She closed her eyes, unable to watch him go.

When Louise heard no retreating footsteps, she slowly opened her eyes and looked out through her misery. Miraculously, Stephen Byrne still stood there, straight and strong, his black eyes clear and solemn. He didn’t look as if he were aware he’d just been canned, sacked, dismissed . . . given the royal boot.

When he spoke, his voice sounded to her as calm as a country brook. “Ma’am, there is another issue. It is my duty to report this to you before I leave my post, as it pertains to your personal safety.”

“Then you may deliver your report to Mr. Brown or the captain of my guard.” Victoria leaned back in her chair, folded her plump hands across her lap, and fixed a stony gaze on him.

Byrne still didn’t move toward the door, but his dark regard shifted momentarily to Louise before returning to her mother. “Under your orders, ma’am, I have continued my investigation of the Fenian threat.”

“I say, leave me now, sir!”

“And it appears danger is imminent. The opera murders were a mistake. The intended victim was Mr. Disraeli, and the aim to cause you distress, as he is one of your favorites and you his supporter.”

Victoria’s eyes flashed her fury. “You’ve told me all of this before.” She shifted in her chair, and a shadow of pain crossed her face as she readjusted her foot on its cushion.

“Yes, but we’ve now discovered the identity of the man responsible for ordering Disraeli’s murder, as well as for bringing the rats into the palace and leaving the threatening letter. He is Mr. Philip Rhodes, your prime minister’s secretary—and secretly an officer in the Fenian army.”

Louise reached out with the intention of grasping Byrne’s arm, but her mother’s sharp eyes stopped her hand midair. “Has Mr. Rhodes been arrested?”

“He has disappeared.”

“Good riddance then.” Victoria smiled, as if that solved everything.

“But not forever, I fear. I searched his room and found he’d vacated it but left behind evidence that a large quantity of black powder had been stored there. Since it has been moved from its hiding place, and with the Accession Day celebrations just one day away, I worry this means an attack is imminent.”

“And you, too, would have me change my mind about the parade and ceremony?”

“I would, ma’am.”

Louise saw a flicker of fear in her mother’s eyes, but then her features screwed into their customary mask of obstinacy. “Mr. Brown has been informed of these theories of yours?”

“He has, ma’am.”

“And your commander in my Secret Service has also been informed?”

“Yes, and we have alerted Scotland Yard. Reinforcements from the army have been sent to search the parade route, Westminster Abbey as well. But we cannot guarantee your safety. I respectfully beg you to stay where you are safe—here at Buckingham.”

Louise held her breath, hopeful that Byrne’s argument for caution would have more effect on her mother than her own pleas. She counted her heartbeats in the ensuing silence: one, two, three . . .

The queen blinked up at Byrne. “On the contrary. I’d say all is in good hands now, with so many precautions taken.” Her lips turned up in a satisfied smile. “My men will keep me perfectly safe.”

Louise let her eyes drift shut in resignation. They were at the mercy of bomb-wielding lunatics. And Victoria, with her twisted iron will, seemed intent on making their nefarious work all the easier for them. Brown had already informed her of the route.

Rather than proceed the short distance directly from the palace to Westminster Abbey, no more than a ten-minute carriage ride, she had insisted on a wider loop through the city. They would drive along Vauxhall Street, across the bridge, then circling round to recross the Thames River on Westminster Bridge, thereby taking in a variety of elite and poor sections of the city, to see and be seen by more of her subjects.

A moment later, Louise became conscious that Byrne was speaking again.

“I request one favor before I leave England,” he said in that deep, tranquil voice that resonated with her soul.

Victoria merely looked at him, offering no encouragement for him to continue.

Byrne said, “I would like to remain long enough to see to your family’s safety this one last time. Please allow me to accompany you tomorrow on the way to the church.”

Louise got the sense that he wanted to turn and look at her, that he was trying to say something personal to her. But he refrained from making eye contact.

“We thank you for your service,” Victoria said. “We wish to not see you again, Mr. Byrne. Have a safe voyage home.”

