by Amy Jarecki
Once certain Aiden—er—Lord Tullibardine had had plenty of time to stroll past, Maddie hurried across the courtyard and dashed to the queen’s apartments. As soon as she stepped inside, she was met with the haughty expression of Lady Saxonhurst. “You are late.”
Maddie tried to catch her breath. “Hardly.”
“I’ll wager you were in a secret meeting with your father.” The countess leaned in. “Talking about how you will do away with the queen so you can see her half brother on the throne.”
Maddie’s stomach was already twisted in knots, and now she had wicked Saxonhurst to fend off. “Absolutely not. Where do you come up with this hogwash?”
“I do not need to look far, my dear. You Scots are all backstabbers.”
“Lady Magdalen?” the queen called in her wispy voice. “I do hope you are planning to cease chatting with Lady Saxonhurst and take up your harp sometime this day.”
After shooting the countess a narrow-eyed glare, Maddie curtsied. “Straightaway, Your Majesty.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aiden didn’t care to attend the Hallowmas eve ball, but a nobleman did not turn down an invitation from the queen, especially when staying at Whitehall. To appease his parents, he’d been making an attempt to meet the maiden ladies at court. Regrettably, with news of the ball, their numbers had grown considerably in the past sennight, which made Aiden’s head hurt all the more. If his mother introduced him to one more giggling, daft-headed nymph, he might do something rash—like draw his dirk and run it across his own neck.
It would have been a hell of a lot easier to play the merry courtier if Lady Magdalen Keith were not present. But it seemed every time he looked up, she was staring at him as if she’d like to grab his dirk and help him run it across his neck. He couldn’t blame her. If he’d been in her shoes, he probably would have made a scene by now.
But Maddie showed more couth, more style, and more maturity than all the other women swarming around him like diving magpies.
With resolute forbearance, he faced his dancing partner as the minstrels began an Allemande. Across the aisle Lady Annabel smiled. Aiden halfheartedly returned the expression. Of all the maids to whom his mother had introduced him, Lady Annabel was the most tolerable. In fact, she possessed a pleasant demeanor and had a reasonably pretty face. Her nose was a bit too long, but he liked her light-brown hair and her blue eyes—though they were not quite as blue as Maddie’s. Lady Annabel was of average height, which suited Aiden well enough, and she hailed from a respected family, though her father sided with the Whig Party. She danced forward and locked arms with him, her gaze downward, where a demure lass’s gaze ought to be. A few days ago when he’d strolled through the courtyard with her, she’d been quiet and reserved. Aiden definitely preferred a soft-spoken woman to some of the more brazen lassies he’d met of late. In truth, Lady Annabel embodied everything he’d thought he wanted in a woman.
But there was one thing lacking.
He felt no emotion for Lady Annabel whatsoever. Aye, he respected her just as he would any lass, but he wanted more. He’d once thought he had found more. The first time he’d seen Lady Magdalen, he’d been dumbstruck. The entire evening at that Hogmanay celebration nearly two years past, he’d not been able to draw his eyes from her.
Would he ever be rendered dumbstruck again?
As he promenaded with Lady Annabel’s hand on his arm, he made the mistake of looking to the crowd. Standing beside her father, Lady Magdalen played the wallflower, staring at him as if frozen, her eyes wide with hurt, her bow-shaped lips parted.
Aiden’s gut roiled. Self-loathing came to mind. He hadn’t sought her out—hadn’t even spoken to her since the night in the stables at Poyle Manor. There had been so much to do in assuming the role of marquis. Because of his duty, combined with his mother’s doting and her taking over his social calendar, he’d had no time to himself.
No opportunity to think, to sort out his priorities.
But every time he saw Lady Magdalen watching him from across the Banqueting House, or across the courtyard, or, as now, across the ballroom, guilt crawled up the back of his neck like a slithering serpent. He owed her an explanation. He owed her an apology for taking advantage of her when she, in good faith, had accepted his hospitality and he in turn had seduced her. He’d behaved like a lecherous cur—a debaucher akin to Fraser MacPherson. He’d been a young and irresponsible sailor with one thing on his mind.
