May hesitated, guilt threading its way through her stomach, but then she told Agnes what had happened at the opera last year—how she’d seen Alix in the grip of something that definitely wasn’t a normal fainting spell. When she’d finished, Agnes stared at her in quiet shock.
“You haven’t told anyone?” Agnes whispered.
“Not until just now.”
“But, May, Her Majesty deserves to know! She is trying to groom Alix for a public role, one that Alix clearly isn’t suited for!”
“She is certainly shy,” May agreed, but Agnes cut her off.
“Shyis being reluctant to dance with a man you’ve just met. No, Alix is something more than shy; she sounds…damaged.”
Agnes might as well have used the wordruined.To be on the marriage market and be brandeddamaged? Why, you would never marry at all.
“I don’t see what I can do,” May whispered.
Down on the racetrack, the horses took off in a thunder of hooves. Neither of the young women glanced their way.
“I’m just surprised you don’t want to tell Her Majesty, or at least tellsomeone.You are trying to marry a prince, and you are in possession of critical information about your greatest competition! Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Agnes went on, throwing up her hands. “You obviously think I’m being heartless. But this is to Alix’s benefit too, isn’t it? If she’s as romantic as you say, if she really does want to marry for love, then she would never be happy with His Royal Highness.”
May’s mind was lurching from one confused thought to the next. She reached up to tuck a damp strand of hair behind one ear, shaking her head. “Please, let it go. And do not speak of this to anyone.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. I have my own campaign to wage; I cannot be managing yours too. Even if I think you’re mistaken.” Agnes crossed her arms, which were covered to the wrist in floating white chiffon, over her chest.
Hoofbeats thundered below them; the horses were entering the final stretch. Agnes glanced at May one last time before stepping forward to watch the end of the race. May smiled automatically when the stands erupted in a cheer, notreally knowing who had won. As if she cared about the outcome of a horse race.
“I’m going to step away for a moment,” Agnes announced.
May looked over, startled at the odd note in her friend’s voice. Was Agnes upset that May had ignored her advice? She realized with a pang how much she’d come to rely on Agnes at these events—her jovial presence, her frank remarks. She had been so unbearably lonely before Agnes’s friendship. “Is everything all right?”
“I just need to say hello to someone. I’ll be back.” Agnes’s eyes were fixed on another box as she started off. Probably going to flirt with some baronet that May wouldn’t approve of. That was Agnes, always scheming. How had she put it?I have my own campaign to wage.
As her friend headed off, May smiled to herself. “Good luck,” she whispered, not that Agnes could hear.
They both needed a healthy dose of luck. Yet for the first time in years, despite the odds, May felt…hopeful.
Perhaps both their campaigns might prove successful afterall.
MAY ALWAYS FELT A FLURRYof anxiety when boarding a train. Her mind inevitably flung her back in time tothattrain, to the night of her family’s ultimate disgrace.
The creditors had descended like a pack of locusts, and no one—not even Queen Victoria—was willing to help the Tecks anymore. Mary Adelaide and Francis had borrowed too many times for even their families to trust them. Theyhad no choice but to flee the country, to run away from their debts like the ragged vagabonds they were.
It had rained that night, as if God himself wanted to add to their punishment. May would never forget how it felt to stand on the platform of Victoria Station with her parents and Dolly, rain battering mercilessly at her umbrella. They had taken the midnight train to avoid seeing anyone they knew, and had traveled under the false name of Count Hohenstein and his family. As if anyone abroad gave a fig about the Tecks.
It was a vastly different experience traveling in broad daylight, on the royal train.
May was well aware that the train had been summoned for Alix’s sake, not hers, but that didn’t dim her enjoyment. Afternoon sunlight shone through the windows on both sides of the car, gleaming on the polished hardwood floors. Aside from the gentle rattle as the train sped along its tracks, you might have thought you were in a well-appointed living room. Everything in here was expensive, from the blue watered silk lining the walls to the pillows stitched with the Scottish thistle.
They had been traveling all day; May knew that they would cross into Scotland overnight, speeding past Edinburgh at dawn before finally arriving at Balmoral’s own Ballater Station. Through the windows she saw rugged northern forests interspersed with the occasional town, smoke drifting up from chimneys.
May’s eyes darted from their chaperone, Miss Cochrane—asleep in a blue armchair—to Alix, who was curled up with a novel. It was irritating how incandescently beautiful she was,her blond curls framing her face, her expression luminous. Whatever silly story she was reading, she seemed engrossed in it.
May must have been staring too forcefully, because Alix looked up and met her gaze.
“Come sit with me?” she offered.
“Oh—of course,” May said quickly. The two young women had spoken a bit at lunch, but Miss Cochrane had been hovering over them, and they hadn’t really mentioned anything of consequence.
The train shook a little as May moved down its length, holding back her skirts to keep from tripping. She tried to think of a tactful way to bring up Prince Eddy.
