Oh, how she hated herself for her pathetic weakness where the king was concerned. Why had she not been stronger? Why had she not resisted his advances? She should have been impervious to his charm, secure in her loyalty. Instead, she had been carried away by raw, unfettered yearning. She had allowed herself to feel far too much, to take what could never be hers.
“Of course something is amiss,” she said, agitated, as she withdrew from her friend’s grasp. “You are placing yourself in grave danger, acting as recklessly as you are.”
And I have been acting with equal recklessness.
The princess frowned. “Have my uncle’s guards come to check upon me whilst I was gone?”
“No,” Tansy reassured her, knowing she had to reveal the awful truth to her friend and face the consequences. “Hecame,” she added, unable to force herself to say King Maximilian’s name aloud.
“My brother?” the princess asked.
There was no hope for it. She was going to have to say it after all, just as she was going to have to confess.
“King Maximilian,” she elaborated grimly.
“He called? Why would he do such a thing?”
“You returned his carriage,” she explained, working while she talked, untying tapes and helping the princess to step out of her gown. “He wished to know why. I was forced to meet with him on your behalf.”
“Deus,” Princess Anastasia whispered. “He didn’t harm you, did he, Tansy?”
No, indeed, what he had done was worse than harming her. He had turned her into a traitorous wretch.
“What would you do if he had?” she asked, the anger in her voice aimed at herself.
The princess’s eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you?”
Tansy struggled with her answer, working instead at Princess Anastasia’s petticoat, sending it to the floor in a whisper of sound.
“Tansy,” Princess Anastasia pressed, sounding impatient.
Tansy’s fingers tangled in a knot that had been tied thrice on the princess’s stays. An unfamiliar knot—she had only tied it twice this morning.
“This knot isn’t mine,” she observed instead of replying, knowing what the new knot meant.
The princess had removed her stays while she had been away. Or perhaps it wasn’t the princess who had done it, but someone else.
Her friend turned about unexpectedly, countenance troubled. “Tell me what happened,” she demanded. “Please.”
Such concern for her, and Tansy knew she did not deserve it. She wasn’t worthy. How to tell the princess the whole of what had happened? How to admit the depth of her own depravity, her stunning lack of loyalty, her inexplicable weakness where the king was concerned?
“I told the king that his carriage had been spied by the guards near the mews and questions had been raised,” Tansy began haltingly, recalling the portion of King Maximilian’s call that had occurred before those sinful kisses had turned her mind to ash and dashed her loyalty to bits. “His Royal Highness was grateful for your caution. He was careful to play the part of concerned suitor. The guards were easily fooled. He wished for me to pass on the warning that his spies in Gustavson’s court have sent word that your uncle grows suspicious by the delay in announcing your betrothal. There is word he may travel to London himself.”
Stasia exhaled slowly, some of the urgency fading from her expression. “That is all?”
Tansy’s stomach clenched. She was going to have to confess her sins and pray the princess could find it in her heart to forgive her and one day, perhaps, trust her again.
“No,” Tansy forced out. “That is not all.”
“Did he strike you?” Princess Anastasia demanded. “Did he threaten you or hurt you in any way? You must tell me, Tansy. I will not allow you to suffer because of me.”
It would have been better if he had, for then she would never have found herself in such an untenable predicament.
“No, King Maximilian did not.” She swallowed hard against a stinging rush of shame before continuing. “He did something far worse.”
“What can it have been?” the princess asked, sounding panicked now. “You must tell me, Tansy. Please.”
One deep breath. She was going to have to do it.
