Palace of Spies (20 page)

“Oh.”

“Lady Francesca?”

“Madame?”

The princess put her cards face-down on the table and folded her hands across them. “Are you expecting to be confined to the Tower at any time in the near future?”

“No, madame,” I said, hoping no one could tell how dry my mouth had gone. Probably they could not. The general laughter permeating the room would cover any such nuance of speech.

Her Royal Highness, with that nicety of judgment that she owns, waited for the laughter to die away so the whole room could clearly hear her next question, and my response, of course. “And have you a puppy?”

“No, madame.”

“Oh, dear,” murmured Sophy. “That will be such a disappointment to our dear Princess Anne.” She had a further witticism poised on her sharp little tongue, I could tell. I had already been made a laughingstock to enliven a dull evening, and she meant to have her full share of the fun. The room was ready for it, and the princess would allow it. What I didn’t know was why. Even under the smothering embarrassment, I found myself wondering what I had done to so offend my mistress. Was all this just because I had spoken rashly to her rebellious daughter?

“Not yet, that is.”

Her Royal Highness arched her brows, and she was not the only one. For a moment, I found myself wondering who had said those words and how I was going to tell that person to be quiet without being hopelessly rude in front of royalty. Belatedly, I realized that it was I who had spoken.

“Not yet?” said Sophy. “The creature is coming by the next stage, I suppose? Is it right that a puppy should travel by itself, or will it have a chaperone?”

“Some old bitch, presumably,” said another of the gentlemen, and they all guffawed at this cunning repartee.

The weight of shame fell back, allowing a blind panic to take precedence. What was I to do? I knew there were hunting dogs in the palace kennels, but other than that the only dogs I had any experience of in London were Olivia’s and—

Inspiration struck with force and speed, setting my thoughts into a mad gallop.

“That’s exactly it, Sophy.” I turned as much as I could without actually setting my back to Her Royal Highness and pasted on my finest and most insincere smile. “You are always so clever. I am having the puppy delivered.”

“Delivered?” inquired the princess. “From where?”

“Stemhempfordshire.”

A giggle rippled through the assembly, but not from Sophy. “What an exotic location,” she remarked, with the distinct seasoning of wariness in her tone.

“Not so. It’s a little northwest of Kent.” I fully faced Her Royal Highness again. “Lady Hannah Applepuss breeds a most superior race of pure white miniature hounds, and has promised me one as soon as I desire. I can write to her immediately, if Your Highness permits.” I made this declaration with what must be considered an astounding clarity and level of assurance for someone lying through her teeth to royalty while an audience of the wealthy, powerful, and overdressed looked on. I even remembered to add a neat curtsy to underscore the point.

“You will write to an imagined acquaintance in a county that does not exist?” Sophy filled her voice with the most acid variety of surprise. “Fran, that is a very odd thing to say. Are you certain your fever has not returned? Perhaps, Your Highness, Lady Francesca should be excused.”

I felt my own smile forming. I had hoped she’d say something like that. “I promise you,” I said to the princess, and the room at large, “that by writing to the person I have named, I will have a pure white pup delivered here by next . . . Friday.” I told myself silently that eight days would be enough for what I was abruptly and dangerously setting in motion. More than enough.

“You promise, do you?” said Lady Montague, who sat at the princess’s right hand. There was in her words something akin to the quiver in a cat’s whisker when it scents the approach of the mouse. “What do you say to that, Miss Howe?”

Sophy decided to make a play at loftiness, an attitude with which she was on intimate terms. “I say that our Fran loves a little drama. It will be no great feat to write to some friend in the city and pretend she’s complied with all this nonsense. I could do as much without making up nonexistent places or girls with ridiculous names.”

“Not so ridiculous,” said one of the gentlemen. “Ain’t there some Applepusses in Lincoln?”

“Darbyshire,” his friend corrected him. “Grover Applepuss. Not much a one for dogs, though.”

The conversation threatened to drift to the bloodlines of dogs and men, and I could easily have let it go. But I did not. Instead, I lifted my voice. “If a letter will not suffice to prove what I say, I shall advertise.”