Lady Magdalen Keith deserved so much more. She needed a man who would protect her from lusty naval officers and hideous ladies-in-waiting who had nothing better to do than to strut like peacocks and issue insults at Maddie’s expense.
He continued with the dance, skipping in line and holding Lady Annabel’s hand. All the while his self-loathing grew deeper.
She leaned nearer him, her gaze shifting back toward Maddie. “Are the rumors true?”
“I beg your pardon?” He had an inkling of what she planned to ask, but he feigned ignorance, assuming nothing.
“Lady Saxonhurst told me that Lady Magdalen is…” She cupped her free hand over her mouth. “A spy working to oust the queen and place that vile James on the throne.”
Aiden smirked. “You mean she’s a Jacobite?” He whispered the offending word into her ear softly enough to ensure no one else overheard.
Lady Annabel gasped as if he’d cursed. “Never let anyone hear you mumble such an utterance anywhere near Whitehall or Kensington.”
Aiden bowed his head at the lassie’s featherbrained admonishment. If for one minute she thought him that daft, she should release his arm and remove herself from the Allemande. But as always, he ground his teeth and let it pass. After a turn with the neighboring woman, he again joined elbows with Lady Annabel. “As to your question, m’lady, I wouldn’t believe a single word voiced by Lady Saxonhurst.”
Annabel giggled. “I thought the same.”
The next time Aiden glanced to Maddie, her father was nowhere in sight. To his dread, Lord Blackiron and Lady Saxonhurst bookended the lass. When Blackiron pointed his finger beneath Maddie’s nose, her eyebrows drew together and she shook her head vehemently. High color flooded her cheeks. Whatever was being said, Aiden imagined it wasn’t truthful, or nice. His every muscle tensed. Dear God, if they were not in the presence of the queen, Aiden would relish sparring with the pasty codfish without even inviting him outside. Fists would do. Simply keeping company with the countess made Blackiron guilty of something.
Luckily, the music ended. After leading Lady Annabel off the dance floor and politely excusing himself, Aiden strode directly toward the threesome, clenching his fists and imagining slamming them repeatedly into Blackiron’s beastly visage.
“You look bonny this eve, Lady Magdalen,” Aiden said, meaning every word. Maddie always looked beautiful, but tonight she lit up the room as if hundreds of candles surrounded her. She wore red. He’d never seen her in red before, and the color suited the lass, making her appear even more ravishing than the blue gown she’d worn at the Hogmanay masque or the gold she’d worn at the organ recital. A red feather crowning her honeyed tresses swept over the top of her head.
Dear God, she should be revered as a princess, with all the lords and ladies in the hall bowing to her.
Looking at him with wide eyes and nothing that could be mistaken for a smile, Maddie twirled her fan in her left hand, seemingly as an admonishment, to which she had every right. “Thank you for your kind words, m’lord,” she clipped.
Lady Saxonhurst gave him a once-over. “Tullibardine, I’ve noticed that now you’re a marquis, you’ve been keeping company with more respectable fare.”
“Whatever do you mean, m’lady?” Aiden shot a glare to Blackiron, then offered his elbow to Maddie. “My mother has asked me to remember my manners and extend kindness to new faces whilst at court. A man at sea for months can oft forget proper etiquette.” This he said directly to Maddie, who had yet to accept his proffered lifeline. “And I believe I h
ave been unduly absorbed with meeting my mother’s expectations whilst regrettably ignoring some of my dearest friends.” Hopefully Maddie understood he referred to her.
“I would be very careful whom you claim as a friend, my lord.” Blackiron sneered. “The void between the parties is growing, and you’d best find yourself on the right side.”
Since Maddie still hadn’t taken his cue, Aiden grasped her arm and pulled her behind him while he stepped in front of the earl. “Och, you sound certain of this impending doom. My advice is that you’d best watch your back. With such drivel spouting from your mouth you could end up with one of your English daggers in it.”
