“For you,” he said. When had he ever offered a gift so gauchely?
She didn’t seem to notice, but smiled brilliantly. “Thank you!”
She raised the bouquet to her nose, so he said, “They’re silk. Not real.”
“But with some perfume. Smell.” She came to him and raised the flowers. A hint of violet did rise from them.
“Clever,” he said, wanting to kiss her, but oddly uncertain. As if something might break.
She turned to look at her purchases. “How will I transport them?”
“Wagon. Or if you need more speed, an extra carriage.”
“For my purchases?”
“Why not?” He needed to get her into a private room. “Would you like coffee?”
Her eyes lit, but, then, they had lit at sight of him. He thought. He hoped.
As soon as they were in the library, door shut, alone except for her dog, he took her into his arms. At last. He wanted to declare his love, but the words stuck. From fear that she did not love him? He wouldn’t wish to embarrass her with unwanted devotion.
“You’ve enjoyed your morning,” he said.
She kissed him lightly—too lightly—before answering. “I have. I found a delightful needlework table with a musical box included.”
“Are you a needlewoman? I’ve not seen you stitching as yet.”
She chuckled. “It might encourage me to be one. I can mend quite well, but I’ve never had the patience for ornamental work.” She turned serious. “How did it go with Sussex?”
Sussex, princes, and plots all seemed irrelevant, but he said, “Amazingly.”
“In a delightful way, it seems,”
He realized he was smiling. How could he not?This is the heart of love,he realized.The essential element. To be with the beloved. Always.“The delight is from other matters. Let’s sit and I’ll tell you all.”
They sat, but he kept hold of her hand—how could henot?—as he related the interview in detail. Of course she understood.
“Thequeen?” she said at last. “But why?”
“Pour l’encouragement des autres, as Voltaire wrote about Admiral Byng.”
“Why?”
“Byng was shot for not doing his utmost to relieve a British garrison on Menorca during the War of Spanish Succession. He didn’t have the ships for the task, but his execution warned the other admirals to not be so sensible.”
“What has that to do with blowing up three princes?”
“Notblowing them up, remember? The queen’s not so strict a mother as that.” He raised her hand and kissed it. How could he not? “Dr. Johnson is reported to have said that knowing he is to hang focuses a man’s mind wonderfully. I assume she thought awareness of mortality would focus her sons’ minds more urgently on the important task.”
“Marriage and children. It might well. Whatever sort of mother she is, she’s a strong queen.”
“She’s rarely intervened in significant matters—as best we know. However, she might feel that procreation is a family matter.”
“So, there’s no danger to you. Unless you pursue the investigation.”
“I see no reason to.”
Smiling, she squeezed his hand, and then, perhaps hesitantly, kissed it in turn.
