The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(62)

Ellie jerked upright. “He’s gone to see the royal scribe?”

“Yes, apparently your father is looking for a job.” The queen buttered a croissant. The creases around her eyes deepened. “Our reference library on local flora and fauna is impoverished, according to your father.”

Ellie snorted. “Yes, that sounds like my papa.”

“I’m sure the scribe will be glad for the extra help, though your father must be able to put up with her exacting standards.”

“Her?”

“Yes, I hired a woman. Women are better with details.” The queen winked and Ellie returned the gesture.

“Although, I seemed to have missed an important one with Gerard.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Ellie twisted in her seat with a confused lift of her chin.

“I only ever wanted my son to have a cause, to yearn and obsess for something. I’d hoped that the second I gave MAM my seal of approval, he’d yank his head from the stars and chide me for my behavior. But he did nothing.” The queen shook her tangled black curls. “I don’t even think he knew what MAM was.”

A grin wormed its way along Ellie’s lips.

The queen saw it and smiled in return. “Apparently, I had the wrong bait.”

Ellie laughed.

“Of course, the group’s been dismantled now that it’s clear several members were stealing the profits. The money is going to the formal education of women. Too many drop out, pressured by their parents into marriages. I’d like smarter women in this country.”

“I agree.” Ellie waved her croissant, little flakes of bread scattered along the table. “Those test scores should have been higher at The Exam. It’s the other classes, though, that I’m worried about. Farmers’ daughters, servant women too, they should all be encouraged to continue schooling, at least through sixteen. Not eleven or twelve.”

“Huzzah!” The queen raised her china coffee cup. “See, you’re doing great already.”

A spurt of joy sizzled in Ellie’s belly, and then she remembered what all MAM had done. “Have you heard of a man named Rufus?”

Gerard had mentioned that Meera’s body—Ellie’s stomach clenched in pain—had been collected and was being prepared for burial. Ellie’s superficial wounds from Dame Lange were nothing compared to the hole in her heart.

“Yes, I offered him lodging here but he refused. He said he wanted to stay in the home he built with his wife,” the queen said, softly.

Tears pricked Ellie’s eyes. “Meera’s shop, he built it by hand for her but he’s never been good with baking. He’ll have to sell it.”

“Already taken care of, I’m afraid.” The queen offered up a small smile. “Your friend Rachel jabbered on about it last night while we waited for your wedding to begin. Apparently, she offered to buy it off Rufus. He wouldn’t let her pay for it. Just offered it up to her on the condition he could continue to live in the apartments above.”

A bittersweet tear slid down Ellie’s cheek. “Rachel’s always wanted to be her own boss, own her own shop.”

“Ah, there you are.” A butler poked his head into the breakfast room, a twitching smile on his tan face. “I have three Burbe ladies with me who wished to send you greetings.”

Ellie choked on her coffee. “What?”

The queen patted her back. “Where have you set them, James?”

“The ivory parlor, Your Majesty.” James smoothed back his hair.

“Excellent.” The queen went back to her society papers.

“What do they want?” Ellie blurted out.

“To wish you well in the dungeons, apparently.” James shrugged. “Also, they said something about ‘the manor,’ in a most ominous tone. Would you like to keep them waiting? I assured them you would be escorted in from ‘the dungeon’ soon.” James made air quotes with his white gloved fingers.

She shook her head in anger, air whooshing from her puffed out cheeks. “I will see them now.”

At her side, the queen patted her mouth with her napkin. She rose and nodded toward James. “We will be along in a moment. Kindly inform my son that our guests have arrived.”

Huh?

Ellie stood and shuffled behind the queen. They exited the breakfast room and traipsed down the marbled hall. “There’s no need for you to see them.”

“I agree, alas my stubborn son insists I join.” The queen shrugged, and shifted the pleats of her gown.

“He knew they would come?” Ellie questioned and swept her curls over her shoulder.

“Of course.” Gerard appeared at her elbow. She gasped and frowned up at her husband. He winked and trailed his fingers along her waist to rest his palm against her lower back. Warmth tingled along her spine.

The trio padded to the parlor.

“How?” Ellie tugged at Gerard’s tunic where it had come undone from his belt.

“They like to gloat.”

“True,” she hedged.

“And they need to be taught a lesson,” Gerard growled.

She pursed her lips, agreeing.

James opened the parlor door. “Her Majesty, His Royal Highness, and Princess Elizaveta.”

Gerard propelled her into the faces of her astonished family. With complexions as pale as the ivory walls, Lady Irene, Violet, and Marigold bobbed curtsies. Each looked as though they’d been smacked. Lady Irene shook, visibly, and Marigold kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish.