Once Upon a Romance 01 - Before the Midnight Bells (24 page)

Most of the court was attending a picnic at the royal palace.
The bright red, orange, and yellow of the fall leaves made a gay setting for all the lords and ladies. Pastel-clad maidens shivered in the brisk air, clinging to the arms of young bachelors, while the more brightly adorned married ladies engaged in some good-natured betting with their husbands. Spirits were high, and a game was afoot.

The king had challenged the Duke of Yarrow to a croquet match, and so far team selection had been cut
-
throat. His Majesty had graciously allowed Duke Nathaniel the first pick, and the duke, rather sneakily, had chosen Princess Vivienne. Vivienne was not only a fantastic croquet player, it was well known that the king frequently let her win in the games between them. As a further blow, it meant that the king was almost forced to select Max, since it wouldn’t do to have the engaged couple on the
same
team, nor could Max be left out all together, though he was an indifferent croquet player. As Max sauntered over to stand by his sovereign, the king glowered at the duke. He had been out-maneuvered, and he knew it.

Both men selected an additional team mate, and the match was on. Many lords and ladies chose to watch, tittering and offering comments on the sportsmanship of the players. With one very clever stroke the king passed a wicket and roquetted Max’s ball. Most of the assembled nobles cheered the shot, but one particularly sly fellow, Lord Rhince, had something nasty to say.

“
Now we’ll see how well his Majesty really likes his future son-in-law.” It was said in a very loud aside, and everyone heard it. The trouble maker went on, more directly. “Well, your Majesty, will you help him towards the next wicket, or leave him behind?”

The king raised one eyebrow. “Since I have no desire to lose to the duke,” he placed his ball behind Max’s and sent both arrowing towards the stake, “I shall help Christopher along, of course.” Everyone applauded politely, but Rhince wasn’t done with his needling.

“
I’m surprised, your Majesty. After the last ball, I thought you might want to teach him a lesson.” The crowd grew exceedingly quiet, waiting to hear how King Regal responded to the allusion to Max’s rather scandalous dance.

“
I don’t see why. Vivienne is quite pleased with the new dance steps. And I assure you, Rhince,” his voice lowered threateningly, “her approval should be all that
you
require.” The nasty man paled in the face of the king’s displeasure, and hastily excused himself. “It should be all anyone requires. Isn’t that right, Christopher?” The king spoke in mild tones for the benefit of their audience, but Max caught the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Play moved on, and the onlookers applauded a clever stroke by Vivienne. King Regal laid a hand on Max’s arm, and stopped him from following the crowd.

“
We understand each other, don’t we, Christopher?”

“
I hope so, your Majesty.” Max was nervous.

“
What I mean to say is, neither one of us wants to see Vivienne upset, do we?”

“
Of course not, your Majesty.”

“
You, in particular, should hope that my daughter remains in a state of blissful contentment.”

“
Why is that, your Majesty?”

“
Because, Christopher,” the king paused a moment to applaud along with everyone else, and then leaned back in to Max, “I love my daughter, and to see her unhappy turns me into an angry and vengeful man. I would so hate to have to apologize to your father for depriving him of his heir.” Max’s blood ran cold at the menace in the king’s voice, and he stood stock still as King Regal strode off to take his next shot.

His father stopped a moment beside him.

“
Regal is upset with you, boy.”

Max swallowed hard. “So I gathered.”

“
He thinks you’re running around on his daughter.”

“
Yes, Vivienne told me.”

“
It isn’t just that, though, son.” Max looked quizzically at his father. “You’re going to be a prince of the realm. When Vivienne becomes ruling
m
onarch you’ll be crowned at her side. All your children will be considered as claimants for the throne.” Duke Nathaniel gave Max a significant look. “Whether they’re legitimate or not.”

Max was exasperated. “What have I ever done to give my own father the impression that I am a rake, and a scoundrel?”

The duke snorted. “What
haven’t
you done? My point is, Max, mistresses are a complication. For anyone. But for a prince, they can lead to civil war. Think about that the next time you feel inclined to go
dancing.
” And with that Max’s father loped off to take his stroke.

Max sighed. He had a feeling he was losing this game.