“Advertise?” The word came awkwardly to Her Royal Highness’s tongue. “Advertise where?”

“In the shipping news, of course, as I mean to have the pup delivered. The
Morning Gazetteer
should suffice.”

“You’ll have mongrels from all corners of London lined up in front of the gatehouse,” remarked Lady Cowper, who was rearranging the cards in her hand and clearly wondering when the play would begin again.

“Certainly not,” I declared. “No one will mistake a notice for Lady Hannah Applepuss.”

“She’s making fun, Your Highness,” said Sophy. “Really, Fran, you always did have the most absurd sense of humor.”

“Better absurd than none at all,” murmured Molly. Only the two or three ladies at the table closest to us could have heard her words, but they were already putting their heads together so their whispers and smothered giggles rippled about the room.

I turned three-quarters toward the Howe. Sophy still held her cards fanned in front of her, as if she was waiting for me to make my play.

Which, I suppose, she was, and which I did. “Would you care to make a wager on it?”

If there had been anyone in that room who had not been paying attention, the word
wager
ended that indifference. Members of the court would bet astronomical sums on the strangest and smallest outcomes. I had myself witnessed two gentlemen placing fifty pounds on the question of whether a fly would light on a spill of brandy or a spill of claret first.

“I say I can acquire a pure white dog, bred, trained, groomed, and fit to accompany a princess, as the result of one advertisement addressed to Lady Hannah Applepuss, by Friday week.”

This was dangerous. I should stop. There was too much that could go wrong, especially once Mrs. Abbott worked out what I’d done. Which she would, because I had more than thirty extremely amused and highly voluble witnesses to my folly. But if the finish to this was my finally getting a message to Olivia, it was worth any risk. Or so I prayed.

“Why would I enter into such a ridiculous wager?” inquired Sophy with an expert arch of her perfectly plucked brow.

“Because,” I replied evenly. “You’re the one who says I’m lying.”

Liar
was not one of those charges one made in public. What had been an air of amusement emanating from our audience grew distinctly more chilled and serious. In that same moment, Sophy’s painted cheeks took on a deeper color. Had we been men, and not in the presence of Her Royal Highness, there would have been fists thrown and swords drawn. As it was, we were girls and could only smile daggers and danger at each other.

“Well, Sophy? What answer will you make to that?” Her Highness remained apparently unruffled by the change of atmosphere about us.

“Very well, Fran. I accept the wager.” I saw wheels turning behind Sophy’s eyes, each one winding her anger a little tighter. “Shall we say ten pounds?”

“Say twenty, if you like.” With my losses so far tonight, that sum represented my entire remaining stock of pin money. But that was the least of it. If I failed in this, Sophy would have succeeded on two distinct points. First, I would have made a complete and public fool of myself. Second, I would have angered Her Royal Highness for causing a disruption in the royal nursery. With the loss of her preference, I would further lose the cachet that was bringing me to the notice of the powerful, which was in its turn supposed to keep me in gifts and money that I could squirrel away for that distant future when I was free again. I thought of the jewels that I had already received with a longing that surprised and chagrined me.

And for what was I risking this all? A chance to throw my cleverness into the face of Sophy Howe, because she disliked my predecessor and reminded me a little too much of Lady Clarenda. That, and the barest sliver of a chance that this time my message might get through to Olivia.

“Twenty pounds, then,” Sophy replied, her voice as taut as any harp string. “But you write the advertisement now, and I choose the messenger to deliver it.”

“As you like,” I answered steadily.

The whole gathering was diverted, and I heard other wagers being contracted as fresh bottles were uncorked. Mr. Fortinbras, he of the shocking pink coat, and his friend Lord Blakeney detached themselves from the pack of claret drinkers to make a great show of escorting me to the delicate writing desk in one of the great room’s alcoves. There they laid out paper, inspected the quill in the pen holder, and dipped it carefully in ink before handing it to me, so I could write.

To Lady H. Applepuss: for immediate delivery 1 white dog to the Thames bridge, Molesey. Will Friday night, eight of the clock, suit?

