Chapter 10:
After the Banquet
BRIGHT LIGHT STREAMED IN through the open canopy and over Fiona. She was in a half-seated position, resting with her back against the pillows. Beside her, several days’ worth of newspapers and gossip magazines sat on the side table. She dismantled the pile and began to read a newspaper, scanning the articles one by one.
I don’t see it in this one either…
The season was approaching its end, and yet nothing about the incident with Gordon was in the headlines. The biggest space in the society pages was devoted to the royal ball at the White Palace, which was described in great detail, but there was nothing about the abduction and assault.
Even the fireworks were passed off as a problem with deer.
The one mishap at the royal ball, which occurred toward the end of the festivities, concerned the fireworks: They were meant to adorn the grand finale, but they’d gone off prematurely. According to the paper, a herd of deer had appeared out of nowhere while the fireworks were being set up, and the shocked technician dropped his live coals on top of the fuse.
Thanks to the queen’s gracious discretion, neither the technician nor the deer had been taken to task. A temporary fence was to be erected around the property the next year to keep wildlife away.
“Oh my,” Fiona murmured. “How incredible.”
The early fireworks had been Richard’s handiwork. They drew the curiosity and attention of the partygoers so that no one would notice the commotion on the second floor or Fiona falling into the lake. If that weren’t enough, the cleanup afterward was immaculate. Fiona was awed at how elegantly and efficiently everything was handled.
Fiona turned a page and found something interesting: the royal ball’s guest list. Prince Grenville’s name was not on it, and neither, of course, was Gordon’s. Once she’d scrutinized it to her satisfaction, Fiona folded up the paper—carefully, as she had a bandage wrapped around her hand—and set it beside her.
As she was clumsily opening up the next paper with her bandaged hand, there was a knock at the guest room door. A maid had just left a short while earlier after changing the water in the vase of flowers.
“Come in,” Fiona called. She looked up from her reading, assuming it was someone coming to ask her about lunch—and her eyes popped wide open as she saw who walked in the door. “Lord Gil?!”
He was supposed to be at work! Fiona sat up straight, surprised, and Giles gave her an assessing look, then smiled in relief. “Good, you’re awake. How do you feel?”
“I feel fine.”
“Really?” Giles marched right over to the bed and leaned in to press a hand to Fiona’s forehead. “Are you sure your fever hasn’t come back?”
I…I told him I was fine! Fiona thought, flustered by his close proximity. She couldn’t find it in her to repel him, though; he was the very picture of earnestness.
During her rescue, Fiona fell unconscious after she was pulled onto the boat, and she developed a high fever. The doctor on call at the White Palace treated her. Then, still asleep, she was carried—not to her own home, but here: the Heyward mansion.
Everyone who knew what had happened at the party was strictly prohibited from talking about it, so as not to create a scandal for the royal family. They were all sworn to secrecy, including the elderly doctor who tended to Fiona at the White Palace. That doctor was the master court physician, and he was a trustworthy person. But if word got out that a top court doctor had examined the lowly daughter of a baron, it wouldn’t take a genius to guess that there was more to the story. Between the need for secrecy and the fact that police and palace guards needed to visit her, Fiona had once again become a guest of the Heywards’.
“You do seem to be all right,” Giles said skeptically.
“You checked on me just this morning,” Fiona pointed out.
Giles took more time than necessary to take her temperature, but after that, he finally seemed satisfied. Some small part of Fiona wanted to admonish him for his excessive fussing, but she felt so guilty about making him worry that she couldn’t bring herself to complain.
Besides, Giles’s hand was warmer than her forehead. He was breathing quietly, but she suspected that he had run to her room, all the way up the stairs. The thought made her heart flutter, and she stared at his cravat, finding that she couldn’t look him in the eye.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I took my medicine too.”
“But if anything happened to you, I could never face your father again, nor Hans.”
“Well…”
Her father was one person who simply could not be kept in the dark. Hans and the Baron of Clayburn rushed to the Heyward march to see Fiona before she woke, and when they arrived, Giles explained everything to them. The baron looked liable to faint at any moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to chastise Giles, whom he saw was deeply remorseful and apologetic. He just pressed his handkerchief to his eyes, not his forehead, and tearfully repeated “Thank goodness she’s alive” again and again.
Unlike her sickly sister, Cecelia, Fiona was healthy and seldom caught so much as a cold. The one time in her life she had a fever, she’d slept for twenty-four hours straight. The baron assured Giles that this was probably why Fiona had not yet woken. This was likely a gesture of mercy toward Giles, who was too stricken with worry to hide how pale and haggard he looked. When Giles refused to eat or leave Fiona’s bedside, Hans stayed with him and offered many words of comfort until Fiona finally woke. Theirs were the two faces Fiona saw the moment she opened her eyes, and she remembered the moment well; Giles looked angry, but all he did was wrap her in a tight hug.
The baron returned to his home once he was certain that Fiona was all right, but Giles remained, staying in a guest room at the march. Just like the last time Fiona had stayed at the march, Hans acted as an intermediary for everyone, commuting between the houses.