THREE WALTZES

Ada

After a gloriously hot bath, I was measured and made to try on half a dozen gowns while the queen’s dressmaker and hairdresser and their various assistants looked on. They discussed my features—which to emphasize and which to downplay—what colors would best suit, and so on. At Lovelace, I shared sleeping quarters with two other women. Also, the house mother had a habit of entering without knocking, so I lacked the modesty that would likely make this uncomfortable for another woman who had not been raised in society.

When the women at last left me with a promise to return an hour before the ball—by which time the queen would be dressed and ready—tea was brought in. I nibbled cream cheese sandwiches and slices of cold roast beef while making a closer examination of my room—modern and comfortable, though furnished with pristinely preserved antiques. Above the fireplace was a painting of the very strand and cottage where the earl and I had passed the night. I studied it while I finished my meal, reflecting, in the sober light of day, on the fact that I’d spent the night in the arms of a man.

And such a man—a peer of the kingdom of Ireland, with a strange connection to one of the country’s beloved folk figures. A man both compassionate and capable, with warm, gentle hands and a penetrating gaze.

As I replayed the evening’s events and conversation, heat bloomed in my cheeks and spread out over my chest. My breaths shortened, and I chided myself for this schoolgirl giddiness.

Turning from the painting, I looked for another place to sit and drink my tea. The canopied bed was so richly adorned, I was afraid to disturb it. Instead, I chose a fainting couch by the large picture window, which offered a view of the surrounding countryside.

Though I had never in my life fainted, I was sleep deprived and physically exhausted. I meant only to rest until the maid returned for the tray, when I would ask for fresh writing materials. I had mourned the loss of my notebook, though happily, it had not contained the entirety of my research. There were several more notebooks in my trunk, which the earl had assured me he would have sent from Westport station. I wondered then for the first time what became of the poor man who had tried to recall us to safety on the train. How had he made sense of what he had seen? We had hardly begun to make sense of it.

I wondered whether Lord Meath would be given an audience with the queen, and whether she would be able to shed more light on recent events. She ought at least to be able to explain what she wanted with the earl and his sword.

I did not make it any further in my musings before waking to a brisk knock at the door. When I opened my eyes, the white light of the full moon was streaming through the window.

“Come in,” I called in a creaky voice, disoriented from the long nap.

Stiffness had set in, and I rose slowly from the couch as the half-dozen women who had attended me earlier streamed in, chattering and making disapproving noises over the darkness of the room and the lateness of the hour. In moments, all the lamps had been lit and blocks of turf set ablaze on the hearth. Warm firelight took the place of cool moonlight.

One of the attendants gave me a glass of orange water, which I drained gratefully, and I was made to undress and stand at the foot of the bed. The ladies helped me into layers of undergarments before slipping a beautiful gown of silver brocade over my head and shoulders. The gown had a corset that fitted over rather than under the bodice, and small emerald-green leaves laced through its silver-on-silver floral pattern.

When the ladies had finished hoisting, hooking, and tying, the seamstress, Mrs. Colby, moved behind me to fasten and arrange an emerald necklace. “A loan from Her Majesty,” she murmured.

I touched my fingertips to the large, glittering pendant, which was accented with diamonds and hung from strands of small pearls. I was grateful for the queen’s ordering of these preparations, without which I could not have attended the ball, even though I did not quite understand her reason for doing so.

My costume complete, I was directed to the stool before the vanity, where Mrs. Lamotte, the hairdresser, took over. Most of my silver tresses were perfumed, plaited, and wound atop my head, with a handful of heavy curls left to fall freely at the back. The attendants worked emerald- and pearl-tipped hairpins into the coiled plaits.

Then the two ladies took my hands and raised me, leading me before the full-length mirror beside the armoire.

I drew in a quick breath, which was quite a feat considering the tightness of my corset. I had never worn such a gown, and I had certainly never worn such a valuable piece of jewelry. The color selected by Mrs. Colby boldly emphasized my most singular feature, and the necklace drew attention to the color of my eyes. Growing up, I had discovered that for some, my appearance held an exotic interest, while others judged it as downright odd. The earl had not been the first to compare me to an otherworldly creature—in my experience, such comparisons had not always been complimentary. But what I saw before me now was a beautiful woman. I had never been bold enough to wear silver or even light shades of gray, but I saw now that this had been a mistake—that the deep jewel tones I’d always favored, while flattering, had been my way of drawing attention away from my silver tresses.

