Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘I say.’ Lord Eli frowned. ‘What are you two up to?’

  Chance rolled his eyes. ‘Trust me, Eli, you don’t want to know. But please bear in mind later that things are seldom what they appear to be.’

  Lord Eli looked justifiably mystified but nodded amiably. ‘Well, I dare say you know what you are doing.’

  ‘I am glad someone thinks so,’ Chance whispered in Sabine’s ear as they joined the procession and made their way into dinner.

  The meal was a more relaxed affair without the prince in attendance to dominate proceedings, Sabine decided. George’s senior courtiers hosted the meal and ensured that the Greeks escorted select female company that precluded any talk of politics. Musicians played in the gallery as footmen circulated, serving everyone proficiently. There was no sign of Lady Graystock. Sabine idly wondered if she had already left Brighton or was enjoying a fond farewell with the prince.

  She was conscious of the two men who interested her seated on the opposite side of the table sending her frequent looks. She pretended not to notice and behaved as though they didn’t exist.

  After the meal came to an end and the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, Sabine knew that the time had come. The Greeks seemed less stiff and formal, having consumed their share of the fine wines on offer and doubtless having partaken liberally of the port also after the ladies withdrew. The prince was a wine connoisseur and his guests were served with the finest vintages.

  Sabine noticed Estevan approaching her. He was a handsome man who clearly knew it, and appeared to have a high opinion of himself. She and Chance walked into a small ante-room which they had to themselves. Aware of Estevan loitering within earshot, Sabine laid into Chance.

  ‘That is why I will not marry you!’ she said angrily. ‘You couldn’t take your eyes off Lady Marlow for the entire meal. And she was scarcely less able to stop sending you encouraging looks. I assume you have an assignation with her and that my being here is cramping your style.’

  ‘Sabine, my love, you are entirely wrong…’

  ‘Don’t you my love me, Jonas Dayton! I told you at the outset that I will not accept infidelity and I meant what I said. Go and enjoy your lady’s smiles and leave me be. I shall make my own way home. On my own,’ she added for emphasis.

  ‘Sabine, please! You are being entirely unreasonable.’

  ‘Just go away and leave me alone,’ she cried, exasperated.

  ‘Very well. I can see that you have found me guilty of crimes I haven’t committed, so I shall go now and return when you have had time to reflect.’

  ‘You will have had a wasted journey,’ she shouted to his retreating back. ‘I will not have changed my mind. I know what I saw.’

  ‘Damned hysterical female,’ she heard him mutter as he walked away, presumably for Estevan’s benefit.

  Sabine waited alone after Chance left her for so long that at first she wondered if Estevan had seen through their performance. She suspected that he was still watching her, so she walked up and down, arms folded across her waist, muttering imprecations beneath her breath.

  Her nerves were frazzled by the time she heard footsteps behind her and someone cleared his throat. She swirled around.

  ‘I told you to leave me…Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you were someone else.’

  ‘Demetrius Estevan, at your service.’ He swept an elegant bow, suave and self-assured. A man accustomed to getting what he wanted through charm and coercion, Sabine imagined, although she also sensed a darkness to him. His smile lacked warmth and the violence reflected in his eyes spoke of a dangerous man with a short temper. ‘I did not mean to intrude.’

  ‘Oh, you are not, sir. I am Mrs Kendal, and it is unpardonable of me to shut myself away at a social affair. We all have a duty to make ourselves agreeable.’

  ‘A respite is often necessary,’ he observed. ‘I am glad not to be intruding, since I most particularly wished to be introduced to you.’

  It would look strange if she affected ignorance and so took the initiative. ‘Presumably because your countrywoman is a guest of mine.’

  ‘Amara, yes.’ Momentary hunger flashed through his eyes. ‘I thought she would be here this evening and that we would have the pleasure of her company.’

  ‘She is to sing tomorrow at the formal banquet. Tonight, she is resting.’

  Estevan nodded. ‘It is very kind of you to accommodate her.’

  Sabine strained her ears but heard nothing more telling than the sound of a party in full swing. It was now crucial that Chance had played his part and enticed Drakos close enough to hear their exchange. If he hadn’t managed it then this entire charade would have been for naught. But then again, Chance was the most proficient man of Sabine’s acquaintance, in all respects, and she had never known him to fail when he decided upon a course of action.

  ‘Kindness is nothing to do with the matter. I like her very much. She was being pestered by unwanted attentions in her Brighton lodgings, so it was my privilege to remove her to somewhere more comfortable and isolated.’ She forced herself to smile at the vile man and pretend that she thought his concern for Amara’s welfare was genuine. ‘Her talent is quite remarkable. She is a credit to your country, sir.’

  ‘She may have told you that she and I are engaged to be married.’

  Sabine widened her eyes. ‘No, she hasn’t said a word on the matter. Are you absolutely sure?’ Sabine batted her lashes, playing the part of the clueless female. ‘She actually told me that she has no immediate plans to marry.’

  Estevan’s smile showed early signs of strain. ‘The formalities have not yet been finalised, but matters have been agreed between her father and me.’

  Sabine flexed a brow. ‘I don’t believe that Amara is aware of that. Does she not have any say in the matter?’

  ‘What objections could she possibly have?’ he asked, spreading his arms and widening his smile, as though he was the most eligible of men and that Amara ought to count her blessings. He probably believed it too, Sabine thought mutinously.

  ‘Be that as it may, sir, I fear you are destined for disappointment since I believe her heart belongs to another.’

  All pretence at courtesy evaporated with his scowl. ‘Hardly,’ he said, clearly struggling to keep his tone civil. ‘However, excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing you telling Lord Jonas that you intended to return home alone. If you would allow me to escort you, I would welcome a moment with Amara to resolve this misunderstanding.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, but I am…’

  ‘What the hell are you trying to do, Estevan?’ A furious Drakos strode into the room, his face red and tight with anger, his tone belligerent and his words a little slurred. ‘I knew you weren’t to be trusted.’

  ‘Keep out of my affairs, Drakos, or it will be the worse for you.’

  ‘Gentlemen, please!’

  Sabine’s faux cry for calm went unheeded by the two men, although it did serve to turn heads in their direction.

  ‘Ha!’ Drakos sneered at his rival. ‘It’s time someone taught you some manners, you dog!’

  ‘I should like to see you try.’

  The men squared up to one another, both appearing to forget Sabine’s presence as their suppressed mutual animosity spilled over into physical violence. Chance pulled Sabine out of the line of fire before the first punch was thrown. Greek oaths and the crash of breaking glass as a priceless vase was knocked from a pedestal penetrated the noise of the party and brought a throng of people running to watch the unfolding drama.

  By the time the prince’s guards had separated the combatants, both men had bloody faces and the credibility of the Greek deputation had been shattered more comprehensively than the shards of Ming porcelain that were scattered across the floor.

  ‘Come, my love,’ Chance whispered provocatively in Sabine’s ear. ‘Our work here is done.’

  Amara’s nervousness and increasingly wild thoughts about matters at the pavilion were countered by Louis’s presence at Sab
ine’s dinner table. He kept Amara and Eva entertained with amusing stories about life in the prince’s court, but made little reference to his personal circumstances. Amara was curious about his affairs and found it hard to believe that he was so dedicated to the prince’s service and the maintenance of the royal horses that it allowed him such little time for other interests. She found it equally hard to imagine that there wasn’t a lady somewhere patiently awaiting his return.

  Eva, with little subtlety and in variance with the strict rules of Greek chaperonage, invented a flimsy excuse to leave the two of them alone together once the meal was finished.

  ‘You are naturally anxious,’ Louis said, breaking a brittle silence created in part because Amara had no idea what to say to him. It must look as though she had asked Eva to leave them together, and she was mortified by her aunt’s presumption. Amara wanted to tell Louis that she wasn’t quite that desperate. ‘Your mind is on events playing out in the pavilion, I am perfectly sure of at least that much, but be assured that Chance is the most determined man of my acquaintance. When he decides upon a course of action, I have never known him to fail.’

