“Hush, my love. I’m not going anywhere until you release me.” He kissed her again. “But then, I will attack with brutal savagery. That, my darling, I promise.”
17
Tristan still had a full head of steam when he alighted from his carriage before Buckingham Palace the next morning.
He had meant every word he had said to Isolde—
Protecting her and their life togetherwashis purpose.
He would reduce the entire kingdom to ash in order to ensure her safety and wellbeing.
Thankfully, he had left her curled on a chaise in her private sitting room with instructions to do nothing but rest for the day. He had even sent a footman to the local bookstore to purchase a stack of titles he thought she would enjoy. Hopefully, when he returned later, he could sit beside her and listen as she recounted the worlds she had traveled through words.
Between now and then, he had business to address. His first inclination had been to confront Cousin Aubrey and Lady Lavinia, demand answers for their assault on Isolde and Ledger, decide if he wished to summon the magistrate, and if so, bring criminal charges.
But his cold, calculating Kendall self—the ruthless part of him that plotted enemies’ downfall and silenced opposition—instantly pointed out potential problems with that course of action.
First and foremost, it would pit him against the Duke and Duchess of Andover, and by extension, possibly Queen Victoria herself. Granted, as Kendall, Tristan was not without power and clout, and surely Hadley would add the weight of his politicaland economic arm to assist Tristan and Isolde in their fight. Even so, openly accusing the daughter of a high-ranking Peer of murder, or even attempted murder, would invite scandal.
Therefore, a modicum of diplomacy might better serve his aims and perhaps avoid steep societal repercussions for himself and Isolde.
Hence his unannounced arrival at the palace.
Mounting the stairs, he handed his hat and calling card to the waiting butler, requesting to speak with the Duchess of Andover.
“I know Her Grace is in residence at the moment,” Tristan said.
“Of course, Your Grace. I shall inquire if Her Grace is at home to visitors.”
For the woman’s sake, Tristan certainly hoped she was.
A few minutes later, the butler returned and led Tristan through a series of staterooms that terminated in a luxurious, but cozy, sitting room.
Two women already occupied an armchair and the sofa—the Duchess of Andover and Queen Victoria herself.
“Kendall.” Queen Victoria inclined her head.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed.
“It is our understanding you wish to speak with Her Grace.” The Queen motioned to the duchess seated opposite.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Silence.
“Well.” The Queen flicked a hand. “Get on with it. I haven’t all day.”
Tristan’s gaze moved to the Duchess of Andover. The glint in her eye said she knew Tristan had come to discuss her daughter’s behavior toward Isolde, and she had no intention of making the conversation easy for him.
Ah, yes.
But did Victoria know about the incident with the Serpentine? And did either lady know about the attack against Ledger?
It scarcely mattered.
Tristan had wanted a battle, and God bless the duchess for providing one.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” He turned to the duchess. “Your Grace, I am here to notify you of my intention to evict my cousin and your daughter from my home. They will no longer be welcome at any property owned by the Dukedom of Kendall. I will also be reducing my cousin’s allowance to the barest pittance permissible.”