***

Back at home Max was taking the air and recovering from the crushing defeat. At least, that’s what he’d told his valet he was doing. In reality he was walking his garden paths, over and over, trying to come up with a way to say “I’m pretending to be engaged to the Princess” without it sounding… bad. He also needed some way to work in “the king is likely to have me in chains if this all goes poorly,” but that was even more impossible. He recognized the futility of his endeavors, but couldn’t seem to stop running scenarios in his head. So far, in all of them, Ella had either slapped him in the face or turned red and stormed off. If he couldn’t make this sound good in his own head, he was doomed; he’d never make it sound good out loud. He was just rehearsing yet another opening, contemplating whether “betrothal” or “engagement” sounded less committed, when a horse-drawn carriage pulled up to the back gate of the gardens.

It was an elegant but terribly old-fashioned carriage. Max didn’t recognize the woman emerging from the interior, but she showed no hesitation in marching directly up to the gate, opening it wide, and sweeping through. Heedless of her status as a trespasser she descended on Max, while he stood, motionless, surveying this unannounced visitor.

She, like her carriage, was elegant, but old
-
fashioned. Her dress rustled with layer upon layer of petticoat, and frothy ruffles of lace trailed down from her massive bustle. Her snowy hair was piled high on her head in elaborate twists and curls, and topped with a miniature high hat, complete with a sweeping scarlet plume. Although her movement indicated no need for it, she carried an elaborately carved walking stick, which she was currently digging with great force into his finely manicured grass as she trod directly towards him, disdaining the meandering gravel pathways. As she drew near, Max noted her face, which was kindly, but at the moment was fixed in a very stern countenance.

“
Christopher Maximillian Wellesley.” It was not a question.

“
At your service, madam, although I don’t believe we’ve ever…”

“
No, my boy, we haven’t, but I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Max was confused. He had heard of any number of society’s grande dames, but, for the most part, they didn’t appear in his private gardens. He took a closer look at the carriage, specifically the crest; it looked something like a coach formed from a winter gourd
—
maybe a pumpkin
—
being driven by well-dressed rats. A memory flickered in the back of his mind. Something from the conversation he’d had with his father after his sixteenth birthday, about the things that only certain adults in certain families knew. Then the memory came roaring to the front. Max felt his eyes go round and his mouth go dry. He immediately folded over in his best court bow.

“
Dame Merriweather.”

“
That’s it, lad, I knew you’d get there eventually.” She allowed a small smile to grace him, before once more frowning at him most forcefully.

“
Madam, what are you doing here?” He wasn’t being rude, he simply couldn’t think of any other question.

“
I am here, Christopher Maximillian Wellesley,” she put a peculiar emphasis on his name, “because you have recently become acquainted with my Goddaughter.”

“
I’ve met a good many ladies recently, Madam, perhaps you could be more specific?”

“
You should remember this one. She made you a costume,
Max.
”

Comprehension dawned.

“
Ella?
You’re Ella’s Godmother?”

“
Indeed.”

“
But that’s wonderful!”

“
Is it?” Despite Max’s best smile Dame Merriweather remained firm. “Wonderful for whom, exactly? Perhaps you mean to say that it is wonderful for Ella, and while I appreciate the compliment, it is hardly necessary to flatter me. Or perhaps you mean it is wonderful for
me
, and though I assure you, it
is
wonderful to have such a Goddaughter, I feel I can safely assume that Ella, as a Goddaughter, is not a relationship you have contemplated in the slightest. Or perhaps,
perhaps,
” here the Dame paused, and gave Max what he could only describe as a blistering glare, “perhaps you mean that it is wonderful for
you
. That
you
will benefit from this connection, which will make her far more acceptable to your father, should there ever come a day when he no longer believes you to be
engaged to the Princess?
”

Max felt the blood leave his face. The Dame was a confidant of the king. A rather close one.

“
You know the engagement is false?”

“
My boy, I know many, many things. It’s one of the benefits of being who I am.”

“
Will you tell the king?”

She snorted. It was an odd sound coming from a woman who looked so regal.

“
Don’t be silly. I highly approve of what Vivienne is doing. A girl should know her mother’s people. No, I am more concerned with
you.
”