by Randol, Anna
Apple bowed her head and dropped into a credible curtsy. “Indeed, Your Highness. It won’t happen again.”
Apple picked up the used dress, quickly folding it to hide the dirt on the one side, and backed from the room.
“She’s young,” Leucretia pointed out.
“But talented.” Juliana fought to keep the surprise from her voice. “I like her.”
Leucretia obviously had other things distracting her. “Wilhelm won’t be coming to dinner.”
“I’m to meet with him afterward.”
Her aunt’s brows flitted upward. “Well done. Where are you to meet?”
“In the conservatory.”
She nodded, but then the lines around her lips deepened. “Be on your guard around Sommet.”
Which reminded Juliana of Leucretia’s meeting with the man this afternoon.
“I thought he was a friend.”
Leucretia smoothed a finger along one of her black braids. “We were many things to each other, but never that.”
“Why should I watch for him?”
As far as she knew, Gregory had told no one else of his trouble. Had Sommet told Leucretia about his plans for Gregory?
Her aunt seemed to be picking her words carefully. “He’s not one to appreciate a powerful woman.”
“Has he been giving you trouble, Aunt?”
Her nostrils pinched. “No man has ever been trouble to me. Now Wilhelm wants to meet this evening? I will go as your chaperone if you like. Unlike your other aunts, I know when privacy is preferable.”
That gave Juliana the perfect opening. “I was going to ask you earlier, but I couldn’t find you.”
Her aunt waved her hand. “I was out speaking with Lady Totherton for a bit. I must have been there.”
She wasn’t going to admit to being with Sommet. Were they still lovers or was there something more treacherous? As ruler of Lenoria, Juliana had the right to ask, but Leucretia was her aunt. And Juliana had to force herself to pry. “That’s odd. A servant said he saw you with Sommet.”
Leucretia’s gaze turned calculating. “For a moment only.” She clicked her tongue. “Perhaps it’s best you know. It’s why I warned you of him. He advised me on some business dealings long ago, and when I proved more successful, he grew angry.”
“If he is threatening—”
“No, do nothing to interfere. I can take care of my own problems. Now shall we go to dinner?”
A short time later, Juliana found herself smiling intently at her turtle soup. Being the highest-ranking female in attendance, she had the rather dubious honor of sitting next to the duke.
“It must be burdensome to be tasked with so much at such a young age. I myself inherited this duchy when I was but ten.”
Did he think to soften the blow of his intrigues?
She stirred the brown broth with her spoon. “Not at all. I relish the responsibility. It is what I was raised to do, after all.”
The duke lifted a stringy white eyebrow, and slurped the soup off his spoon. “So pleased to hear it. I’ll admit I was surprised when you accepted my invitation. You have never done so in the past.”
“How could I stay away? It promises to be quite interesting.”
The duke’s eyes narrowed, but after searching her face, he turned to the woman at his other side.
Juliana turned as well. She’d been sandwiched between two dukes. To her right sat the dark-haired, rakish Duke of Abington.
She started when she found his gaze already trained on her.
She didn’t know the man well. He’d been back in London for only about a year, having lived abroad before that. He was always surrounded by so many swooning females that Juliana had never shared more than a brief nod of acknowledgment with him.
But he had to be better than Sommet.
“How are you enjoying the house party, Your Grace?”
He lifted his cup of wine and took a sip. “Quite well. Even better now that it’s provided me with the opportunity to speak to you.”
“You don’t find it boring to only speak to one woman at a time?”
His head rocked back and he grinned, dimples appearing on his cheeks.
“Apparently not if she is you.” He leaned toward her as if to impart some great secret. Some of the tension escaped her shoulders. Perhaps she wouldn’t starve to death at the house party after all. She’d simply eat when she spoke to Abington and hope she could keep the food down while she conversed with Sommet.
“So does Lenoria share this unseasonable heat in the summer?”
Juliana hated that she had to pause to think of her answer. “Quite. My family would often take trips out of the city to escape it.” She also hated how everything she said about Lenoria was past tense. All her memories were old ones, or snippets and glimpses she got from the letters from the ragtag officials who held together the local government. For some reason, she felt compelled to prove that her knowledge wasn’t lacking. “My aunt owns a beautiful chateau on Lake Lago. The lake is over three hundred feet deep but you can clearly see the bottom of it. Cherry trees grow along the banks and when the petals fall from the trees, they float, turning the entire lake pink.”
“Lake Lago?” Abington asked, his dimple deepening. “Now I know this pink lake is fiction. Who would name the lake Lake Lake?”
“Apparently there was a dispute hundreds of years ago with some Spanish immigrants. That was the compromise.”
“I traveled all over Europe. I’m sure I would have heard of it.”
“The lake is in the mountains, and the mountains are only accessible through the Lenorian side.” That was what kept the land mostly safe during the war. After her family had been dethroned, the Spanish had swooped in but the terrain had proved too difficult to be strategically useful. But their treatment at the hands of the Spanish had convinced the Lenorians that they’d prefer their own monarchy back as opposed to that of the French or Spanish. “They don’t get many travelers. The few villages there keep mostly to themselves.”
