“More likely you were hoping I would not learn about this nonsense until you wreaked all the trouble you could.”
“Did you come here to insult me? We do not know each other well, and this is not looking like a promising friendship.”
His jaw flexed. “The king is no more pleased by your persistence than I am.”
“Then he should not have promised me to take up the matter.”
“How did that happen? What exactly did he say to you?”
“He was in Edinburgh for the Scottish festivities. My father was associated with the university and had many friends there who helped me after he passed. One is Sir Cornelius Ingram. He was knighted for his scientific work.”
“I know of him.”
“He agreed to try to arrange for me to see the king. He had me attend a banquet as his companion, and introduced me after the meal.”
“A meal at which His Majesty drank freely, no doubt.”
“I could not say. I did not count the glasses of wine he consumed.”
“Trust me, he was well into his cups by then.”
“He was not foxed, if you are trying to suggest that he did not have his wits about him.”
He stopped and faced her. “Such wits as he possesses are easily lost to drink. So, the meal was done, Sir Cornelius pushed you forward and made an introduction, and there was no cut from the king.” He narrowed his eyes on her face. “Your hair was longer then. It was cropped more recently. The king saw before him a pretty young woman with a winning smile and he behaved as all men do.”
“Not all men. You, for example, are behaving boorishly whether I am pretty or not. As for the king, he was polite and gracious, which is what I would expect a king to be.” She tipped up her chin and looked him in the eye. “We spoke a few minutes, then I explained my situation. He was sympathetic.”
“I’m sure he was.”
“He said that when he returned to London he would direct his men to look into the matter and see what could be learned, and that he would support a bill in Parliament to rectify any oversight and to clarify matters, lest someone claim there should have been an attainder even if there was not.”
He appeared surprised to hear that last part. She suspected his mind had gone in that direction.Your great grandfather died at Culloden fighting against Great Britain, and if there had been an heir there would have been an attainder due to his criminal act.
“He probably did look into the matter and learned you have no claim and there was no oversight. Hence his avoiding you.”
“If he had looked into it, he would have learned I am completely at rights.”
He inhaled tightly. He appeared like a man reining in his temper. Only she had not seen anything to indicate he had become angry.
“Perhaps you would be good enough to explain your situation, as you call it.” He gestured to a stone bench, inviting her to sit.
She perched herself on the bench. He did not. He loomed in front of her. Huge now. A tower of black garments and chiseled visage watching her.
“Before my father died, he shared a family secret with me,” she began. “He also entrusted a letter into my care. One from the last king. It all pertained to my family’s history and my grandfather’s identity as the rightful heir of the Baron of Teyhill.”
“The baron perished at Culloden. He had no heirs. His only child, a son, died around the same time.”
“So it was believed. That son, however, did not die. He was spirited off to Northumberland and given into the care of a farming family there.”
“Why?”
“For his safety. The baron’s people did not trust the British army. They believed that after the defeat and his father’s death he would be harmed.”
“Our armies do not kill innocent children.”
“What nonsense. Of course they do. Of coursethey did.” She glared at him, daring him to disagree.
He did not make the claim again.
