Rules of Engagement (26 page)

"But will she come back in time to be received by the queen? I suppose being presented to Queen Victoria is trivial, and I know Beth was nervous about it, but I think it would be a moment for her to remember forever." Pamela bit her lip so hard he winced in sympathy. "That honor might make up for the great hurt I've inflicted."

"You haven't hurt her!" he muttered. Pamela was too hard on herself. She expected honor and virtue when she was only a woman, and a woman who made her living by working for men like him who… who for the past few years had forgotten most of what he knew about honor and virtue. "You plucked her from the orphanage, you made me accept her, you taught her lessons and deportment-she knows what she owes you."

"I promised myself I wouldn't let the child be hurt by your plan, and she was. Beth was—is—so hurt."

Her distress convinced him to take a hard look at himself, and what he saw made him faintly ill. He had been raised with his father's and grandfather's good examples before him; when had he strayed so far that he no longer expected himself to be honest and kind and responsible? When he compared himself to Pamela, he grew frightened at the man he'd become.

They had almost reached the bow drawing room when Herr Muller stepped in front of them. He had arrived in England as a servant of Albert's, and in the short time since the queen's wedding, he and Albert had done much to organize the household. Herr Muller arranged the queen's receptions and kept them on schedule, and everyone did as he told them.

Now he stood before them, hands behind his back, and in his high, sharp voice said, "Lord Kerrich, perhaps you have forgotten. Her Majesty awaits you."

"I haven't forgotten."

"Then I must request that you come with me now. Queen Victoria is most interested in meeting your ward."

"I don't have my ward with me," Kerrich said. "I haven't collected the child yet."

Herr Muller blinked as if he didn't quite comprehend. "This is an informal reception, but you are expected to show yourself on time. You will have to explain everything to Her Majesty. Follow me now, please."

"Oh, no." Pamela's voice was less than a whisper.

Kerrich hesitated, but he had no choice. He didn't know where Beth was. He could be searching for her for the next hour. His monarch called; he had to respond. Steering Pamela through the crowd behind Herr Muller, he said, "I'll explain. She'll let me go look for Beth."

"Her Majesty is a martinet for protocol," Pamela said softly. "She will not like this at all."

Pamela was right. She knew the queen, and no matter what happened, the next few minutes would be an ordeal for them both.

He saw Albert first, towering over the crowd. Then the crowd parted, and there was Victoria standing beside him, short, twenty-one years old, rather plump, and smiling with the kind of vivacious enjoyment she had experienced so seldom in her regimented life. They stood, framed by an arch, against the wall. Their afternoon garb was handsome but not excessive. They carried no scepters and wore no crowns.

Yet no one would mistake them for just another couple. No one crowded the royal couple; a wide area stood empty around them. They were clearly monarchs doing their duty, and right now that duty was to socialize with the families of the realm.

He recognized many of the people around them. They were the intimates of the court, influential people whom Victoria had known for a long time and liked. They were also the bastions of society and friends of Kerrich's, although he never made the mistake of thinking they weren't thoroughly enjoying the humiliation of his unveiling.

Lord and Lady Pitchford stood as far apart as it was possible for any couple to stand and still be together. Probably they had been fighting about Bully-Boy and his antics. Oh, horror. Kerrich glanced around. Was that little brat here?

Of course, Colbrook grinned at Kerrich and mouthed, "Full moon on a foggy night." The bastard.

Looking thin and elegant, Lady Colbrook stood close by a window where a ray of sunshine picked up the sparkle of her discreet cut diamonds and turned her graceful pale yellow silk the same color as her pale blond hair.

Kerrich was surprised to see Lord Swearn—wasn't he supposed to be with his family at his estate in Suffolk?

Lady Albon stood there alone. Of course, Lord Albon had been rushing out the door to his mistress as Kerrich walked in.

Herr Muller stepped forward and announced them. "Lord Kerrich and Miss Pamela Lockhart."

Kerrich heard a murmur, then like the dunderhead that he always was, Lord Colbrook exclaimed, loud enough to be heard, "Look at her! I told you Miss Lockhart was a beauty. Guess she was pulling the wool over Kerrich's eyes, heh?"

Beside Kerrich, Pamela flinched.

For the first time, they recognized Pamela as the same woman they had seen in his home. A murmur of astonishment rose, and he recalled his own incredulity as the guise of the unattractive female had washed away in the rain and this beauty had taken her place. Yes, his friends would enjoy that she had cozened him—he was far too rich and successful for them not to revel in that—but their amusement at his expense would lead them to gossip about her father. Pamela was right. This would be an ordeal for her. He wanted to put his arm around her and comfort her, but now was not the time, and after this day he'd be lucky if she ever allowed him to touch her again.

