“Ladies, come forward,” King Jarat said.
And they came, straight-backed women ushering their children, walking the length of the room, and curtsying before the royal family. As they did so, the royal crier called out their names. “Lady Patrice DeLacroix and children. Lady Christina Heresford and children. Lady Danielle Oberon.”
“He’s not using their titles,” Robert muttered.
“It’s likely he’s given their titles away. From what I hear, he’s been handing them out like candy.”
“Lady Beatrice Scoville.”
“There’s Aunt Beatrice,” Robert said, frowning. “She looks a lot thinner than before.”
Hal scanned the line of waiting families, sure he would recognize Harper and his mother despite the masks. When he didn’t see them, sweat began trickling down the back of his neck. Was this just some kind of cruel trick or trap?
Just as he was beginning to panic, the crier called, “Lady Marjorie Scoville Matelon and daughter Harper Scoville Matelon.”
Hal’s heart twisted as they walked forward, hand in hand, chins up, eyes straight ahead. It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized them. For one thing, they were thinner, especially Harper, but that was partly because she was so much taller than the last time he’d seen her. When was that? More than a year ago? She’d pinned her hair up, too, which he wasn’t used to.
Hal’s breath caught when he saw something glittering at Harper’s neckline. It was the thimble.
“Did you see that?” Robert whispered. “It was—”
“I know,” Hal said, his voice thick. He still didn’t trust Destin Karn, but he’d kept that promise, at least.
Anger nudged aside everything else as the Matelon ladies curtsied before the king and then moved off to the side, where the hostages huddled in a small group, as if unsure what to do next. As if they’d been invited to a party with people they had nothing in common with.
Robert took a step forward, but Hal put out a hand to stop him. “Wait until there’s more mingling before we beeline to them. In the meantime, why don’t you ask someone to dance?”
His brother gave him an irritated look, then crossed to the gathering of down-realm guests and bowed to an especially lovely young lady wearing a half-mask. Moments later, the band had struck up again, and he was out on the floor with her.
Others among the wall-hangers were moving out into the throng, choosing unescorted ladies, offering their arms. Hal’s heart beat faster as he walked toward the gathered hostages, but somebody got there before him.
“Ladies,” the masked interloper said, bowing deeply to Harper and his mother. “May I just say that you look absolutely bewitching this evening.”
Hal detoured a bit and walked past them, stopping within earshot, pretending to sample sweets from a platter.
“Granger,” Hal’s mother said, her back stiff with disapproval, her voice icy. She and Harper dipped into the briefest of curtsies.
“Actually, it is Lord Granger now,” he said.
“Is it?” his mother said. “Forgive me. It’s so difficult to keep up with all of the newly minted lordlings here at court.”
Hal struggled not to stare. Usually his mother treated everyone with gracious courtesy, whether she was addressing the king or one of her tenants or a beggar on the street.
Harper, too, was studying Granger, her arms crossed. It reminded Hal of that time he’d found his three-year-old sister standing in the pasture with a stick in her hand. There was a viper in her path, and she couldn’t decide whether to go around it or club it to death.
Who the hell was Granger, and what had he done to earn such a chilly reception?
“I am hoping that your lovely daughter will consent to dance with me.”
“Lord Granger, my lovely daughter is far too young to consider—”
“Let’s go,” Harper said, shooting a warning look at her mother. She stalked toward the dance floor, with Granger following behind.
Hal’s gracious mother glared after him, cursing under her breath. “Harper doesn’t know what she is getting into with that unprincipled scoundrel.”
Lady Heresford took her arm. “Don’t worry, Marjorie, I’ve sent Helene to keep an eye on them. If anything untoward happens, she’ll fetch us right away.”
Hal was torn between forcibly cutting in on Lord Granger’s dance and waiting until he had more information. Good sense prevailed, and he found himself bowing to his mother. Up close, he could see that, despite her fine clothes, months in a dungeon hadn’t done her any good at all.
“Thanelee Matelon,” he said, swallowing hard. “May I . . . may I have the pleasure of this dance?”
He could tell that she was about to come back with a snappish reply, but then she froze, staring at him as if she could see through the mask to the man underneath.
“Thank the Maker,” she whispered, her voice husky with tears. “It’s really you. I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not.”
Hal offered his arm, and she accepted, and he led her out onto the dance floor. He tried hard to remember the steps she’d taught him so painstakingly. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, but she didn’t miss a step.
“Don’t cry, Mother,” he whispered. “They’ll think I’m stepping on your toes.”
That brought a smile.
“Now,” he said, “Robert is here, too. Don’t look,” he hastened to add. “I’ll tell you what I know about the plan, and then you tell me about Granger.”
When he’d finished, he said, “Can you remember that? Any questions?”
“I’ll remember.”
“Good. Now I need to get the same message to one adult in each and every one of the families. Can you help me with that? I think if you and Harper do it, it will be less obvious.”
“Of course,” his lady mother said. “I will make sure that everyone knows.”
“Now tell me about Granger.”
“He came out of nowhere, moved up in the King’s Guard, and now he’s serving as bailiff,” she said, with brisk brevity. “He’s taught King Jarat everything he knows about debauchery, and also handles a lot of his dirty work. Jarat has rewarded him by giving him Whitehall.”
“Whitehall?” Now Hal understood his mother’s barely concealed anger. Whitehall had been held by the Scovilles for centuries, since just after the Breaking. His mother had brought it to the marriage as her dowry. It was close to White Oaks, and they’d often stayed there as children. “He couldn’t have taken possession of it, surely. I was just at White Oaks. The armies are massed, and the thanes are preparing to march.”
“How is your father, dear?” his mother said, smiling at Lady DeLacroix as she swept by. “He takes things so much to heart, and he’s not as young as he used to be.”
“Father’s furious, as you’d expect, and determined to win. Now about Whitehall.”
“Granger hasn’t taken possession—and he never will, if your father and I have anything to say about it. I think he’s trying to hedge his bets. He’s already betrothed, mind you, to an heiress in the down-realms who is considerably older than he is. But now he’s thinking that if he marries Harper, that will damp down resistance to his claiming Whitehall, even if the thanes prevail. If they don’t, he could make a case for claiming White Oaks, too. After all, they go so well together.”
“He won’t if I kill him first,” Hal muttered.
“Don’t scowl like that, dear, it will give you frown lines one day, mark my words. No. I will kill him myself.”
Hal stared at his mother. “What?”
“Better me than you. You’re young and you have your whole life ahead of you. Now that I have you back, I won’t have you throwing it away. I’m old, I’ve had my children, enjoyed the love of my life, and what’s important is my legacy.”
“Mother, do you really think—?”