May Mistakes (The Silver Foxes of Westminster Book 3)

by Merry Farmer

  He launched into motion. Striding up the center aisle toward the stage. A ripple of murmurs and ladies turning in their seats to see what was going on followed him, but Basil kept his eyes on Elaine.

  “A woman should have a choice about whether she wishes to spend her entire young life bearing children or—” Elaine caught sight of him heading toward her and stopped in the middle of her sentence. She broke into a smile that was part triumphant, part absolutely mad. “Basil! I mean, Lord Waltham.”

  Basil steeled his courage as he strode the last few yards to the stage. The memory of plucking Elaine from the crate where she’d stood during the political debate in Brynthwaite reminded him that they’d been here before. And, knowing Elaine, this was a situation they’d likely find themselves in again and again.

  By the time he reached the stage, the murmuring of the audience had grown to a full roar. Every woman there had turned to her neighbor to whisper and speculate. All of them watched the stage with heightened expectation, eager for a show. Elizabeth, Lady Denbigh, and Turpin had joined Lady Spencer at the back of the room. The air crackled as Basil stepped onto the stage and faced Elaine.

  “What are you doing here?” Elaine whispered, eyeing the audience out of the corner of her eye.

  “Trying to stop you from irreparable social embarrassment,” Basil said, hopefully quietly enough so that no one else could hear. “Lady Denbigh orchestrated your presence here, and I believe she somehow colluded with Turpin.”

  “Oh, is that who is after me?” Elaine blinked. She didn’t seem at all surprised by the revelation that she’d been invited to speak for nefarious reasons. In fact, a sly grin spread across her lips. “I knew someone had to have it in for me.” She blinked. “Of course it would be Lady Denbigh. I didn’t want to believe my uncle was part of it, though, as much of a ninny as that makes me. I wondered if it could be Lord Shayles.”

  “Shayles?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I thought perhaps he realized I’d been listening in on his conversation with my uncle after all.”

  A slight, confused hum drifted up from the first row of women in front of the stage. Basil peeked sideways at them, figuring his conversation with Elaine wasn’t as private as he’d hoped it would be. But of course it wasn’t. They were whispering on a stage in front of a hundred of society’s finest ladies…and the queen.

  Basil flinched at the disaster of it all and turned to make a deep bow to the queen. “Your majesty. I apologize profusely for…for all of this.”

  “Lord Waltham,” the queen said, face stony. “We were told this morning’s entertainment would be second to none.” She let a long pause pass as she narrowed her eyes at both Basil and Elaine. “So far, we have not been disappointed.”

  Heat pushed up Basil’s neck to his face. The queen might be entertained, but she was not pleased. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty.”

  “Yes, we’re terribly sorry,” Elaine continued, shamefaced, clasping Basil’s arm with both hands. “This is all a terrible misunderstanding and, I believe, a cruel trick that has been played on me.”

  The queen glared at Elaine. Part of Basil wanted to sink into the ground. It was scandalous for Elaine to address Her Majesty so openly. But an even larger part of Basil filled with pride. Nothing intimidated Elaine. Nothing at all. Not even royalty.

  “Explain,” the queen snapped, studying Elaine closely.

  True to form, Elaine’s posture relaxed into a level of casualness that was beyond the pale. “Well, you see, Your Majesty, I’m just a humble nobody from Brynthwaite in Cumbria.”

  “Quite,” the queen said through a clenched jaw, sending a scathing look Basil’s way.

  “Basil…that is, Lord Waltham and I have known each other for two years now, and have become the best of friends.” She glanced to Basil, and her cheeks flushed pink, proving they were far more than friends. “He didn’t tell me who he was until recently, mind you.” She sent him a firmly disapproving look. “I thought he was just a bookseller. Until his friend, Lord Malcolm Campbell, arrived to bring him back to London so that he could convince the May Flowers to vote for the Liberals in this election.”

  A wave of shocked murmurs spread through the audience. Basil tried his best not to wince. Whether Elaine knew it or not, she’d just driven the nails in the coffin of his social standing as well as hers. The indignant glances of the ladies he’d spent the last week socializing with was proof of that.