I sanded and blotted the missive and handed it to Mr. Fortinbras, who then carried it with all due solemnity to Her Royal Highness for inspection, and to read aloud to the assembly. I had to look around a moment to find Sophy. She had left the card table and now stood with her back to the great doors, a triumphant expression on her face.

“That would seem to meet the conditions of the wager,” declared the princess. “Sophy, how will it be delivered?”

“By hand, of course.” Sophy pushed open the door just a little, and Robert, resplendent in his footman’s livery, walked in. He looked disconcerted for a moment to find every person in the room attending his modest entry, but he kept his aplomb and bowed very low.

I was not in any way surprised, although I could tell from the edge to Sophy’s smile that she expected grave consternation to overtake me. For my part, I had expected her to summon Robert if she could. Whatever war she and Francesca had engaged in over this man, Sophy would not miss a chance to demonstrate her power over him.

“Lady Francesca has a message to be delivered, Robert,” said Sophy, clearly and distinctly, in case my continued calm was an indication that I had failed to notice which footman she had summoned. “You’re to take it at once to the offices of . . . now, where was it?”

“The
Morning Gazetteer
.” I retrieved the notice from the princess with a curtsy and then took several coins from my stack at the card table. “This should pay for the advertisement and for having to wake up the house.” I reached out to put them all in his hands. Robert’s eyes narrowed, wary and confused. All of an instant, I decided there was time to add one more gambit to my game.

I let my hands slip to drop coins and paper onto the parquet floor in a loud shower.

“I do . . . I beg your pardon . . . I am so sorry.” Robert scrambled to retrieve the coins amid laughter and exclamation. I grabbed up the advertisement again, and again handed it to him. For a single heartbeat, we were face-to-face and there was noise enough to cover any whisper.

“Princess’s new apartment, after this,” I breathed as I straightened. Understanding flashed in Robert’s dark amber eyes before he bowed and withdrew.

I turned back to the gathering and Her Royal Highness and executed another curtsy, which earned me a spattering of applause, which clearly did not sit well with Sophy. She lifted her pert nose as if she hoped to find cleaner air closer to the ceiling.

With Robert’s departure, the immediate prospect of continued drama dimmed. The rich and noble crowd dispersed to pick over the bones of older gossip, call for fresh bottles of wine and port, and, on our princess’s part, summon several political gentlemen to consult with about her cards.

“I imagine you’re quite proud of that performance, Fran,” sniffed Sophy as we maids settled back to our seats and our game. “But I should be afraid of being made so ridiculous by such a promise.”

“Oh, you should,” said Molly to Sophy. “Especially if that dog arrives.”

“On the contrary,” I said. I pulled the nine of hearts from my hand and laid it down. “I’m feeling quite grateful to you, Sophy. I believe you’ve done me a favor.”

“Well, I’m glad to be of service.” She crossed it with the queen of spades. “I assure you it was unintentional.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” I answered. “No doubt whatsoever.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Well. I expect you are most pleased with yourself for that night’s work.”

To that growing list of items about which I was not surprised, I might now add the following: By the time I returned to my rooms, Mrs. Abbott was already well informed about my wager with Sophy Howe. After the scene with Robert, I had let Sophy take all the tricks and escaped the royal presence the moment the princess permitted us to withdraw. But no mortal can move as swiftly as gossip.

“It was necessary, Mrs. Abbott.” I sat carefully on the sofa, making sure I was not creasing my train or any bows. My head ached, both from the weight of my wig and the disquiet of my thoughts. I desperately wanted to climb into my bed. Or hide under it.

“In what way was making a spectacle of yourself in front of the court necessary?” Mrs. Abbott inquired with the coldest of all possible calms.

“Because if I am successful in obtaining the pup, I will have endeared myself to Her Young Highness Princess Anne, which will surely increase my credit with the Princess of Wales.”

Mrs. Abbott stood, silent as any statue. I had surprised her, and for a moment, she let it show. Tired and worried as I was, I felt the thrill of triumph in my veins at that sight.

“Very good,” Mrs. Abbott said, drawing the words out to three and four times their natural length. “Yes. It is very well played, this.”