said the housekeeper. "Lady Walgrave now, of course, and with her husband's house to live in."
Long curtains at long windows. Birdsong from nearby trees, and quite close by, children playing. A poignant reminder of the life so many people took for granted.
Warmth, love, marriage, and children.
"We haven't unpacked your boxes, milady," the housekeeper continued, "since you are to move to the Queen's House, but if you would be so kind as to say what you require for the Drawing Room, I will have it prepared."
Diana put aside longings and focused on her coming challenge. If she failed with the king, Bey would feel obliged to keep his promise and marry her. She wanted it desperately, but only a full marriage. One in name only would be worse than none at all.
Therefore, she must create the correct first impression before the king and queen, and play her conventional role to perfection. One of the things he'd told her during her training for this was that the king and queen wished to support English trade. Fortunate, then, that her court dress was made from Spitalfields silk.
She turned to the housekeeper. "Clara knows where my court dress is packed. In the meantime, I would like a bath."
"Of course, milady. And tea as you wait?"
"Perfect."
Alone for a brief moment, Diana removed her small hat and rubbed her aching head. It wasn't really aching. It was tense. Even the bones felt tense.
Where was he now? Doubtless he too was preparing for court. Was he already naked under Fettler's unappreciative eye... ?
Rothgar made sure that everything was in order, and then started up the stairs. He paused, however, seeing Diana studying the portrait of his father and stepmother.
What did she see?
Nothing he could offer her.
To avoid overtaking her, he turned back to go along a corridor to a room at the back of the house. There he supervised the unbundling of the drummer boy and checked for new damage. Thank heavens he'd ordered it carried in the boot of the main coach. It seemed to have survived the adventurous journey safely. He sent a message to John Joseph Merlin to examine it at his earliest convenience, and to make an appointment to speak to him about the repairs.
The servants bowed out of the room, and he stood alone with the still and silent figure, strangely tempted to wind it and switch it on. To bring the boy to life. He hunkered down so they were eye to eye.
"You are likely to torment me, you know. Evidence of what might have been. Warning of what might be if the gods are unkind."
The eerily realistic glass eyes, fringed by long lashes, gazed back at him. They seemed to say, "Do you truly not want me to be real?"
He rose sharply and left the room, locking the door behind him.
Nothing had changed. The logic upon which he had based his life was still sound. This unsteadiness he suffered now was weakness, nothing more.
He was infinitely practiced at resisting weakness.
Chapter 18
Diana distracted herself by exploring the charming boudoir, but found little of interest. The paintings were insignificant, and the few books in a glass-fronted set of shelves unlikely to be Elf's choices. Elf had moved on to her husband's house, and these rooms held only ghostly whispers of her.
A side door opened into a bedchamber, and beyond, Diana found the dressing room. Clara and another servant were carefully extracting her formal court dress along with its awkward panniers, while others filled a huge tub lined with thick linen cloths. A fire already burned in the grate to warm the room for bathing.
It was not a newly laid fire. This had clearly been thought of ahead of time, too, and this evidence of planning chipped at her hopes. Most of the time, Bey ran his affairs with efficient perfection. Nothing was neglected or done on impulse.
Clockwork precision, not easily changed.
That clicked her thoughts to the automaton. Presumably it had been unloaded by now and placed tenderly somewhere in this house. The drummer boy looked as she had as a child. What had Bey looked like at five or six? Was there a picture of him as an even younger child, before his mother's cruel act? Did later ones show the change, even in childhood features?
When the housekeeper returned, followed by a footman bearing the tea tray, Diana asked, "Is there a portrait gallery here?"
"A small one in the corridor outside the ballroom, milady. Most of the family portraits are at