The Alucians are very fond of their eel and dine on it at least twice a week. I can scarcely tolerate it, and one night, I grew so green when I saw it that my husband demanded they bring onion soup straightaway. The master of the kitchens has been terribly apologetic, and has attempted to serve that foul beast in different dishes, but alas, it does no good. I can’t tolerate it. I assured the poor man that I will delight in anything he prepares, save that wretched eel.

Eliza continued on about Tannymeade, and a clock she’d found in one of the staterooms that was not working properly, and how everyone around her had twittered with unease when she insisted she would like to fix it. She reported that the clock now resided in her dressing room, and she was spending her spare time in the repair of it. There was more, but for once Caroline did not hang on Eliza’s every word. The words relaying the message that they knew of Leopold’s “bad behavior” and the king had sent for him danced before her eyes.

When Caroline finally took her leave, she grew steadily despondent in the carriage ride home. She wasn’t ready for him to leave, in spite of all the questions about him. What a strange, perplexing feeling it was to have doubts and questions about a person and still desire them. But when she thought of his leaving, the doubts gave way to complete despair. How would her life be then? What would amuse her? And how could she ever hope to look at another gentleman and feel the same sort of excitement and anticipation she did when he was near?

Caroline was such a fool. She’d known since Eliza’s wedding that it would lead nowhere, and after his treatment of her in Helenamar, she hadn’t even liked him very much. But oh, how she’d kept at it until she did like him. Until she loved him. And she did love him, she could feel it deep in her bones.

The truth was that she’d be desperately wounded when he left and she’d be forced to marry a stranger and pretend to esteem him and wish every waking day that that stranger was Leopold.

It was the most dreadful fate she could imagine.

Caroline was so lost in thought that she didn’t really notice the two gentlemen standing outside her home when she disembarked from the carriage. She smiled and nodded and moved to pass them on her way to the gate of her house. But then one of them said, “Lady Caroline?”

She paused and glanced back at them. “Yes?”

“Mr. Drummond, at your service,” said one. He looked like someone’s kindly grandfather, tall and stately. He touched the brim of his hat as he handed her a calling card. She looked at the inscription. The gentleman was from the foreign secretary’s office. She frowned with confusion and glanced up.

Mr. Drummond’s smile turned kinder. “Oh—this is Mr. Pritchard,” he said, nodding to the silent man behind him. “Same office.”

She stared at them, trying to understand this intrusion.

Mr. Drummond stepped forward. “If you would be so kind as to indulge us, Lady Caroline?”

“Shouldn’t you speak with my brother?”

“Oh, undoubtedly. But we would like a word with you, as well.”

Caroline’s pulse began to race. She glanced uneasily toward the gate.

“We could speak here, if you like. It won’t take a moment. We should like to ask a few questions about an acquaintance of yours.”

“Who?”

“His Royal Highness Prince Leopold of Alucia.”

Caroline was stunned that she gave no reaction to his name at all, because in her mind, she shrieked and fell back against the gate. She didn’t know what this was about, but she was certain she didn’t want to have this conversation. “What of him?”

“An...accusation has been made against him.”

Good God, what had he done now?

“It’s a bit complicated, but to put it succinctly, there is some suspicion that the prince might be plotting with the Weslorians. With his uncle Felix, specifically.”

She had no idea who they were talking about. Who was his uncle Felix? Plotting what? Oh, how she’d wished she’d listened more carefully to Hollis on the voyage to Helenamar, when she’d tried in vain to educate Caroline about the history of Alucia.

“His uncle is the half brother of his father the king. I am sure you are aware of the rift between the brothers?”

She did know something about that, but at the moment, she could hardly say what.

“Recently, here in England, we’ve uncovered a plot by the prince’s uncle in Wesloria to dethrone the prince’s father. You may recall the unfortunate murder of an Alucian gentleman last year?”

Caroline stared at this man in disbelief. Of course she remembered it. “Yes.”

“There is some...speculation that Prince Leopold has aligned with his uncle.”

“Impossible,” Caroline said immediately.