The earl sputtered through his buckteeth. “Are you threatening me?”
Aiden leaned in, making Blackiron crane his neck. “Oh no. I’ve no need to make threats, m’lord.” He turned to Maddie, again offering his elbow. “The minstrels look as if they’re about to play another set. Would you dance with me?”
“I—” Maddie glanced from Saxonhurst to Blackiron. “I’d be delighted,” she said, though her tone was none too certain.
Aiden swiftly led her away.
“Hmm, I do believe the Marquis of Tullibardine is out to ruin his reputation.” Lady Saxonhurst’s shrill voice cut through the hum of the crowd.
Stopping midway to the floor, Maddie drew her hand away. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, m’lord. I’m sure you would prefer to return to dancing with Lady Annabel now.”
Aiden faced her. He reached out to grasp her shoulders, but before his fingers touched the red damask, he snapped his hands away. Such a display of affection at a royal ball would do nothing for the lassie’s reputation. “Forgive me, m’lady. But it is you with whom I wish to dance.”
She shook her blasted fan under his nose. “Did you not hear the countess? Simply speaking to me could tarnish your reputation.”
“Do you think I care about what anyone in this hall thinks?”
“You do not? What about acting upon your mother’s bidding?”
“My actions have been only to appease Her Grace during her time of mourning.”
Anger flashed through the lady’s eyes with the force of a slap. “So you mean to say you are not enjoying meeting with every court maiden who strikes your fancy?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Maddie stood a little straighter, her defiant lips disappearing into a straight line. “Tell me, have you shown the unsuspecting lassies your pamphlet of pictures? Have you preyed on their innocence as you did mine? Do you intend to cast them aside without a simple apology or farewell?” She spit the words from her mouth like the hissing of a cat.
With curious heads turning their way, Aiden stepped closer to speak more softly. “How dare you accuse me of—”
“Pardon me, m’lord, but I do not need your pity.” She spun away with a whoosh of her skirts and marched for the door like Queen Zenobia leading the Palmyrenes.
The Earl Marischal moved in beside him, a glass of brandy in his hand. “What on earth did you say to my daughter?”
Dear God, the last thing Aiden needed was a tongue-lashing from Maddie’s da. He threw out his hands. “I thought she needed rescuing from the vultures, so I asked her to dance.”
“Figured you were being valiant, did you?”
“I did, though I reckon the lady has her reasons for shunning me.”
The earl sipped from his glass. “Lady Magdalen is a complex woman. She’s bright, for certain. But mind you, never take my daughter for granted.”
Aiden nodded. “I understand she has had to face a number of rebuffs throughout her life.”
“Aye, but each setback has made her stronger. Mark me, Lady Magdalen will never lie down and die. She’s a fighter.” The earl jabbed Aiden in the shoulder with his finger. “The reason I allowed you to take her up to the wall-walk at Dunnottar was because I thought you might be a good match for her—and an alliance between our clans wouldn’t hurt, either. If you want the lass, you’d best not cross her… Ye ken?”
Aiden gulped. “Aye, m’lord.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maddie was sick and tired of living at Whitehall. Had she known being treated like a common tinker was to be her fate, she would have insisted her stepmother send someone else to see to her father’s release.
Crossing the courtyard, she looked to the sky, fully aware she could never turn her back on her father. But now? Now he’d become insufferable. Just this morning she’d asked for leave to return to Stonehaven and received the same refusal as before. “I need you here, my dear.”
And to the question, “When do you plan to return to your wife and bairns?” he’d replied, “Yule, God willing.”
God willing?
Yule was two months away, which seemed like an eternity. And God must will it first? What if the queen demanded they stay in London for another year?
I will die.
Maddie missed her quiet, solitary life. It was easy to hide at the hospital. No one ever broke her heart there.
