“Nothing that’s required military action yet, though it’s coming. I was first in Ireland and then went to Canada.” He raised his eyebrows. “Nothing to bring fame and glory.”
“For every soldier who has fame and glory, I believe a thousand are left dead on a battlefield. I prefer uninteresting.”
“Yes, but you are a woman. Men like the fight.”
“Yes, and I like the pretty.” Her smile came back. “Though I don’t mind a bit of spycraft, as it turns out.”
He scooted toward her on the settee, until his leg met her skirts. “I wonder if my grandfather had hoped to keep us all obscure.”
“Your regiment could be sent anywhere, if war broke out. A soldier is never safe.”
“So you think my grandfather wanted us dead?”
“No, of course not. What threat were you to him? I remember you as a sunny youth, without a care in the world. You smiled then.”
He ran a finger down the long sleek of her hair, following the curve of her locks as they swept toward the back of her head. When had he stopped smiling? When he lost her? “I shall have to find you something for your hair next.”
“You haven’t money for that, as well I know. But I appreciate this and I will treasure it. I am not used to gifts.”
They stared at each other, lips inches apart. She moved first, tilting her chin to him. His hand slid to the nape of her neck and fit him against her. He could feel the press of her stays against his chest as his lips met hers. If he undressed her he could feel her breasts instead. His fingers circled her torso, feeling for how this dress was constructed. Did she have buttons down her back again? This neckline was higher than he was used to, some kind of morning gown.
His questing fingers found the top button, high up on her neck, as her tongue rubbed sensually across his lower lip. She moaned a little and their kiss intensified. He wanted to touch her soft skin, kiss her breasts for the first time.
“I want your breasts,” he said against her lips.
Her breath caught. “What?”
“I want to kiss your pretty nipples.” He moved his head and kissed her cheek. “I want to lick circles around your areolas.”
“I don’t know that word,” she whispered.
“Those lovely, rosy circles around your nipples.” He undid the first button and moved his fingers south, caressing the inch of soft skin he’d made available.
“Oh.” Her lips pursed. “I’d like that, Edward. I like every way you touch me.”
“But it’s all been hands. I want my mouth on you, all of you.” He undid another button. So many buttons. It would be an age before he even reached her shoulder.
“I want that too,” she whispered.
He wondered if she had decided she now wanted their marriage too, but was distracted by a noise in the corridor. Had she locked the door? The doorknob rattled. He launched himself at the door and held it closed. The knob rattled again. He watched it turn, horrified, but he had the door blocked, and desperately hoped the person didn’t realize it was held by strength instead of some hidden lock.
He looked at Charlotte, who had her hands behind her neck, doing up her buttons.
“You can’t be found here,” she mouthed.
He nodded. He’d have to hide behind the door if someone came in, because there was nowhere else to go and only the one door. As he held the door closed, hoping for success, one of his mother’s phrases from that final letter came to him. “My life was complicated because complexity was so much simpler than simplicity.”
He’d always hoped to be like his father, but apparently he had a great deal of his mother in him.
After two full minutes, the door stopped rattling. He and Charlotte stared at each other.
“Safe?” He mouthed the word at her.
She nodded. “Wait a couple more minutes, then we had best slip out. I don’t think I should lead you back to the door.”
“No, I’ll go myself. No need to risk you.”
Her dark eyes seemed huge. “I would hate to lose these stolen moments with you, but I do not see how we can continue.”
That was the last thing he wanted her to say. “We’ll think of something, Charlotte. Don’t lose faith with me.”
“No. It’s not you, it’s the situation. We are courting disaster with this magical attraction we have for each other.”
At least she was saying “magical,” not “disastrous.” “We felt it long ago. It was real.”
Again, they stared at each other. Why was it that they had these strange moments of connection? How could he have come so close to forgetting her?
“I must think about a new place for us to meet,” she said. “I will send you a letter.”
