Abigail, however, stared directly at me.
She fixed me with a venomous glare. “What did you pick up just now?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” I whispered back and prayed the fiery burn on my cheeks didn’t give me away.
She appraised the tea tray—the cups, the teapot, the sugar bowl, the silver spoons. She frowned when she discovered nothing missing. “I saw you pick up something. Is it in your pocket, you good for nothing thief?”
I froze. I couldn’t tell her about the Faytling. She’d never believe it was mine.
“Girls!”
We both whipped around at Lady Bassey’s reproach.
“What’s this?” The Queen’s question was directed at us.
Abigail and I hung our heads and muttered apologies. Lady Bassey motioned Abigail closer and whispered something in her ear, which sent the girl off toward the door. She shot me a final sneer before departing.
Then the ladies’ attention went back to the Queen, and hers returned to Mr. Galding.
“Tell me of this entertainment.” She held the man in her icy gaze.
“It’s an instrument, you see.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “A remarkable machine that transforms steam into music. The inventor calls it a calliope, and he intends to debut it at the Crystal Palace. I was asked to, I mean, I was rather hoping to persuade the Palace’s director to allow me to borrow it for the ball.”
The Queen frowned at first, then her eyes grew wide. She clasped her hands to her chest. “It’s a capital idea,” she gushed. “Did you hear that, ladies? An instrument that creates music from steam. Won’t His Royal Highness be pleased?”
Lady Bassey set aside her gown. “Yes, two things he loves so dearly: music and machinery. I’m sure he will be delighted. Don’t you agree, Lady Wallingham?”
The younger woman perked up from where she was standing in front of a mirror with her golden gown pressed to herself. “Oh, yes, Your Majesty. I do agree, indeed.”
“It will be a marvelous addition to our masquerade,” the Queen said with smug satisfaction.
Mr. Galding raised a short, chubby finger with some hesitation. “If I may, ma’am. I did express that wish to the director, but there is a problem.”
The Queen’s amiability slid away. “What problem?”
The ladies looked up from their preoccupation with their gowns. Mr. Galding again worked his hat brim through his fingers.
“Be assured both the instrument’s owner and the director are eager to arrange the command performance,” he said. “But, you see, a pipe was damaged during the voyage from America. A replacement has been commissioned, but it will not be ready in time for the ball.”
“The event is still days away. Send whatever is required to our own shops, if you must.”
The man, with obvious consternation in his eyes, shook his head. “Your Majesty, I have made such an offer, and even with our own shops, and even if it could be completed sooner, the inventor is the only one capable of installing the pipe properly, I’m told, and his ship is not expected in until the day after the masquerade. But, if I may, I have what I hope will be an acceptable alternative.”
The Queen harrumphed and reached down to her knitting basket beside her chair. She grabbed her knitting needles and a scarf on which she was working. “What is the alternative, then?”
He cleared his throat and seemed to be trying to rally his confidence. “An acclaimed chamber quartet from Vienna is in London, preparing for a series of performances at month’s end. They come highly recommended and arrangements could be made for them to perform at the masquerade. Then, once the calliope’s owner arrives and the instrument is fixed, a private performance could take place.”
The Queen’s lips twitched as she mulled his suggestion. After a long pause, she sighed. “That would be acceptable, I suppose. Please see to it.” With her decree delivered, she turned her full attention to the mound of yarn and half-finished scarf heaped in her lap.
“Very good, ma’am.” With relief, he turned to leave.
“Mr. Galding?”
He wheeled back, his smile gone.
“Do not mention anything about this contraption to His Royal Highness. In fact, don’t mention anything about your visit to the Crystal Palace at all. If we cannot present this wonder at the ball, I should like to at least make it a surprise for my husband.”
The man’s ebullience returned. “Yes, ma’am. You can be assured of my utmost discretion.”
At that the Queen raised a thin eyebrow toward her ladies. “I hope you, too, will abide by my wish.”
Both ladies dipped a submissive chin and uttered their assurances.
“Good.” The Queen settled back into her cushion and resumed her knitting. “Is there any tea?”
I straightened and touched the silver teapot’s side. It was still warm to the touch. I looked to Lady Bassey for guidance.
She nodded, which I took to be permission to speak.
“Yes, Your Majesty. But not a fresh pot, I’m afraid.” I winced, not knowing if that had been an acceptable response or not.
“Fine, fine,” she said.
I lifted the pot and poured into a gold-rimmed teacup adorned with the Queen’s insignia.
She watched me place a sugar cube in her cup and raised a finger. “Don’t be stingy with those. I’m feeling a sweet tooth today.”
I nodded and deposited another cube into the cup then stirred with one of the tiny silver spoons, making sure to use one that hadn’t dropped to the floor. I extended the cup to her.
Again, the door opened, but I forced myself to remain focused on the cup I balanced over the Queen’s cushioned armrest. I watched her glance at the door and heard someone enter, but no one spoke. Not until the Queen sipped from her cup and said with strained cordiality, “You may speak, Mr. MacDougall.”
I nearly fell forward but quickly caught myself and wheeled around to find Mr. MacDougall’s imposing figure standing at the center of the room with a smug Abigail by his side.
He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “I am terribly sorry for the interruption, Your Majesty. I
