Claus was through with being reasonable. He would now get Amara back beneath his control by force and return her to her father. Hopefully, he wouldn’t get to hear about her brief appearance at the prince’s pleasure palace, but if he did then Claus would cross that bridge when he came to it.
First things first.
He had assumed that breaking into her lodgings once her landlady retired and lying in wait for Amara would be child’s play. Claus had not always lived in such exalted company, and had spent his youth getting by on his wits on the streets of Athens. A man grew up quickly that way and acquired a few tricks that would stand him in good stead in later years.
Be that as it may, he’d failed to take into account the private guards who patrolled the street the moment the lamps were lit. Men commissioned by the prince, he had been told, to deter thefts from his well-heeled guests’ lodgings. The carriage he had hired at considerable personal expense to return Amara to London was still waiting around the corner. The horses would be soaked for no good reason, their services unnecessary this night. He dispatched Grigori to pay the driver off and send him on his way.
Damnation, he would have to think of another way to get to Amara. Grigori was right. There was nothing to be gained by remaining where they were, but a combination of stubbornness and determination kept Claus rooted to the spot. He was curious to see who brought her home and at what time. He didn’t expect that she would return alone, and even if she did he had learned his lesson and wouldn’t attempt to snatch her from the street.
Subtlety was called for.
Perdition, if that rogue Harland who’d been sniffing round her petticoats from the word go was her escort, and if Amara invited him inside at this hour, then Claus would explode. He had to get Amara to safety, away from the temptation that these elegant Englishmen posed to a girl who’d led such a sheltered life, before the acclaim went to her head and any lasting damage was done. If Harland compromised her, Claus would have to disappear before her father tore him apart with his bare hands and fed him to his dogs. Kazan had four strapping sons but only one daughter, who was his enduring pride, even if he seemed remote and emotionless in her presence.
The glittering future he had envisaged for himself in the theatrical world appeared to be crumbling before his very eyes.
‘Why don’t this girl have proper Greek protection?’ Grigori asked, returning from sending the carriage away and rubbing his hands together to restore the circulation. ‘A curse on this damned weather!’
It was a very good question, and one guaranteed to ignite Claus’s anger. ‘They were required elsewhere.’
It wasn’t the truth. Amara had sent them away as soon as they reached England without Claus’s knowledge. Why the devil they obeyed her instructions Claus was at a loss to understand. If they had remained, he would have had additional forces at his disposal and Amara couldn’t have resisted them all.
‘Don’t suppose the prince would allow private guards in his palace,’ Grigori said, voicing a suspicion that had already occurred to Claus. ‘It would be asking for trouble.’
Claus nodded. Perhaps the prince’s men had sent her guards packing. No. He shook his head to dislodge the possibility. They couldn’t defy the prince, but they would have come to Claus for further instructions if they’d been dismissed by anyone in the prince’s court. They were terrified of Kazan too, and were well aware that he required his precious daughter to be protected every second of the day. Only Amara had the authority to send them away, but who had put her up to it?
‘There’s a backyard to that house,’ Grigori pointed out, sniffing and rubbing his nose against the side of his hand. Claus looked away, disgusted to be obliged to associate with the type of man he himself had once been. It was a stark reminder of a life he was determined never to return to. ‘Might be a better way to get in. I had a look around the back when I sent the carriage away. There’s a high wall with no gate in it but if you don’t mind scaling it, we could get in there tomorrow night after dark, wait until the lights go out, then get into the house.’
Claus fumed. Is that what it had come down to? Then he thought of what Kazan would do to him if he didn’t get Amara back and nodded.
‘Tomorrow night,’ he said, standing up and stretching his cramped limbs, almost overpowered by the rank smell coming from his wet coat. ‘Come along. I need a tankard of ale and some breakfast.’
