Was I supposed to tell her?
Should I be the one to tell her?
The two older women began an argument—all very polite, tightly clipped tones relaying veiled insults about one another’s standing with the Royals and whose judgment should be trusted.
But while they continued to squabble so politely, the woman in the chair, who’d rolled her eyes at Morna, leaned over the arm to smile at me kindly. “Don’t mind them. They do this every time.”
I swallowed and plunged in. “Thank you. I am only worried that I may have ignited trouble, speaking out of turn. I didn’t want to start a fight by sharing my concerns. I wasn’t sure—” Then I caught myself, and looked at her, horrified, as if I hadn’t thought about what I was admitting.
Her brows rose and she leaned closer. “You told Jemma about the king?”
“No, no!” I gasped. “The queen, only I—oh shit.”
I’d raised my hand, as if to stop her speaking, but knocked the saucer held in my other hand and almost tipped the entire cup into my lap.
A few drops splashed on the stunning skirt, and my mouth dropped open. I envisioned giving up my stipend for a year to pay for this incredible gown, but suddenly three sets of hands appeared, all clutching handkerchiefs or napkins, catching the drips from the cup and saucer, then guiding my hand to the table before I could spill more on my skirt.
“Don’t worry, dear. It happens to the best of us,” the kind woman said, but her eyes were avid on me.
The women helped me place the saucer on the table, then the kind woman pulled me to my feet and ushered me to the side of the room where a pitcher of water and basin had been left for the servants to wash their hands.
I gaped, at a loss, apologizing to the women at the table for my coarse language, who all giggled and assured me they’d heard much worse from their husbands.
“Tea is a woman’s bane,” she said airily as she led me over, picked up a cloth and dabbed it in the water, then began pressing it gently to my skirt. “But if we can dilute it, we might blend it out—only don’t press too hard, we don’t want to stretch the silk.”
“Silk?” I gasped, hurrying to take the damp cloth she’d given me to dab at my skirt.
“Yes, dear,” she said with a smile, then she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Quickly, while they’re laughing—you said the queen isindisposed?”
“I said she is unwell,” I whispered back. “And I was wrong to say it,” I put my hands to my face as if horrified. “She would be very angry if she knew—”
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make certain the ladies don’t pass this along. Do you happen to know why she struggles?”
I glanced over my shoulder at the women as if I were considering what they’d said, but then I met her eyes. “I fear for her health,” I whispered. “She’s very late in life to suffer… such a condition.”
The woman’s eyes bulged. Then she twitched and went back to dabbing at my skirt. “That can’t be. Surely not at this stage—”
“Of course not,” I hurriedly denied, as if to cover for myself. “I’m certain I was mistaken. Please, don’t listen to me. I was admiring your gowns and didn’t think.”
“Of course, of course,” the woman said, patting my arm with her free hand to soothe me. “Don’t worry about it in the slightest. Look, there, you see—once it dries, you won’t even be able to tell!”
I looked down, relieved to see that the skirt did, indeed, seem to be clean of the tea I’d dropped on it, though darkened where it was damp. But before I could thank her properly, the dooropened again and the queen swept in, her chin high, but cheeks with high points of color, as if she genuinely didn’t feel well.
“Brennan, forgive me, but I must go. And I promised to return you in time for the meal. Please, come with me. Ladies, I will see you tomorrow.”
Everyone stood, only to curtsey as she passed through. They babbled reassurances to her, and wishes for her day to be well, then she led me out of the door and we were gone.
The whole thing had passed in such a blur, I wasn’t sure whether to be horrified, or elated.
30. Set the Hook
~ BREN ~
“Well?” Diaan said quietly, once we were back in her parlor. “Did you manage it?” Her eyes gleamed. I couldn’t tell if the intensity was predatory, or hopeful.
“I… think so?”
“Explain. Quickly.”