“Which mountains?” Abington motioned for the footman to refill his wineglass.
“The Palas.”
“I’ve heard there is to be archery tomorrow,” Abington said abruptly, grabbing for his wine glass even though it was only half full.
“What was this about the Palas?” Sommet cut off his conversation with the lady at his side and swiveled to Juliana.
“The lake there,” Abington said. “The princess was regaling me with its beauty.” He made it sound as if she’d been forcing him to listen to the linen inventory.
Had she been boring him? Was Abington so great an actor that she hadn’t suspected?
“It is.” Sommet nodded. “I was there long ago. The mountains hold many treasures.”
Abington’s eyes wandered, apparently he had lost interest. “Ah, natural beauty so fascinating.”
“Have you heard anything about them recently, Your Highness? How they fared in the war?” Sommet’s spoon swished back and forth in the center of his bowl.
“Nothing.” But now she intended to learn everything she could. Something about them had caught Sommet’s attention—
Gregory’s blasted deal.
How had she forgotten? Her brother had given away the rights to the minerals in the southern mountains—the Palas.
“That is unfortunate. I find them of particular interest.”
“When were you last there?” she asked. She knew she should let the matter drop, but she was a princess—a queen if she could get back to her country—and she’d only take so much of his sly comments. Over the past year and a half, she’d debated if things would have gone better for Lenoria in the treaty negotiations if she’d been more aggressive. If she’d been louder. If she’d been stronger.
“Not for years.”
She wouldn’t suffer those doubts again. If she lost to Sommet, it would be because she’d been torn down, fighting, clawing, screaming the entire way. “I’m pleased you have such interest in my mountains. I i
ntend to see they remain undisturbed.”
Sommet set down his spoon.
Abington jostled into her as he moved aside as a footman came for his bowl. “I beg your pardon.” At first she thought he’d been trying to interrupt, but no, his face was flushed. He was inebriated. He motioned a footman over again to refill his glass. That had to be his fourth. Or perhaps fifth. And he’d been drinking something in the parlor before they’d been led into the dining room, “I much prefer beaches to mountains myself. Especially if there is bathing involved. There was one in Greece—”
Juliana only half listened as Abington launched into an amusing tale about becoming separated from his clothing while swimming.
Instead, she let her gaze battle with Sommet’s. Let him worry about what she knew.
She was done being the only one who couldn’t sleep at night.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Please tell me this is part of your disguise.” Ian had planned to spy on Juliana in the conservatory, but then he’d stumbled over Abington sprawled in the corridor. The man was nearly insensible with drink.
“What disguise?”
Ian tucked his arm around the other man and hefted him to his feet. “Glavenstroke told me he’d sent an operative to look into Sommet. As soon as I saw the guest list, I knew it must be you.” He’d worked with Abington briefly a few years ago in Constantinople, where Abington had been training a group of Greek rebels.
He’d heard rumor that Abington had become somewhat unstable since his return to London. Now, Ian was normally the last person to require stability. He hardly ever slept in the same place two nights in a row, but when it was Juliana’s country—her life—at risk, he found he had very little tolerance for this nonsense.
“Officially, have no idea what you’re talking about. Unofficially, what the devil are you doing here? I thought you no longer worked for the Foreign Office.”
“I don’t.”
Abington’s frown was pronounced as he tried to work that out in his mind. “Then why are you here?”
“Sommet and I have a more personal score.”
Abington nodded, as they slowly stumbled toward his room. Ian waited to say any more until they were inside with the door shut behind them. “How does Sommet not know you?”
“I was one of Glavenstroke’s pet projects. Since I only worked with the Greek rebels, I never had reason to interact with anyone else from the office.”
“What do you know about Sommet?”
“Not much. The man’s a damned tight drum. Or runs a tight ship?” He pressed his hands against the sides of his skull. “Hell, perhaps this is a conversation better held in the morning.”
“I don’t have time to waste. What can you tell me?”
Abington scrunched his face. “Don’t know if I should.”
“I’m trying to protect Juliana from Sommet. I have to keep her safe. You know how important that is.” Ian felt a twinge of guilt at his words. Abington’s rebel lover had been hanged in Constantinople, and he’d been helpless to stop it. Ian was a beast to play off that pain. But he was not a man given to qualms. Especially not when it might help Juliana.
“Juliana?”
“The princess,” Ian supplied.
“I know she’s a bloody princess. I sat by her at dinner. First-name basis, are you?”
“You know me. No decorum at all.”
Abington’s bleary eyes focused for a moment. “I do know you, Wraith. I may be drunk, but I’m not blind. You like her.”
“She’s a princess. Everybody likes her. Swallows roost on her windowsills and puppies follow her about.”
“She has a death wish if she keeps provoking Sommet.”
“How was she provoking him?” Really, he couldn’t let that woman out of his sight.
“The Palas.”
“The mountains?”