"My lord Kerrich," Queen Victoria called out, "how good to see you at this gathering of respectable
families."
She emphasized the word
families
as if he might never have heard it before.

With a rush of pleasure, he realized the queen no longer held the whip hand over him. The tale of his full moon was out; she couldn't blackmail him with its release any longer. A horrible irony abounded in this situation; he no longer needed the child, yet he had her and her governess, and he wasn't sure he could ever be happy without them.

Kerrich and Pamela stepped forward and bowed, then walked to the royal couple and bowed again.

"I haven't had the pleasure of your company for too many years, Miss Lockhart." Queen Victoria held out her hand to Pamela. "I have much missed my dear friend."

Now that the moment had come, Pamela's nervousness seemed to have disappeared. She was the epitome of poise as she curtsied and took the queen's hand. "As I have missed you, ma'am. But of course, I have followed your celebrated life with much excitement, and may I offer my congratulations on your coronation and marriage?"

Victoria beamed and wrapped her hand around Albert's arm. Marriage had made her happy; Kerrich supposed he couldn't begrudge her that, although he could and did blame Albert for her sudden unyielding demand for respectability.

Respectability. He didn't have it, and there was the matter of the queen's nest egg in his bank.

Where was Beth?

"And what have you been doing?" Victoria said. Then, with a sly, sideways glance at him, "Or should I say, what are you doing with Lord Kerrich?"

Kerrich realized his mistake at once. When he had sent his reply to her invitation, he had simply listed Pamela's name. He hadn't thought to list her occupation, or that the queen would attach undue importance to the fact he was bringing a lady.

But Pamela's dignity never flagged. "I am the governess to Lord Kerrich's ward."

Victoria had been well trained. Her dismay showed for only a flash. "I'm sure you're a wonderful governess." Then she looked up at Kerrich and demanded, "Where is your famous ward?"

Devil of a good question
. "Your Majesty, my ward is—"

"Right here, boy," Lord Reynard said from behind them. "I have her by the hand."

But she couldn't seem to move, so Lord Reynard gave her a little push.

As she walked forward, Lord Kerrich met her and put his arm around her shoulders. Together, they faced Queen Victoria. "Your Majesty, this is my ward, Miss Elizabeth Hunter."

Beth curtsied just as Miss Lockhart had taught her, and she must have done it right because the crowd murmured with approval, the queen beamed, and Prince Albert—Beth knew it was Prince Albert because she'd seen his caricature in
Punch
—smiled at her like he liked her, which he should because she had such bouncy curls.

Holding out her hand, Queen Victoria said, "You are a dear girl. Come and speak to me."

Miss Lockhart said pretending to be brave was the same as being brave, and she had called Beth a lion, so Beth marched right up to the royal couple and took the queen's hand. "How are you, Your Majesty?" she asked.

That was the polite way to open a conversation, so Miss Lockhart said, but apparently not many people asked the queen that because someone in the crowd laughed really loudly, Prince Albert developed a sudden cough, and the queen tittered as if caught by surprise. Then she frowned into the crowd until the muted amusement died down, and when it had, she said, "I'm fine, thank you, Elizabeth. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

Now Beth was out of conversation, but the queen took over. "Won't you tell me how you became Lord Kerrich's ward?"

"He fetched me from an orphanage." That wasn't the story they'd agreed on. Beth could almost feel Lord Kerrich's consternation, and she hoped Miss Lockhart was squirming. It wasn't that they'd been mean or anything. They'd given her good food and nice clothes and she'd got to live in a really nice home for a little while, but it made her sore that they'd given her hope, too. So what if she was only a tyke? She'd lived in that orphanage enough to know that hope was a lot more important than that other stuff and when the hope was false and it got jerked away— well, it hurt. It hurt a lot. Beth was still feeling bruised.

But as Lord Reynard said, into every life a little rain must fall and holy stones, you've had a few deluges, but you're all right, aren't you? The old fellow was correct, so Beth said, "Yes, I was put in an orphanage. My father died while rescuing Lord Kerrich from some bad guys, so Lord Kerrich hired Miss Lockhart. Together they looked and looked for me. And since they've found me"—she smiled back at Lord Kerrich and Miss Lockhart with practiced adoration—"they've been so good to me."