Mrs. Colby was eyeing me expectantly, so I closed my dropped jaw and smiled. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Lamotte chuckled. “Colby can make even the dullest diamond sparkle, but in your case, my child, very little embellishment was required.”

I warmed under this praise and, to my chagrin, even felt my throat tightening. Curtsying to hide my emotion, I thanked them both again. The two women then fell to congratulating each other, and just as I was wondering whether I’d be given a moment to compose myself in private, there came another knock at the door.

Mrs. Lamotte hurried to open it, and Lord Meath stepped into the room.

Due to the distraction his own transformation provided, there was no awkwardness in his openmouthed stare when his gaze fell on me. Seeing him clean and polished, I was freshly reminded how generous a measure of masculine beauty this man possessed, and I took a moment to appreciate that fact. He was an earl and always dressed smartly, so his transformation was perhaps not as dramatic as mine. But his dark curls were freshly washed and combed back from his face, and he wore a suit of dark wool with a silver waistcoat. He’d lost his spectacles, so there was no longer any barrier between those intensely probing eyes and me. And there was another difference. Great Fury, now sheathed, hung at his side.

“Miss Quicksilver,” he said at last, “I think you must already know how lovely you look, but let me congratulate you, ladies”—this he directed at Mrs. Colby and Mrs. Lamotte—“on a job well done. I would not have thought you could make her any more beautiful.”

A light titter of laughter rose behind me, and the two ladies thanked the earl. Such praise might be common in society, but it was far outside my experience, and my cheeks felt scorched—less from the compliment itself than from the warming sensation I felt low in my belly as he spoke it. This heat spread across my chest, and I was reminded that between the corset and the gown’s plunging neckline, I was much more exposed than I was accustomed to being.

“My lord,” I said with a curtsy and a racing heart.

He held out his arm. “Shall we go? The ball will be in full swing by now, but we should arrive in time for you to take some refreshment before every O’Malley in the house asks you to dance.”

He was all smiles and impeccable behavior, but his eyes had betrayed some fresh trouble on his mind. “Are you well, my lord?” I asked, taking his arm.

“Indeed, I am,” he replied, covering my hand with his and guiding me out of the room. He led me down the corridor toward sounds of merriment issuing from deeper in the large house. “I have much to discuss with you, but the queen will not stand for us to miss the ball.”

“Have you learned something about the sword?” I asked, unable to mask my eagerness.

He smiled, but it was a different sort of smile than the ones he’d bestowed on the ladies in my chamber. He was not happy. “I have,” he said, “and I promise to share it with you before the night is over.”

We descended the stairs and made our way through a maze of corridors. As we rounded the last corner, servants opened a set of doors for us. Laughter and music burst from the hall out into the corridor, and the earl gave my hand a supportive squeeze as he led me inside.

“Heavens!” I couldn’t help uttering. “Are these all O’Malleys?” The hall contained easily a hundred people.

“There are also minor dignitaries and nobility from the nearby counties—Sligo and Galway as well as Mayo. But the rest are O’Malleys, and families of those who have married O’Malleys.” The earl stopped suddenly and turned to face me, the shadow that had overtaken his features a jarring contrast to the gaiety surrounding us.

“What is it, my lord?”

“I’d hoped to wait to tell you this, but the one time I held something back from you, I regretted it.”

My heart gave a sickening lurch. “Then tell me.”

“I’m sending you away, Miss Q. Back to London. After what I’ve learned from the queen, I can no longer in good conscience continue exposing you to such risks. It’s much graver than either of us imagined.”

The room seemed to spin, and the floor to tilt. It was much like the sensations I’d felt aboard the Queen of Connacht, and I slid one foot away from the other to steady myself. Many words waited on the tip of my tongue, and I was surprised by the ones my lips finally spoke.

“I won’t go.”