They were on the point of moving away when a carriage rattled to a halt outside Amara’s lodgings. Claus scowled when the tiger jumped down, opened the door and lowered the steps. That clown Harland stepped out first, his appearance in full and splendid court attire causing a colourful string of oaths to spill from Claus’s lips. He watched, burning with a combination of fury and helplessness, as Harland looked both ways down the street and then directly at Claus’s hiding place across the road, obliging Claus to duck down again. He staggered backwards, lost his footing and fell into a deep puddle, soaking his backside, eliciting further curses.
Apparently satisfied that all was well, Harland handed both ladies from the carriage. Claus noticed that he held onto Amara’s hand for far longer than was appropriate and then raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it.
Damn his impudence. Claus would have satisfaction!
Jealousy swirled through Claus in unstoppable waves. He had gone out of his way to make Amara feel comfortable. She had looked up to him with admiration as she plied him with questions about the international music profession. He had exercised endless patience and taken her inexperience in his stride, aware that she would make his name and fortune. For that reason he had been careful to respect her and keep his lust in check. Hard though it had been, he had never so much as kissed her hand, and now this entitled Englishman was taking liberties and no doubt putting inappropriate ideas into Amara’s head. He felt a burning need to protect his countrywoman, to say nothing of his own hide, and it took every ounce of restraint he possessed to remain cowering behind a bush like a coward.
‘I will have you,’ he muttered.
‘We could grab her now, if we’re quick,’ Grigori pointed out.
‘Nah.’ Claus would never admit it but he didn’t like the odds. Harland wore a sword, which was probably not just for ceremonial purposes, and there were two burly footmen with the carriage as well as the driver, who carried a long whip. ‘We’ve sent the carriage away now so it’s too late. Your idea of the garden wall will better serve. I hear tell that the prince doesn’t entertain every night quite so lavishly so Miss Kazan’s services won’t be needed tomorrow. We’ll strike after midnight.’
Amara felt a great sense of achievement as she sat beside Eva in the carriage that took them back to her lodgings. She was not a fraud, and her voice really did possess the power to enthral. To have won over such a sophisticated audience produced a heady feeling of euphoria equal to that which had followed her performances at La Scala and Covent Garden. The prince and his guests had enjoyed her singing, Mr Harland hadn’t stopped paying her compliments and she knew that she would never forget her moment of triumph in the seaside court, played out in front of the future king of England.
With Eva’s encouragement she had broken away from the future that had been mapped out for her—albeit temporarily—and shown the world what she could achieve.
Her intoxication was enhanced when she glanced across the interior of the carriage at Mr Harland, who looked devastatingly handsome in his court attire. His dark blue coat and matching breeches were teamed with a white satin embroidered waistcoat and equally white stockings that showed off his shapely calves. With a sword at his side he looked every inch the suave English gentleman and made her feel safe in ways she had not previously realised were possible.
He smiled when he caught her watching him and winked at her. Her insides glowed with embers of nervous warmth. Thick dark blond hair cascaded across his intelligent blue eyes, and he seemed totally at ease as he watched the dark streets that were still peopled by gentr
y returning home from parties and workers who were starting another day. There was no danger to them that Amara could detect, but it was clear that Mr Harland was taking his protective duties very seriously. Amara felt cherished and wished the short carriage ride could go on indefinitely.
Before she left home, she had endured one of Papa’s tediously long lectures about the disreputable intentions of all men other than Greeks. Amara had listened to and absorbed every word because her father had deigned to notice her and speak to her as an adult, rather than issuing orders that he simply assumed would be obeyed. She had believed him because she knew no better, until she arrived in this country and experienced gentlemanly conduct in the English style. Mr Harland, a gentleman to his fingertips, was a case in point. She had learned that he was the younger son of a respected earl, and she couldn’t fault his behaviour. But Papa despised the English, was blind to their finer points, and would not approve of him.