  “But you see, Your Majesty,” Elaine went on. “I love Basil.” She beamed at him with such affection that Basil’s worry and embarrassment melted away. “I mean, Lord Waltham,” Elaine corrected herself and went on. “I love him more than the sun and the moon and stars put together. So, of course, I had to come here to London to win him back.”

  The whispers that rippled through the watching women took on a whole different sound. Basil risked a covert glance at their audience. Most of the ladies were still angry, but a few seemed enthralled.

  “Go on,” the queen ordered, implacable.

  “The problem, you see,” Elaine obeyed, “is that the only connection I have to London is my uncle, Mr. Daniel Turpin.”

  The crowd reacted with interest. Basil glanced to Turpin at the back of the room. His sly expression had turned uncertain.

  “I did not know it at the time, but my uncle’s political opinions are the exact opposite of mine. But through a silly misunderstanding, I agreed to speak on his behalf to the May Flowers.”

  “I do wish people would stop using us as weapons in their political war,” a woman in the first row said to her friend. Several of the ladies around them hummed and nodded in agreement.

  “How does this mad-capped history pertain to the cruel joke you say is being played on you?” the queen asked Elaine, frowning even harder. “Get to the point.”

  “Yes, well.” Elaine cleared her throat, then added a curtsy for reasons that baffled Basil. “Not everyone likes me, Your Majesty. In fact, few people do. But Basil loves me.” She turned to Basil, her smile unrestrained. “He loves me in spite of my unconventional ways and outspokenness.”

  “I love you because of them,” Basil confessed, turning to her and taking her hands. If he was going to be condemned, at least it would be for what he truly cared about. “I love your free spirit and your sense of adventure. I love that nothing intimidates you, and that you speak your mind, no matter who stands against you.”

  “It’s so sweet of you to say so,” Elaine said, emotion clear in her eyes. “Especially since they’ll probably pack me up and send me to Bedlam after this.”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. In the worst possible circumstance, with all the odds stacked against them, Elaine still had a sense of humor. “I don’t just love you,” he said, brushing a hand over her cheek. “I adore you. And if they send you to Bedlam, they’ll have to send me with you. I couldn’t live without you, though Lord knows how I’ll be able to live with you.”

  A soft, collective sigh sounded from the women watching them. It was jarring to remember that they weren’t alone, and even more jarring to glance over the audience only to find the majority of the women smiling or pressing hands to their hearts, or even dabbing the corners of their eyes with handkerchiefs, as though watching a romantic play. Equally as jarring was the whisper of the idea that, rather than condemning both of them, Basil’s inappropriately timed confession of love had made him and Elaine into figures of romantic sympathy…and saved them.

  “You still have not explained how this is a trick,” the queen snapped.

  The moment of hope was shattered. The queen wasn’t moved.

  “Oh,” Elaine gasped, facing the queen once more. “I’m terribly sorry, Your Majesty. The trick was to bring me here to stand up in front of you and make a fool of myself by speaking my mind. I suppose you could say the trick worked.” She sent an ironic grin Basil’s way.

  “Did you know you were being tricked?” the queen demanded.

  “I suspected, Your
Majesty,” Elaine answered.

  The queen frowned. “Then why parade yourself thus?” She nodded to Elaine’s clothes.

  “Because this is who I am, Your Majesty. This is what I believe in. How will women ever win the right to be themselves, free from restrictions, if no one offers themselves up for sacrifice to begin the conversation?”

  Basil caught his breath at the statement, and a chill ran down his back. “If I ever mistakenly think you are foolish and naïve again, my darling, forgive me. I have never met a woman as brave as you.”

  “She is not brave,” Turpin interrupted, striding up the aisle between the chairs with a furious scowl. “She’s a stupid, bumbling tart.”

  The baffled women watching gasped, and an electric feeling of panic replaced the sense of sentimentality.

  Turpin reached the stage, glaring at Basil, then turning to make a deep bow to the queen. “Your Majesty, I apologize with deepest sincerity for my niece’s egregious offense.”

