Was her father an earl?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty,” Christian said.
“A duke? A knight?”
“Honestly, King Rupert, I don’t know. She wouldn’t say. No family name, and not a hint of where I had met her before.”
“Odd.” King Rupert steepled his fingers.
“Very, Your Majesty,” Christian said with a sigh. He and the king had been through this many times already, and it was only noon.
“But you seemed quite taken with her,” King Rupert stated for the hundredth time.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Christian said, and then shook himself a little.
Why had he said that? Lady Ella was certainly pretty, but more than a little strange, in his opinion. And not the good kind of strange, like Poppy. Yet the first thing he had done that morning was to ask Queen Edith if she knew Lady Ella’s family. That was what had started the endless round of questions by King Rupert. Christian could predict what was coming next.
“Bretoner? You’re certain?” King Rupert leaned over his desk eagerly.
This was the most important question to the king, and he would never be satisfied until they had tracked down Lady Ella and had her write out her lineage to the twelfth generation, Christian was sure.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Christian said. “She had no accent and she said that she lived in Castleraugh. I believe that both Pop—Princess Poppy, that is—and Roger Thwaite know her.”
“The princess wouldn’t know: she isn’t Bretoner,” King Rupert said dismissively.
“True, however—,” Christian began, but the king was off and running.
“We must make sure that this girl comes to our masked ball,” King Rupert said, turning to gaze out the window at the royal gardens, face set with thought. “Everyone who was invited to the gala has also been invited to the masquerade, so that shouldn’t be a problem. The difficulty will be recognizing her.” He put his hands behind his back, eyes narrowed.
Christian wondered if he should just slip out. Or excuse himself and go. He wanted to visit Seadown House and talk to Poppy, though he could not remember why. Had he been planning on asking her about Lady Ella? No, that didn’t seem right. He could always ask Roger Thwaite about that. Still, he would probably remember when he got there.
Just as Christian got to his feet, a footman knocked at the door and then entered carrying a silver tray.
“What’s this?” King Rupert turned away from his window, irritated, and caught Christian in the act of escaping.
The footman, who valued his job too much to show any sign of surprise at the prince’s guilty, frozen stance, merely presented the tray. “Today’s correspondence, Your Majesty,” the man said blandly.
One of the letters, a small creamy envelope with a blue seal on it, made the king turn to Christian. The prince, for his part, was wondering if he dared slip out of the room with the footman when the servant was dismissed.
“Seadowns are throwing a ball next week,” King Rupert said. He grunted. “Trying to marry off that princess, do y’suppose?”
“It’s Marianne’s birthday,” Christian said. He wondered if Lady Ella would be there. The Seadowns didn’t seem to know her, but Poppy did.
“Oh yes,” King Rupert said, and shrugged. “Should probably make an appearance. Send Edith and the girls at the least. You, too, I suppose. The Thwaites are already planning the marriage feast for the younger son and Lady Marianne, but no harm in trying if this Lady Ella proves unsuitable.” The king was already turning back to the window, his mind elsewhere.
Christian beat a hasty retreat.
He also had an invitation to Marianne’s ball waiting in his room, along with letters from his parents and sisters, and one, oddly, that came from Westfalin. The envelope was creased and water-stained, and the writing nearly illegible. He stuck it in his pocket to read later, pulled on his riding boots, and went to pay a call on the Seadowns.
He had hardly ridden out of the palace gates before he was hailed by Roger and Dickon Thwaite, who both looked rather grim. Christian reined in to meet them, curiosity over their dire expressions winning out over disappointment at the distraction.
“What’s happened? You look like you’ve had some bad news,” Christian said.
“I say, Christian,” Dickon said, shaking his head in puzzlement. “Did Lady Ella seem cursed to you? I thought she was charming, but Roger’s gotten it into his head that she’s under some sort of enchantment.”
“An enchantment?” Alarm spread through Christian. “We must help her! Quickly, the palace has weapons we can use!”
“Capital! We’ll need swords and pistols!” Dickon looked eagerly at his older brother, who was staring at both of them with consternation. “Coming, Roger?”
“You’re both acting like idiots,” Roger said, almost musingly. “This is perhaps part of it…”
“Part of what?” Christian steadied his horse with one hand. Why were they all sitting on horses in the middle of the street? Had they been on their way to the park? He turned his horse in that direction and the brothers flanked him, their horses moving at an easy walk. He felt his belt for a pistol, then couldn’t remember why he would be armed.
“I believe that Lady Ella is under an enchantment,” Roger explained. “And I think it’s spreading. The two of you are not behaving as you normally would, even around a beautiful young woman.” He shot a sly glance at Christian, then at Dickon. “Especially considering that both your attentions should be elsewhere.”
Dickon looked quite astonished. “Where do you mean?”
“Precisely,” Roger said, much to Christian’s confusion. But the older Thwaite brother did not appear to be teasing them or reveling in their bewilderment. Rather, he seemed to sink deeper into thought, a frown settling on his face and creasing his forehead. “Precisely.”
“Look here, fellows,” Dickon said eagerly. “Do you think if we ride around the park long enough, Lady Ella will put in an appearance? There’s quite a few ladies out today.”
Christian, too, was craning his neck for a glimpse of dark hair. He remembered Poppy then, and Marianne, and felt a jolt. He hadn’t been riding to the park! He had been on his way to Seadown House. Feeling muzzy-headed and faintly embarrassed, he was about to suggest that they invite Marianne and Poppy to join them when Roger did it for him.
“I must speak with Princess Poppy,” Roger announced. “Let’s go out this way, toward the Seadowns’. Come to think of it, I should probably inform Lord Richard of my suspicions as well. And talk to El—talk to an old friend, if she is there.”
Christian, relieved to have remembered his destination, didn’t ask who in the Seadowns’ household Roger considered an old friend. Dickon, for his part, was so busy looking for Lady Ella that he was almost sitting backward in the saddle.
“She must be around here somewhere,” the younger Thwaite kept muttering.
Finally Roger grabbed the reins of his brother’s horse. “Just come along, Dickon, we’ll get you sorted out later.”