“Ah, Miss Quicksilver! There you are.”

Glancing up, I saw Duncan O’Malley approaching. Not now, I muttered inwardly. But the gentleman either missed or chose not to notice the hail of bullets the earl’s eyes were firing at him.

“I believe you are promised to me for the first dance.” Smiling broadly, he held out his hand as the first strains of the waltz filled the hall.

I glanced at the earl, who was grimmer than ever. Then, seeing no escape, I reached out and took O’Malley’s hand.

I’m not going anywhere, I told myself by way of bolstering my strength for the performance to come. The earl will have to accept that. And somehow the encouragement, though self-delivered, did seem to have the desired effect. For after all, the earl had no power to force me.

I joined my hand with O’Malley’s, and his other hand came to the small of my back. He, too, was smartly dressed, though his jacket was longer and his waistcoat was a lively red that matched the Christmas stars in the banquet tables’ centerpieces.

“Cousin Edward looks like a thundercloud,” he observed, beaming at me. “Do you suppose he’s jealous?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. O’Malley,” I replied. But his mood was festive and the teasing good-natured, and I found it difficult to suppress a smile.

He gave a bark of laughter. “I’m sure that you do. But it’s good for him to be a little jealous.”

While I suspected that the earl’s grim countenance had more to do with my defiant reply to his pronouncement, I could feel his gaze following us as we glided across the dance floor.

O’Malley’s arm drew me a little closer, so our bodies brushed with each turn. “You’re a beautiful woman, and if I thought you didn’t want him, I’d run off with you myself, and Edward be damned. But I’m fair certain there’s been something compromising between you, and I believe it only wants a nudge to make the man do the right thing.” He shook his head. “My cousin’s spent far too much time among the English, no offense to present company. His blood runs a little cold.”

I laughed, though I couldn’t avoid a mental rejoinder that the earl was anything but cold. “What makes you think I want to marry Lord Meath, if that is, in fact, what you’re suggesting?”

O’Malley shrugged. “I’ve a good ear for the things folk say to each other without speaking. It’s one reason Her Majesty keeps me close—Izzy is shrewd but doesn’t read faces well. That’s not to say I’ve never been wrong.” I had directed my gaze over his shoulder, where I caught a glimpse of the earl, watching us with arms folded across his chest. “Thundercloud” was an apt description. O’Malley shifted his head to force our eyes to meet again. “I’d be happy to find I was wrong in this case.”

I sighed, sobering as my thoughts returned to the reality of the situation. I did not feel at liberty to discuss my present troubles with the earl’s cousin, but I might take another tack to stem his enthusiasm for matchmaking.

“Mr. O’Malley,” I said, “your cousin is an earl. I am a scholar of modest means. He is not at liberty to make such a choice.”

O’Malley snorted. “His parents are dead. The title is his. Unless he’s a fool, he’ll do as he pleases.”

His boisterous manner was compelling, and I couldn’t help laughing. But I countered, “You yourself are likely to marry a titled young lady, are you not? Will your family not expect you to?”

He shook his head. “I’m a fourth brother and a bastard, though my parents eventually married, and my mother was Jamaican—born a slave, later a pirate. I’ll never be Lord Mayo, thank the Maker. I could marry a selkie and I doubt my father would notice.”

There was no bitterness as he said this, and in fact his mood appeared completely unaffected. “You have quite an interesting history, Mr. O’Malley,” I observed. “Moreover, you’re a charming and handsome fellow. There will be no need for you to marry a selkie—unless, of course, you fall in love with one.”

He gave me a conspiratorial smile. “I stand out from the crowd in a room like this, that’s certain. And I like a girl who does the same.” The waltz was drawing to a close, and he halted our progress across the floor. Kissing the back of my hand, he bowed and then continued, “Makes her easy to find when a fellow wants to dance with her.”

He passed my hand to Edward, who had come upon us without my noticing. “You don’t look fit company for such a beauty, cousin,” O’Malley said. Then to me, he added, “If you get tired of scowls, come and find me.”

He winked and then was off, just as the musicians finished tuning and began the next waltz.

The earl’s hand was hot in the small of my back, and his mood was prickly and dark. We danced a while in pained silence, and I waited for him to open the inevitable argument.

