Anne Perry - Dorchester Terrace

“You filthy bastard!” Tregarron spat.

“I’m a bastard because I would rather use a traitor than shoot him in cold blood and create a scandal I could not control?” Pitt asked, the sarcasm back in his voice. “I suppose that’s a matter of opinion. Mine is that you have betrayed your country rather than allow your father’s treason to be exposed, or your mother to be embarrassed. You had better make your choice quickly. I am not going to wait.”

“And what is to force me to keep my word?” Tregarron asked.

“Fear of exposure,” Pitt replied succinctly. “Pass me the rifle.”

Slowly, as if his limbs hurt to move, Tregarron obeyed.

Pitt took the rifle, still keeping his revolver pointed at Tregarron. Then he moved very carefully to untie the horse and walk it beyond Tregarron’s line of sight before he mounted it. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he urged the horse into a trot along the road.

At home at Keppel Street, Charlotte awaited Pitt with intense nervousness. She kept telling herself that there would be no attack in Dover, that the train journey to London would pass without incident. She busied herself with household tasks, but would stop halfway through, pace around, then forget what she had been doing and start something else.

“ ’Ave yer lost summink?” Minnie Maude asked anxiously.

Charlotte swung around. “Oh, no, thank you. I’m just wondering if everything is all right. Which is quite stupid, because I can’t help, even if it isn’t.”

The telephone rang, and she was so startled she flinched and let out her breath in a gasp. Instead of allowing Minnie Maude to pick it up, she dashed into the hall and did it herself.

“Yes? I mean, good afternoon?”

There was a pause while the exchange made the connection. Then: “Charlotte …”

It was Pitt’s voice, and she was overwhelmed with relief. “Where are you? Are you all right? When will you be home?” she asked.

“I’m still in Kent. I am fine and I shall be home late,” he replied. “Please make sure you go to the reception with Aunt Vespasia, or with Jack and Emily, and stay with them the whole time. I shall come when I can.”

“Why are you still in Kent?” she demanded. “Are you sure you’re all right? Is Duke Alois all right? And Stoker?”

“We are perfectly fine. And you will like the duke when you meet him. And I’ll explain later. Please, just go with Aunt Vespasia, or Emily. I am not hurt in the slightest, really.”

“Oh … thank heaven for that. Yes, I’ll go with Emily and Jack.” Already she knew what she meant to do. It was the opportunity she needed. “I’ll see you there.” She replaced the receiver with a smile.

Then immediately she picked it up again and asked to be connected to Emily’s number. She had only a few moments to wait before Emily herself was at the other end.

“Emily? It’s me. Thomas has been held up and cannot accompany me to the reception at Kensington Palace. May I come with you, please? I … I would like to.” She said it gently; it mattered very much.

There was a moment’s silence, then Emily’s voice came back over the wire, filled with relief.

“Of course. That would be excellent. It will be like it was years ago, going together …” She stopped, not sure how to finish.

“What are you going to wear?” Charlotte filled in the silence. “I want to wear black and white. It’s the only new really grand gown I have.”

Emily laughed. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I shall wear the palest possible green.”

“That is your best color,” Charlotte said sincerely.

“Then we shall take them by storm,” Emily agreed. “We shall call for you at half-past seven.” She laughed; it was a light, happy sound. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.” Charlotte replaced the receiver and went upstairs overwhelmed with relief, smiling all the way. “Minnie Maude! I think perhaps it is time I prepared for the evening,” she called from the landing. Jemima’s door opened on the next floor; she would want to help too, offer advice, and dream of the day when she would attend such events.

Charlotte arrived at Kensington Palace with Emily and Jack. It was a trifle tight inside their carriage, but both sisters looked superb. Emily’s gown was huge in the crown of the sleeve; the Nile-green silk gleamed like sunlight on still water, and the huge skirts, when swept around, revealed a silver lining underneath. It was slender-waisted, and low at the neck. Diamonds shone at her neck and ears, and on a bracelet over her elbow-length white kid gloves.

Charlotte’s choice was entirely different. It was a fine, sheer silk black overdress with a gleaming white gown beneath. The effect was all light and shadow, and when she moved it had a most extraordinary grace. The ribbon of black satin around the waist accentuated the natural curves of her body, and she wore pearl-and-jet jewelry with crystals that also caught the light in momentary fire. She knew that as she followed Emily in, she drew more eyes, and she held her head a little higher, feeling the warmth flush her cheeks. She did not normally consider herself beautiful, but perhaps for this occasion, she would make an exception.

The queen herself was not attending. She came to very few functions these days, only those where her absence would have been a serious dereliction of her duty as monarch. The Prince and Princess of Wales were traveling abroad, so-fortunately for Pitt, considering the affair at Buckingham Palace-they were not here either. The atmosphere was relaxed, with plenty of laughter amid the clink of glasses. Somewhere just out of sight, a small orchestra was playing lush, lilting Viennese music so that one could not help but wish to dance.

Vespasia arrived, escorted by Victor Narraway. She was always beautiful, but it seemed on this occasion that she had paid more attention to her appearance than usual. She wore a gown of soft violet; its skirt was not as large as many, and the narrowness of it was very flattering, especially to someone of her height, who walked as if she could have balanced a pile of books on her head without losing a single one. She wore a tiara, a very slender thing, a mere suggestion of amethysts and pearls.

Watching her, Charlotte found herself smiling at what a striking pair Vespasia and Narraway made, and knew that Jack, who was beside her with Emily on his other arm, was wondering why she looked so delighted.

They moved on, talking politely, making conversation about anything and nothing. She missed Pitt. It was odd to be here alone. In spite of the magnificence of the palace, with its great high-ceilinged rooms and its sweeping marble staircases, in spite of the wit, glamour, and ceremony surrounding her, there was an emptiness. Charlotte thought of Adriana Blantyre, and for a moment she felt tears prick her eyes. Would his love of Austria be enough to bring Evan Blantyre here, in spite of all that had happened? She scanned the room to see if she could find his familiar figure. Twice she thought she saw him, but when she looked more closely it was someone else.

She had been in the palace over half an hour when she was introduced to Duke Alois Habsburg. He was tall and a trifle thin, with dark hair and an agreeable, slightly absentminded expression. But the moment his attention focused on her she saw the bright intelligence in his eyes.

“How do you do, Mrs. Pitt?” he asked with a smile.

“How do you do, Your Highness?” she replied with a very slight curtsy. She would not have wished him harm, but she wondered why Pitt had to risk his life to defend a man who played at academic pursuits for pleasure, and served no actively useful purpose.

Someone made a joke and Duke Alois laughed, but he did not move from standing almost in front of her. A young woman in pink was staring at them both, clearly waiting for Alois to notice her; at least that was clear to Charlotte. The duke appeared not to have realized it.