“Sophie!” her mother said in a snappish whisper.
A barely audible chuckle behind her brought Sophie to her feet and made her turn. She clenched her teeth and curtsied, so intent on reining in her grudge over ancient insults and slights that she failed to look up at the man standing before her. Instead, she stared at the floor, concentrating on cooling the angry blush burning her cheeks.
“Sir Nash,” she forced out in a barely civil tone while keeping her gaze downcast.
“Lady Sophie.”
His voice was much deeper than she remembered.
“It is indeed wonderful to see you again after such a long while,” he said. “What has it been, my lady? Ten years?”
Ten years too little, she wanted to snap, but Maman stood close enough to pinch her if she didn’t behave, and she had already made a less-than-desirable impression on Her Majesty.
“It has been some time,” she forced out, then decided to look into the eyes of her arch-nemesis. A gasp almost escaped her.
The arrogant Nash Bromley she had last seen when she was naught but ten and five and he was twenty had been handsome enough to make her young heart yearn for him to be kinder and treat her with the same admiration he offered the older girls. But the man before her was so…changed. She realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.
Somehow, he had transformed into an even more striking figure whose dark blue jacket made his broad shoulders appear so wide it was a wonder he didn’t pass through doorways by turning sideways. His legs were no longer tall, gangly sticks but impressively muscular, stretching his snug pantaloons in the best sort of way. All that seemed familiar about him was the shade of his hair—a ripened wheat color that wasn’t really blond, but neither was it auburn. And those eyes. Those were the same too. The iciest blue that had always mocked her and flashed with lightning whenever she had bested him in archery or swordplay. But currently, those piercing eyes gleamed with amusement.
She tipped her chin higher and glared at him. So the abrasive yet handsome cub of twenty had matured into a breathtaking man who could be a god descended from Mount Olympus. What of it? It mattered not to her. He surely had remained the same obnoxious cove.
With an insultingly smug smile, Nash gallantly bowed his head in her direction before turning to her mother and offering a respectful bow. “Lady Rydleshire. If not for your exemplary training, I fear I would not have survived to once again enjoy the pleasure of your company today.”
“Yes, well,” the queen interrupted before Sophie’s mother could respond. “You three shall have plenty of time to reacquaint yourselves with one another.” She tipped a pointed glance at the chairs, and each of them immediately sat. “When I read the wordpericulum, I foresaw the need to take control of whatever prompted such a message. Sir Nash, you shall take up residence with Lady Rydleshire and Lady Sophie at Rydleshire House in London.”
Sophie bit the inside of her cheek to stop the unreasonable outburst about to break free of her. She consoled herself with the whiteness of the man’s knuckles as he tightened his grip on the arms of his chair. His reaction enabled her to manage a serene, albeit slightly wicked, smile. He didn’t want this any more than she did. Since Her Majesty seemed to hold him in such high regard, maybe he could convince her of the plan’s folly.
“Take up residence at Rydleshire House?” he repeated, leaning forward slightly as if to improve his hearing. “Your Majesty?”
Queen Charlotte smiled, and that was when Sophie knew they were all doomed.
“Remember yourself, Sir Nash,” the queen warned. “Yes. You shall move into their residence this very day.” With another sly smile that chilled Sophie to the bone, the monarch gracefully fluttered her hand at both Sophie and her mother, as if bestowing a regal blessing upon them. “These ladies are two of my dearest friends, and they are in danger. You are to secure their safety and assist them not only in capturing the vilecreature wishing to do them harm, but you will also silence that creature forever. Am I quite clear?”
Nash’s squared jaw flexed, revealing to one and all that he sat there gritting his teeth.
The queen hiked a brow. “Well? When your queen asks a question of you, it is in your best interest to answer.”
He jerked his head downward as if trying to nod but suddenly discovered his neck was stuck in place. “My obedience to Your Majesty goes without saying. But to protect these fine ladies with the expediency which I am certain you require, I shall need as many details as possible—and living with them, Your Majesty? Shall I pose as a groom in their stable or as a household servant?”
“You shall not be a servant but an esteemed guest. At least for a little while.” The monarch scooped up her fluffy dogs and cuddled them closer—and then she smiled. Again.
Sophie’s nape tingled, and she knew without a doubt that every tiny hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Another unpleasant regal command was headed her way. The air reeked of it.
The queen eyed the dowager countess smugly, then gave an almost imperceptible nod. “To prevent this issue from ever arising again, the fourth Earl of Rydleshire shall be pronounced expired without an heir, and I shall see to it that Georgie bestows the title upon none other than Sir Nash Bromley, the husband of Lady Sophie—well, the husband as soon as the banns are read.” She paused and tipped her head, as though pondering the details of her plan. “Or should we acquire a special license?” She nodded, slow at first and then a bit faster. “Yes. I would take great pleasure in seeing this over and done with immediately. Edwards will see to it that the archbishop understands my wishes, and the special license shall be ready within days. And do not fear—Georgie will not dare cross me on this. Shall wejust say that my inclinations arealwayshonored by him now?” Queen Charlotte appeared uncharacteristically pleased as well as proud. “We should have done this ages ago. Do you not agree, Nia?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The countess reached over and rested her hand on Sophie’s forearm in a silent plea for her to keep quiet.
“But if you proclaim the fourth Earl of Rydleshire dead, Maman and I will be in mourning. How could I possibly marry while in mourning?” Sophie couldn’t breathe, nor could she remain quiet as her mother wished. She would rather endure the queen’s wrath than marry Nash Bromley. She despised the man and knew he felt the same about her. He had to. Why else would he have been such a mean-spirited wretch the entire time they trained at the academy all those years ago? “It might raise questions, Your Majesty. And with a blackmailer already making threats, we risk overplaying our hand.”
The queen kissed each of her pups on the tops of their little heads and returned them to their perches on either side of her. Once again, she sprinkled a bit of snuff on her hand and inhaled it with a long, appreciative sniff. After returning the tiny spoon to the crystal bowl and replacing the silver lid on it with a quiet click, she leveled a stern but still pleased-with-herself gaze on Sophie. “The two of you shall marry before the earl’s death is announced, of course. Do not doubt me, girl. The only thing I have ever left to chance is allowing you and your mother to handle this situation yourselves for the past twenty-five years. It is high time I remedied that. Do you not agree?”
Sophie couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. All she could do was stare at the queen.
“Do you not agree, Lady Sophie?” the monarch repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Of course she agrees, Your Highness,” Sophie’s mother hurried to say, and gave Sophie’s arm a warning squeeze.
Queen Charlotte slightly narrowed her eyes and slid her gaze to Nash. “And you?”
