* * *
Slipping awayfrom Kensington Palace unseen when one was the queen was impossible.
And stupid.
So Alexandra did neither.
Knowing Malloryn’s spy was better at surveillance than Alexandra was at evasion, she simply ignored Miss Townsend and summoned a horse from the stables. Two of the Coldrush guards trailed her at a distance until it felt like she was leading a bloody parade, but at least it wasn’t the entire court.
And after dozens of years of having her every move monitored, she ought to be used to it.
Rain dampened the morning, the skies gray and overcast. It suited her mood. A pox on the whole damned court. A pox on the council. And a pox on Malloryn.
A particularly itchy one, preferably.
Urging her gray mare into a gallop, she let her mount fly across the grass of Hyde Park, the sting of rain lashing against her cheeks until she felt free for the first time in years.
It wasn’t long enough. Ahead of her, an elaborate folly loomed out of the gardens, a curtain of icy drizzle near obscuring it.
Sir Gideon paced the folly, the black lash of his coattails betraying his mood. The second he saw her, he stilled.
There were no words.
Only the impenetrable, implacable black of his eyes.
“Say something.” Alexandra lowered the hood of her cloak, shaking off the damp.
“What would my queen have me say?” he replied.
She held up the note he’d sent. “An explanation for this, if you would.”
Gideon raked his hands through his hair, leaving it in unruly tangles. “I told you I cannot do this. I cannot stay and watch you marry another.”
“And are you so certain I intend to marry another?” she asked sharply.
“Don’t.” His voice quavered. “Don’t toy with my affections thusly.”
She drew back angrily. “Do you think so little of me that you would think me so heartless?”
“Not heartless. No. But we both know how this ends. You are not at liberty to grant me anything more than your past affections. You are the queen. And Prince Ivan—”
“Is returning to Russia,” she said heatedly. “He did not appreciate my rebuff of his suit.”
Gideon froze. “You….”
“I told him that although our countries held great respect for each other, I could not accept his affections.”
Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose. “You should have married him.”
“What?”
“It was a sound alliance. He could have been managed as a consort, and Britain could have pursued some excellent trade agreements.”
Alexandra drew herself up stiffly. “Trade agreements.”
Did he not even care?
They stared at each other.