flaring, she looked him in the eye. "With a Malloren, all things are possible?" she queried.
"Exactly."
A footman opened the door.
Their hands slid apart.
He stepped down and turned to help her.
As she descended the steps, she said softly, "Then prove it so, Bey."
His hand tightened on hers, and he looked almost shocked.
She'd shocked herself. She'd never thought to challenge him directly like that, but, by Jupiter, that was his motto, and a life together must be possible. The moon would weep at the waste of them living apart.
"Despite that motto," he said when she was by his side, "I am not God. Some things are beyond me."
"Which things?"
"I cannot fly, for one," he said shortly.
This was not how she wanted them to part, but she must persist. He had laughed. She could give him that. She could give him laughter and life.
It had to be possible.
She fussed with her skirts to steal a moment more. "Perhaps you accept false limits. Daedalus flew on waxen wings, and I have heard you described as Daedalian."
"In connection with his skill in building clever labyrinths, not faulty wings." He cut the moment short by taking her hand and leading her toward the door through which the king and queen were already disappearing. "I seem to have constructed a damnable labyrinth for us."
"This is not all your doing," she stated, eyes forward. "And Daedalus did fly."
"And persuaded his beloved son to fly. Then Icarus flew too close to the sun, so his wings melted and he fell to his death."
She halted, forcing him to stop and face her. "They both flew to escape an intolerable prison. Perhaps Icarus thought it worthwhile, even as he fell."
He seemed suddenly the man she had first met, the Dark Marquess. "You are going to fight me on this?"
She raised her chin and met his eyes. "Hasn't it always been clear that a duel lay between us?"
After a silent moment, he turned once more toward the door. "Pray not to the death."
She let him lead her into her gilded prison, quivering, but not in nervousness at this confinement. What had she done? What wild flight had she started, on fragile waxen wings? She would be Daedalus, however, to his Icarus, and she would somehow construct wings with which they could escape. Not her confinement at court, but the dark tower in which he had walled himself for life.
Not now, however. Now she must act her part, here within these elegant, conventional walls.
The Queen's House had been built by the Duke of Buckingham, and only recently sold to the king for his new queen. It was grand, but more of a noble's house than a royal palace. She suspected that this house's appeal for the young couple was its simplicity. That and the fact that it was modern and set in parkland.
It was less daunting than she'd feared, and less infused with dark history than St. James's Palace. All the same, she didn't expect to enjoy living here, especially when her time with Bey was likely to be brief and closely chaperoned.
The royal party were waiting at the base of the stairs. The king said, "My lord, attend me," and stalked off toward an open, waiting door.
With only a brief farewell, Bey followed him.
Thus, abruptly, he was gone. Though it felt like tearing flesh, Diana made herself not stare after him. Instead, she looked as placidly as possible at the queen and her attendants.
"Come," the queen ordered, turning toward the stairs. "Attend me as I change, Lady Arradale."
Chapter 20
Diana would have liked to change out of her awkward costume herself, but she was virtually a servant now and followed meekly upstairs to the queen's suite of rooms. Charlotte's two German keepers of the robes fussed and clucked her out of her stiff garments, and indeed, she looked tired.
"I am glad you are not averse to a husband, Lady Arradale," the queen said. "It will please His Majesty. And you are sensible to want to marry a man with whom you can live in accord. A bad marriage can be a miserable thing. You think a suitable man hard to find?"
"Yorkshire does not present a great selection of my age and station, Your Majesty."
The queen nodded. "London has many such men. The king and I live quietly, but we hold small parties now and then. We will invite suitable men, and soon you will find one to your taste."
It sounded ominously like a command, but Diana dropped a curtsy. "It would be