“Thank you for not giving up.” He swallowed. “I need you, Charlotte.” If not for the interloper, he knew he’d have her bodice down by now and his mouth would be on her breasts. His cock was painfully hard. This situation was like to drive him mad. She had to come to his rooms, where only Quintin would judge them.
“I need you too,” she whispered. She rose, and clasped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his coat. He put his arms around her and closed his eyes, at peace until she moved back and gestured at the door.
So help him, he would be his wife’s lover. As he crept down the hallway of Buckingham Palace, hiding alongside the wall until courtiers passed by on the terrace, then skirting the paths, avoiding gardeners in the gardens, he kept that thought alive in his mind. There would be reward for all this life-affirming risk. A lover, a new regiment. The throne? He would have it all.
~
Charlotte had been desperate to discover who might have been outside the door that morning and destroyed her pleasure with Edward, but no one approached her, so it had likely been a servant. In a palace, though, with high-stakes games afoot, she had to be more careful. No more casual meetings on the terrace where anyone might see them.
But while she knew Edward had taught her enough about her body’s eroticism to give herself the peak he had taught her, she knew so much of her excitement came from him. His scent, his fingers, his words. How could it feel so good coming from her touch? No, she only wanted her pleasure from him.
Ignoring the embroidery hoop in her lap, she held one wrist in the other and stared dreamily at her bracelet. Beautiful, highly fashionable blood-red Bohemian stones. Why had he spent so much money? She had become expert in parceling out her salary as a lady-in-waiting, especially since so much of it had to be sent home. The bracelet’s cost would have broken Edward’s budget. A courtier knew to ask what the bracelet meant.
It was no frippery a rich man might pass off as mere sentiment. No, he’d spent money he might have lived on, or at least used to dress himself better at court. The queen, a woman who cared little for her own appearance, judged others. So, the bracelet was a clear signal. Of what? That she meant everything to him?
She knew the language of stones, did he? Because of the color, garnets were associated with love. They symbolized fidelity and loyalty, not the attributes of a hardened courtier. Surely he wasn’t saying he was in love with her and true to her. Or was he?
What would it mean to them if he did love her? Admitting their marriage would give him nothing and cost her the most lucrative position a woman could have.
“You are not attending,” Lady Amy wheezed, coming to sit beside her. “Cease this woolgathering. The duchess has called for you three times.”
“I am not the duchess’s lady,” Charlotte snapped at Lady Amy. She glanced up and saw the duchess all but quivering with irritation.
Lady Amy pushed herself off the sofa, looking more expectant than ever with her ungainly movements, and went to the duchess. They began to whisper together. Charlotte narrowed her eyes, staring hard at the women.
Eventually, the duchess looked up and crooked her finger at Charlotte. Charlotte stood and moved in front of the woman, then curtseyed. “Your Royal Highness?”
“I do not know wh
at has you so out of sorts this afternoon, Charlotte,” the duchess said in German. “But it will not do. You are ignoring me and have been rude to Amy. Apologize to both of us, then you may go to the chapel and pray for a better temper until it is time to dress for dinner.”
“Very sorry,” Charlotte muttered in German, knowing Lady Amy only spoke French. Without looking at the woman, she turned and fled to the chapel, furious.
Victoria had been too busy cooing over her dog to pay any attention to the matter, but she would discuss the situation with her the next morning while the queen was dressed. It was time to deal with Lady Amy.
Forced to sit in the chapel for three hours, she quickly became bored with reviewing the decorations and began to review her own behavior. What right did she have to punish Lady Amy for the sin she was so willing to commit with Edward? Yet, Edward had the queen’s best wishes to heart and Sir John only had his own elevation in mind. Plus, she was married, so what she wanted was no sin at all. Lady Amy might not entirely deserve her fate, but a courtier had to make tough choices, and Lady Amy must fall because of her associations. She had made herself vulnerable, and Charlotte had to guard from doing the same.
The next day, she stood next to the queen in her apartments in the north wing, helping her choose jewelry for the day.
