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A searing stab of remorse shot through Abram. In that moment of acknowledgment, he realized he did, indeed, love her. Without question or reason. Only acknowledgement for the emotion that overwhelmed him. He could not form the words for a suitable response. Instead, he simply nodded.

“Poor bastard,” Samuel said. “Meet me at seven tonight. Use this time to find the letters.”

“And if you need me, I shall be there, Brother,” Barrett said. “Lord Abram, I have lost someone special to me. Do whatever is in your power to avoid that type of pain. For it never leaves you. It remains forever. A stain on your bloody soul.” He clapped a hand on Abram’s shoulder.

Abram thought back to his last conversation with Orris. It had not been pleasant, and he knew, by her defeated posture as she’d dragged herself back to the carriage, that he had hurt her. While there had been anger, he’d seen disappointment, too, infused in her glare. He had hurt her. Deeply. Though there had been good reason in his efforts to keep her safe, she had trusted him with her feelings. And he’d spat on them.

Even if she decided not to forgive him, he would still make every effort to explain himself. He owed her that much. He did not want to feel the searing pain of her rejection, but he would do anything to protect her.

At least he would have the chance to see her once more.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Buckingham Palace was larger than Orris remembered. It could have been her class of debutantes were directed to the drawing room, their movements restricted by palace guards and the procession of the guests. For their tea, they were directed to the saloon.

Orris, Violetta, Gladys, Samuel, and even Myrtle, who was famous for her stoic demeanor, all stood in awe of the opulence. In its entirety, it was an alcove with French windows overlooking the balcony. The green and gold accents were stunning, and as they walked toward seats on the button back settee, Orris worried she might spill her tea.

For a moment, no one said anything. Even Mama looked to Samuel, who was the titled gentleman in presence.

“Your Majesty,” Samuel began. He offered a deep bow.

“Your Majesty,” the rest of the Grays said, dipping in the most precise of curtsies.

“Welcome to Buckingham Palace,” Queen Victoria said. “Please, take your seats. I am afraid the weather prohibits a tour of the gardens, but we shall make do here.”

Orris glanced up at the sky, the sun indeed rather warm for the middle of the day.

“Your Majesty, one could not ask for more perfect accommodations. Thank you for seeing us today,” Samuel continued.

“This is your wife, correct? The new viscountess.” The queen nodded in Myrtle’s direction.

“Indeed, yes. Married in June of last year. It has been the most joyful time of my life,” he said.

“And she is with child,” the queen added.

Shock rippled across the space, everyone exchanging glances.

“Ma’am, no. Not at the moment, Your Majesty,” Myrtle said.

“I was not asking. You are with child. I have had enough of them to know, my dear.”

No one dared argue with the queen, as she was the authority. If they were not yet with child, Orris thought, they should work on remedying the situation with haste! The Gray family was due another celebration and soon. Orris, for one, would love to have a niece or nephew, and recently, she’d found herself unopposed to a child of her own… one day.

Samuel cleared his throat. “And the rest of the family is here as well. Mrs. Seraphine Ambrette Gray, famed soprano, Miss Violetta Gray, Miss Orris Gray, and finally, Miss Gladys Gray, a cousin visiting from Chicago, in America.”

“Lovely to meet you all. I recall your presence at court during last year’s debutante class. You, however”—she pointed to Gladys—“are new here. How long have you been in London?”

“I arrived for the holidays and… and was to return home with my father earlier this month. I decided to remain here for an extended visit, Majesty,” Gladys explained.

“And your father permitted such behavior? You are no doubt in society in Chicago. Have you no prospects there?” Sharp eyes cut into Gladys, a hint of knowing no one could have expected.

Gladys fidgeted, her fingers weaving a knot in the thin, white material of her gown. “I—I have not agreed to a marriage contract as of yet, Your Majesty.”

Orris noted the stretch of the truth. While she had not agreed, Gladys’s father would have had a completely different perspective.

“And you should like to enter the marriage mart in England?”

“If I may,” Gladys said, though more stammering came before she finally added, “that is… I should like to if I may be permitted, Your Majesty.”