watched her plunge into the fog, her red scarf flapping behind her like a pennant. When Miss Greenfield turned back to Annabelle, her expression was serious. “You saved me from Lucie biting my head off in front of everyone earlier. Please call me Hattie.”
It felt a little wrong, such familiarity first with a lady, and now an heiress. Annabelle took a deep breath. This was her new life, being a student, petitioning dukes, shaking hands with unfathomably wealthy girls in purple fur stoles. It seemed that the wisest course of action was to pretend that this was all perfectly normal.
“My pleasure,” she said. “And apologies for not keeping a low profile earlier.”
Hattie’s laugh floated merrily across the square, attracting almost as many scandalized glances as their pamphlets.
They failed to enthuse any man of influence that afternoon. In between half-hearted attempts, Annabelle’s gaze kept straying back to the direction where the coach with the duke had disappeared.
Chapter 3
When Her Majesty requested a meeting, even a duke had to comply. Even when the duke in question was notoriously occupied with running one of the oldest dukedoms in the kingdom and preferred to stay far from the madding crowds of London. One did not say no to the queen, and Sebastian Devereux, nineteenth Duke of Montgomery, knew that he was no exception to that rule. It behooved a man to know his limitations. It meant he could heed or ignore them precisely as the situation required.
He navigated the corridors of Buckingham Palace with long strides, effectively herding the royal usher before him. Secretary Lambton and Lambton’s protection officer were, as usual, trotting behind somewhere.
What did she want?
The last time the queen had summoned him at such short notice, he had walked out of her apartments tasked with ending a trade war with the Ottoman Empire. It had shot his routine to hell, and he was still dealing with the backlog of paperwork. He’d prefer it to be an even greater task now—one so monumental that it would entitle him to ask for something in return.
He handed his hat and greatcoat to one of the footmen lining the hallway to the royal apartment.
“You,” he said to Lambton’s protection officer.
“Your Grace?”
“There was no need to push the woman.”
The officer’s thick brows lowered. “The one on the square?”
“Yes. Or have you accosted any others today?”
“Eh—no, Your Grace.”
Sebastian nodded. “If I ever hear that you have laid a hand on a woman again, it will be the end of your employ.”
The officer was not his employee. But if he wanted to see someone lose his position, Sebastian made it happen. Hectic red splotches spread on the man’s throat. He bowed. “As ye wish, Yer Grace.”
An East End accent, and showing so easily? Times were dire when even the palace had trouble finding decent staff.
The large wing doors swung open, revealing the usher and the gilded interior beyond.
“Your Grace. Sir Lambton.” The usher dipped low as he stepped back. “Her Majesty will see you now.”
The queen’s stout figure rose from her armchair in a rustle of stiff black skirts.
“Montgomery.” She started toward him, one bejeweled hand extended. “I am pleased to see you.”
Her upturned lips said as much. She was in an appreciative mood. For now.
“Sir Lambton”—she turned to her secretary—“we trust your journey was uneventful?”
Lambton shook his head. “A near miss, ma’am. We were attacked by a feminist on Parliament Square.”
The corners of her mouth pulled down sharply. “I daresay.”
“She made straight for the duke.”
“The gall!”
“I escaped unharmed, ma’am,” Sebastian said wryly.
“This time,” the queen said. “This time. Oh, they ought to be given a good whipping. Wicked, unnatural demands! And who would suffer, if they got their way? Why, these women. No gentleman in his right mind is going to be willing to protect such mannish creatures should the need arise. Tell me, Montgomery,” she demanded, “did she look terribly mannish?”
Mannish? The woman had had the softest, most inviting lips he’d seen on this side of the channel. A man could easily lose himself in the pleasures to be had from a mouth like hers. But what was more remarkable was that she had looked him straight in the eye. Green eyes, slightly slanted. Her smile had not touched them.
He shook his head. “She looked female to me, ma’am.”
“Hmph.” The queen looked unimpressed. “You know what happens when common people have grand ideas? Chaos. Chaos happens. Just look at France.” She all but whirled on her heels. “Those are tomorrow’s concerns, however,” she said. “Today there