Lord Kerrich was staring at her rather grimly. He knew she was getting a little of her own back with her dramatics. But Miss Lockhart was pressing her lips together like she was trying not to cry, and Beth realized Miss Lockhart was really scared that Beth didn't like her anymore.

As Lord Reynard said, everybody makes mistakes and Miss Lockhart made a corker, but she's already berating herself about it and worse than you could and don't you think that's enough? So Beth sent an extra bright smile toward Miss Lockhart, and instead of making Miss Lockhart feel better it must have made her feel worse because she had to fumble for her handkerchief. So Beth tried again to make her feel better by announcing, "I want to be a teacher just like Miss Lockhart and go back to that horrible orphanage and teach those tykes—I mean, those children— so they can be good people, too."

"That's so lovely!" Queen Victoria clapped her hands. "Elizabeth, you've touched Miss Lockhart so much she's weeping."

"Yes." Now Beth was starting to feel bad. No matter what she did, Miss Lockhart just cried harder. So she did the best thing she could think of. "Your Majesty, do you think when you're done with the food here at the party, I could take it to the orphanage so they'll have something good to eat?"

The whole drawing room quieted down really quickly.

"They don't have much besides porridge"—Beth thought she might have done something wrong, but she didn't understand what—"and just the stuff left on the plates would make them so happy they'd jump around like fleas on a dog."

Now the queen smiled.

The tension in the chamber relaxed, and Prince Albert snapped his fingers. "Herr Muller, you will take care of this."

This Herr-fellow bowed brusquely.

Queen Victoria brushed back Beth's curls. "That is very good of you to think of your less fortunate friends."

"They'll be happy," Beth said earnestly.

Directing her voice to Lord Kerrich, Victoria said, "I must say I am impressed with your reformation. Aren't you, Albert?"

In his deep, accented voice, Albert said, "Most impressed, my lord. I hope to see you and Elizabeth here again."

Lord Kerrich bowed, but he didn't say anything. Beth guessed he didn't want to promise
that.

"So if you would like to come and visit me after the reception, I believe I have something of yours that I should return." Queen Victoria's eyes sparkled mischievously as she spoke, and Beth wondered what the queen had that made Lord Kerrich scowl.

"I would say it no longer matters whether you return my possession or not, for somehow"—he frowned at the queen like he was the devil—"the whole world knows anyway."

The queen's eyebrows shot up as if she were surprised. She glanced around at the crowd, then she looked at Lord Kerrich and shook her head decidedly. "Not me."

"Who?"

Queen Victoria looked at Miss Lockhart, who had managed to stifle her tears, but Miss Lockhart shook her head, too. It was like they all were talking and not making sense, and the only thing that Beth didn't mind was that everyone in the crowd looked as bewildered as she felt. Except for Lord Reynard, and he always looked like he knew everything. Beth guessed that was what happened when you got old.

"Come and see us anyway," Victoria commanded. "We will discuss the other matter."

They sure had a lot of matters. Then with a start, Beth realized they'd been dismissed. She'd had her audience with the queen, and it was over. But for just a few moments there, it had been grand.

Pamela watched as Kerrich put his arm around Beth's shoulders again, and guided her away, setting the stage for the next presentation. His Lordship and the child walked between her and Lord Reynard, and as the crowd shifted and another subject was given an audience, the attention left them.

What other matter would the queen want to discuss? Then she remembered—the Mathewes Bank affair still needed to be settled.

Lord Reynard offered his arm to Pamela. "I'd judge that a rousing success."

Pamela walked with him after Kerrich and Beth. "So it was, my lord." A complete success. Her Majesty not only considered Kerrich to be shepherded safely into the fold of respectability, but from Victoria's pleasant smile Pamela guessed there would be no more talk of changing banks. So the plan Kerrich had proposed that day in the study of the Distinguished Academy of Governesses had come to fruition.

Of course, the tale of the full moon on a foggy night had surfaced, but regardless of Kerrich's belief, that wasn't Pamela's fault and had not been mentioned in the original deal. Yes, she had succeeded, and would receive all the moneys owed her. The Governess School would survive and prosper. Her task was done.

She blinked away another round of tears. This wretched, inopportune weakness had to stop, or people would begin to suspect that she and Lord Kerrich…

"Where did you find Beth, my lord?" Pamela asked, and hoped that husky note in her voice didn't betray her.

"She found me, and rather bitterly railed against you and Kerrich, but she's a clever girl." Lord Reynard kept up with Kerrich and Beth as they stepped into the less-crowded bow drawing room. "With very little help from me, she talked herself around."

