26
MEET THE MARCHIONESS
Diana was a beggar in a palace.She still wore the gown she’d worn the night of the ball, and her hair hung in a messy plait down her back, but the room she sat in was richer than anything she’d ever seen.And she’d grown up in the bosom of a people known for their extravagance.
She swept aside her dusty, wrinkled skirts to inspect the blue silk cushion beneath them.Unblemished by her state.For now.
“You see how it must be.”King William sat in a large and comfortable-looking chair across a low table from her.The cushions were blue like the cushions on the sofa she occupied, and the wood trim painted in gleaming gold.How would Temple see this room?Was it truly opulent?Or was everything visible merely a mask?
Including the king.
“There is no other course of action,” he said, his lips thinned and eyes tired.
What could she say?There was no countermanding her king, no escaping fate.But still, after spending days and nights alone in captivity, she could not remain silent.“I do not want it.I would rather not have it.”
“Nonsense.”
She laughed, a nervous bark of a thing that she stopped as quickly as it had come by slapping both hands over her mouth.“I already have a title.Baroness Knightly, and… no one will be happy about this.”
“My dear Lady Fordham, they do not have to be happy about it.But they must respect it.”
Lady Fordham.The Marchioness Fordham, the first women to inherit the title… ever.
Another hiccup of laughter escaped.
“You are doing me a favor,” he said.“Consider yourself a… test.Of the ton.To see how they welcome a woman such as yourself.You will not be able to join the House of Lords, being alady.You will merely hold the title in reserve for your eldest son.”
She’d thought to leave that tower only to lose her life.But the king had elevated her instead.Impossible to believe.Her mind couldn’t quite accept it, and her body was buzzing to do something, anything.
No, not anything.
The only thing she truly wanted to do was run all the way to Bloomsbury Square and throw herself into Temple’s arms.
“My niece is young, Lady Fordham,” the king said, “and she will need a confidante.Other than her mother.”He grumbled the last bit.It seemed the rumors were true.Princess Victoria’s mother had few allies in England.But the princess herself was loved.Respected, trusted.And by the king, too.“When I look at her, I wonder if my own daughter would have had her nose or her hair or…” He cleared his throat.“I should like her to have wise council, as I would wish wise council for my daughter, had she lived.”
“If she wishes me to, I will help the royal princess however she needs.”
“Excellent.”The king’s mouth split into a wide grin.“Excel?—”
A clamor outside the window arrested his attention, and he rose—slowly and with a wince—and made his way to the window.A shout, an outcry, the clang of metal against metal.Guards appeared out of the glamour that hid them at the king’s side, and Diana jolted to her feet.
“Bloody hell,” the king mumbled.“What does he think he’s doing?”
Diana’s ring was hot suddenly, burning into her skin.Oh, she had a terrible feeling.She ran to the window then rocked away from it with a gasp.“Temple!”
There he was, in the courtyard below.He swung a rough-looking hammer around his head and stepped calmly toward a guard.
“Open the window,” she cried.“Open it!”
“Do as she says,” the king commanded.
The guards threw the window open, and she almost threw herself out of it.
“Temple!”she cried, “Temple!”
He stopped in the middle of one wide step, and when she screamed his name again, he began to look around.
“Stop!”she cried.
