Seven | h.s

vi

Magdalena, Beth, and Clara lifted their eyes at the sound of the door flying open and shutting heavily. They all stared at Victoria, who was walking across the room to join them at the rectangular table filled with delicious food and wine. When she reached her mistress and fellow ladies, she curtsied.

"Lady Victoria, how nice of you to join us," Magdalena said. "My, your cheeks are flushed. Are you quite well? Do sit down."

Victoria sat down in the seat next to Clara and began to fill her empty plate with the fruit on the table. "No, your Grace, I am quite well."

"Then, why, pray tell, are you blushing? I assume it has something to do with your tardiness," Magdalena stated, popping a grape into her mouth and crunching it between her teeth.

"Forgive me," she said, glancing off to the side as she tried to come up with an excuse. "No, it doesn't."

"It doesn't?" Magdalena questioned.

"No—I mean, yes." For once, her pride had faltered. "I was out for a stroll, you see. The cold air has made my skin redden."

"Ah," Magdalena said, sitting back in her chair. "So, who was your chaperone? Everyone is taking their lunch at the moment."

Clara and Beth shared a glance before returning their eyes to the obviously-struggling Victoria. She pressed her lips together in thought. "I did not have one."

Magdalena gasped dramatically. "No chaperone outside of the palace walls? That is questionable for a young woman of your position, Lady Victoria, and quite unsuitable for one of my ladies."

"I beg your forgiveness, your Royal Highness," Victoria said, keeping to the story. "If you wish me to leave luncheon, I will be on my way."

Magdalena furrowed her brows. She knew that Victoria was not being truthful, and she wondered what it was that needed to be kept hidden that she would allow her pride to be squashed. "I did not say that," she said. For a moment, she narrowed her eyes and studied Victoria; soaking in her wide eyes which had a certain shimmer to them, her lips that were swollen as if they had been touched by another. She looked the same as Magdalena did after she was kissed by Harry. Coming to the conclusion that Victoria had been with a secret suitor, she relaxed her eyes and sat back up in her chair, taking a small sip of her wine. There was no threat in a harmless exchange of affection, especially since her title was of little importance and she was new to the Princess's service. Besides, if things were to escalate, it would be the perfect excuse to have her dismissed. "You may stay."

———

Felipe paced back and forth within his presence chamber, fingers tugging at his dark brown locks as he chewed on the insides of his cheeks, stress getting the better of him. "She was so healthy," he said, suddenly coming to a stop, and looking up at his friend and chief advisor. "I don't understand."

"What did the doctor say? Perhaps it was something she ate," Carlos suggested. "Whatever the cause, you mustn't think about it any longer. You'll worry yourself to the point of illness. Besides, Sofia wasn't the most beautiful of Spain's courtesans, she can be easily replaced."

"Sofia is not an item and she cannot be replaced," he spat with anger. "She was a dear friend. I will find other women to suit my needs, but they cannot replace the friendship we had."

"I understand, your Majesty. I apologize."

Felipe thrust himself down into a chair and sighed heavily. "Make sure there is a private service arranged for her funeral. Only family is to be permitted. I will not have an event dedicated to her life tainted by the whispers and glares of courtiers."

"Do you think her family will come?" Carlos inquired.

"It is unlikely," he responded through a sigh. "But, I will be there and so will my sister, and that would have been enough for Sofia."

Carlos nodded silently and walked across the room, grasping the knob of the door, prepared to exit, but he stopped as a memory made its way to the forefront of his mind. "Oh, sir," he called, gaining a hum from the King. "I almost forgot to give this to you." The King turned to look at Carlos, who was heading toward him with a letter in his hand. "From the Duke of Linares." The King jolted upright and broke the hardened wax seal, opening the letter and skimming through its contents. When he looked back up at Carlos, the advisor grew concerned. "Is all well, your Majesty?"

"It seems that the Duke is eager to meet Magdalena, as he is to arrive tomorrow."

———

The room was near silent when the door burst open. Magdalena and her ladies nearly jumped from their seats with horror, and their nerves were not eased when they registered the face of the King. Just as soldiers in the military, they stood to their feet and dipped into curtsies, the ladies averting their eyes. Magdalena, however, stepped to the side to meet her brother at the door. She raised her brows, waiting for his motive behind such an intense entrance.

"Forgive me for any fright," he finally said, his eyes sliding past hers and landing upon Victoria. Before she could catch his gaze, however, her brought his eyes back to Magdalena. "Sister, I have some pressing news regarding your fiancé."

Although she would never admit it, she secretly wished that his carriage had been ransacked by highwaymen and he had been killed in the process, allowing her to marry someone else. She pushed the selfish notion from her mind. "What is it?" she inquired calmly, tugging at her fingers as she clasped them together above her navel.

"He will be arriving tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Magdalena gasped. All sense of demure etiquette was thrown to the wind. "But, why so soon?"

Victoria glanced up at the Princess when she noticed the dread in her tone. For a brief moment, her eyes connected with Felipe's, and she felt her cheeks burn.

Felipe cleared his throat. "Yes, tomorrow. So, dress your best and regain your composure. We will have to find a grand way to greet him. It was supposed to be the Christmas Eve ball, but that is three days away. Can you come up with something, Elena?"

"Isn't that something you would consult Mistress Sofia for?" Magdalena asked, brows furrowed.

Felipe looked at Victoria with wide eyes.

"I don't know anything about hosting a guest, and don't you think I have enough to worry about? I will be meeting my future husband tomorrow for the first time, I have to impress him—"

"How about a masque?"

All eyes in the room switched to Victoria.

"A masque?" Felipe questioned. "Lady Beth, can you explain this word?"

Beth narrowed her eyes at Victoria before returning them to the King. "Masques are very common in English court, your Majesty. They are performances put on by a select few courtiers. The performances tell stories, usually myths or legends or to honor the Queen, and the identities of the performers are kept secret, as they must wear masks. There is singing and dancing, and the players wear lavish costumes. I believe they are also popular in France, but I am not sure."

"Yes, I overheard one of the guests who had been to England speaking of a masque they saw; they said it was quite an experience. Perhaps the Duke would enjoy that, your Majesty," Victoria said.

The King nodded slowly. "I'll have it arranged. Thank you, Lady Victoria. As for you, Magdalena," he said, turning to face his sister. "Be ready to receive him the moment you wake. I'll not have you scrambling about to prepare yourself and keeping him waiting."

"Yes, your Grace," she said through gritted teeth.

Felipe left the room in a silent state, none of the ladies daring to bring up the fact that the Duke would be arriving sooner than they expected, and they especially avoided the topic after the Princess's reaction. Instead, they went back to their routines, all of their minds preoccupied with thoughts that would remain unspoken.