Chapter 1:
Royal Commendations and the King’s Younger Brother
NOT LONG AFTER THE TRIALS of Gordon and Minister Saquille, Fiona, Giles, and Richard were invited to the palace to receive royal commendations. Upon their arrival, they were escorted to the throne room, a spacious place that glittered with gold and scarlet accents. Aside from the three of them, only the king and the crown prince were present.
I never dreamed I would come here, Fiona thought.
Of course, there was a reason this room had been chosen for the ceremony rather than the typical public setting. Ordinarily, a commendation from the king was a celebration, an opportunity to praise and extol the names of the recipients; the ceremony was usually lavish and held in a cathedral or some other public place of importance. But the head conspirator whom Fiona and her party had foiled—Minister Saquille—was an important member of the peerage, and his plot to seize control of parliament by splitting the rival factions had targeted the king’s younger brother and the crown prince directly. As such, the royal family had decided to keep the scandal—and thus this commendation ceremony—under wraps.
To compensate for conducting the ceremony in private and without the usual pomp and circumstance, the king would sit on his more formal throne—not the throne typically reserved for peacetime.
As old friends of the crown prince and sons of the upper echelons of the peerage, the royal palace was a familiar place to Giles and Richard. The same couldn’t be said for Fiona. She was of noble blood, yes, but as the daughter of a baron, her debut in high society didn’t include an audience with the king. Even her father had only met the king once, when he inherited the title of baron.
I never dreamed I would see His Majesty with my own eyes, nor set foot in the royal palace…yet here I am.
Still in a state of disbelief, Fiona held her breath and bowed her head, listening to the valet’s voice ring proudly through the room as he recited their achievements. With her eyes cast down, all she could see was the deep red carpet and the king’s feet before her. She did not take in the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, nor the velvet canopy draped over the throne.
“…and so, Fiona Clayburn, I present this commendation to you.”
“I accept it with great reverence, Your Majesty.” As she tucked one leg behind the other and answered him with a curtsy, Fiona was relieved to hear her voice was steady. Richard and Giles bowed beside her and accepted their commendations as well.
Fiona was commended for appraising the paintings sold by Minister Saquille’s accomplice, Gordon, as counterfeit and for discovering the fabricated letters hidden inside of them. Had she not discovered the letters, Minister Saquille’s plot would have brought about major turmoil, and of course, the counterfeit painting scam was a problem in its own right. But Fiona had not done anything particularly special; she merely happened to be in the right place at the right time. Others had made far greater contributions. Rather than feeling proud or happy, she felt undeserving of the king and crown prince’s gratitude and praise.
When the ceremony ended, she looked up but did not meet anyone’s gaze. They left the chamber, and she retrieved her shawl and parasol from the reception room. Only when they parted ways with the palace escorts in the sunny corridor was Fiona finally able to breathe. “I was so nervous,” she murmured.
Compared to the ridiculous length of time she spent preparing for it, the ceremony was astonishingly anticlimactic and quick. Regardless, she had been in the presence of royalty—the king and crown prince, no less. Even without meeting their eyes, she had been overwhelmed by their imposing presence.
“Really? You seemed calm to me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lord Russel. I thought my heart was going to fly out of my mouth.”
“Aww, how refreshingly modest you are. Right, Gil?”
“You acted too casual, Rick.”
As the son of a marquess, Richard’s ties to the palace were stronger than Giles’s. In fact, they were strong enough that there had been rumors of Richard courting a princess from another kingdom the year prior. He walked through the palace as if he owned the place, and it was this casual demeanor of his that finally soothed Fiona’s frantic heart.
“Anyway,” Richard said, “that’s a lovely dress you’ve got on, Miss Clayburn.”
“Thank you. The Marchioness Heyward and Lady Miranda chose it for me.” It was a conservative dress of plain, fine silk with a design that limited shoulder and chest exposure—perfectly suited for an audience with a king. The dress and the pearl jewelry that accompanied it were most becoming on Fiona, and the whole ensemble was elegant and simple, yet unassuming. This will probably be the first and last time I wear a dress like this.