“Oh, I should think so,” Mr. Drummond agreed, all too readily. “But so that we may end any speculation, might we ask you a question or two?”

Caroline’s head was spinning wildly. The maid in Arundel was Weslorian. But what could a Weslorian maid possibly have to do with this?

“Lady Caroline?”

She started.

“Have you known the prince to have met with or mentioned any Weslorian nationals?”

Caroline slowly shook her head.

“No one? A woman, perhaps?”

Her pulse was racing so quickly now that she couldn’t seem to breathe. She shook her head again.

Mr. Drummond was still smiling his grandfatherly smile and stepped closer. “If I may, Lady Caroline...this plot, if it exists, could have far-reaching implications for England, and especially for the Duchess of Tannymeade.”

Caroline’s breath caught. “What? How?”

“Imagine if there were to be a coup in that country. How do you think the rebels would treat the duchess?”

Caroline gasped softly. She slowly lifted her hand and gripped the gate handle to steady herself.

“Do you think you might keep an open ear to his conversations? We’ve noted that he calls here more than any other house.”

A cold shiver radiated through Caroline. What else had they noted? Were they looking in windows?

“If you could see what you might learn for us?” he asked, smiling in that strange, grandfatherly way, while his eyes remained as hard as flint. “Think of it as helping the duchess.”

Caroline could hardly get a breath. This was all so confusing and alarming...but she knew when she was being manipulated and whirled about to the gate. She fumbled with it, fearing they would try to stop her, perhaps even attempt to take her with them. She managed to get through the gate and closed it resoundingly shut behind her.

The two men hadn’t moved from their spot on the sidewalk. Mr. Drummond tipped his hat again.

Caroline ran up the steps and into the house. She closed the door and pressed her back to it, breathing deeply, her hand to her chest, then two hands to her face as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

What they said wasn’t possible. She could believe many things about Leopold Chartier, but she would not believe for a moment this was true. He was a lothario, but he was not a traitor.

But what of the maid? Was it really mere coincidence she was Weslorian?

What if it wasn’t coincidence at all?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


Sources report that a summons from King Karl of Alucia for his son to return home has been delivered to the prince. Those with knowledge of the situation expect the prince will depart London in less than a fortnight.

The repercussions from the ventures of a rail enthusiast continue to be felt across London. Some of the gentleman’s investors have lost as much as two hundred pounds in the scheme.

Married ladies with fragile constitutions who wish to prevent a rapid increase in the growth of her family may consult Madam Bessor of Greenwich Street, a female physician, for a preventive powder.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

BECKETT HAWKE HAD apparently determined he wanted to maintain his friendship with Leo, as he sent word to the Clarendon Hotel asking him to come round for tea that afternoon. Leo was relieved. He enjoyed his friendship with Beck and didn’t want to lose it over the incident at Arundel. But moreover, he was desperate to have an excuse to see Caroline.

Leo had enough to keep him occupied what with his imminent departure to Alucia. He had noticed in the course of preparations that Josef, Kadro, Artur and Freddar all seemed quite eager to go. Of course they were—these men were not Britons. They were Alucians, and they wanted to go home.

Leo was not eager to go for obvious reasons. Three things kept him up at night: One, that he hadn’t found a way into the Pennybacker house to find Rasa. Two, that he still didn’t know where Nina or Eowyn were. And three, he could hardly bear the thought of leaving Caroline.

It really had come down to this—of all that he loved about England, she was the thing, the person, the feeling he would miss the most. He desperately needed to steal a few moments with her. He desperately needed to kiss her again.

But first, he had decided to pay a visit to the ladies he had tucked away at Cressidian’s and probe their memories. Hopefully, one of them might remember something that would help him find Eowyn or Nina.

He sent word to Cressidian in advance of his departure that he intended to call.

But when he arrived at the Mayfair mansion, the butler coolly informed him in Alucian that his master had gone out for the day. Leo was taken aback by that news. He would think that the gentleman would accommodate his prince. Would accommodate the man who had paid him to see after the ladies. “I should like to see the maids, then,” he said flatly.