Because she was also something else. Something that caused a flicker of hurt in Giabella every time she saw the young woman.
Dash checked the clock on the mantel. Gia would not arrive for another fifteen minutes at the earliest. He had a little time, so he cleared his throat. “Please bring her in.”
“Yes, sir.” A moment later Livingston was back. “Miss Fowler, sir.”
He stepped away and let the young lady into the room. Dash extended a hand as he came to her, looking over her. With her petite frame and dark hair, one might easily overlook the woman. Misjudge her heart or her tenacity. But one look into her piercing blue eyes, the very eyes that caused the pain to Giabella, and it was impossible not to see what a force of nature she was.
“Miss Fowler,” Dash said as they shook hands. “Good evening.”
“Mr. Talbot,” she returned. “You must be surprised to see me. I wager you didn’t know I was in the South Island.”
“I did not,” he confirmed. “May I get you a drink?”
She tilted her head slightly. “So welcoming. I wasn’t sure you would be.”
He drew back a fraction, both at her charge and her directness. “I…If I have not been in the past, I apologize, Miss Fowler.”
She wrinkled her brow. “I haven’t entirely expected it, sir. After all, you serve the queen. You protect the queen. And I am not unaware that my existence is something that might…might hurt her.”
Dash pursed his lips. “Yes. I won’t deny it.”
Miss Fowler paced away. “I do not mean to be. My parentage is…it’s unfortunate. I know it.”
“We are discussing that your father is the late king,” Dash said carefully.
“I am his bastard daughter, yes,” Miss Fowler said, and without a hint of embarrassment about that fact. “I am fully aware that you normally try to keep me as far from the queen as possible.”
Dash opened his mouth to deny it, but couldn’t. He thought of the night they had first met this woman, when she had revealed herself as the architect of the work against Grantham. Not the violence, but the very real desire of the people to be ruled by themselves and not a sovereign. Watching Giabella’s expression before she had tamed it…
It had broken Dash’s heart.
“Perhaps I do,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t follow that I do not respect you, miss. I do. And I believe the queen feels the same way. No one can deny how hard you have worked for your cause and for our people.”
“Thank you.” She sighed. “It is because of just that desire to help our people that I have come here tonight. When I heard that the queen was in the area, I thought I’d take a chance and call. I have a matter to discuss with her, you see.”
Dash paused to consider the request. As Giabella’s secretary, his duty was to ask her what she desired in this situation. As her lover…as one who loved her, he only wanted to shield her from pain, especially when they were enjoying such a beautiful time together.
“What is the matter?” he asked, trying to force himself back into being only the queen’s trusted servant.
Miss Fowler shifted, as if now she were a little uncomfortable. “It is something I’d rather talk to Queen Giabella about directly, since it concerns her more than anyone…and also because I do not wish to repeat it more than once.”
Dash could see how nervous Miss Fowler was and opened his mouth, ready to get more information, but before he could, he heard Giabella’s voice behind him, strained and shaking ever so slightly.
“Miss Fowler,” she breathed.
Both of them turned toward her and Dash caught his breath. Giabella had changed into one of his favorite gowns, her hair was arranged just so, and she looked so achingly beautiful that his palms actually itched with the desire to touch her.
But her face…there was that pain that lingered. That humiliation at this living proof of how betrayed she had been in her unhappy marriage.
“Your Majesty,” Miss Fowler said, coming forward and giving a deep curtsey. “I am sorry to intrude. It looks as though you might be going out.”
Giabella glanced down at herself and blushed. “No, Dash and I were just going to have supper together.” Dash was surprised the queen had been so direct in the truth, but it was proof of how thrown she was by the presence of this woman. Miss Fowler glanced back at Dash briefly, her expression unreadable. Giabella continued, “But it sounds as though you have a very serious topic to discuss with me.”
“I do,” Miss Fowler affirmed. “But only if you would wish to speak to me.”
“Of course,” Giabella said smoothly and with a kind smile. Of course she would. She was always kind. “Dash, would you tell the staff that we will add one more for our supper plans?”
Dash inclined his head, though he lifted his eyes to snag hers. She nodded ever so slightly, as if trying to tell him that she was fine with this decision even when he saw her hesitation plainly. But he didn’t refuse or question her as he excused himself and went to do exactly as she’d asked.
He only hoped that Miss Fowler’s topic of discussion would not be one that would crush Giabella’s spirit.
CHAPTER 9
Giabella forced a smile for Marabelle Fowler as Dash left them alone. And realized she’d never been alone with the young woman before. Probably by design, now that she thought of it. Her children and Dash had protected her, of course, putting up barricades so she wouldn’t have to look into this young woman’s eyes and see Alistair. See her own children in the angles of her face and the way she moved and tilted her head.
“You are kind to invite me to supper,” Marabelle said, worrying her hands before her. “But I do not wish to intrude.”
“You aren’t,” Giabella said gently, and tried to mean it. “Now, would you like a drink?”
“Sherry would be lovely,” Marabelle said.
Giabella crossed to the sideboard and poured them each a drink. When she handed it over, she smiled. “To the future.”
Marabelle bent her head and repeated the sentiment. “To the future.”
They clinked glasses and then Giabella drew a deep breath and did what she’d been trained to do all her life. She made the young woman comfortable. They talked of books and an art exhibit that had been on display at the Athawick Museum for the past few months. One Giabella had championed. And while she eased Marabelle’s conscience, Giabella also found herself relaxing. She actually liked this woman. And she had carried far heavier burdens than this one in her life.
She glanced at the clock. “Come, Marabelle, we will go to the dining room.”
Marabelle nodded and followed her to the door. As they stepped into the hallway, Giabella saw Dash close to the dining room door, talking to Livingston quietly. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, formal in his clothing like a lover…and yet doing his duties as her employee, her protector.
She lifted a hand and the two men came toward them. She smiled. “Livingston, will you escort Miss Fowler to the dining room and ensure she’s settled? Mr. Talbot and I will follow momentarily.”
She met Dash’s eyes and he nodded.
The butler moved off with Marabelle, and Giabella reached for Dash’s hand, threading her fingers through his gently. He shivered at the brush of her bare skin against his and she did the same. This was desire, yes. Shockingly powerful desire at that. But it was also comfort. Such a deep and abiding comfort when he was near her.