“Yes. Don’t quite know Sommet’s connection to them yet, but he wants them. Which means if your princess keeps laying claim to them, Sommet will find a way to get rid of her.”
“So help me protect her.”
Abington sighed and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “All I know is that Sommet is wealthy. Very. But about a year and a half ago, there was a sudden decrease in his finances. He’s still wealthy, but the money coming in was cut in half. It appears tied to undisclosed investments in the Palas.”
“What type of investments?” Ian helped Abington out of his jacket and the man collapsed on his bed with a groan.
Ian was lucky the man was foxed, otherwise he doubted Abington would be so forthright. He should let Glaves know his man grew talkative when cup-shot.
“Vague. But my guess is mining. And the French. Always the damned French.”
“What—” But Abington’s eyes rolled back and he let out a huge snore.
Ian left. He’d finish first thing in the morning. With carefully silent feet, he crept to the conservatory. Although as he approached, it became apparent his stealth wouldn’t be necessary. A violin and cello were in the process of tuning while someone picked out a few notes on the pianoforte.
When a footman walked by, Ian nodded and continued past as if he had somewhere to be, then circled back.
He could hear voices on the other side of the door. A deep voice and then a higher, sultry one. How could Wilhelm want to listen to music when he could be listening to Juliana?
Juliana laughed at something, the sound breathy and surprised. Happy.
Ian backed away from the door. Information to him was like ale to a tavern—essential. It had been his livelihood for most of his life. Every bit, every morsel, he stored away for later use, gathering more and more details until nothing surprised him.
He hadn’t been surprised since his mother had offed herself.
Except by Juliana.
Juliana surprised him every moment.
For once, he didn’t want to know what was happening on the other side of the door. He told himself that he respected Juliana enough to give her privacy, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He spied on everyone.
No. He had to be honest to himself and to the cold sweat on his palms.
He was scared. Terrified like a hen in a cock fight.
Of losing her to a man who actually deserved her.
Wilhelm might be a master.
She’d heard only parts of the first movement. But it managed to be both haunting yet strangely playful. It was a combination she wouldn’t have thought possible if she hadn’t heard it herself.
Ian needn’t have worried about her virtue after all. Wilhelm was almost entirely focused on his music. Occasionally, he’d remember her presence and return to her side to ask for her opinion on a certain violinist or share some humorous commentary on his work.
She suspected this was what her evenings would be like if she married the prince.
There could be worse fates.
This could be a life she might even come to enjoy after a while.
If she didn’t have another man awaiting her in her room. A man that made her heart pound and breath cease.
Wilhelm stopped the current cellist with a nod. “That will do for tonight.”
The now sweaty musician lowered his arm and sagged against his instrument.
Juliana rose to her feet but kept her gaze from straying to the door again. Ian was either waiting for her in her room or he wasn’t. Staring at the door did nothing but make her neck sore.
Wilhelm joined her as the other musicians began to pack up their instruments. Leucretia caught her eye, then slipped from the room.
“Thank you for humoring me,” Wilhelm said.
Juliana smiled. “No, it was enjoyable. Your daughter will love it.”
“Truly?”
She wasn’t sure if he was asking about her enjoyment or his daughter’s, so she nodded. They were both true.
“She’s blind, you know. My Greta. Has been since birth.” He watched intently for her reaction.
Juliana met his gaze a
bit confused. What was he watching for? She’d spent the entire evening trying to ensure she said the right things. Did the right things. She second-guessed herself at every interaction. And she was exhausted. “Have you thought about getting her a puppy rather than a kitten then? She could train it to come when she called. One of my old nannies had a dog who would pick up whatever she dropped. It might be useful.”
A slow smile spread over Wilhelm’s face, sincere and uncertain at the same time. “Then you don’t assume she’s slow of thought?”
“You only said she was blind.”
He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. His lips were warm and firm, his caress gentle, but her insides stayed firmly in place. Not a single flip or roll.
“I’m glad you joined me tonight.”
“So am I.” But as she hurried out of the conservatory a few moments later, she had to face the truth that she was far more excited to be going back to her room than she had been to go to the conservatory.
Juliana exhaled. There really was no chance she’d be able to stop the anticipation that hummed over her skin.
Was it somehow unfair to Wilhelm? Her desire for Ian?
She’d made no protestation of affection. But she’d made her intentions clear. Should she be honest with the prince? What she wanted with Wilhelm was little more than an alliance at this point. Could she explain that?
Could she marry a man in the hope that it would someday grow into something more?
After all, she’d forget what she felt for Ian.
Or at least time would lessen it.
Eventually.
She opened the door to her room and could tell immediately that Ian wasn’t there. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t see him, but she couldn’t feel him, either. Ian had a way of charging the very air in the room.
Apple sat over in the far corner of the room. When Juliana entered, she tucked a book behind her. “I washed my hands before I touched it.”
“I’m fine with you reading.”
Apple flushed. “I was going to put the book back.”
“You can read whatever you like.”
“Truly?” The girl looked disbelieving.
“Yes. Has Ian been by this evening?”