Instead, he said, “Duncan is gay, is he not?”

I smiled. “Indeed he is. I believe he fancies himself something of a rogue, but he’s actually quite charming.”

“Many women find rogues to be so. Quite unaccountably, to my thinking. But Duncan is, in fact, a pirate, and pirates have their charm, or so I’m told.”

“A pirate! Truly?”

The earl nodded. “Truly.”

“How fascinating. Clearly, it runs in the blood.”

Lord Meath gave a dry laugh. “Clearly.”

“Mr. O’Malley thought that you might be angry with him,” I probed carefully. “He said you looked like a thundercloud.”

“That sounds like Duncan,” replied the earl. “And perhaps I was, in a way. You and I had not finished our conversation, and he could see that well enough.”

“Well, I had promised him the dance.” My gaze fluttered down to the top button of his shirt. Courage, Ada. “But you and I know that it was me you were angry with.”

The earl gave a weary sigh, and I glanced up. “I’m not angry with you, but you must go. This adventure of ours has become quite dangerous.”

“Are not all adventures, by definition?”

He frowned. “Perhaps. But as much as I’ve enjoyed your company, as much as I have benefited from your … your insights and quick intelligence—and, moreover, your compassion and warmheartedness—I am unwilling to expose you to further risk. I care about your life, Ada. Do you not see? It’s selfish of me to keep you here.”

He had again used my Christian name, and I was trembling. But I pressed on. “It is good, in that case, Edward, that you have no authority over me. I will remain because I am unwilling to leave you to your fate, whatever that might be. Because I know that something dangerous is happening, and I believe you need my help. And you may stop feeling selfish about it, because, in fact, you have no say in the matter.”

He might have looked less affronted had I slapped him, and I was sorry for that. But he was a naval officer and an earl and, therefore, unused to being opposed. It would require all my strength of purpose to hold my ground.

“You are refusing to conform to my wishes in this matter?”

“I am,” I said, softening my tone. “And I hope you will not be angry with me for long, because that will pain me.”

The waltz had ended, and he released me. We remained facing each other but not touching, drawing curious gazes.

“You will not so easily defy Queen Isolde.” He sounded defeated rather than angry now, pressed to measures he’d rather not take. How was I to stand against the queen?

“There will be no need for that.” The queen had joined us on the dance floor. “I’m of no mind to force a clever young woman to do anything other than what she chooses.” Isolde smiled at me and held out her hand. “Are you ready, Miss Quicksilver?”

My eyebrows lifted, and I glanced at the earl. I had assumed the queen to be jesting when she claimed a dance with me.

“Cousin,” he pleaded softly, “can’t you see you’re frightening her? Leave off with this nonsense.”

I was feeling something rather close to alarm, but it was time to disabuse him of this persistent notion that I needed protecting. And unless I was mistaken, the queen had just stated her intention to let me stay, and I was grateful.

“I’m not frightened,” I assured them both. I took a step toward the queen. “Merely surprised.” I placed my hand in hers. “Who shall lead, Your Majesty?”

She laughed and swept me onto the dance floor. “I shall, of course!”

The queen was an excellent dancer, and she was resplendent in deep emerald green. Her hair towered impressively on her head—dark coiling plaits embellished with large white roses and deep-pink peonies.

“I misjudged you, my dear,” she said.

“Did you, Your Majesty?” A tremor sneaked into my voice.

“Twice now. You are not a plaything, and you are not meek.”

I acknowledged this with a bow of my head. “I hope not, Your Majesty.”

“What remains to be seen is, are you brave?”

“I believe I am.”

“Mmm, well, you shall need to be. Do you know that Lord Edward is sometimes overtaken by Diarmuid, his ancestor?”

So it was true. “I suspected that to be the case.”

We spun to the edge of the dance floor, and I caught Duncan O’Malley’s eye. He nodded at me and continued conversing with … thin air. But I had no time to make sense of what I’d seen.

“Ah, but do you know why?”

“No, Your Majesty,” I admitted. “Both Lord Meath and I had hoped you might be able to help us answer that question.”