“I shall wear garnets,” the queen decided. “Your bracelet is so pretty, Charlotte. I have not noticed it before.”
“No, ma’am,” Charlotte said. One of her decisions made in the chapel the day before was not to tell the queen of the gift’s origin. She knew Edward couldn’t afford to buy his sister a similar gift, and besides, the queen would be likely to disdain his offering and never wear it anyway, even if it bankrupted him. “It is lovely, though.”
Victoria nodded and held out her wrist for a bracelet studded with both garnets and diamonds. Matching pieces went to her ears and around her throat.
“I have a disagreeable secret, ma’am,” Charlotte whispered.
Victoria raised her eyebrows. “You are dismissed,” she told the other, lesser ladies, and in moments, Charlotte was alone with the queen.
She turned to the mirror and patted her hair. “What have you learned?”
“It regards Sir John, Your Majesty, and a member of your mother’s household.”
“Is this retaliation for my mother’s high-handed behavior with you yesterday? I wish she would remember your rank, but of course, you are not quite her equal here.”
“No, ma’am, the event had already occurred before yesterday. I apologize for being so deeply in thought about the matter that I did not hear the duchess calling for me.”
“What is the story, then?”
Dash jumped from his bed and trotted up the queen, whining. She pulled him into her lap, ignoring the claws that made tiny rips in her dress’s fabric.
“Have you taken a close look at Lady Amy recently?” Charlotte asked.
Victoria made a face in the mirror. “Why would I want to do that? Disagreeable woman. I never liked her. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.”
“She seems to be quite friendly with Sir John. I’ve heard a report that her face all but lights up in his presence.”
“She is in love with the blackguard?”
“Possibly worse than that, ma’am.” She told Victoria of Lady Amy’s change in appearance and of her trip to the doctor.
Victoria’s mouth dropped open, an expression that did not improve her features in the least. “Do you think the child is Sir John’s?”
“Who else could it be? You know how grand Lady Amy is. I cannot see her sporting with a footman.”
“No, and we lived a rather retired life at Kensington Palace. If she is increasing--” the queen blushed.
“The interesting event would have occurred there,” Charlotte finished.
“We shall have to have the doctors examine her again to make sure,” Victoria said. “We cannot have such immorality at court. If you are correct, my dear, she must be banished.”
“I hope Sir John can be banished as well,” Charlotte added.
Victoria hugged Dash to her bosom. “One reason it is so very important for ladies to resist temptation is that gentlemen can never truly be held responsible for their actions. There can be no proof of their misdeeds unless they are caught in the act. A lady must be above reproach. My mother often told us about the misdeeds of King George IV’s daughter, the late Princess Charlotte, before her marriage to Uncle Leopold. It is one of the reasons the late queen, her mother, was so despised.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We will send a note to my mother,” Victoria said. “Noting that some irregularities have been found with Lady Amy’s health and arranging for her to be escorted to an examination with multiple medical staff, so that there can be no doubt.”
“Yes, ma’am. Will it help if Lady Amy confesses who her partner in these misdeeds might be?”
“Absolutely. My mother cannot keep him at her side if he is so completely besmirched.” Her eyes met Charlotte’s in the mirror. “Thank you, dear. You have done well.”
Charlotte curtseyed as Victoria opened the jewelry case on her dressing table and pulled out a garnet brooch. It had a flower in the center surrounded by six smaller flowers, in a silver setting.
“This brooch matches your new bracelet. You must have it, dear Charlotte, with my thanks.”
“Oh, Your Majesty, are you certain?”
Victoria smiled. “Wear it with my blessing.”
Charlotte took the brooch with a curtsy.
“Pin it on, Charlotte,” the queen ordered, petting Dash.
With trembling fingers, Charlotte did so. She had never expected one piece of jewelry to attract another. She would wear her pieces with pride, and others could gossip about where she had acquired them.
