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embroidered with black velvet stripes. Her silver hair was parted in the middle to accentuate her deceptively sweet face. She was retired from politics now, having served a stint as Mistress of the Robes, but Society still sought her opinions, and she was popular at parties.
    "The bad fairy has arrived," Anne murmured, rising dutifully to kiss the woman's wrinkled cheek. "Auntie Nellwyn, you look spectacular, as usual."
    "Aye," Patrick agreed, enveloping her in a powerful hug. "Like a big bumblebee."
    She laughed, looking past him to Anne. "She's gone as gray as a ghost, Patrick. What have you done to her? Has he been bad, Anne?"
    "What do you think?" she said as the woman settled between them on the sofa.
    "She was a wee bit surprised to see me at court," Patrick explained.
    "I thought I'd interrupted him in an assassination attempt," Anne said. "I almost called the guards."
    "I tried to convince her that I'd changed," Patrick said.
    Anne's temper boiled over. "And then he did something to prove he was worse than ever."
    Nellwyn directed a frown at her nephew. "Just what exactly did you do?"
    "Nothing." He shrugged, a pillar of wounded innocence. "Oh, all right. I gave her a wee kiss."
    "In the Queen's sitting room?" Nellwyn asked, sounding more pleased than shocked.
    "A friendly kiss." His guileless stare made him manage to look like the injured party.
    "It felt more feral than friendly," Anne retorted, her back arched in anger. "By some miracle, he appeared to charm the Queen. I don't know how."
    Nellwyn shook her head. "Her Majesty made her first visit to Scotland last year and has been enamored of the land ever since. Patrick has made a favorable impression on the court. The Queen likes the primitive life."
    "Primitive," Anne said. "That describes him."
    "I think," Nellwyn said, her tone brisk, "that this conversation ne eds to be continued in my town house. We shall meet for supper three days hence, and I will expect you to be on your best behavior. Patrick, tell the footman you will be leaving. Anne, follow him to see he stays out of trouble. We will make our plans in the privacy of my home."
     
     
    N ellwyn stood with the Queen on the terrace of Windsor Castle. "It was good of you to help me, Your Royal Highness. We shall all be leaving for the Highlands within a week. The arrangements have already been made."
    The Queen nodded; she was distracted by a warning that a reporter from the Morning Post had found his way onto the palace grounds. She thought of the thwarted assassination attempt three years before, and there had been as many break-ins last year alone.
    "I am happy to help," she said at last, her blue velvet skirt rustling as she resumed her walk. "Indeed, Albert and I long for the mountain life ourselves. Is there a better tonic to the nerves to be found anywhere in the world? Are there any people more at peace with themselves than our Highlanders?"
    Nellwyn compressed her lips. Peaceful was not the word she would use to describe the atmosphere between Anne and Patrick. Volatile or explosive seemed more apt. Indeed, she would have need of a nerve tonic herself before she had achieved her goal with that pair.
    "Lady Kingaim suffered another fall, ma'am," she said. "I am all the more determined to quash any evidence of scandal concerning her husband's death at its source. Patrick is discreet if nothing else."
    The Queen nodded again. "Nobility of character is what comes to mind when one meets such a man."
    Rakehell and, rogue were what came to Nellwyn's mind, but she merely smiled in agreement.
    "Chivalry is not dead, ma'am."
    "Nor is danger." Victoria shook her head. "How sad to think of our beautiful Highlands as a place where a murder plot might be hatched, but one must remember its violent history. I am fiercely glad Lord Glengramach will be your protector."
     
     
    A nne stared across the table at the tall man whose face took on a sculptured hardness in the candlelight . The lobster salad they had been