Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘You never said.’

  Eva smiled. ‘I didn’t want to spoil your pleasure at being free for a while. But it all made sense when one of your brothers told me the truth. Drakos wouldn’t have presumed to behave in such a proprietorial manner without your father’s approval. Hardened man that he is, he still defers to my brother’s authority.’

  ‘All the better,’ Sabine said cheerfully. ‘If the two rivals are competing for your favours, Amara, they will be easier to manipulate.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I cannot ask it of you,’ Amara replied. ‘Even on their best behaviour in a foreign country, they are still dangerous men to cross.’

  Sabine flapped a hand in dismissal. ‘You are starting to sound like Chance. I will be in absolutely no danger. If the two men can be provoked into brawling in the prince’s court then not only will you be free of them both but the deputation itself will lose all credibility.’

  ‘My brother and Estevan will each blame the other, and their plans for Greece’s future will be curtailed,’ Eva added. ‘Of course, that doesn’t mean that your father won’t expect you to return home and marry someone else of his choosing, but Sabine is right. We should fight one battle at a time.’

  ‘I can see that you are quite determined to do this, Sabine,’ Amara said, after taking a moment to consider what other objections she ought to raise and not being able to think of any.

  ‘My dear, I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for years. I know your culture is very different from ours, but no matter where people come from, I cannot abide bullies and manipulators. Anyway, we do not expect the delegation to arrive before Monday, so you have time to consider my suggestions. Naturally, the final word is yours.’

  ‘No.’ Amara sat a little straighter and tugged impatiently at her severe hairstyle when its tightness pulled on her scalp. She removed a few pins and the entire arrangement collapsed, leaving long strands dancing over her shoulders and down her back. ‘That’s better,’ she said, sighing and giving her head a little shake. ‘But as to the other matter, I am grateful to you, Sabine, and if you are absolutely sure, then please go ahead. I wish I could be there to share the danger with you, but I can quite see that would defeat the objective.’

  ‘You will remain here, well-guarded,’ Sabine said, sending Amara a mischievous smile. ‘I dare say Louis Harland can be persuaded to ensure your protection.’

  ‘Sabine!’ Amara felt her cheeks warm but stifled the protests that sprang to her lips. Both ladies had her best interests at heart, Sabine was going out of her way to extricate her from a hopeless dilemma and she wouldn’t repay them by denying the truth. But nor could she bring herself to put into words her feelings for her glamorous admirer. ‘I shall be delighted to bear Mr Harland’s company,’ she said, so primly that all three of them burst into laughter.

  ‘That’s settled then. Mr Harland will be here again this afternoon. So will Lord Robert,’ Sabine said, settling a speculative look upon Eva. ‘I dare say they will bring news of the deputation with them. The invitation has been issued and I very much doubt whether it will be declined, but the gentlemen will know for sure.’

  ‘Oh, they will come,’ Eva said with certainty in her tone. ‘Especially if they have heard that Amara is here.’

  ‘In that case,’ Sabine said, ‘there is nothing more to be said on the matter for the time being. Shall we take an opportunity to stroll in the grounds while the rain still holds off?’

  ‘With pleasure,’ Amara replied, thinking about her dishevelled hair and considering running to fetch a bonnet to contain it, then changing her mind. The thought of the wind having its fun with her tresses and cooling her overburdened mind was too great to resist. ‘Can we take Ace with us?’

  Sabine smiled and stroked the dog’s belly with the toe of her slipper as he dozed in front of the fire. ‘I doubt whether he will allow us to go far before he joins us,’ she replied.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The gentlemen arrived that afternoon, bringing with them confirmation that the Greek delegation would be in Brighton the following Monday—four days away. The grand banquet to be staged in their honour, in preparation for which the prince was pulling out all the stops, was arranged for Tuesday evening.

  There was no turning back now.

  There was also little to do but wait. Sabine and Chance discussed how to go about publicly disagreeing with one another, but did so in the privacy of her chamber. Chance took every opportunity to distract Sabine from their purpose.

