Cranston knocked—one-two, one-two-three, one—on the monarch’s door in the old manner, indicating the butler was at the door plus one.
Hilda, the queen’s lady’s maid, guided Michael into a small, airy library where Her Majesty stood, waiting.She appeared rested and clear-eyed, regal, with no evidence of last night’s collapse.
“Your Majesty.”He bowed.“I must apologize for last night.”
“Scottie explained everything.”The queen sat and motioned Michael to the adjacent chair.“She’s assured me she won’t go off alone again.Did you see theMorning Show?”
“I did, ma’am.”
“I don’t always trust the producers, but they’ve shown us kindness in recent years.However, this time I’ll not give them the benefit of the doubt.”
“Someone got to Mrs.Johansdotter, ma’am.Perhaps one of MP Hamish Fickle’s RECO shills.”
“Either way,” the queen said, “I’ve instructed the Chamber Office to invite the Johansdotters to the Garden Party.Do we know the identity of the man who held Scottie’s legs?”
“No, ma’am.I’ve viewed everything that’s been uploaded.There’s no hint of anyone anchoring her.”
“Quietly ask around then.You’ll know what to do, no?”She smiled.“I’ve asked Alfred Quip, head of the Kongelig Herrer, to place the Johansdotter family in my receiving line.”
“Very good, ma’am.They’ll be honored.”
“Let’s hope,” she said, a knowing glint in her eye.
The Kongelig Herrer—the Royal Gentlemen—was a time-honored corps of men of influence, and now women, who served as Garden Party hosts.
Mum was miffed she’d never been invited to serve.After all, she was a Pratt.And for twelve years, a Cross.Until she abandoned her children and the Cross name.The Pratt family was distinguished but nothing like being a Cross.
“But close enough, I’ll be bound,”Mum always said.
“Ah, there she is.”The queen’s gaze went to the doorway.“My daughter.A phrase I love to say.”
Michael turned, his thoughts still on the quay and the queen, wholly unprepared for the way Scottie’s presence wrapped around him.
At ease in the private library, she sat beside her mother, inquiring after her health with the natural grace of any loving daughter.She wore jeans and a fitted pale-blue blouse, her long hair loosely braided.
Seeing her again was like when she arrived at Hadsby.She whispered to the parts of him that, until now, were content to sleep.
Wake up.Wake up.
This close, he noticed a faint bruise on her chin—likely from the quay—and another on her right hand.If she’d tossed and turned through the night, her face didn’t show it.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful, Michael?”
“Yes, ma’am.”What an odd question from Her Majesty.But what else could he say?She was beautiful.Adding that her presence set his heartbeat to a different rhythm would be wildly inappropriate—and would definitely get him sacked.Besides, the young man sensations would fade in another day or two.
“We’re spending the morning trying on clothes,” the queen said, rising with help from Scottie.“For the Garden Party.”Passing Michael, she touched his shoulder.“Thank you for being there for her.You may have thought I called you in to sack you, but I wanted to thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”Michael fell into step with Scottie as she exited with the queen.“Did you sleep?”
“Well enough,” she said, chin high.“I’m an easy sleeper.I can knock off anywhere, anytime.”
“You’d have made a good soldier.”
“That’s what Cap used to say.”
“Cap?Oh, yes, the almost love.”
“Right.He was a former Army Ranger,” she said, heading toward the Grand Staircase.“How big a headline am I this morning?”