The queen proceeded to relate a story that was by turns illuminating, fascinating, and frightening. Isolde’s mother had been an Ulsterwoman who descended from the warrior queen Maeve, just as Edward descended from Diarmuid through his father. In researching her family tree, the queen had also learned that the Fomorians were coming to carry out an ancient plan of conquest—setting a curse on the people of Ireland, with the expectation of claiming the island for themselves.

“A million lives,” I replied when she had finished. “That is quite a burden for Lord Meath to carry.” I began to understand why he had tried to dismiss me.

“So it is. But it would seem to be his fate. And he will not fight alone.”

“Certainly not,” I agreed. “But do you think it must come to that? Fighting, I mean.”

“The Fomorians are coming, there’s no doubt about that. And my soldiers must fight alongside all of Faery if we are indeed to prevent this tragedy.”

“And Diarmuid will lead them?” I asked.

The waltz was slowing, and the queen halted abruptly but did not release me. “Diarmuid will lead his warriors; I shall lead mine. What remains to be seen is what part you shall play, Miss Quicksilver.”

I swallowed and forced myself not to break away from the intensity of her gaze. “I do not know, Your Majesty. I am not an important person like you and your cousin. But I do have knowledge that may be helpful. And I do … I do care about him. Childish as that may sound to you. I’ll not abandon him. I’ll not abandon either of you.”

The queen smiled at me then, less like a queen than like a sister or friend. Then she leaned forward, and before I understood her intention, she had touched her lips to mine. The kiss was brief but soft and full-lipped, and it so startled me that I stepped back, warmth flooding my cheeks. Before I had regained my composure, she walked away.

“You looked as though you could use this.” Duncan O’Malley reappeared, pressing a champagne glass into my hand.

I raised the glass and swallowed a mouthful—and discovered that it was not champagne, but a potent punch containing champagne and absinthe, cut slightly with fruit juice. Allowing myself one more sip for courage, I then placed the half-emptied glass on the tray of a passing servant.

“Has Edward been a gentleman this evening?” asked O’Malley.

“Lord Meath is never other than a gentleman,” I assured him, though in my experience that was not entirely true. “In fact—”

I failed to complete my sentence, because I suddenly noticed a vaporous apparition next to Duncan O’Malley—none other than his pirate ancestress.

“Captain O’Malley,” I said in greeting, recalling Duncan’s conversation with what had appeared to be thin air. The absinthe-induced second sight appeared also to run in the blood—both his and mine. “I’m relieved to see you survived your ordeal. I take it the Fomorians have been subdued?”

“Aye, for now,” she replied, but she was moving away from us, toward a knot of revelers that had formed around the queen. “I need a word with the high-and-mighty miss.”

She moved briskly, and I gasped as it appeared she would collide with Lord Meath, who was striding our direction. Then I watched him pass directly through her without even seeming to notice.

“May I help you to a plate, Miss Quicksilver?” he asked, joining us. He fixed a warning glare on O’Malley. “There is more I would say to you.”

“If you wish,” I managed to reply calmly despite the worried movement of my heart.

“If you’ll excuse us, Duncan,” he said to O’Malley, who raised his glass with a grin.

“Go to it, cousin.”

O’Malley might be as good a judge of people as he claimed, but he was quite mistaken in this case. I could not speak to any jealousy on the part of Lord Meath, but he was certainly not about to ask me to marry him.

He led me to the banquet tables, handed me a plate, and offered to serve me from each dish. There was roasted meat of every variety, salmon and shellfish, potatoes and apples cooked a dozen ways, a dizzying selection of cheeses, and an entire table loaded with pies, cakes, and puddings.

I was feeling a little queasy in anticipation of our next interview, but to mask my unease, I accepted portions of fish and vegetables. Then I followed him to the end of a table, where it looked as if we might enjoy some modicum of privacy—as much as we were likely to get in a room full of a hundred revelers. We were the object of many curious gazes, but Edward’s dark looks were more effective in frightening off his other relatives than they had been with Duncan. Clearly, Duncan felt that his cousin took himself too seriously, but I doubted he was fully aware of the burdens the earl was carrying.