"Thank you, my lord," Pamela said from the bottom of her heart. And, as Kerrich and Beth came to a halt in a curtained alcove, she said, "Pardon me." She watched her own hand reach out for Beth's shoulder and touch it. "Beth," she said softly, and waited in one second of agonized anticipation.

Would the child spin around with a smile or a scowl?

But it didn't matter. Pamela had to hug her, to confirm she was safe by holding that slight, warm child. As Beth turned, Pamela sank to her knees and embraced her.

Beth didn't push her away. Instead she hugged Pamela back and piped, "I'm sorry, Miss Lockhart, for worrying you."

"No. No, I'm sorry." Pamela held her away, looked into her eyes, and apologized from the fullness of her heart. "I am sorry."

"I know. Lord Reynard explained it all to me. I know about… money and such. I would have done what you did, too." Beth grinned and waved her arm back toward the queen. "Did you see me? Wasn't I great?"

Ah, the inevitable rebound of youth. And its incredible complacency! "You were very great. Everything went well."

"Except Her Majesty acted funny when I talked about the orphans."

Lord Reynard interceded. "One does not tell the queen of England that her orphans are suffering."

Beth wrinkled her nose. "But they are."

"Especially not then," Lord Reynard said.

"But it was only one small gaffe, and because it was the result of a generous heart, Her Majesty easily forgave you," Pamela said.

All the time they were talking, Kerrich circled them like a worried dog, glaring at them and then glaring at any stray onlookers. Now he snapped, "All right, ladies. Enough mawkishness. Get up, Miss Lockhart, we have visitors bearing down on us."

"Ah, lad, you're such a sentimental fool." Lord Reynard leaned on his cane and grinned tauntingly at Kerrich.

"Claptrap," Kerrich muttered.

Pamela stood up, Beth's hand tucked in hers. She felt as if she had dived into a dark tunnel and barely made it out the other side, and she wasn't sure all of herself had come through intact. In fact, she suspected she had changed, although just how she hadn't yet discovered.

The entire group of Kerrich's intimates had followed them.

Lord Swearn walked up with Lady Albon on his arm, and greeted them.

The pairing of these two startled Pamela. At Beth's party, Lord and Lady Swearn had seemed
so
married. But these two had that sparkle in their eyes and that spring in their steps. Pamela knew without a doubt they were indulging in an affair.

Lady Colbrook appeared next, and just as the first time Pamela had met her, she appeared perfect, intelligent and perceptive.

Her husband trailed behind her, glowering. Pamela didn't know what had made him so unhappy, but she hoped Lady Colbrook told him to think before he spoke. Or if that wasn't possible, to speak more quietly. Someone needed to; the man was a social menace, and how Lady Colbrook, with her charm and natural social graces, put up with him, Pamela did not know.

"Miss Lockhart, how good to see you again." Lady Colbrook smiled without a hint of condescension.

"And you, my lady." Pamela curtsied, thinking that the ordeal of subtle and not so subtle interrogation had begun.

Lord Colbrook said heartily, "You're looking much differ—" Lady Colbrook's elbow struck him in the rib cage and his breath whooshed out. "That is," he wheezed, "you're looking well."

Pamela avoided looking straight at him. "Thank you, my lord."

"It was touching to see Her Majesty with Beth." Lady Colbrook included Kerrich and Pamela in her comment.

Pamela realized—Lady Colbrook had changed the subject! Pamela wanted to weep with gratitude. She didn't know if she could have kept her poise as she evaded questions about why she had disguised herself. And when someone dug for the details of her father's death! Ah, then Pamela would have longed to use her wit to cut them off.

But Lord Swearn easily followed Lady Colbrook's lead and spoke to Beth. "Yes, you certainly impressed our sovereign."

"Thank you, my lord." Beth squeezed Pamela's hand and beamed.

Pamela squeezed back. Their excitement was mutual; perhaps Pamela would come through this reception without any more surprises.

"The queen is interested in children." Lady Pitchford arrived in time to hear the comments. "She's increasing."

"Increasing." With child? The queen was with child? But she'd been married for less than a year. Surely it wasn't possible that this woman, so much younger than Pamela, could be… in a stupor, Pamela repeated, "Increasing."

Kerrich looked startled. "Her Majesty appears plump, yes, but—"

The married women looked on him, the ignorant male, pityingly.

Of course.
Pamela almost staggered beneath the impact of the report. The queen was expecting a child.

"We'll have a royal babe ere the year is out," Lady Colbrook said.