  Sabine took little distracting and fell a little more in love with her intoxicating and fascinating paramour with every passing hour. Sometimes she felt the need to pinch herself, just to be sure that it wasn’t all an elaborate figment of her imagination, and that such a vital and disarmingly handsome aristocrat really was occupying her bed as well as her heart.

  Louis and Lord Robert called every afternoon, and remained for dinner unless either or both of them was required at the pavilion. Sabine watched Amara’s growing enjoyment of Louis’s company with interest, and wished with all her heart that she could do something to secure their future together. She had seldom observed a couple more obviously suited, and it seemed tragic that Amara would not be permitted to follow her heart.

  She discussed the situation one afternoon with Chance when they were upstairs, supposedly discussing their forthcoming public disagreement.

  ‘It is so very sad,’ she said pensively, watching Louis and Amara through the window, their heads together as they strolled through the grounds, oblivious to everything except each other. ‘If ever I saw two people more destined to be together, I cannot for the life of me recall when.’

  Chance flexed a brow. ‘Can you not?’ he asked.

  Sabine knew he was thinking of them, and that her words had struck a chord. She was also aware that he was biding his time, waiting for her to put aside her reservations and agree that marriage was the next logical step.

  Her head told her that was most definitely the case. She had seen the way other women looked at Chance with hunger and predatory intent. Lady Graystock was a case in point. Sabine also knew that Chance had no interest in any of them, but would he eventually grow tired of her dithering and her unwillingness to make the ultimate commitment? There were plenty of others more attuned to his lifestyle who wouldn’t hesitate to take her place. Perhaps his thoughts were turning in the direction of a family. They hadn’t discussed children and thus far their lovemaking had not resulted in the likelihood of their producing any. But even so...

  Perhaps she was barren. Sabine hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility before now, but she was sure Chance must have. Her inability to breed might decide him against her, she thought, suddenly terrified that he would tire of her for that reason. All men required sons, did they not? The prospect of losing him cut to the quick, and yet the remedy was within her grasp. Even so, a stubborn corner of her brain held her back from agreeing to become his wife.

  Perhaps she didn’t want to jinx what they had.

  She had felt Chance tense when they’d attended the prince’s court in the pavilion and she had overheard herself being described as Chance’s mistress. She failed to understand why he would take offence, since that was exactly what she had become. If she didn’t mind, she couldn’t see why it would upset him quite so much. Not that anyone would ever know Chance was upset. It showed in miniscule ways that only she, who was starting to understand him so well, could recognise. A slight stiffening of his jaw here; a darkness in his expression there.

  ‘Come here, woman,’ Chance said. ‘Stop worrying about everyone else and let me have your full attention.’

  She scampered over to the bed and into his arms. ‘You are assured of it,’ she told him, and not only because she was concerned that her insecurities might have shown in her expression. ‘Always.’

  The days between agreeing with Amara that they would put their plan into action and doing so passed quickly, and yet somehow also appeared to stand still. Despi
te having visitors in the house, Sabine had got to know Chance better and to love him more during the course of those few days. He spoke a little about his own family. About how they had dismissed him as an irrelevance because he refused to follow in their profligate and debauched ways. About how they were now at him the entire time for financial help, ever since he’d made a success of Bagatelle, his gaming club and also reinforced his position as an indispensable and influential member of the prince’s trusted inner circle.

  ‘There is always a favour of one sort or another they require from me,’ he said, holding her naked in his arms one afternoon, a faraway look in his eye. ‘There was a time, before I reached the age of discretion, when I would have given anything to secure the attention of my father and my older siblings. Now that I am assured of it, I see it for the valueless commodity it actually is.’ She felt his sigh reverberate through his entire body. ‘I can’t respect people with low morals.’

  ‘Yet you don’t object to mine,’ she said with a sparkling smile.

  ‘Don’t you dare class yourself in the company of those rogues!’

  Sabine knew it had been the wrong thing to say. She didn’t want to spoil the mood by alluding to the subject of matrimony that hung between them like an invisible divide, so she stretched up instead to give Chance a prolonged kiss.

