Page 68 of Baron in Check
“From the diagonal?” Arnold asked, searching her gaze.
Greg nodded. “In a double attack from both sides.”
“If the Black King has no escape squares,” Arnold added.
“He doesn’t,” Hermy felt the tension from her face subside and beamed at Greg. “Because there’s a pawn blocking his escape.”
Greg lifted his gaze and looked at the house, then at Arnold, and finally at Hermy.
“You’re brilliant, do you know that?”
She shook her head but couldn’t suppress her glee. Nothing was more exciting than to plan a mate.
CHAPTER 32
As soon as they returned to London, they rushed to the Pearler’s house.
Rachel looked terrified when she saw they had returned merely hours after they’d left. “Fave is at St. James. Nagy requested his presence at an audience with the Prince.”
“Oh no!” Arnold hissed and signaled to Greg. “Let’s run; it’s faster than the horse.”
They stormed out of the house and sprinted as they hadn’t since they were children.
The guards recognized them and granted them entrance.
Neither Greg nor Arnold needed to catch their breath after the short sprint, but they held their breath because the audience was their last resort, not a check, but a final move toward a mate.
Tall, arched windows flooded the long hall with daylight, casting intricate shadows over the rich tapestries that adorned the aged stone walls.
The guards, in their scarlet coats trimmed with gold, moved with practiced precision, leading them toward the audience chamber. Greg noted the detailed plasterwork on the ceiling above, where artful stuccoes framed the royal coat of arms, each element symbolizing the realm’s enduring legacy. Their hushedfootfalls were the only sound, save the distant murmur of the courtiers’ conversations that grew louder as they approached the heart of the palace.
Polished oak doors adorned with gleaming brass fittings stood before them. The guards cleared their throats and opened the double doors in unison. Greg felt a familiar mixture of anticipation and reverence as he prepared to enter the presence of the Prince Regent, the weight of his duty as a Baron pressing heavily upon his shoulders.
“Lord Stone.” The Prince rose from his seat at a long table, and Fave, Gustav, and Richard Nagy turned to face the door.
“Your Majesty, I’ve come with a matter of grave importance.” Greg bowed and handed Steven’s will to the monarch.
As the prince read the paper, Greg spotted the golden orb on a cushion on the table right in front of Fave and Gustav.
Fave came to Greg’s side, his eyes questioning.
“Have you lost the chess game?” the prince asked, clearly amused by the will in his hand.
“I didn’t play it.”
“Your Majesty, if I may.” Nagy rose and addressed the prince. “If this is about Willowby Park, I believe Baron Stone forfeited.”
“The Black Knight?” The Prince arched a brow at Nagy.
“Yes, your Highness.”
A moment of silence passed, and the prince narrowed his gaze. Then he sputtered and laughed. “That’s nonsense, Bailiff. I’ve played with him many times, and I’m good, but the Black Knight doesn’t lose.” Then he turned to Gustav. “Isn’t this the late Earl’s daughter who…”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I remember the season,” the Prince said gravely. “I’m afraid you were the center of attention as much as she was.” He gave Greg a man-to-man stare. “I hate it when the gossips meddle in affairs that are none of their business.”
“So if they think you lost a game”—the prince suppressed a chuckle—“ who’s her appointed guardian?”