  “Mr. Turpin,” the queen greeted him with the barest of nods. She seemed equally as put out by Turpin as she did by Elaine’s antics. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I tried to prevent the young chit from coming here and making a fool of us all, Your Majesty,” Turpin said.

  He looked as though he would say more, but Elaine stopped him with, “That’s not true. You were so delighted that I was invited that you had me awaken early, rushed me through breakfast, and bent over backward to see that Aunt Abigail brought me here on time.”

  “I did no such thing,” Turpin growled in protest. The man was no actor, and his panicked expression and fidgeting stance gave away that he was lying.

  Elaine planted her fists on her hips. “You’ve pushed and pulled me into doing your political bidding since the moment I arrived in London.” She narrowed her eyes. “But it hasn’t worked, has it? And now you’re trying to undermine everything I’ve said that you don’t agree with by painting me as an addled extremist. Just like you and Lord Shayles are trying to eliminate your political competition by stuffing the ballot-boxes.”

  “What?” Basil and Turpin exclaimed at the same time, Basil with shock and Turpin in a panic.

  “I never,” Turpin said, his jaw wagging like it was caught in the wind. “I would never engage in illegal activity like that, Your Majesty” he appealed to the queen. “My niece is a notorious and vicious liar, a viper and a—”

  “Your niece has done nothing but speak with inadvisable honesty since taking the stage,” the queen said, her brow set in a scowl. “Even when her opinions are dangerous and unpopular.”

  “I wouldn’t say they are unpopular, Your Majesty,” Elaine said. “These ladies—”

  “Enough!” the queen bellowed. “We grow tired of this farce. We will get to the bottom of things, now.”

  Chapter 19

  Elaine gulped, certain that her end was near. The queen’s attendants rushed to straighten her skirts and hover behind her. Elaine wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them produced an executioner’s axe from under their skirts. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut, that the correct way to address a sovereign was not at all. But staying silent when so much was on the line was unthinkable.

  However, the queen surprised her by narrowing her eyes at Uncle Daniel. “Mr. Turpin. You have been the subject of much speculation and scandal in the last year, have you not?”

  “I…but…Your Majesty,” Uncle Daniel fumbled, bowing several times in a row. “You must know how salacious the press tends to be. Any scent of blood and—”

  “There was a maid, was there not?” the queen demanded.

  “Well…that is to say…she was a bad sort to begin with and—”

  “And an incident with Mr. Croydon last autumn?”

  “I…I saved his life, Your Majesty. Bloodthirsty criminals were—”

  “You have been slipping behind in the polls, have you not?”

  “Your Majesty shouldn’t concern herself with—”

  “Do not presume to tell your sovereign what she should and should not concern herself with,” the queen shouted.

  “No, Your Majesty.” Uncle Daniel bowed low, gasping for breath.

  “And you, Miss Bond.” The queen turned to Elaine.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Elaine managed to squeak, curtsying deeply.

  “What do you know of your uncle’s duplicitous plot to falsify election results?”

  Elaine’s mouth and throat went dry. She straightened, glancing desperately to Basil. He reached out and grasped her hand. The gesture was just the shot of courage she needed.

  She cleared her throat and faced the queen as humbly as she could. “I overheard my uncle speaking to Lord Shayles yesterday.” So much had happened since then that it felt as though she was reporting events from years ago. “They were discussing how their plan had failed and—oh! I supposed they were talking about me.”

  She tilted her head to the side. The whole conversation made sense now, including what her uncle had said about Denbigh’s wife finding a solution to her problem. Lady Denbigh. Basil had just said she was involved in the plot to humiliate her.

  The queen cleared her throat, yanking Elaine back to attention. The censorious look Her Majesty gave her brought the heat of embarrassment to Elaine’s face.

  “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” she went on in a penitent voice. “Only, I’ve just remembered that my uncle said the ballot-box stuffing was Denbigh’s plan, and Basil, I mean, Lord Waltham, just informed me that Lady Denbigh was instrumental in the trick I believe was played on me, and I see now that there’s a connection.”