  ‘What was that for?’ he asked, tweaking her nose.

  ‘Simply for being you and for reminding me how much I adore you.’

  ‘Is that right? In that case, I think it fair to warn you that kisses of that nature can only result in one conclusion.’

  And he set about proving it.

  The day of their disagreement dawned damp and dark, but nothing could deter Sabine’s determination. Amara assured Sabine that it wasn’t too late to have a change of heart, but Sabine was spoiling for a fight. She had wrongs to right and wouldn’t hear of abandoning their plan.

  ‘Not on your life!’ she said cheerfully. ‘I have a new gown that I have been waiting for the appropriate occasion to show off, and no one will rob me of that opportunity.’

  ‘Oh well,’ Amara replied, her smile appearing anxious and forced. ‘In that case…’

  Sabine took a long time over her preparations for her second appearance at the prince’s pleasure palace. Her lovely and ruinously expensive new gown was of shimmering bronze silk and sported a silver-spangled overskirt and low-cut bodice edged with silk flowers decorated with delicate seed pearls. Short puffed sleeves edged with Flemish lace left her shoulders bare. The flounces echoed the flower and pearl decoration and finished in a short train. The headdress allowed Sabine’s long spiral curls to touch her shoulders and a band of yet more flowers and pearls to cut through her coiffure.

  ‘You look a picture, lamb,’ Agnes said, sighing with satisfaction as she stood back to examine Sabine from all angles. She wiped a tear from her eye. ‘I’ve waited patiently to see you dressed in such finery and to know that you are anticipating enjoying yourself with a man who is worthy of you.’

  ‘He may be worthy, but am I?’

  ‘Good heavens, where did all this doubt come from? The man idolises you and well you know it. You have but to say the word and he’ll marry you in a second.’

  ‘But what if I do and it all goes wrong?’

  ‘Ah, sweetheart.’ Agnes shook her head and flashed a sad smile. ‘Kendal really did destroy your confidence, didn’t he? But you ought to be assured by now that not all men are cut from his miserable mould.’

  ‘Oh, take no notice of me. I know Chance is honourable and nothing like Kendal. It’s just that I still feel awkward mixing with royalty.’

  ‘You get on out there and save that poor lass from…well, from whatever it is those horrible men have in mind for her.’

  ‘Agnes, you haven’t even met them.’

  ‘I don’t need to,’ she replied with a dark frown. ‘That child has good instincts and is being pulled in all directions by the loyalty she feels to her family and…well, it’s obvious to one and all how she feels about Mr Harland.’

  ‘Much good it will do her,’ Sabine said. ‘Even if I can destroy her current suitors’ claims, her father still won’t allow her to marry an Englishman. He hates us all.’ Sabine sighed. ‘Anyway, I can’t be all things to all people, and I had best not keep Chance waiting any longer.’

  ‘He’d wait all night for you, love.’ Agnes handed Sabine her shawl and fan and opened the door for her. ‘Have a lovely time. I know you will succeed.’

  Sabine kissed Agnes’s cheek. ‘Oh, I shall be fine, I expect, once I get my nerves under control.’

  Sabine hesitated outside the doors to her own drawing room, hearing the cultured voices coming from within and feeling inexplicably nervous. But dawdling wouldn’t achieve anything so she threw back her shoulders and stepped through the open doorway, marvelling for a moment at the sight of Chance, resplendent in full court regalia, before he realised she was there. When he did so, he turned, assessed her appearance and a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face.

  ‘You look absolutely divine,’ he told her, taking her hand.

  ‘Well, you know what they say about a new gown giving its wearer confidence. Or perhaps you do not, in which case, let me assure you that it’s true.’

  Everyone else complimented her, and Sabine’s earlier jitters gave way to feelings of stark determination. Lord Robert was also dressed for court, but Louis would remain here to dine with the ladies. Sabine knew that Chance had taken additional precautions and stationed more men in strategic positions, just in case anyone attempted to get to Amara. Murphy would remain here as well and coordinate things, with Ace lending his canine support.

