No one had ever asked me that, not even Joseph.
I settled on “having to tell the truth.” It was the truest answer I could think of, and one day, maybe, I’d be able to laugh at the irony in that. I’d built a life based on lies; I was honest enough with myself to know that. I told my mother I loved her. I told Joseph I’d be his forever. I acted like I didn’t miss Ivy at all.
I planned a life in which I’d keep lying—to my eventual husband, to my mother, to myself.
The queen just laughed as I told her, and she said, “I’ve always admired skilled liars.”
I walked out of that room with a new face and turned right at the door, the queen’s laughter still echoing behind me.
Joseph gasped when he saw me for the first time.
I snuck to his closet-size room in the staff quarters the night of the Pact Parade. I was surprised to find him there. I thought for certain my mother would have fired him, but she knew keeping him around would hurt me more. The flickering of his lantern lit up my new face. “Aren’t I prettier now?”
He hesitated, and it made me angry enough that I was sick to my stomach. “Tell me I’m prettier now, Joseph.”
“I thought you were perfect before.” He was still polishing the saddle he was working on, like he couldn’t bear to look at me.
An errant tear rolled down my cheek. “You’re wrong. You’re a stable boy, what would you know about refined taste?”
I pushed and pushed until he said it, even though I could see in his face that he didn’t believe it. “You’re prettier now,” he said, but he wasn’t as good a liar as I was. In fact, he was rotten at it.
“I know,” I replied.
“You’ll be a princess,” he said later, as he traced my bare shoulder when we were in his bed together.
I could tell he believed it. I shook my head. “Probably not. He’ll pick Marion.” My hand stung where Mama had cut me.
“How could anyone not want you?” But he didn’t look at my face as he said it, like he couldn’t anymore.
It’s been easy enough to sneak away to see him. Viscountess Bolingbroke sleeps like a log, and my parents’ residence is walking distance from the palace. I sometimes see Ivy’s shadowy figurecrossing the lawn at the same time. I hope it’s to see Bram. I’d be happy for her.
I sneak through the streets at dawn and meet Joseph in the barn, just as the first rays of light stream through the dust of the tack room. He closes his eyes as he kisses me, and it’s like nothing has changed at all.
When Bram chooses some other girl and I’m a confirmed spinster, I’ll move back home and we’ll continue as we were. No one ever needs to know the truth.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Why are you so sullen, Ivy?” Greer asks me over breakfast the next day.
“I’m not sullen.”
Greer shrugs, unconcerned. “You’ve had a sour look on your face since yesterday. Did something happen? Is Lydia poorly again?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
I take a bite of currant scone and blink a few times. Focus up, Ivy. No time for self-pity now. “It’s kind of you to ask, though.”
“I love you, Ivy. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt it.”
Doubt it? All she did was make me doubt it. From the very first moment she left me alone in the garden, I’ve doubted it. I’ve spent half my life chasing her approval. It’s the entire reason we made a good pair of best friends.
But then she pours me a cup of tea, two sugars, the smallest splash of milk, just how I’ve always taken it, and something in me softens.
“I love you too, Greer.”
A footman strolls into the cottage, straight-backed in his midnight-blue livery. He’s carrying a scroll of paper on a silver tray.Emmy is the one brave enough to take it. She unrolls it and reads, “‘Lady Ivy Benton, Lady Greer Trummer, Lady Emmy Ito, Miss Faith Fairchild, Lady Marion Thorne, and Lady Olive Lisonbee are cordially invited to an audience with Her Majesty, Queen Moryen. Immediately.’”
Our lady’s maids flood into the cottage with well-practiced choreography. Within minutes, hats are pinned and dresses are buttoned and we are off across the damp lawn to Kensington Palace.