  She barely managed to finish her sentence, the buzz of the women watching them had grown so loud. Along with whispering to themselves, a large portion of the ladies were twisting in their seats, presumably looking for Lady Denbigh.

  “She’s at St. James’s Park,” Elaine told the ones closest to her. “Attending the political rally.”

  “Silence!” the queen shouted.

  Instantly, the room was hushed.

  The queen turned to the side of the room, where several rather large men in nondescript clothing stood at attention. “Take Mr. Turpin into custody,” she ordered them.

  “But, Your Majesty, I’ve done nothing wrong,” Turpin said, red-faced and sweaty. “You’re not going to take the word of this mad slut over mine, are you?”

  The queen glared at him so hard that Uncle Daniel reeled back a step. “Find Lord Shayles and Lord Denbigh and take them to Scotland Yard for questioning as well. We will not tolerate any sort of tampering with our electoral system.”

  Two of the plain-clothes guards stepped onto the stage and grabbed Uncle Daniel by his arms, marching him off the stage and down the aisle toward the door.

  “This is a mistake, Your Majesty. Please, I’ve done nothing wrong,” he called out over his shoulder.

  “If you have truly done nothing wrong, Mr. Turpin, then the authorities will discover as much and you will be free,” the queen told him, her voice carrying more than Elaine would have guessed. She turned back to Elaine and Basil. “And if he is guilty, we are certain his plot will be foiled, odious man.” She shook herself, making a sour face.

  Elaine was tempted to grin. It was a relief to know Her Majesty was nobody’s fool.

  The grin was wiped off Elaine’s face a moment later as the queen narrowed her eyes at her and Basil. “As for you,” she began in ominous tones, then paused.

  Elaine held her breath and stood stock still. The entire room went so silent that street noise drifted in from the distance.

  At long last, the queen shifted her stance, leaning back and studying Elaine down the length of her nose. “We admire your gumption, young lady, and your single-minded dedication to those causes you support.”

  Elaine’s mouth dropped open, and the breath she had been holding rushed out.

  “But we do not admire those causes or your politics,” the queen went on with force.

  “Ye
s, Your Majesty,” Elaine squeaked, breaking out in a sweat. This was it, the moment when all of her mistakes came back to haunt her. There were still more than enough plain-clothes guards to drag her off to the Tower to execute her.

  “Lord Waltham,” the queen said instead of giving the dreaded orders.

  “Your Majesty.” Basil bowed, the picture of humility.

  “Do you love this woman?” the queen asked.

  “With my whole heart, Your Majesty,” Basil answered, glancing to Elaine with a smile that not even the queen’s wrath could dampen.

  “Then marry her,” the queen said. “As soon as possible. Order a special license today, this very instant. I’ve seen brazen willfulness like this before—” She studied Elaine with a sharp stare. “—and it can only be cured by marriage and motherhood. Engage this woman in her sex’s true calling before she does herself further harm.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Basil said, bowing again.

  “That is all,” the queen finished with a nod. She turned immediately and marched away, toward the back of the room, stopping only to have a brief word with a pale and wide-eyed Lady Spencer.

  The room continued to be silent until moments after the queen disappeared around the corner. Then it burst into a storm of whispers and murmurs as every woman there turned to her neighbor to gossip about what had just happened.

  “I’d say that turned out far better than it could have,” Elaine said, breathless with relief as she sagged against Basil.

  Basil shook, but whether with laughter or horror, Elaine couldn’t tell. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then shook his head at her. “You are going to send me to an early grave.”

  “Heavens, I hope not,” Elaine replied, unable to keep her grin in check. “The queen herself just ordered you to keep me in a delicate condition so that I stay out of trouble.”

  “Yes, about that,” he said, a spark in his eyes. He grabbed her hand and rushed her off the stage. “I don’t care what you say,” he told her as the level of noise in the ballroom grew. “You’re not going back to Turpin’s house. I’ll send someone to get your things, but you’re coming with me to Waltham House. Now.”