  ‘Even so, he and Sabine are taking all the risks, which hardly seems fair.’

  ‘Your being there this evening would only have complicated matters. Chance has his own reasons for wanting your countryman’s deputation to fail, and if he manages it then your father’s plans for your future will be in tatters, so you will both get what you want.’

  ‘Will I?’

  Amara didn’t ordinarily feel sorry for herself. She had grown accustomed to her father’s plans for her, simply because all Greek women did as they were told by those who were responsible for them. She hadn’t known anything differently…until now. She glanced at the elegant sophisticate seated across from her, accepted what could never be, and died a little inside.

  She was mortified when tears of self-pity trickled down her cheeks. What the devil was wrong with her? Louis was at her side in seconds. He sat far too close—not close enough—and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. She felt herself suffocating beneath the weight of her passion for this intelligent, empathetic and oh so desirable gentleman. Helpless to resist temptation, she leaned her face against his broad shoulder and sobbed her heart out.

  ‘Hush, my love, it will be all right,’ he said softly, running a comforting hand up and down her back when her tears finally ran dry.

  ‘Sorry,’ she spluttered. ‘I don’t know what––’

  ‘Hush, little one. No apology is necessary.’

  She expected him to pass her his handkerchief, but instead he placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head backwards. He then lowered his head, met her gaze and held it for a prolonged moment. With infinite gentleness, he covered her lips with his own. When she didn’t raise any objections and her arms somehow wound their way around his neck, he deepened the kiss. Amara had never been kissed—of course she had not, she was an unmarried Greek girl and any man taking such an enormous liberty would have been thrashed to within an inch of his life by one or more of her brothers.

  Amara decided that scandalous behaviour had a great deal to recommend it and eagerly followed his lead, parting her lips when his tongue demanded access to her mouth. Her senses rebelled and her mind and body swirled in harmony with the maelstrom of sublime sensations that assailed her. Amara would never forget this moment, she knew, since the oscillating pleasure would have to sustain her for the rest of her days.

  The sound of a carriage arriving had them springing apart moments before Eva rejoined them, pausing first outside the door to clear her throat. Louis smiled at Amara, ran his knuckles gently down her cheek and was standing, calmly leaning against the mantelpiece when Eva walked into the room.

  ‘Is that Sabine and Lord Jonas I heard arriving?’ Eva asked, glancing at Amara’s flushed face and dishevelled hair and smiling.

  ‘I hope so.’ Amara’s voice sounded thick and most unlike her own. ‘Although it’s too soon, surely?’

  ‘That is a good sign,’ Louis assured her. ‘It means the party broke up early and hopefully in disarray.’

  Sabine and Lord Jonas sailed into the room, smiling broadly.

  ‘I hesitate to make the admission for fear of encouraging similar wild suggestions in future,’ Lord Jonas said, ‘but Sabine was quite magnificent.’

  ‘They fell for it,’ Sabine added for clarification, ‘and brawled like common sailors, leaving a trail of blood and expensive broken porcelain all over one of the prince’s recently refurbished ante-rooms.’

  ‘Oh my heavens!’ Amara clutched her cheeks, unsure what else to say.

  ‘We left Eli and some of the other equerries to resolve matters, since we felt we should tactically withdraw. Besides, we knew you would be anxious for news. Suffice it to say, the prince is aware of what happened and the deputation’s credibility has been completely destroyed.’

  ‘What will happen now?’ Amara asked.

  ‘We will go into Brighton tomorrow and find out,’ Lord Jonas replied, ‘but you can be sure that word will spread like wildfire and the prince will take credit for exposing the members of the deputation for the unmannered individuals that they are.’

  ‘Will it become public knowledge that they were fighting over me?’ Amara asked, alarmed.

