Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(42)

“It has been a long time since either of you visited.”

I step forward. “May we talk to you in private? I have a matter of utter importance.”

Wellesley looks confused, but readily complies. He fetches a lanky young man across the street to mind the store, then he leads the way downstairs, to the basement where we used to discuss the Eight-Hour Act.

Kat’s hand grows sweaty, but I merely tighten my grip, letting her know she is not alone.

Wellesley closes the door and bolts it. He comes towards us and sits down, an inquiring gaze in his eyes.

I place my elbows on the table and lean forward. “I apologize for interrupting your work, but there is a crucial matter I must ask of you.”

“I am not certain what I can do that you cannot, but Your Highness can depend on me to fulfill whatever you ask to the best of my abilities.”

Kat and I look at each other. I take a deep breath and start to speak.

Wellesley furrows his brow—the lines grow deeper and deeper. By the time I finish, the lines in his brow are so pronounced that it is as if they were carved in wood.

“What you’re saying...the lass has recovered from her illness? Then who is it in the palace?”

“An imposter,” I say, but Kat interrupts me. “The woman in the palace is the real daughter of Lady Bradshaw. When I had to leave, believing that I could never return, the king had requested a temporary measure: bring Katriona Bradshaw into the palace.”

Wellesley stares at Kat; his expression remains suspicious. “I thought there was something fishy when you wrote me that letter. I didn’t understand why you chose to leave, when there are many excellent doctors in the country, and that the prince would have done anything to have you survive.”

“The reasons are complicated,” I say. “A miracle has allowed Kat live. She is in perfect health and intends to stay for good. Let me reassure you that no harm will affect your relation to her. You will not be harboring a hunted fugitive or wanted criminal.”

“That is of little concern.” Wellesley looks at me. “I know the lass has a good heart. It is that the request has been quite a surprise. All this time I have believed she was the overlooked daughter of an earl, and here she is, a commoner of unknown origin. This, I suppose, explains why her attitude and behavior have been singular among young aristocratic ladies.”

“Please.” I sound desperate; I suppose I must look the same. “Kat needs to have an identity. One that is legitimate and acceptable. Kat frequented this place before we married; it would make sense she is related to you.”

“There is one problem, however.” His expression remains grave. “Even if I accept, how am I to explain to others that my granddaughter was formerly known as Earl Bradshaw’s step daughter?”

“I am working on it,” I say. “I have a plan. If that is taken care of, will you be willing to accept Kat?”

Mr. Wellesley adjusts his glasses. “It’d be my pleasure to be associated with a lass as fine as she.” He smiles at Kat, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. “Katherine...Wilson, is it? I suppose we’d better start by teaching you my family history.”

Kat steps forward and hugs him. It is one of the few instances I would not mind her embracing another man.

“It’s my pleasure too,” she says, a bright smile on her face. “There’s no one else I’d rather have as a relative in Athelia.”





21





Kat





I’m glad that our meeting with Mr. Wellesley went well. If only everything else could be as successful. I’ve still no idea how we can convince Katriona Bradshaw to agree to a divorce, short of breaking the law, and there are so many other problems as well.

When we leave The Bookworm and head to the carriage, Edward stops for a second. He strides over to a young girl with a basket hanging over her arm. I follow him, and receive a shock.

“Molly?”

The girl looks up at me, and there’s a flash of surprise in her eyes, followed by a wide grin. “Princess! Haven’t seen you for a while.”

“She’s been busy,” Edward says, reaching into his pocket. “A bunch of violets for my lady.”

“‘Course, sir. She’ll look real pretty with flowers.” Molly is grinning despite the cold. Her nose is red and she’s hunchbacked while wearing a threadbare shawl. God, it’s spring already, but it’s nevertheless freezing. I remember that this time of the year should be warm and balmy, Parliament is in early session, and debutantes are getting ready to be presented at court.

“Nell isn’t here with you?” I ask.

“She had to stay with Wilkie today.”

“Wilkie?”

“Her baby. We’re naming him after our brother, who’s dead.” Molly hands me the violets. They are wilted and drooping, but I cradle them in my hands. “We’ve got to be careful, it’s easy for him to catch cold in this weather.”

“Kat.” Edward touches my arm. “I’m afraid we have to go. I’m sorry, but I have a meeting with the ministers.”

“Take care.” I drop a kiss on Molly’s forehead and using my forefinger, I wipe away a smudge of dirt from her cheek. One day, she will be off these streets.