She was probably the tallest woman in the whole, vast expanse of Queen Caitrin's Hall. If she wasn't, she was certainly one of the tallest, and she moved with the easy, natural grace of a martial artist as she stepped forward into the silence. Andrew LaFollet and Spencer Hawke, both immaculate in Harrington Guard dress uniform, followed at her heels, unannounced by the chamberlain but certainly not unnoticed. Here and there, expressions clouded with disapproval as the two armsmen brought their holstered side arms into the presence of the Queen of Manticore, but no one was going to be foolish enough to comment on it. Not here. Not in front of Elizabeth III.
The Queen had looked up from where she stood engaged in conversation with Lord William Alexander and Theodore Harper, Planetary Grand Duke of Manticore, as Duchess Harrington's arrival was announced. Now, in complete disregard of centuries of protocol, she moved swiftly across the floor with both hands extended and a huge smile of welcome. The duchess smiled back, and swept a deep, graceful Grayson-style curtsey before she took the Queen's proffered hand and shook it firmly.
Something like a silent sigh seemed to roll through the Hall, but if Harrington sensed it, neither she nor the 'cat on her shoulder gave the slightest sign of it. Her expression was calm and attentive as she bent her head to listen to something the Queen had just said, and then she laughed with what certainly appeared to be a completely natural ease. The Queen said something else, touched her lightly on the shoulder, and started to turn back towards the Duke of Manticore, then paused as the chamberlain announced the next arrival.
"Admiral the Earl and Lady White Haven and Samantha!"
If Duchess Harrington's arrival had sent a ripple of quiet throughout the Hall, that announcement produced something much more profound. It was almost as if every one of the scores of guests had simultaneously drawn a deep breath...and held it.
The earl was perhaps two centimeters taller than Lady Harrington, and his wife's life support chair floated silently at his side as the two of them moved forward into the stillness. Neither of them showed the least awareness of all those watching eyes, although the very tip of the tail of the slender, dappled treecat on the earl's shoulder twitched in small, slow arcs. They came through the entry, paused ever so briefly in recognition as they saw the duchess, and then came forward more quickly, with smiles as huge as the Queen's own.
"Honor!" The welcome in Lady White Haven's voice cut clearly through the unnatural stillness, although she certainly hadn't raised it. Then again, she'd learned the actor's tricks for voice projection more than half a century ago. "It's wonderful to see you again!"
"Hello, Emily," Harrington returned the greeting as she and the countess shook hands, then nodded to Earl White Haven. "Hamish," she said, and smiled at the 'cat on his shoulder. "And hello to you, too, Sam!"
"Good evening, Honor," the earl replied, then bowed and kissed the Queen's hand as Elizabeth retraced her steps to greet the newcomers.
"Your Majesty." Conversation had resumed throughout the Hall, but his deep voice carried almost as well as his wife's had.
"My Lord," the Queen replied, then smiled with obvious delight at Lady White Haven. "I'm so glad you decided to come after all, Emily," she said, just loudly enough for those standing close to them to overhear. "We don't see enough of you here in Landing."
"That's because I find Landing a bit on the fatiguing side, I'm afraid, Your Majesty," Emily Alexander said. For all the fairness of her own coloring, there was a similaritymore sensed than seen, yet unmistakablebetween her face and the Queen's. Not surprisingly, perhaps, since they were distant cousins. Nor was Elizabeth Emily's only family connection at tonight's gathering, and she cocked her head with another smile of welcome as the Duke of Manticore joined them.
"Hello, Teddy," she greeted him.
"Happy birthday, Aunt Emily," he responded, and bent to kiss her on the cheek. "Wasn't it kind of Her Majesty to arrange things so I didn't have to throw a birthday gala for you?" he teased with a twinkle, and she snorted.
"You may have gotten off lightly where parties are concerned," she told him, "but I expect you to make it up when it comes to the gifts!"
"Oh, well. I suppose I can always sell off part of my portfolio to raise the funds," he sighed, and then reached out to shake the earl's hand. "Good to see you, too, Hamish," he said cheerfully. "And I've been looking forward to meeting your new friend," he added, with a small, formal bow all for Samantha.
The 'cat returned the greeting with a regal nod of her own, and he chuckled delightedly.
"I understand you've been learning to sign, Teddy?" Emily inquired, and snorted as he nodded. "Well, in that case, if you behave yourself properlyand bribe her with sufficient celery, of courseyou can probably get Sam to help you practice over supper."
"Yes, Auntie," he promised obediently, and she snorted again, then reached up to pat him on the forearm before she returned her attention to the duchess and the Queen.
It was all about timing, Honor thought as the guests filed into the banquet annex to Queen Caitrin's Hall. It was remotely possible that there was someone here tonight who was naive enough to believe Hamish and Emily had just happened to arrive immediately behind her, or that Elizabeth and Emily's nephew had just happened to join the three of themwell, five, with Nimitz and Samanthawhere every single guest could see them. It was even possible that that same naive someone might think it was pure coincidence that her own title took precedence over every other guest present except the Duke of Manticore. That "coincidence" just happened to seat Honor to the Queen's left and the duke to the Queen's right...and the fact that the entire function was officially in honor of Emily's birthday and that Emily was "family" had given Elizabeth the perfect excuse for seating her and her husband at the same table, despite the fact that Hamish was "only" an earl. Which just happened to put Honor and Emily right next to one another where every single guest could see how naturally and cheerfully they spoke with one another.
And where no one could possibly mistake the message the Queen of Manticore had actually arranged this entire evening to communicate.
Timing, she thought again, as she offered Nimitz a fresh stick of celery and she tasted the emotional aura of the banquet. It was always difficult to make definitive judgments about the overwhelming group mind-glow of such a large gathering, but she sensed a definite overall trend which gave her a sense of profound satisfaction. The message had gone home, she decided, and drew a huge, mental breath of relief.
This might actually be going to work after all.
"So much for Plan A," Stefan Young grumbled as he flung his formal frock coat across a chair with childish spitefulness.
"I warned you it could turn around and bite us all on the ass," his wife replied. They'd been home from the ball for half an hour, and she'd already shed her own court costume. Now she sat before the bedroom mirror, considering herself. She stuck out her tongue at her own image and studied it for a moment, then shrugged and moved on to the rest of her appearance. She wore a robe of subtly iridescent Gryphon water silk, one of Gryphon's most prized export goods. That robe had cost more than a low-end air car, and worth every penny of it, she thought with a lazy, hunting-hexapuma smile as she admired the way it clung to every curve. But then the smile faded, and she shrugged and turned to look at him.
"We got over four months of effective use out of it," she pointed out. "That was enough to carry us through the debate on the naval reductions and the vote on the new domestic spending measures."
"I know." The earl had lingered in the study to fortify his frustration with brandy. She could smell it on his breath from where she sat, and she concealed a grimace of distaste as he unbuttoned the old-fashioned studs from his cuffs and tossed them into a jewelry case with a grimace of his own. He hadn't enjoyed the way the Queen had seated Emily Alexander and Duchess Harrington at her own elbow and then monopolized their conversation all through supper.