  ‘Heavens, no,’ Lord Jonas replied in a reassuring tone. ‘No one knows or cares what the fight was about. They are more concerned with branding the entire deputation as uncivilized.’

  Louis laughed. ‘That I can believe. They will have found it most entertaining and will speak of nothing else for weeks.’

  ‘Quite so,’ Lord Jonas agreed. ‘It will simply be said that the men involved were showing their true colours. The prince’s advisors will find a way to make it seem as though he was personally responsible for exposing them, even though he wasn’t present tonight, and he will take credit for strengthening Britain’s claim to those marbles. I mean, they cannot be trusted to a nation whose men don’t know how to behave with decorum in polite society. No offence intended, ladies.’

  ‘None taken,’ Eva said, because Amara was too overcome to utter a word. ‘We are both very much obliged to you. Come along, Amara. You look overwrought and exhausted. If the gentlemen will excuse us, I think we should retire.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Claus woke early on the Tuesday with a throbbing headache and a warm body in his bed. He glanced with distaste at the doxy who had seemed so alluring in his semi-inebriated state the previous evening. This morning she looked cheap, old before her time and overdue a bath. He tipped her unceremoniously onto the floor, wanting rid of her. How had he fallen so low? Not so many weeks ago he had been able to afford the services of some of the most exclusive courtesans in Europe.

  ‘Oy, what’s your game?’ the woman demanded.

  ‘Get along.’ Claus flipped her a coin, unsure if he had paid her the night before. Since she pocketed the brass without protest and left quickly, he assumed that he had already over-generously compensated her for indifferent services he couldn’t remember much about.

  Glad to be alone, Claus stretched, ignoring his pounding head that protested against the simple movement. He washed quickly in cold water, dressed and made his way to the nearest coffee shop, where the gossip was always both entertaining, current and surprisingly reliable.

  Today it proved to be of more than mere voyeuristic interest to Claus. He sat bolt upright, listening intently as everyone who walked through the doors brought with them fresh news of a brawl at the prince’s palace. A brawl between two of his countrymen, no less, which had resulted in the destroyed credibility of the Greek deputation.

  No one seemed to know what had sparked the dispute but Claus was in no doubt whatsoever as to its cause. Whoever had thought that Estevan and Drakos would be able to bury their long-standing familial differences simply because they were told to kiss and make up had to be delusional. Greek men did not overlook slights, and grudges wer
e passed down from generation to generation. Frequently, no one could remember the cause of the original grievance but felt duty bound to carry it forward.

  Claus stirred his coffee, suspecting that they had come to blows over Amara. Not that it really mattered what had set them off. All that signified was that they had played into Claus’s hands. They would both be in Kazan’s bad books, and Claus could be the hero of the hour by rescuing Amara from the den of iniquity that went by the name of Brighton Pavilion and restoring her to her grateful father.

  He paid his bill and left the coffee shop, his hangover forgotten, anxious to put his plan into action. He had several hours to kill before the appointed time at which he was to meet the mystery lady’s servant. Nerves got the better of him and he decided it would be advisable to visit the taproom for just one glass of brandy to settle the nerves in question and put paid to the remnants of his headache. One glass became two and then three, but Claus wasn’t concerned. He could handle his liquor and felt much more in control of himself by the time he returned to his room to catch up on his sleep.

  The sheets smelled of the unwashed romp who had shared his bed the night before, but the odour didn’t prevent Claus from sleeping soundly. He came awake with a jerk when the local clock struck the half-hour. He cursed. From having time to spare he was now running late. The lady had said that her servant wouldn’t wait. Perhaps he wouldn’t even be at the rendezvous. Given the debacle the previous evening, the banquet and Amara’s performance at it might have been cancelled. But Claus needed to be sure.

  He left his room and ran down the rickety stairs, taking them two at a time. He reached the place where he was supposed to meet the man just two minutes later than agreed.

  ‘You’re late,’ the man said, emerging from the side of a building.

  ‘Sorry. Got held up. Is it still on? I’ve been hearing talk…’