As soon as we were seated, the earl said, “I’ve begun badly, Miss Quicksilver—Ada—and I hope you will forgive me and allow me to begin again.”

I frowned, wary, but replied, “All right, my lord.”

“What I had wanted to address first with you is our position with regard to one another.”

Confusion supplanted wariness. “What position is that, my lord?”

The earl appeared nervous and would not meet my gaze for long. But he continued. “This spirit with whom I’m involuntarily communing has caused me to take liberties.”

“Yes, but we’ve—”

He raised his eyes to my face. “Please hear me out, Ada.”

I nodded and waited for him to continue.

“Furthermore, we spent an evening alone together—in a way that must have appeared quite compromising. It will not be long before that fact is common knowledge, if it isn’t already.”

I wondered whether he meant that the queen or O’Malley would speak of it to others. I believed this unlikely, but servants had been on the strand that morning. I had overheard something on the boat that led me to believe Duncan O’Malley had speculated I was Lord Meath’s mistress. If he thought so, as the queen initially had, would not the servants draw the same conclusion? I did not like to think of the whole O’Malley party whispering about us.

“I know that you do not wish to return to London,” continued Lord Meath. “But I wonder whether my concerns and my wishes might carry more weight with you were we … were we man and wife.” The fork that I had raised when he began speaking now clattered noisily onto my plate. But he forged on. “I know that I would rest easier knowing that you had not been tainted by your association with me. I would also rest easier knowing I had a claim to come to you should I survive the ordeal that’s threatening my country. And should something happen to me, you would be left a widow with means to do whatever you like with the rest of your life.”

The booming laugh of Duncan O’Malley rang out from a distant corner of the room. Most likely unconnected to my conversation with the earl, yet highly coincidental. Lord Meath had carried a glass of punch for me, and I took it now and drank half. I drew a deep breath, let it out, and fixed my gaze on him.

“You wish to marry me to save us both embarrassment,” I said. “You also wish to marry me so that I will be obliged to obey your commands.”

The earl’s mouth opened, but I held up my hand. “And the queen, of course, would be unlikely to intervene in an argument between us once we are man and wife. I can think of no more promising setup for marital disaster, my lord.”

I rose from the table, shaking. So many emotions warred within me, I hardly knew which to voice. My heart had involuntarily swelled at his proposal—had warmed like a lovesick fool at the thought he might have fallen in love with me. Then my mind reeled from the cold realization that he had proposed to me so he could feel justified in giving me orders. Did he expect that a scholar of modest means would be so enchanted by a proposal of marriage from an earl that she would readily assent? The fact that he was so obviously concerned for my safety only added a twist of sweet to the bitter.

Knowing I was very close to tears, I fled, unwilling to give the O’Malleys further cause for gossip. Lord Meath called after me once, and I could hear the pain and frustration in his voice, but I could not stop. I crossed the hall to the double entrance doors, which now stood open to circulate the air. Passing through them, I believed I was safe, but as I paused there catching my breath, another voice called my name.

Madly, I scrambled away, scheming to dash for my chamber and escape the much taller and certainly much swifter Duncan O’Malley. But moments later, I was hopelessly lost in the labyrinth of corridors, and I halted with a groan of frustration.

O’Malley joined me silently, reaching for my hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

“I’ll see you there safely,” he said with a gentle smile.

Tears of hurt and anger stung my eyes, and I let loose a strangled sob. To his credit, O’Malley kept his gaze straight ahead, and soon we’d found my chamber door.

“I see that he’s mangled it worse than I feared,” he said.

“I am well, Mr. O’Malley,” I choked out. “Thank you for your assistance.” I wanted nothing more than to escape to my chamber and close the door between myself and the whole O’Malley clan.

“I’ll leave you to your rest,” said O’Malley. “But first, I promised to deliver a message.”

I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob, and he held out a slip of paper. I took it from him and opened my door. Once it was closed, my back pressed against the other side, I opened the note. The lamps were too low to make out the hastily scrawled writing, so I carried the note closer to one of them. Turning it up, I read:

Please understand, I’ve been ordered by the queen to give up absinthe. I can no longer answer for your safety. —M