by Randol, Anna
“Do you truly think that will sway me?” She stalked toward him. “How did you get it in your head that my life has been easy?” She stopped inches from him.
Despite the crease along one cheek from her pillow, he still had to fight the urge to retreat.
“You of all people should know. I was twelve when your friends toppled my country. When the people they stirred up into a riot stormed the palace and shot my mother and father.”
Ian had thought nothing of the death of another king and queen. But now— No. He wasn’t about to become all maudlin and regretful. He’d done what he’d been ordered to do.
But he’d hurt Juliana.
That knowledge was fresh and new. And it burned as if someone had taken a hot poker to his gut.
“The only reason they didn’t murder me and my brother was that they’d already set the palace on fire, and they feared for their own necks.” She paused to suck in a deep breath.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes practically blazing. Someone should hang him for even daring to be in her presence.
“You may have been a spy, but I’ve spent the last twelve years ruling an entire country from half a continent away while everyone around me tries to wrest it away. So don’t you dare speak to me about difficult.”
He wanted to pull her to him. He wanted to curse her for this stranglehold she’d somehow placed on him, lashing him to her.
Instead, he applauded slowly.
The fire drained out of her, but rather than leaving her fragile, it left her tempered steel. “Sommet may have threatened your friends, but he has threatened my family and my kingdom. I will stop him.”
He should walk away now. He could find out what blasted things she needed from Sommet and retrieve them himself. He didn’t need her to get into Sommet’s house. He’d breached far more secure strongholds.
Yet somehow, no matter his assurances of help, he doubted he’d be able to convince her to stay away. And if he couldn’t keep her from danger, he was damned well going to keep close.
He bowed smartly like the servant he was about to become. “You have yourself a new footman.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ian couldn’t risk any of his normal haunts tonight. All of them were in places infested with blighters, letches, and muckworms.
And tonight if one of them tried to off him, he feared he’d retaliate in a rather gruesome manner.
And he was too tired for gruesome.
He found himself back at his rooms at The Albany. Yet he hesitated at the door. Damned interfering butler. Keeping a man from his own bed.
Feeling rather disgusted with himself, Ian opened the door and barely ducked in time to avoid a fireplace poker aimed at his head.
He rolled away and jumped to his feet, ready to defend himself. But a second blow never came.
“Ah, it is you, sir.”
“How many of the hotel staff have you murdered, old man?”
Canterbury was dressed in a lavender banyan with a matching cream and lavender nightcap that now hung slightly askew on his head. “None, sir. They do not linger in a nefarious manner, sir.”
“You could have killed me.” Perhaps he should tell Canterbury about the reward. That way if he succeeded next time, someone would benefit.
“Then perhaps, sir, you shouldn’t give me reason to worry over who might be looking for you.”
This was what came of having a butler who’d known him since he wore nappies. “I’m going to bed.”
“Impossible, sir. There is a girl in your bed. A child by the name of Apple. She claimed you sent her.”
She’d actually come? He covered the distance to the bedroom in a few strides. His first impression was that it wasn’t Apple.
She looked far too young and innocent. And clean, for that matter.
She wasn’t truly asleep. Her eyes were clenched too tightly closed and her body was too stiff.
“Glad you were smart enough to come, Apple.”
She peeped one eye open. “Can’t sleep in this bed. The bloody thing’s about to swallow me whole.” But her eye closed suspiciously fast.
“I’m also glad you bathed.”
This time she sighed. “And the water were clean and warm.” But then both eyes opened. “Don’t you think I’ll be staying here long, though. I’ll likely be gone come morning.”
“Good. It will save me from having to toss you out on your skinny rump.”
Canterbury glared.
But Apple grinned; the last thing she would have wanted was to be kept. If he tried to trap her, she’d be gone for good. She relaxed again. “Cor, but this pillow is suffocating.” She was asleep by the time she’d finished speaking.
Ian tuned back to his butler. “Stop smirking. It bespeaks very little character to move a starving child into a room I never use.”
“So you say, sir. You realize you will have to find her a governess. It wouldn’t be proper to have a girl her age living in your rooms unchaperoned.”
“Her age? What is she? Eight?”
“She’s thirteen, sir.”
Damnation. What the devil did he know about governesses? He would have sent her to Madeline, but she’d left to an undisclosed location to keep her baby safe.
The last thing he needed right now was someone else to be responsible for. He’d already picked up one headstrong woman today. He didn’t need to add a headstrong girl.
But apparently it was too late.
“You’re welcome to my bed, sir,” Canterbury offered.
Yes. As if he was going to make his elderly butler sleep on the settee. Ian sank down on the offending piece of furniture before Canterbury could protest again. “I’ll see about a governess in the morning. If she stays.” He closed his eyes, hoping to shut out the entire day. Well, perhaps not the entire day. Some of the moments with Juliana would be well worth reliving in his sleep. Her skin had been like silk under his fingers, and when she scooted closer to him on the bed . . . But those were memories he’d examine alone. “And I believe I mentioned smirking is very unbecoming in a butler.”
