She was certain a crowd had gathered outside, because a crowd always gathered everywhere the royal retinue appeared.
And all those soldiers would probably be only too pleased to spread the word.
They were going to beawashin business.
“A certain heroic captain, to whom the crown owes much, and of whom I think highly, told me as such. I find it to be true. I would be happy to stay an entire evening here at The Palace of Ro—”
A courtier leaned over and whispered in his ear.
“The Grand Palace on the Thames,” he amended.
The king sounded as though he’d been handed a script.
And one wondered if the king had been here before. Perhaps a few decades earlier.
And dear God in heaven, did he plan tostay here?
Was he perhaps the mysterious employer of Mr. X?
Surely not. Surely that person would have more subtlety.
“But I fear I cannot stay at present.”
She could not deny a little relief. But she and Angelique did smile at him, with all the radiant warmth in their hearts. After all, in his face, once handsome, now blurred and swollen from excesses, she saw someone who, like everyone else, longed to be loved. Who really hadn’t a prayer of getting that sort of love from anyone else, consorting with older mistresses notwithstanding. Who had lost a beloved daughter, casting all of England into mourning, and mourning himself.
And so they did what they did best: they endeavored to make him feel at home.
“It is, most certainly, a comfortable place to stay, your majesty. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Dot had brought it in, the tray rattling and clinking in her hands.
And so it was that Delilah Swanpoole served tea to the king before the Duchess of Brexford did.
He took a sip—after a nearby courtier took a sip, nodded pleasantly, and did not fall to the carpet, writhing in death throes.
“I understand you’ve a list of rules for people who wish to stay,” the king said. “And that you on occasion have musicales.”
Thus making all of Delilah’s dreams come true.
And as she was fairly certain the Duchess of Brexford was circling outside in her barouche, waiting for an opportunity to speak to Helga alone, her heart soared.
The king and all the various people who’d come along with him stayed for the duration of two sips of tea.
Then he was helped to his feet by four men, and then the lot of them filed out with a good deal of orderly jangling and clomping.
All of them save one.
And so thrumming with the dreamlike thrill of the moment were Delilah and Angelique that they almost didn’t notice him standing in the foyer.
Very still.
Very tall.
Hat in hand.
He wasn’t in uniform. He wore a black coat that fit him as elegantly as his own skin. His buttons were silver. His boot toes glowed.
They stared at him until comprehension set in.
