The next week seemed to sail by for Morgan. Greyland and Alexander had returned home to Greenshire castle. Where, Morgan had learned that Bella, Greyland’s best friend, and her new baby were also staying. Morgan would be making their acquaintance on the morrow when they traveled there themselves.
Apparently, Morgan would be meeting every pivotal person in the Kingston family in less than twenty-four hours, for a letter had arrived stating that the White Rose had made port. Edward’s older brother, Perkin, Lord Dessmark, would be arriving forthwith. Accompanying him would be his best friend, Lord Ashlown, and Lord Kennington, Bella’s husband and Alexander’s best friend.
The thought of being introduced to a great many powerful lords and ladies, in and of itself, made Morgan nervous. What if they found her inadequate in her schooling? Even worse, what if they found her ill fit for their beloved Edward? Morgan wished she could afford the time to wallow in that feeling of dread, but there was too much to do.
After tomorrow they would have less than two days to prepare, before half of London arrived for the staged ball. The confirmation letters had been pouring in. Amongst them were; one from her stepfather, Lord Melbrooke, and one from Laird Davenport. The only person yet to respond was Lord De Montrey.
Morgan was still amazed every time she thought back on the baron’s deception. The man really should find a place on the stage. Maybe the gallows.
She chewed her bottom lip. At this point she might as well just start naming the butterflies in her stomach. For there was no point ignoring their existence.
By annoying contrast, Edward, Henry, and Richard seemed as calm as a quiet summer day. Morgan marveled at them. Either they were purely that confident, or they were masters at suppressing their misgivings.
Even her aunt appeared unconcerned. As if The Queen’s assurance that Lord Melbrooke and the others would be detained upon arrival was enough to guarantee their safety.
For Morgan, just knowing her stepfather would be in attendance was enough to make her want to start drinking at the noon day meal. She knew full well you could not arrest someone for being heavy handed with his wife. Additionally, Morgan had no doubt that Roderick would accompany him and try to make good on his threat. She had to find a way to remove both men, stepfather and stepbrother, from her and her mother’s lives. But how?
Morgan suspired and resumed opening the pile of acceptance missives. She turned over the next letter and let out a small yelp. Eloise was coming!
Finally, a silver lining. Someone Morgan knew would be in attendance. She stood, letter in hand, and made her way toward the study where Edward was with his father and Henry.
Morgan heard their muted voices behind the thick wooden doors. She turned the knob slowly, so as not to disturb them, and slipped into the room. Three perfectly tailored backs were bent slightly over the large mahogany desk.
The men appeared deep in thought, contemplating something on the desktop. Still giddy from her news of Eloise’s arrival, Morgan crept up behind her husband and circled his middle with both arms. He went ridged.
Richard and Henry swiveled their heads toward her, but Edward didn’t turn. Morgan slowly released the hold she had on him, feeling instantly foolish. He was in a meeting, and she had interrupted. So stupid, she chastised herself.
She took a step back as a slow smile formed on her father-in-law’s lips. Henry actually laughed out loud. Edward straightened, and one mortifying detail about the man she had just squeezed suddenly dawned on her…
He was a good two inches taller than her husband. She felt the blush rising in her cheeks as the strikingly handsome Perkin Kingston turned slowly toward her. She could die now…
“I see you have met my wife,” Edward announced from the doorway.
Morgan spun in place. Her actual husband, flanked by two other statuesque men, stood grinning. One of his companions was huge, with bright dancing eyes and a smile that could rival her husband’s. The other reminded her of a black panther she had once seen at a carnival, his moss-green eyes giving nothing away.
Morgan tried to locate her voice, but it had apparently gone into hiding. She was positive she was as red as a tomato.
“Ah, I was just getting the honor,” the smooth-as-silk voice behind her answered, a hint of a smile cradling it.
Morgan gathered her strength and turned slowly back to face her new brother-in-law. My word, he was as stunning as— she shook off the thought before she could finish it. “I am so sorry.”
The words beat a path out of her mouth. “It is just that you both look so similar from behind…”
One of his elegant brows lifted slowly, pulling with it the corner of his mouth. The same lopsided smile for which Edward was known. How on earth was this this man still single?
The man is question haphazardly slapped a royal decree in his palm. The action swiftly reminded her of his station, and answered her previous puzzlement. Greyland had described her oldest brother as the serious one, involved with the court.
Interestingly, another woman had also given Lord Dessmark high praise. The Queen. No wonder she had smiled every time she had mentioned his name. Morgan had thought Their Queen was merely concerned for him as a close representative of The Crown. But, looking at him now; it was clear that there was more to it than that.
Laughter erupted around her and Morgan was pulled from her mental assessment. Perkin’s smile grew in size, but he did not join in the laughter. Instead, he quietly took her in. Unlike Alexander’s inquisitive study, she did not feel as if he were deeming her worthy. It was more as if he was getting to know her mind.