Amara closed her eyes briefly, fatigued yet too animated for any possibility of sleeping just yet. Her few brief weeks in England had opened her eyes to so many things, as had her aunt’s liberal interpretation of her duties, which had allowed Amara freedoms that she had never experienced or even realised she desired. Greek daughters were dutiful and did as they were told. She sighed, thinking of the agreement she had reached with her father. She would have to return to Greece on his yacht at the end of the summer and enter into the marriage she could put off no longer.
But, by goodness, she would enjoy herself before then!
‘Thank you, Mr Harland,’ she said, watching him from beneath lowered lashes as he held onto her hand and slowly kissed the back of it. ‘I am very grateful to you for taking care of us both. We had a lovely time. It was so lavish. I had no idea what to expect, but everyone was so kind and welcoming.’
‘Almost everyone,’ Eva remarked.
‘Ah, you are thinking about the lady with the prince.’ Amara wrinkled her nose. ‘She didn’t seem to like us much.’
Mr Harland laughed. ‘Lady Graystock is extremely selective, and I would strongly advise you not to lose any sleep if she takes you in dislike. The woman has her own agenda.’
‘Then I shall not worry.’ Amara took the opportunity to stand slightly back beside Mr Harland whilst Eva extracted a key from her reticule and unlocked the door. ‘Goodnight, Mr Harland, and thank you.’
‘The privilege has been entirely mine.’ He swept an elegant bow. ‘Will it be convenient if I collect you both at two tomorrow afternoon—or should I say this afternoon—and take you to visit Mrs Kendal?’
‘That will suit admirably.’
Amara walked into the house in Eva’s wake, aware of Mr Harland standing where he was and watching them until the door was closed and bolted again.
Cora stumbled into the hallway, looking dishevelled as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. She opened her mouth, presumably to demand to know why Amara had been out so late, and then wisely snapped it closed again, making do with a disgruntled snort.
‘There you are at last,’ she muttered on a note of accusation. ‘I was starting to think that you had been abducted.’
Cora appeared to think that her long service and distant relationship to her family gave her the right to speak her mind. Amara wondered why she tolerated her continuous disapproval. Clearly, the mores of English society—so very different to the strictures she was accustomed to in Greece—were already rubbing off on her.
‘I was unaware that we required your permission to do as we please, Cora,’ Amara said, shrugging out of her cape and gloves. ‘Go to the kitchen and bring us some hot chocolate. We are not yet ready to retire.’
Cora looked set to argue, then pursed her lips in disapproval and flounced from the room.
‘Why have I put up with her insolence for so long?’ Amara asked, flopping down into a chair.
‘Because you didn’t know any better. I have been waiting for you to realise that she oversteps the bounds.’ Eva grinned. ‘And now you have, which just goes to prove that my bad influence has found its mark.’
‘I disagree. Your influence has been inspirational.’
‘Thank you darling, but I doubt whether my brother would agree with you. However, we will not spoil your moment of triumph by speaking about such things. Now, tell me, did you enjoy yourself?’
‘Very much so.’ She nodded to Cora when she returned with their drinks. ‘Thank you. We will ring when we need you.’
Cora hesitated, then tutted and left the room, shutting the door heavily behind her, the gesture as loud as a verbal scolding.
‘She will be listening,’ Eva whispered, standing and pulling the door open again so abruptly that Cora stumbled back into the room. ‘Did you leave something behind?’ Eva asked, frowning.
‘No, ma’am.’
Finally chastened, Cora stomped away. Eva watched her climb the stairs and then closed the door herself, far more gently.
‘Right, that’s better. That woman is far too full of her own self-importance.’
‘I dare say she is storing up all my transgressions so that she can report them to Papa. Anyway, as to this evening, I thought it very sophisticated, although I am unsure about the prince’s eclectic tastes.’
Eva grinned. ‘It looked much better in candlelight than when we saw it during the day, devoid of people. The different themes he has chosen for his decorations ought not to work, yet somehow they do. Anyway, it would be a brave person who dared to criticise.’
