If, after that, she couldn’t forgive me, then I was ready to accept it. If I had inherited anything from our mother, it was—finally—a peace about the mistakes I had made and the person I was growing to be.
Finally, I decided to just spit it out. “It was Dr. Lao, from the palace. I’m fine,” I added, with a reassuring smile when his frown instantly deepened with my answer.
“What did he want?”
I lifted my hands. “Apparently, there’s some antiquated rule of the office of palace physician. He’s not quite sure how to handle it at the moment.”
“And he thought you could help?”
“I think he might be trying to narrow the suspects.”
Hugh’s hazel gaze sharpened. Again, I should have really picked my words more carefully. Note to self: Don’t refer to oneself as a suspect. It makes one’s husband suspicious of your activities. “Explain, please.”
“The blood tests I arranged for Thea, Sophie, Henry and me. Remember, the ones I told you about?”
He nodded.
“They were analyzed blind by an independent lab. Dr. Lao’s nurse assigned each of the samples random code names and only she had the key, which was destroyed by a different clerk once they were returned.”
“Was there something wrong with one of the tests?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know if I can say that. But Dr. Lao says there’s this very old royal decree that requires the court surgeon to tell the monarch whenever he gets evidence that an heir is expecting a child.”
Hugh threw back the bedclothes and was crossing over to me in one blindingly fast movement. “Caro—”
I stopped him. I knew what he’d assume. “It’s not me,” I insisted. “The blood test was two months ago. I’d know it by now.”
His shoulders relaxed, but he still seemed concerned, going by the way his eyes were searching over me, as if trying to detect evidence of injury or pregnancy.
“Besides, it’s…you know…too soon,” I stammered, suddenly wondering if it was too soon for…that…with us. But when Hugh closed a hand around my waist and pulled me to his naked, muscular body my hormones snapped to attention. Yeah, maybe not too soon. And the way Hugh’s body reacted to me seemed to indicate that he also agreed with that conclusion.
“So what is Dr. Lao going to do?” Hugh asked. “If he’s got to report this? Call each of you and…inquire about your…ah…months?”
I helped him out. “No, I volunteered to do it.” Hugh gave me a you-didn’t look and I tried for levity. “The good news is, Henry says he’s definitely not pregnant.”
“That’s a relief,” Hugh said.
“And then I called the sister I thought most likely to get knocked up…”
Hugh knew who I was talking about. “And?”
I shook my head. “It’s not her.”
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Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
As in The Royal Runaway, in this novel I borrowed and stole from real-life historical places and events that have long intrigued me.
As far as I know, Vox Umbra is a complete and total figment of my imagination, however, I did draw inspiration from the long-held beliefs and myths surrounding the Knights Templar and Freemasonry that go back to the Crusades. The Chinon Parchment is an actual document, discovered in the 21st century in Vatican archives. It amazes me that there are documents and relics that are yet to be discovered stored beneath the Vatican – Indiana Jones and the Dusty Trove of Lost Books, anyone?
When I was searching for a name for Astrid Decht-Sevine’s Swiss fort/convent, on a hunch, I decided to google “Perpetua,” which was the name for the abandoned island/ convent in The Royal Runaway and this novel. I soon discovered that there are two Catholic saints, Perpetua and Felicitas, who were martyred in Carthage in the first century, CE. When I originally created the island of Perpetua, I pulled the name from Mozart’s Requiem and Latin-Catholic liturgy. But after discovering the two female saints whose names have been joined together for two thousand years, I felt it was meant to be; Perpetua and Felicitas, two fictional convents influenced by two powerful matriarchal lineages.
And if you didn’t already know, yes, there was a real-life king buried in a car park. It was not, however, King Fredrik II of Drieden. In 2012, the remains of King Richard III were found under a car park in Leicester, England. I’ve long been mildly obsessed with this bit of history and all of the story possibilities that it could inspire (who killed the king, who tried to hide the evidence, what if someone switched the genetic testing?), however, I restrained myself while writing The Royal Bodyguard and didn’t let myself go too crazy. Although, I will say, it was an excellent idea for the Driedish royal heirs to get DNA testing done. Just saying.
Keep Reading,
Lindsay
Acknowledgments
A million and one thank you’s…
To my agent, Louise Fury and the team at The Bent Agency for helping me tell my stories. Your commitment to your writers and their art is empowering and inspiring.
To Liz Pelletier and the team at Entangled Publishing, it’s been great coming home to you!
To my HBICs, Mary Chris Escobar, Laura von Holt, Alexis Anne, Alexandra Haughton and Julia Kelly, who inspire me to keep digging deeper and reaching higher. (And a shout out to Laura and Alexandra who celebrated a royal wedding with me and then listened to me figure out how the first draft of this book was absolute rubbish.)
To my readers, you have excellent and refined tastes. I think about you every time I sit down to write and I pray that this story brightened your day and lightened your heart, even in uncertain times.
As always, to my husband J and my children, E & M. I love you to Drieden and back.
About the Author
As a Texan and recovering sorority girl, Lindsay Emory has strong opinions on college football, nachos, and wearing white after Labor Day. Lindsay started writing when her first grade teacher put her in a closet and told her to write stories, instead of teaching her math. When she’s not writing, she’s raising two daughters, watching movies with her husband, and reading as many books as possible. She is an active member of the Dallas Area Romance Authors chapter of RWA and a semi-active member of the PTA, which is a whole lot less fun.
Also by Lindsay Emory…
The Royal Runaway
Know When to Hold Him
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