And how daft could she have been, thinking she was in love with Lord Tullibardine? He could no sooner marry her than a guttersnipe. Aye, there might have been a remote possibility for them to wed if he’d remained a second son and not an heir. But alas, their tryst had been only a dream, a fleeting sennight of passion between two very young and idealistic people.
From the day Maddie was born, she’d been destined to become nothing—a spinster—a harpist to play soothing music for highly strung, spoiled aristocrats.
She took a few deep breaths before entering the queen’s apartments. She’d learned ages ago not to allow emotion to show, and right now Maddie had enough ire pulsing through her blood to set all of Queen Anne’s cabinet into an uproar.
Calm and serene.
She smiled and proceeded on her way, walking much slower than she had been.
When Maddie entered the queen’s antechamber, the chandelier had been lowered for cleaning. The enormous fixture sat on the table atop a drop cloth. A servant hastened through the door, carrying a bowl filled with lumps of wax.
Lady Saxonhurst gestured to a crate of candles. “Lady Magdalen, would you be so kind as to replace the candles?”
“Certainly.” Maddie offered a guarded smile. Perhaps being pleasant was the countess’s way of apologizing for her abhorrent behavior last eve?
The servants had already pulled out the old candles and cleaned the chandelier of wax, but for some reason they’d all left without finishing the task. Carefully Maddie twisted in two dozen candles, ensuring each one rested tight in its holder so that none would fall.
“It looks like you’ve done this before,” said the Duchess of Marlborough.
“Aye, at the hospital we replace the candles in the entry every fortnight.”
“Wonderful.” The Lady of the Robes rubbed her hands together, surveying the chamber. “We want everything to be perfect for this day’s meeting with the cabinet.”
“The chamber looks pristine, Your Grace.” Maddie pushed in the last candle and stepped back.
A servant returned and lit all two dozen tapers before the chandelier was raised.
“That is why the queen asked for you to play your harp, but you mustn’t bring any attention to yourself whatsoever. Do you understand?”
“I do.” Maddie didn’t recall bringing undue attention to herself before—unless there was a matter of life and death, as there had been with the announcement of the Royal Mary’s battle with the pirate ship.
“You will sit in the corner and pluck something soothing. The queen says her ministers are always much more amenable with soothing music in the background.”
Maddie touched her fingers to her lips and bowed. “I am pleased that I can be of service in a small way.”
“Everyone has a role to play,” said Lady Saxonhurst as she adjusted a vase of roses sitting atop the sideboard.
Not much later the queen entered with her cabinet ministers and all the ladies left the cham
ber except Maddie. As instructed, she moved to her Celtic harp set up in a corner and began to play.
Prince George appeared rather bothered, and paced behind the queen in her enormous chair at the head of the grand walnut table with lion’s feet. “I understand unrest in the Colonies is escalating, and we must do something to quash it forthwith.”
The Earl of Mar shook his head. He’d proved grounded in his opinions. Maddie liked him, and he was the only Scot in Queen Anne’s cabinet. “The only way to maintain order is to enlist more men.”
The admiral stopped pacing and planted his palms on the table beside his wife. “How do you intend to pay these additional conscripts?”
Clearing his throat, the Earl of Surrey sat back. “We must raise taxes in the Colonies. I’ve heard word commoners are growing wealthy off their crops.”
The queen harrumphed. “I do not think—”
A screeching groan came from overhead.
The chandelier jolted.
Hot wax rained down on the table.
Maddie’s fingers grated over the strings as she gasped.
Another deafening screech.
Shoving the harp to the floor, she sprang to her feet, racing for Her Majesty with her arms outstretched.
Beside the queen, Prince George shoved Her Majesty aside, pushing the woman off her throne just as the chandelier came crashing down, splintering the table and smashing into the queen’s seat.
The chamber erupted in a cacophony of disorder while the queen recoiled on the silk carpet, her gown hitched up to expose a pair of stocking-clad calves.
Maddie dashed forward and pulled down the queen’s skirts while the ministers used their cloaks to snuff the flames spreading on the shattered wood. “Are you all right, Your Majesty?” she asked, wringing her hands.