  ‘If you are ready?’ Chance proffered his arm as he gave Murphy, who loitered in the doorway, a brief nod. Sabine accompanied Chance and Lord Robert to their waiting conveyance. Amara and Eva stood in the open doorway with Louis, waving them off with last minute good luck wishes.

  ‘Is it necessary to wear court regalia when the prince is unlikely to appear at table?’ Sabine asked as the carriage moved off.

  ‘Oh yes.’ It was Lord Robert who answered her. ‘Prinny can be unpredictable, and if he does decide to show his face and thinks we are letting standards slip, there will be hell to pay.’

  ‘Ah well, in that case...’

  Chance, presumably sensing her nervousness, clasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He didn’t let it go again until they arrived at the pavilion and their carriage was waved through the gates.

  ‘Ready?’ Chance asked, smiling at Sabine.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she replied with more confidence than she actually felt. Now that she was here, dabbling in matters of state, all the things that could go spectacularly wrong ran through her mind in a disconcertingly repetitive loop. How could she, a relative nobody, possibly get the better of such refined people? She shook her head in an effort to filter out her negative thoughts, aware that if she lost her nerve now she would never come across convincingly. If that were to happen, Amara’s fate would be sealed and it would be all her fault.

  The grand salon was already half full when they walked in. Sabine smiled when she noticed the familiar face of Lord Eli Scott, one of the prince’s trusted equerries, who had recently married Mila Kruger, a Prussian diplomat’s daughter. That reminder gave Sabine fresh courage. Kruger had had someone else in mind for Mila, much as Kazan did for his daughter, but Mila and Eli had found the courage to fight for a future together. Amara’s situation was more complicated, given that Kazan was fiercely opposed to the English as a race and determined that his daughter would marry a fellow Greek.

  But even so...

  ‘Mrs Kendal,’ Lord Eli bowed over her hand as he smiled at her. ‘It is a very great pleasure to see you here. I trust I find you well.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord Eli, yes. How is Mila?’

  ‘In the very best of health. She is not here tonight, and will be sorry to have missed you.’

  ‘Is that
the Greek delegation?’ she asked, nodding towards two swarthy looking gentlemen who were standing slightly apart from one another, as though each was unable to tolerate the other’s company at closer quarters. The third member of the party was deep in conversation with a gentleman Sabine didn’t recognise.

  ‘Yes. The talkative one is Christoforou, the political aide. The other two don’t have much to say for themselves. The man talking to Christoforou is one of our own diplomats. God alone knows, we shall need all his skills. I cannot begin to imagine what good George thought it would do to bring the deputation down here.’

  ‘You know George,’ Chance said, shrugging. ‘Ever the peacemaker.’

  ‘Except where his own affairs are concerned. Lady Graystock has been heard using language that would make a sailor blush.’ Lord Eli chuckled. ‘Rumour has it that Mrs Fitzherbert is back in favour so Lady G will have to make way.’

  ‘That seems a little unfair on her,’ Sabine replied. ‘I don’t much like the woman, but even so she must feel used. Then again, one imagines she knew what to expect when she took up with the prince.’

  ‘Save your sympathy, my love. Phoebe Graystock is a survivor. We won’t have seen the last of her here at court.’

  ‘I hear you are accommodating the Greek siren I have heard such glowing reports about in your household, Mrs Kendal,’ Lord Eli said. ‘Two of the Greeks have individually asked several times if she will be here this evening.’ He paused. ‘I can see that you are being pointed out to them as we speak, so I dare say you will be applied to as well.’

  ‘They will be disappointed,’ Chance said shortly. ‘Miss Kazan expressed no desire to come with us.’

  ‘I can quite see why,’ Sabine added, glancing at the two Greeks. ‘There is something about both of them that sets my teeth on edge.’

  ‘Come, Sabine.’ Chance took her arm. ‘Dinner is about to be announced. I want to delay your introduction if only to save your poor teeth. It won’t hurt to create a little tension by making them wait to interrogate you.’