“Such as what?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t, but he was beginning to guess, though it was not yet a thought he was prepared to share with Narraway. If his plan failed, and it well might, Narraway needed to be able to deny any knowledge of it. Pitt believed that to be fair. It was also the only chance he had of putting it into action. If he knew, Narraway would stop him. He would have to.
Pitt finished his tea. “We had better go back to the Palace. See if there is time to wash and shave before the Prince of Wales makes any formal appointment of Watson Forbes. I’ve got a clean shirt there.
Perhaps Tyndale can get something for you.”
Narraway gave him a filthy look, but he did not argue.
At the Palace, Pitt changed hastily into a cleaner and less crumpled shirt, then went straight to the anteroom where they were all waiting to be ushered in for the Prince’s announcement. They looked somber and more than a little nervous. Neither the Prince of Wales nor Watson Forbes was there, but Gracie was. She looked unfamiliarly formal in a black stiff dress. Her white, lace-trimmed cap and apron were crisp and cool as snow. Her face showed intense relief when she saw Pitt, but since everyone else turned to look as he came in, she did not dare approach him.
Narraway was not there yet.
Pitt hesitated a moment, aware of what he was risking: Narraway’s anger; perhaps even the loss of his support, which might mean Pitt’s job. If he were right, the Prince of Wales would not forgive him.
Even when he was king, his enmity would last. Above all, Pitt’s disgrace would cost Charlotte any hope she might have of once again being part of Society. All doors would be closed to him, and his children.
And if he did not try, he would deliberately have let go a man who would kill again and again in order to gain what he wanted.
He walked forward to Liliane Quase, who was standing a couple of yards from her husband, who was talking to Simnel with his back to her. But as always she was close, as if guarding him.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Quase,” Pitt said quietly. “This must be a desperate decision for you.”
Her marvelous eyes widened, dark with sudden terror. She started to speak, but the words died in her throat. She moved away from him, a step closer to her husband, her hand out, as if she would touch him.
Pitt made a guess, not certain what he meant. “He was willing to pay any price to earn your love, wasn’t he? Are you willing to let him?
Even his life?” He was still guessing. “He was originally the one meant to take the blame for that woman’s death. Only his hatred of Julius made Dunkeld change the plan.”
“You can’t know. .” she began, shaking her head from side to side.
“Your father won’t let the project succeed, you know. All his own money is in shipping,” Pitt went on.
She shook her head harder. “No. . you’re wrong!” Her voice was no more than a whisper.
“Why does your father want your husband dead? What does he know that is so dangerous?”
She turned away from him and for an instant he thought he had lost.
Sensing her panic, Quase swung round toward her. Simnel Marquand moved away.
Liliane stared at her husband.
“What did you do for him?” she asked, her voice trembling now.
“It was Eden’s death, wasn’t it? Everything was different after that.”
He looked at her with such pain and such gentleness that it met her worst fears. Pitt saw her body stiffen.
“It was Eden who killed that woman in Cape Town, wasn’t it?”
There was no doubt or hesitation now. “Did he really fall into the river with the crocodiles?”
Hamilton did not answer.
“By accident?” she said hoarsely.
“Don’t ask, Liliane. It was best that way, cleaner than a trial and. .” He could not say it.
“Hanging,” she finished for him. “And family disgrace. My father killed him, and you covered for them both, why? For my sake?”
“Of course. Why else would I do anything?”
“Even though he would have had you hanged for killing that poor woman in the linen cupboard?”
“I didn’t know that.”
Her eyes did not leave his. “You know it now.”
Two liveried footmen came and opened the doors, announcing that His Royal Highness would receive them.
Liliane glanced at Pitt, and the ghost of a smile touched her lips.
Then she took her husband’s arm and walked into the throne room beside him.
Olga and Simnel Marquand followed, then Elsa on Julius’s arm, as was proper for the survivors of Dunkeld’s family.
Pitt offered his arm to Gracie, who hesitated, uncertain what to do. Then with a tight little grip, she took it.
Narraway followed last, a little breathless and in a borrowed shirt.
The throne room was magnificent, pale-walled, gleaming with gold, high windows letting in the shimmering sunlight. There was hardly any furniture to fill the space. The Prince and Princess of Wales stood at the far end ready to receive them. On either side were other members of the royal household, the Prime Minister and several members of his cabinet.
Gracie gasped and would have tripped on her skirt were she not hanging on to Pitt’s arm with a grip of iron.
Even Pitt was impressed more than he had ever intended to be.
His courage wavered. He was absurd even to think of doing such a thing. He would be betraying Narraway’s trust in him.
Watson Forbes was in front of the Prince, a little to one side. The Princess stood apart, isolated by her deafness.
The Prince gestured for them to come forward.
Gracie’s hand tightened on Pitt’s arm so hard her fingers hurt his flesh. They stopped just behind Elsa and Julius. Pitt was pleased that they were so close to each other. They had moved in step, instinctively. He thought of Charlotte and wished she were here, and yet Gracie deserved to be present. And perhaps it was better Charlotte was not with him; thinking of her might destroy his courage.
Simnel was presented, with Olga beside him, and the Prince thanked him for his loyalty and skill.
Hamilton Quase was presented, and Liliane. Hamilton’s engineering brilliance was praised.
Julius was presented next, and the Prince sensibly excused his withdrawing from his diplomatic role because of the very recent death of his wife, for whom he was still in mourning. Elsa was presented as his mother-in-law, also very naturally mourning. Nothing was said of her being a second wife to Dunkeld, who was not mentioned at all.
Narraway was presented in his capacity as head of Special Branch, here to make certain every safety precaution was in place. The Prince thanked him also.
This was the moment of decision. Pitt stood face-to-face with his future king. It would never happen again. Either he condemned Forbes now, or his silence made Forbes safe forever.
“Your Royal Highness,” Pitt said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. He must be fair to Gracie. “May I recommend to you, ma’am, your most loyal and brave servant, Miss Gracie Phipps, who has assisted Special Branch in the service of the Crown.”
Gracie stood frozen in awe. She looked about thirteen.
“Indeed,” the Prince said with some surprise. “I am obliged to you, Miss Phipps.”
Suddenly Gracie’s legs gave way and she dropped a far deeper curtsy than she had intended. She managed to rise again only by hauling herself up on Pitt’s arm.
Pitt remained where he was.
The Prince of Wales stared at him with slight irritation. Pitt took a deep breath. This was the moment. “I regret, sir, that the railway will not be built by Mr. Forbes,” he said.
“Nonsense,” the Prince said savagely. “Please step back, sir! Do not compel me to call for assistance. It