Fiona’s proper appearance had been made possible by the Marchioness of Heyward—at whose mansion Fiona was currently staying—and Giles’s older sister, Miranda, the Marchioness of Colet. The dress that had been made for Fiona by the Maison de Michele was for soirées, so it would not do for a daytime visit to the palace. When they first learned that Fiona would receive a royal commendation, they were in a bit of a pinch: It would have taken too long to sew a new dress from scratch, and worse, fabric for dresses suitable for royal audiences was difficult to come by. But while the Marchioness Heyward busied herself making calculations to get a dress made on time, Miranda heard about Fiona’s plight and offered to alter one of her own dresses.
In the end, one of Miranda’s dresses was taken apart and reassembled to fit Fiona’s measurements. It wasn’t a stretch at that point to say that Fiona’s dress was made just for her, and she was terrified that she did not deserve the gesture. But Miranda seemed to enjoy beautifying the unrefined daughter of a baron, so Fiona’s humble protests fell on deaf ears. With the dress sorted, the two marchionesses gabbed passionately about accompanying jewelry and hairstyle until Fiona’s ensemble was decided, down to the tiniest details.
The marchionesses were satisfied by the astonished look on Giles’s face when he came to pick her up and saw the transformation, but his dignified and gallant appearance was enough to make Fiona swoon herself. Because of that, she couldn’t exactly remember the praise Giles had given her.
“After all you’ve all done for me, I honestly can’t see how I could possibly thank you,” she told Giles.
“Don’t worry about it. My godmother and sister love to dress you up.”
Giles apologized that Fiona had to go along with the women’s plans, but the dress and the pearls were finer than anything Fiona had ever touched, and they were beyond her station as a lower-tier aristocrat.
Richard and Giles, however, seemed to be in agreement that giving Fiona the dress was no great favor. “Aren’t you the reason Lady Colet didn’t buy the counterfeit painting and the Marchioness Heyward wasn’t harmed by the forged letter?” Richard reminded her.
“Yes, but…that was just luck,” Fiona protested.
“You still saved the day. And you look very nice, besides. Like a beautiful lady I’d see in a painting in any gallery.”
“Lord Russel, I do think that’s an overexaggeration.”
“You think so?” Richard chuckled.
Fiona was unused to being praised for her dress or appearance. Out of respect for the two women who had dolled her up and sent her off with beaming smiles, she had decided that she would accept any praise that came her way today without argument—but being compared to a beautiful lady in a famous painting was simply beyond her! Still, Richard’s light banter extinguished the final strains of remaining anxiety, and she felt that she was finally back to her old self.
He probably did that on purpose, Fiona thought. That’s Lord Russel for you.
Richard was known for being a mood-maker, but he was also highly perceptive. With a sharp man like Giles by his side, Fiona had the sense that there was no ordeal he couldn’t pass unscathed, including the one they’d just undergone.
“I still can’t believe we were the only ones summoned today,” Fiona marveled.
“There are different types of commendations,” Giles explained. “The other people will be called on a different day.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Fiona nodded.
Different circumstances needed different preparations, after all. Truth be told, Fiona thought the praise she’d received was too grand. When the valet read her achievements, she almost gasped aloud in shock, and her heart filled with an entirely different sort of tension. I’ll need to consult with Father about this, she thought. The commendation Fiona had received was hers and hers alone, and while she could imagine the most effective way of utilizing it, she needed to speak with her father first.
They walked on, and as Fiona was wondering when she would be allowed to return home, Richard said, “I’m about to head to the Scott family salon. Would you two care to join me?”
“No, thanks,” Giles replied.
“Thought you’d say that. What about you, Miss Clayburn?”
“I had plans to visit the academy.”
“Oh, I see. Any specific reason?”
“I go there several times a season, but I haven’t been yet this year. It’s also close to the palace.”