Free The Stuart Sapphire by Alanna Knight

is a lawyer from Edinburgh.’ She smiled, showing excellent teeth, and rather a lot of them. ‘We – we have – have heard all – all about you, Mr Eildor. Henry has informed us that you were – were a – a passenger on – on the ship that went down – sank last night. The sole survivor – how very fortunate.’ All this speech was delivered in a shrill voice hampered by a stammer while nervous glances in Lady de Clifford’s direction invited encouraging comment. The governess regarded Tam sternly.
    ‘Fortunate indeed. Ship sank – all hands lost, we understood,’ she added in a sepulchral voice exactly matching her gloomy appearance.
    Tam bowed politely, hoping that this was also the end of the conversation, that escape was imminent and that the tiresome encounter would also be allowed to sink forgetfully into the ground.
    But that was not Charlotte’s intention. Under that royal stare, Tam felt uncomfortably that his appearance was being assimilated inch by inch. It was all quite unnerving, as she continued to regard him, bright-eyed and eager, occasionally licking rather her rather thick, red lips – a disconcerting habit, like someone watching a particularlystrange and exotic insect through a microscope.
    Suddenly she shivered. ‘Be so good as to recover our shawl and our book. We laid them down – somewhere – while we were looking at the latest art acquisitions – our royal father’s weakness.’
    Although she addressed her governess, she did so without yielding her gaze from Tam’s countenance as if he might choose that moment to escape from her.
    With a sigh, she watched Lady de Clifford hurry back across the gardens. Unable to conceal a gleam of satisfaction, another broad smile awaited Tam’s approval. This was followed by a convincing shiver, rubbing her bare arms, a gesture which brought an unfortunate reminder to the observer that the fashion for white muslin gowns reaching down to the ankles, but extreme décolleté even in daytime, was less than flattering to ladies, however young, with overample bosoms. The flowing empire line had its origins in France and it struck Tam as curious that all female attire seemed to have been designed for a tropical climate of eternal summers, despite the fact that the climate of England was totally unreliable, with snowy winters exceedingly harsh and long-lasting. True, shawls were an essential accessory, the mark of the lady of fashion, to wear with grace.
    ‘Are you to stay in Brighton for some time, Mr Eildor?’ she asked.
    As Tam did not know the answer to that one himself, he smiled and said: ‘Until my plans are made, Your Royal Highness.’
    Charlotte giggled, and let a plump hand linger on his arm. He felt its warmth through his borrowed shirt.
    ‘Please – please – you may call me – Charlotte, if you wish.’
    Tam did not so wish and she saw too late that he was no doubt embarrassed by the thought of such intimacy with a royal person.
    Aware that she was moving too fast, she removed her hand, her gaze becoming more intent as she did so, a myopic staring deeply into his eyes. Her breath touching his face, she laughed.
    A deep, throaty and rather coarse laugh in one so young. Fourteen, fifteen – Tam wondered, perhaps girls grew up quickly in royal residences where loose morals were constantly in evidence, and his thoughts flew momentarily to the sight he had left in the royal bedroom, as with a suppressed groan, he heard her say:
    ‘When we know each other better—’ she hesitated. ‘What do your friends call you, Mr Eildor?’
    ‘My name is Tam.’ He bowed.
    ‘Tam? Why, what an interesting name. Scottish, is it not? From your accent—’
    Tam agreed. They had at least found something safe to agree upon.
    ‘Where were you journeying – when the ship – went – went down?’
    ‘To London, Your Royal Highness.’
    ‘Please – please – Highness will do adequately, if you must – for the moment,’ she added with a flutter of