“Your mother would be proud, sir.”
Ian rolled over, turning his back to the interfering old biddy. “My mother is dead.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leucretia sailed into Juliana’s study. She was dressed in a rather scandalous crimson gown that would have raised eyebrows if worn by a younger woman, but she somehow managed to wear it with more grace and daring than Juliana would ever manage. “What is this I hear about us leaving for the house party early?”
Juliana set down the letter she was reading. She’d already practiced the lie several times. “Gregory told me he’d heard that Prince Wilhelm might be leaving early. I have no desire to go to the party only to discover my main reason for being there is gone.” Hopefully, it contained enough of her normal dislike of such events and yet explained her seeming eagerness to attend this particular one.
She needed more practice with Ian’s tricks because after a careful study, Leucretia narrowed her eyes. “You have no fondness for Sommet.”
Juliana had never been able to hide anything from her aunt. But she could distract her. “But he has a fondness for you.” At least it appeared so from the way Sommet always lingered over her aunt’s hand.
Leucretia smoothed a hand down her still trim figure. “He was a rogue back in the day. Although I’ll admit I question what I saw in him. I am, however, looking forward to this house party. He always does manage to assemble the most interesting guests.” She perched on the chair across from Juliana’s desk. “Now tell me your plans for Prince Wilhelm.”
Juliana blinked. She really didn’t have any. She’d been so caught up with her plans to rescue Gregory from his mess, she hadn’t thought much about Wilhelm except as a convenient excuse.
“I thought as much.” Leucretia frowned. Something she rarely did for fear of wrinkles. “I don’t wish to pressure you, but we are growing short on time. I have heard the French have m
oved a garrison of troops to Lenoria’s northern border.”
“What? I’ve heard nothing of this.”
“I have my . . . private sources.”
“General Valmont?”
Leucretia lifted a shoulder in an elegant little shrug. Her aunt with her carefully selected lovers was as informed as a spymaster.
Whereas Juliana hadn’t been able to make a half-blind prince with a lisp want to marry her.
“Your attempts to attract certain men in the past have been less than fruitful.” Leucretia held up a hand. “I know you might not have given the earlier attempts your full effort, but now I am afraid your feelings need to be put aside. You need to find a husband.”
True, Juliana had never been heartbroken by her lack of suitors. She’d never really wanted any of the men they’d deemed appropriate. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t tried.
“What should I do differently?”
Leucretia tapped a finger against her lip. “I’ll admit you are at something of a disadvantage with the whole virginity issue. Men like sex, after all.”
Juliana stared at her aunt.
Leucretia lifted a brow. “I thought you were ready for this discussion. Or shall I call Eustace in here to discuss how men like morality above all other things?”
No, now Juliana was quite intrigued. “What would you suggest I change?”
Leucretia scanned her as if deciding, but Juliana knew if Leucretia was here, she already had her desired outcome in mind. “You come across as quite regal, but I think you need to let a man know you are a woman under that starch.”
“What am I supposed to do? Bat my eyelashes?”
Leucretia winced. “Never. Unless you want a man to think you have a fly in your eye. Instead, I want you to think about a man you’re attracted to.”
Ian appeared in her thoughts as stealthily as he did into her room.
No. There had to be someone else. She must have been attracted to someone else at some point.
But Ian remained in her thoughts. Smirking, no less.
Heavens, but the man had nice lips.
“Perfect,” Leucretia declared. But then she narrowed her eyes. “Although I do have to wonder who you are— Never mind. When you meet Wilhelm I want you to think of this other man.”
“I’m to think of another man?”
Leucretia shrugged. “It brings passion into your eyes, my dear. And if you add an occasional touch—I recommend the inside of the elbow and the thigh—you can easily fool most men that the passion is all for them.”
This seemed almost as underhanded as her lessons from Ian. “Then he’ll fall in love with me?”
“He will fall in lust with you, and for two unmarried royals, that amounts to the same thing.”
“But it doesn’t mean I will love him back.”
Leucretia flicked lint from her sleeve. “Of course not. You only have to charm him until after you are married and have an heir. After that you are free to make your own choice of lovers.”
Had her aunt just counseled her to have an affair?
But that might be the only way she could ever have Ian—
No. The very idea revolted her. If she married, she’d stay true to her husband. Even if that meant she could never have Ian.
Even if? There was no if. Even if Ian wanted her, she couldn’t have him. She couldn’t give up her country for a moment of bliss.
And it would be blissful. She’d dreamed of his muscled chest until she thought she’d go mad. And those things he’d taunted her with—
“Who is this man?” Leucretia asked.
Juliana blinked. “No one. Just a man I met in passing.”
The housekeeper came to the door. “You asked me to show you the details for tomorrow’s departure?” She dipped a deep curtsy that Leucretia didn’t bother to acknowledge as she swept out.
“Proceed, Mrs. Stuart,” Juliana said.
