Silk and Shadows(111)

The queen's jaw dropped, and for a moment she looked like a startled young girl rather than a monarch. The room was so silent that a carriage could be heard rattling by outside. Then Victoria's blue eyes narrowed to icy slits, and her head swung around to Peregrine. An insult to royal dignity was not something she would forgive. The royal voice cold and clear, she asked, "Is what Sir Charles says true?"

Peregrine should have been thinking of the best way to escape disaster, but instead his gaze was fixed on his wife. Sara's face was pale and her wide, stunned eyes regarded him with shock. Helplessly he wondered if she believed Weldon's charges. More to the point, how she would react if she did believe?

"I have spoken to you, sir," Victoria snapped, no longer according Peregrine the courtesy of his nominal title.

He turned to the queen, wondering if he had any chance of lying his way out of this. Perhaps he should just admit the truth and be done with it, but he supposed he owed it to his friends to try to avoid disgrace.

Then another cool voice entered the conversation. "I believe that Prince Peregrine is stunned at such a wild accusation, Your Majesty."

Lord Ross Carlisle emerged into the circle of open space around the queen and bowed. With his golden hair and bone-deep elegance, he was the perfect English gentleman to counter Weldon. "Sir Charles must be jesting. I myself have visited the prince's palace in Kafiristan and seen how his people revere him."

Ross's answer broke Peregrine's paralysis. "Please excuse my slowness in answering, Your Majesty. I sometimes have trouble with your language," he said in his thickest accent. "There is some justice to Sir Charles's statement that I am not a prince, for Kafiristan does not have princes in the European sense. In Kafiri, I am called," he hesitated, "I suppose 'war hawk' is closest. My title would best be translated as leader or chief. If I stay in England, I think I will drop the title altogether, since it is not formally recognized in this country."

"I was the one who suggested that he call himself a prince, Your Majesty," Ross said. "While the translation is not exact, Peregrine was the greatest and most respected man in Kafiristan. I myself can vouch for that."

His face darkening, Weldon snapped, "Lord Ross is part of the plot to deceive society, Your Majesty. Without his help, this guttersnipe would not be able to bring his masquerade off. They are both laughing at the rest of us."

The queen's brow furrowed as she weighed Ross and Peregrine's words against Weldon's accusations.

Then Sara spoke up. "You have known me for many years, Your Majesty," she said in a soft voice that could not be heard more than a few feet away. "Do you think I would dishonor my name by marrying a man who was not of suitable rank?"

The two women's gazes met, and for a moment warmth for her old friend showed in Victoria's eyes. Perhaps she was also remembering that Weldon had been betrothed to Sara and might feel malice to her new husband. Then the queen resumed her regal formality. Turning to Weldon, she said in a voice that would cut glass, "If that was your idea of a joke, we are not amused."

Victoria inclined her head to Peregrine and Sara. "Prince Peregrine, Lady Sara. I trust we shall see you at court again soon." Then she turned and resumed her progress.

His face white with rage, Weldon spun on his heel and stormed out of the ballroom, people drawing away from him as if he was a plague carrier.

The attention of the other guests stayed on the queen and her entourage, leaving Peregrine facing Ross and Sara. His eyes filled with unholy amusement, Ross said, "You are right, Mikahl, we must talk in the next few days. Good night, Sara." Then he turned and left.

Peregrine looked down at Sara. Her face was still pale, and he could read nothing in her expression. As for himself, he felt that he would explode if he stayed at this damned ball a moment longer. "Come, we are leaving," he said roughly.

He would not have been surprised if Sara had balked, but instead she just nodded.

As Sara collected her evening shawl, Peregrine summoned his carriage. Neither he nor his wife spoke on the short ride back to the Park Street town house, but the atmosphere in the coach was thick with tension.

And with every revolution of the carriage's wheels, Peregrine heard his wife's cool, aristocratic voice ringing in his head: "Do you think I would dishonor my name by marrying a man who was not of suitable rank?"





Chapter 21





After the silent journey home, Sara was undressed by Jenny. Then she dismissed the maid and entered the main bedroom. This was one night when she might have welcomed separate chambers, but here, as at Sulgrave, the master and mistress had only one bed between them.