She smiled, albeit bashfully. He was bright, like the white chess pieces the Bon Ton had deemed him similar too. That thought brought her full circle. That meant the panther in the room was Lord Ashlown, the darker, contrasting one. And the jolly man was Lord Kennington. She had never been more thankful of her memory than right now.
The jolly one, who had to be the Thomas she had heard all about, spoke up. “You hear that, Perkin? Your rear end looks just like your brother’s.”
They continued to laugh, and Morgan found herself joining in. She felt familiar arms circle her waist and draw her into a tight hug. She looked up at Edward, lost to his own levity over the situation. Perkin Kingston was indeed regal, but her husband was still the most resplendent man she had ever laid eyes on.
Perkin cast a smirk in Thomas’s direction, clearly used to the sibling-like banter. “I would beg to differ.” He looked back at Morgan, smiling. “Welcome to the family, dear.”
Richard reflected on how Edward held on to Morgan’s hand and the way she clung to his every word. The slight incline of his sons head toward his young bride every time someone complimented her. The way she cast her long eyelashes to the floor, in an attempt to conceal her emotions, when he would lean in and whisper in her ear.
Richard smiled to himself, truly enjoying the obvious love that had grown strongly between the two. Morgan was perfect for his son. She was lighthearted, but also solid and logical. She did everything a lady should do, but was not so proper that she could not keep up with Edwards’s antics.
Morgan was also astoundingly astute. She was a lot like Perkin in that regard. That particular contemplation brought his gaze around the room to where his oldest was sitting, engaged in a game of backgammon with Henry. Richard watched them.
Perkin’s long legs were crossed at the ankles as he sat with them kicked out to the side of the table in a leisurely fashion. Clearly trying to cast the impression that he could care less he was winning. Henry, on the other hand, was drawn up tight over the board, elbows on the table in deep concentration.
Richard chuckled low. It was a good thing Henry did not use gaming as a strategic advantage in his past involvement as a mercenary for Melbrooke. The Queen had confessed Henry’s past employment in private during her stay. She knew a good deal more of the goings-on around her than Richard had ever realized. His Queen held her cards very close to her chest. Just as a true monarch should.
Perkin did the same. It was no wonder she had taken to him quickly and why now, she might be carrying his child. This thought brought his brows together in worry. He hated that he must keep such a secret from his own son, but Perkin could not know. And, as long as Richard was alive, he would see that his son never discovered the truth.
Richard had made a solid promise to The Queen that he would serve as godfather to the child and that if anything ever happened to him, someone from their bloodline would take over, secretly bonding the child to his true lineage forever. It was not uncommon for a King or Queen to choose a godparent from their advisors, thus no suspicion could be cast there.
His only concern was that the baby might bear the same features that ran so strongly through his family’s blood. That would not raise any red flags for a while, but sooner or later, the child could grow to look more like his true father. Richard could only hope it was a girl. Unless she happened to take on Greyland’s unique features. That might be even more obvious, he worried.
“What has you looking so concerned?” Dalton queried.
Richard did not bother trying to hide the fact that he was indeed, troubled. Dalton was too clever for that. “Does it not seem odd that Lord Melbrooke did not return with you?” Richard chose a different concern. “Did he say why he was taking another ship back?”
“He traded vessels in France when we made port there, claiming he had a correspondent he needed to speak with before returning home.” The dark-haired lord sat down and took a swallow of scotch.
“It was a lie, of course.” Dalton smirked, quietly calling out Richard’s bluff for not having answered truthfully, in regards to what was really bothering him.
Richard smiled and raised a glass. “Well, here is to us finally exposing him.”
Dalton clinked his glass to Richard’s, then settled back into the chair. Richard could practically feel the astute gentleman’s mind turning. After a good ten minutes of silence Richard found his mouth opening on its own accord.
“Dalton, your loyalty to The Crown is unmatched by any, save myself and my sons.”
“It is.” He nodded. “As it always shall be.”
“Yes, I believe you,” Richard sighed and looked toward Perkin. “I am not a young man any longer. I guess I am just thinking out loud about England and The Queen’s future. How things will be when I am no longer around.”
Dalton’s gaze followed the trajectory of Richard’s, but he did not speak. Both men stayed rooted in thoughtful silence. There was no reason for either of them to say more. Richard knew the man at his side understood him well. He was Perkin’s best friend after all. Not to mention one of the sharpest minds Richard had ever met.
“I need to know she will always be protected. No matter what the future should bring for England.” Richard finished off the last of the amber liquor in his glass.
“Richard.” Dalton drew his attention. There was not a wavering muscle in his body as he delivered the next words. “As long as I drag air into my lungs, she and her lineage shall be safe. You need not worry.”
Richard did not answer. He did not need to. The understanding was etched in the air like carved stone. Solid, sound, and unbreakable.