Elizabeth sat straight-backed with impeccable posture. Tonight, she could remain calm and collected no matter what was thrown her way. She glanced at Charlotte, and they exchanged a look.
Conversations drifted around the table as the queen greeted each person and made inquiries about their family and their estates.
“And Lady Ashcroft, if we are still calling you that. What tales they have told me ofyou. Yet here you are before me, healthy and whole.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“And your address was difficult to track down. A post office, no less, not even a physical house.” Queen Rowena raised a brow and smirked, amused to share this information with the rest of their party.
“One can never be too careful in a different kingdom. If I had known to expect correspondence from the palace, I would have informed your scribe on how to reach me,” Elizabeth said coolly.
“Yes, yes. But what have you beendoing?”
“My days are entirely my own. In the mornings, I go horseback riding for exercise, and in the evenings, I practice my needlepoint or read. The peace and quiet have done me well, I think.”
“And where are you staying?”
“Arboras, Your Majesty. Have you ever travelled there?” she asked, returning the volley.
“Not for some time, and only to Volantia. The capital city was quite lovely; however, it was built high up in the mountains. I met with King Pierre at his palace, which was smaller than this one.” The queen sniffed. A shared look of superiority was exchanged with the gathered ladies. “With far too many stairs, but they built it that way for the view.”
Several of the girls looked at the queen with rapt expressions. Lady Sophie and Lady Katherine both leaned forward, appearing to hold on to her every word.
“They say the architect tried to build the palace tall enough to reach the house of the gods,” the queen continued. “Which, of course, is impossible. When you look out from the great hall of the Arborian palace, the view is of the mountainsand the sea. It’s quite pretty, actually, if you like barren rock, high turrets, and nogardens.It’s not all for show, though. They say that wrongdoers are flung off the cliffs to splatter on the rocks a hundred leagues below.” The queen raised a brow, as if it were a mildly amusing tidbit. “Were you in Volantia?”
“I visited there, Your Majesty, but I mostly spent time in Veridas and some of the smaller port cities and villages. Veridas is beautiful, but very different from here."
“So, you have lived as a commoner, then? And by yourself no less?"
Elizabeth speared a piece of carrot, deliberately chewed, and swallowed before answering. “Yes, unconventional as it is, I live by myself. I am hopeful that my fortune will grow, and I will have my own household to run someday. Unless, of course, my parents have accepted my refusal of Duke Howard and have not disowned me from my fortune.”
“You seem quite nonchalant about the loss of fortune and name.”
She forced a smile to her lips. “I am not dead yet, Your Majesty.”
“You are pert.” The queen smirked. “But there is no man that you have run off with?”
“No. I decided I would rather be alone than marry someone I despise just to be married.”
“Your reputation has suffered, however,” scoffed Lady Lorine.
“I left,” corrected Elizabeth. “I have no reputation. Ill or otherwise, Lady Lorine.”
“They say you’re not a woman of virtue anymore … and you have run off with a man who is not your betrothed,” Lady Patricia supplied with a sly grin.
“If you would like to wed Duke Howard, by all means, do. He beats his servants and leers at women who are half his age,” Elizabeth said sharply. “You would be a wealthy woman. I wish you joy.”
The queen and court ladies surveyed her and Lady Patricia with cool amusement.
“They say you are no longer fit to be, well,anyone’swife,” Lady Patricia sneered. “That, surely, if you have not taken ill and died, you have whored your way around the country to make your fortune.”
Elizabeth smiled tersely.“Well. You’ve certainly hit the crux of the issue.”
Lady Patricia wrinkled her brow in confusion.
“I’m either seen as a whore for selling my marriage bed to the richest man my father can find, which is the definition of a whore, you understand, someone who exchanges the rights to their body for money. Or—I’m considered a whore if I choose my freedom. So,I chose. I explained as much to my father in a letter before I left. I am an Ashcroft,” she said, holding her head high. “I am rich enoughwithout Duke Howard, and have no need of a duchy. I will not spread my legs for a man to further my father’s ambition. I am a noblewoman, not chattel.”
Silence met her words.
