Agnes nodded in agreement. “Which is why you want to be queen. The position with the most safety and wealth ofall.”
If you knew what my family was like, you would understand,May thought. She pursed her lips and said nothing.
“In that case,” Agnes went on, undeterred, “you should absolutely pay more attention to Maud. She’s your ticket to the inner circle.”
“What do you mean?”
Agnes picked up a soft green moiré from a stack of fabrics and drummed her fingers over it. “How are you supposed to attract the prince’s interest if you only ever run into him at crowded receptions? Becoming friends with Maud gives you more opportunities to see His Royal Highness. The more time you spend near him, the better chance you have of convincing him that you are the right choice.”
There was an indisputable logic to this. And yet…
“Maud and I have never been close. Trust me, I’ve tried.” May had always assumed that Maud and her sister Louise had inherited their parents’ snobbery. Uncle Bertie certainly made no secret of his feelings toward the Tecks; he tolerated them with weary reluctance, the way you might resign yourself to a stain in the wooden floorboards that you could never remove.
“Then try again,” Agnes commanded. “I suspect that Maud has changed since you were children. No one ever pays her much mind, do they? She seems lonely, constantly overshadowed by her siblings.”
It was a bit unsettling how easily Agnes had taken the measure of Maud. The youngest of the Wales children, two years younger than May, Maud had always been ignored in favor of her brothers—the ones who mattered, the heir and the spare—and her vivacious, headstrong older sister.
“You really think it might go differently this time?” May mused aloud.
“Of course. Last time you tried to befriend Maud, you didn’t haveme.”
May couldn’t help chuckling at the sheer audacity of it. Then her laughter died down, replaced by a puzzled confusion. “Agnes. Why are you helping me?”
“I like a challenge.” Agnes smiled, a bit naughtily. “And of course, I wouldn’t mind being friends with the future Queen of England. If you marry Prince Eddy, you can help me track down one of these bankrupt dukes that my mother has her heart set on.”
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, THE ENDICOTTS’carriage pulled up outside the Wolvertons’ home in Mayfair. The fence surrounding the property seemed unusually frightening, as if the iron spikes were sharper than normal, turning the house into a fortress. And here was May, bringing an interloper inside like the Trojan horse.
She glanced over as they headed up the front steps. Reading the concern in May’s eyes, Agnes slowed. “Should I remove my muff?” She gestured with her hands, which were tucked into a roll of fluffy white fur. “I know you said no sables, but you didn’t say anything about lynx.”
“No—it’s fine,” May assured her.
She and Agnes had met up a few times since their excursion to Linton & Curtis, always at the Belgravia townhome the Endicotts had rented for the year, because May could never risk bringing Agnes to White Lodge. They would sit in the drawing room, sipping tea, as May did her best to explain the Rules of Behavior.
So far, Agnes had proven an apt pupil. She listened carefully as May warned her about the various women she would encounter, explaining whom to befriend and whom to be wary of. She practiced curtsying to various degrees, because of course one must sink to a different depth for a king versus an earl versus a mere baronet. May had laid a place setting for a full banquet and drilled Agnes on the correct use of every utensil, from the fish fork and oyster fork down to the demitasse spoon.
May hoped she’d done enough, because there was no turning back now.
“Good afternoon.” The butler opened the front door before they had even knocked, gesturing to a footman to take their coats. “Lady Wolverton’s guests are gathered in the drawing room.”
Inside, a dozen or so women of various ages were seated on arrangements of sofas and ottomans. A few of them held cups of tea, and a tray of iced cakes sat on a side table, thoughthey looked untouched. The point of an at home was the conversation, not the refreshments.
Lady Wolverton swept forward. “May, I’m so glad you could join us! You look lovely today.”
“Thank you.” May resisted the urge to shoot a grateful smile at Agnes. She was wearing the dress they had bought together, a soft blue with navy trim around the wrists and hem. Nothing showy or ostentatious, but it was cut according to the most current styles and fit like a dream.
She gestured to Agnes. “Lady Wolverton, may I present Miss Agnes Endicott, recently arrived here from Chicago.” To her relief, Agnes executed a perfect curtsy.
“And how did you meet Miss Endicott?” Lady Wolverton asked May, with distinct coolness.
“Her father is a hunting companion of the Prince of Wales,” May said swiftly.
“And who is her father?”
“Mr.Robert Endicott,” Agnes offered. “He works in steel manufacturing.”
May shot Agnes an incredulous glance. She shouldn’t have spoken until she was spoken to; they had reviewed this countless times. What was she thinking?
“Mr.Endicott.” Lady Wolverton repeated the name as if it were in a foreign language. More loudly, for the benefit of the room, she added, “I’ve always thought how trying it must be to grow up in America: all of you clumped together like chickens in a coop, without titles or rank. How on earth do you know which young men to address and which to avoid?”
