Chapter Seven
A knock sounded on the door the next day, and Bard went to answer it, a look of surprise coming to his face when he saw a rather large royal guard standing in the doorway.
Bard took a small indiscreet step backwards before asking, “How can I help you, my good sir?”
With an intimidating smile, the guard replied, “I have a card for Lord Alastair. My Lord Art has come to see him and his niece, acting Queen Scarlett Kensington.”
He held out a beefy arm and handed the card to Bard.
“I will let the Lord and Lady know of your arrival.”
He called out for a maid to come and assist in making the Lord Art comfortable.
“Liza, would you please bring them anything they need?” he asked her.
With a slightly sly smile, Liza bowed and said, “Worry not, Bard. I will make sure they are welcomed properly.”
Bard took one last glance at the maid before heading to find Alastair and Scarlett.
Scarlett giggled and covered her mouth to avoid spitting out her lunch.
“Mind you, I did not break the vase on purpose. I was trying to avoid hitting it and knocking it over. The maid just happened to come out of the door at just the right moment.”
Alastair sighed as he recalled his mother’s anger at him for breaking her favorite Mizet vase.
“I don’t think Mother quite ever got over it.”
Scarlett swallowed the food she had in her mouth before gasping, “I did the same thing when I was younger, but I broke two things: the vase and the table it sat on. Both priceless pieces and made my mother very upset.”
Alastair smiled brightly at her and she giggled again.
“I love my mother and very glad she forgave me,” Alastair laughed.
“She sounds very lovely. When was the last time you saw her?” Scarlett asked.
“I think it has been at least three or four months ago. A few days before you came to us, I believe. I receive letters from her at least once a week, however. I am thinking of asking her to visit. I think my father has business in town in a few weeks and my mother always accompanies him. Would you be all right with that?”
His question made her stomach drop and she got very nervous about meeting his parents, but she kept smiling and replied, “That is fine with me. I’d like to meet them.”
Alastair’s smile got even brighter and excitement filled his eyes.
“Wonderful. I’ll make sure to write them and let them know they are invited.”
Scarlett nodded. “I saw my parents the day Catriona was abducted. Our parents were at the dock to wave us off when we left.” She sighed and her smile faded. “I miss them. I know they are all right because my mother has also been writing me.”
Alastair mulled that over for a minute before replying, “Have you received any useful information about what is going on there?”
She shook her head. “Not that I am aware of. I can take a look when our lovely picnic is over.”
Her smile brightened again.
“How long have you been working on this picnic?” she asked, laughing when he blushed.
“Only a few weeks. I wasn’t sure that you would join me, but now I am glad I asked.”
It was her turn to blush.
“I am glad you did as well.”
“When I was eight, my mother had me pose for an awful portrait in the most horrible outfit I ever could imagine,” he said, breaking the tension of the moment.
“Do you have the portrait still or did your mother take it with her when she moved out?”
He shook his head. “It was never finished, and for that I am very grateful.”
Scarlett almost laughed at the mischievous and conspiratorial look that came over his face.
“I was so miserable that the artist took pity on me and accidentally got the portrait too close to a nearby candle and set it on fire. My mother took that as a sign and decided not to have him start over. I still gave him half of the Royal Litas my mother promised him for it.”
Scarlett couldn’t hold back her laughter and had to cover her mouth to keep from spitting out the fruit she had in her mouth.
He lifted his glass of vino to hers and toasted, “To sympathetic painters who take pity on miserably dressed eight-year-old boys.”
She clinked her glass with his and took a sip of the sweet vino, the bubbles from the drink popping on her tongue.
“I love the vino taste. How is it made?” she asked.
Alastair opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Bard clearing his throat to get their attention.
“My Lord, there is someone to see you and the queen. I believe he will be staying for a few days as he has brought a large entourage with him,” he said, handing him the card.
Alastair looked at the card and then at Scarlett and reached over, grasping her hand in his.
“You can tell Lord Art that we will be able to receive him in a few minutes. Make up our finest room if he does intend to stay. Last time he was here he did not stay.”
Bard nodded and bowed at the waist.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” he asked as he straightened.
“No, just those things will be all right for now. I will call you if we need anything else.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
He bowed and walked back into the castle, leaving them alone again.
“It will be all right. Just stay strong and he will not be able to intimidate you. I will also be right beside you.”
She smiled shakily and squeezed his hand that she still held.
“Let’s go.”
He stood and helped her up, squeezing her hand once more before letting go and gathering the food items together, putting them back into the basket placed near their blanket. They headed inside together and on the way to the drawing room, Alastair asked a passing maid to make sure that their picnic was cleaned up.
Scarlett fretted the entire way from the courtyard to the drawing room. She steeled herself to see her uncle again. The last time she saw her uncle it was not a pleasant time for her. She felt though that she had grown a little bit in the last few months. That thought alone made her spine stiffen and determination flood her body. She would fight her uncle to get what she wanted and what she wanted was more time.
Together they approached the door of the drawing room and Alastair stopped before he went in, turning to face her.
“Right beside you,” he whispered.
She smiled at him and took the arm he offered to her and let him escort her into the room.
Art turned to face them as they walked in, his eyes cold and hard, the smile on his face no more than a sneer.
“Hello, Scarlett.”