The woman rattled off all the details that had been taken care of for their departure tomorrow. “Landro, the groom, has taken quite ill as well, Your Highness. But your secretary was able to hire a very able substitute this morning.”
Juliana didn’t know how she knew it, but she knew it was Ian. How odd would it be for her to ask to see the new hire personally? Quite odd, no doubt. She’d never personally welcomed any other grooms. “Very well.”
But Juliana couldn’t relax the rest of the afternoon. Every time a servant walked by the room she straightened. Which was ridiculous because the grooms had no reason to be in the house. Yet her spine didn’t touch the back of her chair until it was time to dress for supper.
She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hand.
How would she survive a week of this? Knowing Ian was near? Her stomach flip-flopped.
Not knowing if he was safe.
Had Sommet truly put a price on his head? It was one thing when Ian had made claims about the threats the first night in her room. Then he’d been nothing but a spy. A strange man with a quick tongue.
But now he was Ian. And the thought that someone was trying to hurt him . . . she might scratch Sommet’s eyes out when she saw him.
Except she couldn’t. She would have to smile and be gracious and save her brother.
She practiced smoothing the emotion from her face. She could do this. She had to.
She might never be able to have Ian, but if Sommet so much as sneezed in his direction, he would know her wrath.
It was rare that Ian was angry. He might be little more than a common criminal, but when he interrogated his targets or even slit their throats, he usually felt nothing but a vague distaste, a residual sickness that clung to his skin like an infection.
But now rage simmered in his veins, so hot and vivid he could taste it on his tongue like burning ash.
Juliana’s lady’s maid had just let him into the princess’s room with only the flimsiest excuse. He hadn’t even been in livery yet. He’d been in a simple jacket and waistcoat.
The maid hadn’t questioned him once. What if he was a criminal?
Well, a criminal that wished Jules harm?
Just to be sure, he went back to Juliana’s room. Again he passed the maid in the corridor on his way in and she didn’t stop him.
He wouldn’t tolerate this. Not if he was taking her into Sommet’s lair.
“What are you doing in the princess’s rooms?”
Ian turned to find a young, rather rakish man with chestnut hair. Prince Gregory. This was the fool who had forced his sister to get involved with Sommet.
And had tried to have Ian’s friends murdered.
At least the prince had enough sense to question the man coming out of his sister’s room.
That was the only thing that kept Ian from gutting him and ruining his rather dapper waistcoat.
Ian bowed. “Bringing trunks down to the coaches, Your Highness.”
“Isn’t that normally the footmen’s task?”
Another point to the royal. “Aye, but there are a lot of trunks.”
Gregory chuckled. “I swear the women could pave the road with the number of dresses they bring.”
“I wouldn’t know, Your Highness.”
Gregory was already striding past. His interest in the discussion over. “My valet has almost finished with my packing. See to my trunks as well.”
Ian now had unexpected permission to enter the prince’s rooms. Which he took immediate advantage of.
“Prince Gregory asked me to carry down some of his—”
Ian knew the valet. And theirs wasn’t a pleasant acquaintance.
The rail-thin man’s eyes had only a second to widen before Ian had his knife out. “Get down on your knees, Berkley. Hands on your head.”
But of course Berkley had always been thickheaded, so the man punched. Ian blocked it and drove him to his knees, twisting his arm behind him.
Berkley struggled until Ian applied a bit more pressure. “If I have to break your arm, I will follow it up with your pretty nos
e.”
That stilled the other spy. “What are you doing here, Wraith? I heard you were tossed out of the Foreign Office like the rubbish you are. This is my bit.”
Interesting. “Come now, Berkley. You know our superiors never trusted you, not after the Madrid debacle.”
“That wasn’t my fault. It should have been clear that the donkeys were only meant—”
“Enough. Your reports on the prince have been pathetic.”
He didn’t deny his assignment. “It’s hardly my fault if he chooses not to confide in me. And the princess. What do they expect? She is like watching a puddle of mud. She never does anything of interest.”
Ian tightened his hold on the man’s arm. Berkley always had been an incompetent investigator.
Berkley squealed.
“Your work here is finished,” Ian said. And now Ian would have to pay a visit to his old friend Glavenstroke.
“Wait, why should I believe you? You don’t even—”
Ian sighed. It was probably too much to hope the man would leave quietly. He slammed the hilt of his knife into the base of Berkley’s skull.
The fake valet slumped forward unconscious.
Now Ian needed a new maid and a new valet before Juliana left tomorrow. But they needed to be people he could trust. He needed to know Juliana was surrounded by people he could count on to protect her.
Where the devil could he find a valet— Ah. Perhaps he didn’t know where he could find a valet, but he knew where he could find a rather competent, if impertinent, butler.
And he had a maid at the ready, too. Apple might not have the training, but surely she could tie laces as well as the next girl.
And it solved his problem of what to do with her. Lady’s maid was as good a profession as any.
In an instant, he knew how he’d arrange for the switch. He hefted Berkley’s body over his shoulder. He’d just need to dispose of the old valet first.
Luckily, he had all of these trunks.