of our conversation from the ball last night and have come up with a plan,” she said.
“And to what particular part of our conversation are you referring?” he replied.
“Why, marriage of course. While the Saunders girl might be dithering about choosing a husband, I decided it was high time that we did something about securing the Newhall line. I have come up with a plan to find you a wife.”
Julian puffed out his cheeks, which resulted in him receiving a swift clip over the ear.
“Don’t be a cheeky thing. You might be Earl Newhall, but that does not mean that I cannot pull you back into line. Your father gave me express permission to beat you if I felt it necessary,” she added.
“As I recall, I was twelve at the time, and even then, I don’t think he was actually serious about it,” replied Julian, rubbing his offended ear.
Lady Margaret took a seat in the chair next to his and gave him one of her warm smiles. He leaned over and gave her a forgiving kiss on the cheek. She meant more to Julian than his mother ever could.
“Tell me your plans, dearest Maggie. I am eager to hear them,” he said.
She opened the diary and Julian caught sight of several pages of detailed lists and notes. His heart sank further. Lady Margaret had been busy.
“A week-long party in the country. Lots of lovely young unwed ladies, with their chaperones in tow. At the end of which, you will fall hopelessly in love with one of them and we shall have ourselves a new countess. What do you think?” she said with a smile.
Julian’s brain had frozen as soon as it had registered the word party. The thought of having a house full of guests filled him with dread. Meeting with diplomats in palaces and embassies was one thing, but actually having guests sleeping under his roof was less than ideal.
“I have just had a whole month of dealing with the Prussians over the issue of trade with France; I don’t think I could stand a house full of people,” he replied.
Lady Margaret waved away his protest and turned the page of the diary. Julian saw that she had already drawn up a long list of guests for the event.
He shuddered. “Are we really going to invite all those people? It does seem a lot.”
“Trust me, I know what I am doing. You need a good selection of young ladies from which to choose. Your father has been gone for over two years, and he would no doubt be telling me off if I didn’t prod you into doing something about getting married. You are twenty-eight years’ old, and you need an heir,” she replied.
He gently placed his hand over hers. It still seemed at times like only yesterday that he had received word of his father’s untimely death. A short illness which had taken him, a fit and healthy man, within a matter of days.
“Yes, as usual, you are right. But don’t you think it is getting a little late in the year for a house party? Those things are best held in summer. Perhaps we could wait until next year,” he said.
Lady Margaret patted the top of Julian’s hand. “You need to marry. Besides, any girl who does not want to come to Derbyshire at this time of the year would not make a sensible countess. Your wife has to be able to endure the chill of a country winter. If any young woman on my list does not own a heavy wool coat and a pair of strong leather boots, then I shall strike her name off. We will find you someone practical. Pretty, but with an intelligent mind. In time, you may even fall in love.”
Julian screwed up his face. There was no use attempting to dissuade Lady Margaret from her plans. Once she had an idea in motion, there was only one outcome. He would have to go through with the house party. With thirty earls of Newhall having gone before him, he had the bloodline to consider and to continue.
“Alright, I shall have a house party. But can we agree to keep it to a small and manageable number? I don’t want to find myself having to fight off a horde of unwed ladies and their marriage-minded mamas,” he replied.
Lady Margaret chortled. “Say that three times fast. Marriage-minded mamas. Marriage-minded, oh never mind. We shall find you a lovely girl, and you shall both be happy.”
Julian ignored the last remark. The lords of Newhall and happy marriages did not go together. His parents had been an outstanding example of a terrible, and ultimately failed, union.
“Well then, now that we have that settled, could you please tell me the good news?” said Julian.
The smile disappeared from Lady Margaret’s face. She closed her diary and set it down on the breakfast table. “That was the good news. The bad news is that his highness the Count of Lienz arrived in London last week. And he brought his wife with him.”
Julian gritted his teeth. His mother was in England.
Chapter Four
Adelaide Saunders put down the orange wool scarf she had been examining in the woolens section of Mack and Bennet, and brushed her fingers across her daughter’s cheek. “You look tired. I didn’t think you and Francis came in that late last night. If you needed more sleep you should have cried off our shopping trip.”
Caroline shrugged. She picked up a pair of white wool gloves before deciding they were impractical and putting them back down. Sleep had not come to her the previous night.
She had hoped that a morning out shopping in central London would help clear her thoughts, but lack of sleep only made matters worse. A dull headache sat just behind her eyes.
/> Her half-hearted attempt to summon a smile for her mother failed, and she sighed. “I am tired, but it is not from lack of sleep. I am weary of everything at present. London can be a strain at this time of the year.”
The season was over and many families had returned to their estates in the country. Only those with business in the city, or who lived permanently in London, remained. The fewer number of guests at balls and parties did nothing to ease the almost constant sensation of being suffocated by the presence of people all around her.
“Perhaps it is your sister you are missing. I miss her too, but since she and Freddie have decided to stay on in France until next month, there is nothing to be done but await their return,” replied Adelaide.
Caroline did miss her newly married sister, Eve. The two had been at loggerheads with one another for several years and had only recently reconciled. While she wished her sister all the happiness in the world with her new husband, she secretly wished that they had been granted more time living as friends under the same roof.
“It will be good to see her again, but to be honest, that is not what troubles me,” replied Caroline.
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