And that, thought Louise with a sinking heart, is that.

Forty-nine

“Stop, Louise. Stop!”

Louise knew it was Stephen, but she couldn’t bear to face him. Her mother had humiliated the man, tossed him out of the palace and her daughter’s life. Furthermore, she’d acknowledged their affair—if not in so many words, at least by her dismissal of Byrne and elevation of Lorne to provincial governor. Victoria had more than enough spies within her court and staff to have had people watching Louise. Did her mother even know about their night in the servants’ quarters?

Why hadn’t she been more careful?

Because, Louise thought, I’m in love. And when you were in love you were blind to all else but that one person who meant everything to you.

Now nothing mattered.

Stephen would return to America. They wouldn’t even share a few precious weeks together before she and Lorne left for Canada. There was no possibility of Stephen remaining in London, disgraced as he was, unable to work at his profession. The Secret Service couldn’t keep him on after the queen’s dismissal. Scotland Yard certainly wouldn’t hire him and risk her displeasure. No member of Parliament, or even the minor nobility, would think of using him for private security for fear of turning Victoria against them.

Her heart broken, Louise ignored Stephen’s shouts and ran the length of the Queen’s Gallery, until her breath caught and ached inside her chest, like a bone lodged halfway down her throat. What must the man think of her? What could she possibly say to him now that her mother had mortified him and ruined his career?

By the time Byrne caught up with her, he nearly had to tackle her to bring her to a halt. She felt his hands come down and clamp both of her shoulders. He dragged her to a stop and pulled her in to his chest.

Gasping and spent, she sagged against him.

“What are you doing?” he said, sounding far less winded than she, though his knee must have slowed him down.

“I-I h-hate her,” she choked out. She refused to cry although her eyes burned. Damn, damn, damn her horrid family!

He laughed. “Does that mean you hate me as well?”

She turned in his arms. “How can you act as if this were a joke? As if I could have been with you the way we were, but feel nothing for you less than twenty-four hours later?”

“I know. I’m an insensitive cad.”

She smacked him in the chest with her fist, taking care to avoid injured ribs. “There you go again, making light of . . . of what we have.” Had.

“I’m not doing any such thing.” He rocked her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Do you think that woman has the power to make me stop loving you?”

She savored this new word. Love. “You love me?”

“How could you not know that?”

“I-I suppose because . . .” Because she had given up hope until he’d said the word with that honest openness of his. “Oh, Stephen, what are we to do? I am trapped, as I’ve always been, by my destiny.”

“You won your freedom to be an artist, to venture into the world of commoners on your own.”

“But this marriage—”

“It is an impediment, agreed.”

“The scandal would destroy my family. If just one of those horrid journalists catches us, or even suspects, they’ll all begin following me around and digging into my past. Amanda’s family will suffer. Little Eddie will be labeled a bastard. And I have no doubt poor Lorne will land in prison. I can’t do that to him, though he is foolish to take the risks he does.”

“Hush,” he said and stepped to one side, drawing her into an alcove and behind an immense sculpture just as footsteps approached.

They waited for two servants to pass. Then he kissed her long and deeply until her head spun and little ripples of happiness rose up through her like Champagne bubbles, and she felt consumed by him. For a moment she actually forgot about all of the obstacles that stood in their way.

Louise tenderly touched his cheek with her fingertips. “You are leaving England as she commanded?”

“Yes.”

“You have no more choice than I do then.”

He shook his head at her, smiling. “Because I’m temporarily returning to America doesn’t mean I need to stay there.”

“I don’t understand. You can’t turn around and come back here.”

“I enjoy traveling and working on-assignment in different countries. I took this job on little more than a whim. The queen’s Secret Service contacted their American counterparts at headquarters in New York; they said they needed a man with my skills. I thought—England, why not?” He paused and let his eyes roam her face, an almost smile on his lips. “I might, on a similar whim, accept a post with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”

Her eyes widened as she began to understand. “It appears you’ve heard Lorne and I will be living in Ontario for a time.”

His eyes actually twinkled, in a dark sort of way. “Small world.”