“You know, my dear, our mothers had discussed doing a little something for you when you wed. I know times are hard in Scharnburg. Someday, when you are ready to marry, we might be able to make some small arrangement.”
Charlotte curtsied again. A dowry? “Thank you, ma’am. You are too kind.”
Victoria bent her head over her dog. “You are a good friend to me, Cousin.”
Chapter Ten
Impressed that Charlotte had found another way to meet him only two days after their last contact, Edward was elated to approach the palace stables on Friday morning. She had written that she’d be checking on the queen’s horse, Leopold, and she’d ensure they had the stable block to themselves.
He checked the letter again for precise instructions and found the stall she said would be empty next to the queen’s horse. Charlotte sat on a stool, looking cool and pretty in a navy and light yellow striped gown. She didn’t wear his bracelet, but it didn’t belong in a stable anyway.
“Not quite the luxury we’ve become accustomed to,” she said with a welcoming smile.
He admired her beauty, so cool and regal even in such a setting. “It’s not so bad.” He took another stool. “Privacy is the most important issue.”
“I can guarantee that,” she said with a becoming flush.
“In that case…” Edward took her hand and kissed the back, then turned it over and kissed her palm, before gently closing her fingers. “For later.”
She smiled. “What a romantic gesture, Edward. I had not expected it of you.”
“I have some romance in my soul, even if I am a dull old soldier.”
She dismissed that with a wave. “I have news to report.”
He shifted on the hard seat. Seeing her, smelling her chamomile hair, had him half hard already. But he suspected her news wouldn’t be that she was ready to surrender her virginity to him. “What?”
“It does not put me in the best light,” she admitted. “I was angry with the duchess and Lady Amy for berating me the other day, but being in contact with them made it so obvious that Lady Amy is moving differently than she did before.”
“Like how?”
“She�
��s ungainly, as if she’s carrying a child,” Charlotte explained. “I spoke to the queen privately, and she’s ordered Lady Amy to be examined by two doctors.”
“Cannot someone merely speak to the doctor who saw her before?”
“No, she refused to be examined intimately, but it is true that the doctor suspected the same thing we do.”
“So it’s true, then? Has she confessed? Has Sir John been sent away?”
“No, Lady Amy claims to be an innocent.”
Edward blinked. “In the face of the evidence?”
Charlotte nodded. “Yes. I wonder if she does not understand what they did together.”
He pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. “It is hard to mistake it for anything else.”
She blushed. “I would not know, but I imagine you are correct.”
“Yes.” He took her hand again.
“Could it be done while you are sleeping?”
“Most people would wake up during the proceedings.”
“Can you become pregnant without actually having relations?” She blushed harder.
“One does hear stories,” Edward admitted. “I’ve always assumed they were horror stories.”
“Oh.”
“What was the duchess berating you for?”
“I was admiring my bracelet. I did not tell the queen you gave it to me, though she did notice, and gave me a brooch that matches.”
“She did? That was kind of her.”
“It was a thank-you, for attempting to eradicate Sir John Conroy for her mother’s life.”
“Will she be thanking me as well?” he asked.
She looked down. “I didn’t tell her about your involvement.”
He was dumbfounded, too much so to keep the anger from his voice. “Why not?”
He gave her credit for not stiffening or acting defensive. She squeezed his hand. “I felt I should wait until we know for certain that our ploy will work. You won’t want your name attached to an unsuccessful attempt.”
She might not feel that she’d done anything wrong, but he did not agree. “The queen needs to know I’m working to support her, that I have her best interests at heart.” His voice was sharp, but he could not believe Charlotte had taken the credit for his information. And had won the no-doubt expensive gift. What did he have in return? A stay in London that was rapidly coming to an end, unless Aunt Abigail said something in her letter that changed the queen’s mind. He’d spent all his money on Charlotte, with no good reason to obtain more. There was a difference between being offered funds and asking for them. He would not be a beggar.
The Princess Dilemma: A Victorian Royal Romance Page 14