Amara blew on her drink to cool it and then took a sip. ‘All the dire warnings that Papa issued about lurid behaviour were unjustified. Everything seemed very dignified. What do you make of the prince? I noticed him speaking with you on several occasions. Lady Graystock is not his wife and I am sure Papa would raise objections to his parading his mistress on his arm.’
‘Mrs Kendal is Lord Jonas’s mistress. You do realise that.’
‘I have nothing against mistresses—and anyway, I took an immediate liking to Mrs Kendal.’
‘She is a friend of your Mr Harland, so naturally you like her,’ Eva said, smiling.
‘Oh, do stop it! Even if Mr Harland likes me in the way that you suggest, you know very well that I am not free to form attachments or make my own choices.’ Amara’s glum expression gave way to a whimsical smile. ‘It has not escaped my notice that you evaded giving me an answer about the prince.’
‘He is very charming, yet profligate I hear tell, and I am sure that his morals would not meet with your father’s approval.’
‘He has designs upon you, I think,’ Amara said, smiling.
‘Then he will be disappointed. But at least he only looks to widows such as myself, and I shall not mind offending him if he assumes too much.’ Eva leaned forward. ‘Anyway, what of you, my love? What do you make of our new acquaintance, Mrs Kendal?’
‘A lady of great beauty and, unless I mistake the matter, sound common sense. I have heard stories about her, and I hear tell that like you, she has survived one unhappy marriage.’
‘What makes you suppose that mine was unhappy?’
‘Eva, I am no longer a child. As Papa never tires of reminding me, twenty is positively ancient and it is disgraceful that I am not yet married.’
‘Well it’s not for lack of offers.’
Amara looked away. ‘I would not be permitted to sing if I was married.’
‘And my brother knows how useful you can be to him in that respect.’
Amara conceded the point with a wry smile. ‘Which is the only reason why he allowed me to continue with my voice training, as we both know very well. Anyway,’ Amara added, finishing her drink, standing and stretching as she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, ‘I look forward to getting to know Mrs Kendal better. We cannot continue to live here but I am determined not to disappoint the prince by leaving England quite yet. Nor do I see why I should. I do not answer to Mr Lykaios. He has helped me, it’s true, but he has been well paid for his efforts and has increased h
is own standing amongst his peers. He has no cause for complaint.’
Eva grinned. ‘I am delighted to hear you reasoning these things out for yourself. Lykaios assumed too much.’
‘I agree. Anyway, there has to be a way for us to remain in Brighton safely that doesn’t require us to live in the royal pavilion. I wouldn’t mind for myself, but I have images of the prince creeping up on you during the night.’
‘He is too portly to sneak about. I would hear him coming a mile away. Anyway, I gather he suffers from gout, which is why he comes to Brighton for the sea-bathing. The waters are supposed to be beneficial.’
‘The point I am attempting to make is that I don’t want to live beneath the prince’s roof. That really would give Papa a justifiable reason for his anger.’
‘Then we shall not. Your Mr Harland seems to think that Mrs Kendal will have the answer to our problem, which is good enough for me,’ Eva said, standing. ‘Come along. I suppose we had better submit ourselves to Cora’s grumpiness and prepare for our beds. I declare it seems positively decadent to be going to bed as the sun rises.’
‘I find myself rather enjoying decadence.’
Eva laughed. ‘Then my influence will definitely be blamed,’ she said, linking arms with Amara as they left the room together.
Chapter Six
Louis had the carriage return him to his own lodgings a short distance away. He thanked the driver and then consulted with the captain of the guard who was waiting for him there, charged with the responsibility for patrolling the seafront generally and Miss Kazan’s lodgings in particular.
‘Anything to report, Saunders?’ he asked, confronting the captain in his sitting room, where he poured himself a stiff measure of brandy and consumed half the contents of his glass in one long swallow.
‘There were two coves hanging about all evening, directly across the street from the Greek ladies’ lodgings. We could have run them off but your orders were to leave them unless they tried to approach the house.’
Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2) Page 8