Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“We’re disgustingly well suited to each other.” I raised my lips to his, but he did not kiss me.

“Regardless, we shall have to wait. It wouldn’t do to displease Her Majesty.”

“I don’t suppose there’s even a hint of sarcasm in that statement?”

“Perhaps just a touch.”

“I do adore you,” I said. He pressed my hand to his lips. “But there will be no changing her mind. She’s offering Windsor to thank my mother for her assistance in machinating the engagement between Prince Eddy and May of Teck. Everyone’s convinced the girl will make an excellent queen.”

“If only Eddy would make an excellent king,” Colin said. The Prince of Wales’s eldest son had a reputation for being rather slowwitted and had been embroiled in any number of scandals, each worse than the last.

“Speaking against the royal family, Colin? If you’re already this disaffected, there’s hope that I may be able to persuade you to go against the queen’s wishes. I shall do all in my power to tempt you.”

He put his hand on my cheek. “My dear girl, resisting you will take all of my will.”

“I wonder if you have quite so much will as you think?” I stood on my toes and kissed him, slowly, once on each cheek. “What a pity you have to go shoot today. I can think of much more pleasant ways to pass a morning.”

As it was, there was very little about the morning that could be called pleasant. We had all expected an influx of guests the previous day—the prime minister and others would have brought their wives—giving us ladies someone new with whom to converse. Ivy was still upstairs overseeing her packing, the countess and Lady Fortescue were nowhere to be found, so Flora and I were left with the count, finding almost nothing in the way of amusement.

“I don’t understand why we can’t shoot,” Flora said.

“It’s never made sense to me,” I said, looking up from the letter—already six pages long—that I was writing to Margaret. “We’re allowed to foxhunt. I suppose directly killing a bird is unladylike, but pursuing a fox and leaving him to be torn to bits by dogs is not.”

“Have you abandoned Aristophanes?” the count asked.

“So far as performance goes, yes,” I replied. “I don’t think any of us is in the mood for theatrical entertainment.”

“I am!” Jeremy Sheffield, Duke of Bainbridge, who’d been a dear friend since we were children and now as resplendent as a man could be in tweeds, strolled into the drawing room.

“Jeremy!” I leapt up to greet him. “What a surprise! Where have you come from?”

“Highwater, not five miles from here. I headed for Beaumont Towers the moment I heard you were here.”

“Yes, Margaret warned me to look out for you.”

“She’s a terrible girl. Tell me this party’s not as tedious as the one I’ve escaped.”

“Tedious is perhaps not the right word,” I said.

“Pleasantly soporific?” he suggested.

I smiled. “Mildly diverting.”

“We didn’t have it even that good. Langston, our host, wouldn’t let all of us shoot at once—insisted that we go out in small groups, which meant hours of sitting around doing nothing. But I suppose you ladies are used to that, and I now feel your pain keenly. Mrs. Reynold-Plympton was the most amusing person at Highwater, and she was in such a dreadful mood I was afraid to speak to her.”

“Really?” I asked. “I’m surprised she’s not here.”

“As am I,” he said, lowering his voice. “What a relief to be able to gossip with you.”

“I’m equally delighted to see you,” I said.

His voice returned to normal. “I’ve come to ask you to walk with me,” he said. “If your friends can do without your company?”

“Lady Ashton will be missed, but we shall bear it as best we can.” The count’s smile was rather more familiar than I would have liked. I took Jeremy’s arm and escaped with him as soon as I’d put on a coat and hat.

“I’m more pleased to see you than you can imagine,” I said as we walked, glad to turn my back on Beaumont Towers’ multitudinous turrets and chimneys. The weather was far from fine; the air was chill, and the wind bit through my coat, but it was a relief to be cold outside, where one expected it, rather than in the house.

“You’ve no idea how it affects me to hear you say that.” His smile was as winning as it had been when, as a little boy, he’d begged my forgiveness for any number of juvenile offenses, most of which involved frogs or snakes. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided to throw over Hargreaves.”

“Really, Jeremy. You’re awful.”

“Always. But a chap can hope, right?”

“Who am I to deny you amusement? Particularly as we’ve no unattached ladies at this party with whom you can flirt.”

“I’ve always preferred attached ones. They’re much less demanding.”

“Oh, Jeremy, it is good to see you. I can always count on you to make me laugh.”

“If only you knew how serious I am. I’ve every intention of making a bid for your affections the moment you’re married.”

“And I look forward to spurning your every advance.”

“Where’s Ivy? I thought she’s the one who dragged you here for this miserable gathering.”

“She’s preparing to go home.”

I had just started to explain to him what had transpired between Robert and Lord Fortescue when Flora, no coat covering her dress, tears staining her face, came running out of the house.

“Emily, I must speak to you at once!” Her voice sounded torn as she screamed. “Something dreadful has happened!”

“What is it?” I asked, running towards her.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” Jeremy said, shrugging off his topcoat and putting it around Flora’s shaking shoulders.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m most obliged, but I think it’s best that we speak out here.” The contrast between her formal mode of speech and her ragged voice was frightening. She clung to my arm, and I wondered if the gesture was meant to steel her or me. “There’s been a terrible accident.”

“Tell us!” I said. “Is someone hurt?”

She took three deep breaths. “Lord Fortescue is dead.”

I was stunned. “Dead?” As I watched Flora’s shoulders tremble, I remembered it was probable that she was one of the dead man’s mistresses. If she cared for him, she must be crushed, but would not be able to grieve openly, and for this, I felt sorry for her. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Her tears would not stop. “He must have been shot.”

“Bird shot isn’t going to kill a man,” Jeremy said, handing her a handkerchief and placing a strong arm around her.

“I don’t know what else it could have been.”

“Did he fall ill?” I asked. “Collapse?” “No. The police are coming,” she said. “Was anyone else hurt?” I asked. “No.” The handkerchief was already soaked. “I don’t think so.”

“Does Lady Fortescue know?” Jeremy asked.

“No. That’s why I came to find you. The Groom of the Chambers told me the news and asked me to inform her, but I don’t think I can bear to tell her. Will you, Lady Ashton?”

“I’m happy to assist in any way possible,” Jeremy said, “but I imagine it would be best for her to hear such grim news from another lady.”

“Of course I’ll tell her.” The words flew from my mouth. I couldn’t imagine a more dreadful situation than having to tell your lover’s wife that her husband was dead. “Don’t worry. Do you know where can I find her?”

“She was in the drawing room with us,” Flora said. “Embroidering a cushion.”

“I hadn’t noticed her. She has a remarkable ability to fade away.”