by Cheryl Holt
Pippa walked over to see Kat twirling in circles, lost in thought, smiling and more content than she’d ever been. As she noticed Pippa, she stumbled to a halt.
“Pippa, I didn’t hear you come in. Please go away.”
“I have to speak to you. It can’t wait.”
“After your behavior last night, I’m not in the mood to converse with you.”
“You have to, Your Grace.”
“Oh, shut up, Pippa. I won’t have you spewing absurd titles at me. When you call me Your Grace, I can tell you’re angry, and I don’t wish to deal with you.”
“You can’t deny your true station.”
“Kristof revoked my title, and I’ve decided he can have it. I don’t need it any longer, and I refuse to miss it.” She pointed to the door. “Now go!”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
On returning from Cedric’s camp, their trunks had been put in storage. Pippa had retrieved the one filled with court regalia, the robes, jewels, and crown that indicated Kat’s imperial condition.
Pippa had it with her, and she gestured to two servants who were loitering behind her.
“Place it on the bed,” she told them, “then you’re excused.”
Kat observed, frowning, as they wrestled in the heavy trunk and set it where Pippa had requested. They hustled out, their footsteps fading down the hall.
“What’s happening?” Kat inquired.
“We’re leaving for Parthenia.”
“We most certainly are not.”
“I’ve brought some of your official clothes. There is a royal escort outside. You’ll dress and we’ll meet with them.”
“Pippa, aren’t you listening? I’m not departing. Especially not for Parthenia. If you think you can command me in this, you are stark raving mad.”
“I don’t have to command you.”
“You don’t? Well, it definitely sounds to me as if you are.”
Pippa stared at Kat, wondering what would be left of their relationship after the facts were revealed. She didn’t suppose there would be any trace remaining, and again she suffered a twinge of regret at what would be forfeit. But Kat had always treated her like a servant and never as an equal, and Pippa was loyal to king and country.
She had no loyalty to Katarina at all. From the instant she’d reported Kat’s escape plan to Kristof, their association had been severed.
And really, this wasn’t a betrayal, was it? Kat should be in Parthenia. Their family had ruled there for centuries. What other choice was there but to return?
In an odd and convoluted way, Pippa was doing Kat a favor, helping her get back to where she belonged. If Kat didn’t like it, so what? Pippa shrugged off any remorse. She never felt guilty about anything.
“Have you seen Nicholas and Isabelle this morning?” Pippa asked.
“No, why?”
“Mr. Hubbard lured them out of the villa.”
Kat gasped. “He what?”
“I bribed him, and for a great amount of money, he smuggled them out and delivered them to Captain Romilard.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. They are being whisked to Parthenia with all due speed. You’ll never catch them.”
Kat looked so pale that Pippa worried she might faint, but she recovered herself and marched by Pippa as if she were invisible.
“Isabelle!” Kat called. “Nicholas! Where are you? I need you!”
Pippa grabbed Kat’s arm, and Kat shoved her away, appearing so furious that Pippa thought Kat might physically attack her. Pippa hoped she wouldn’t. They shouldn’t brawl on the floor like a pair of tavern wenches. Even if Kat won the fight, even if she beat Pippa to a pulp, she couldn’t prevent what was transpiring.
“Here is the offer King Kristof makes to you,” Pippa said.
Kat yanked away. “Don’t mention his despicable name to me.”
“He has proposed marriage, but from your behavior yesterday, he perceived that you were opposed. So he forces your hand.”
“Kristof can jump off a cliff.”
Pippa continued as if Kat hadn’t spoken. “If you come without a fuss, he will put Nicholas in the line of succession so your brother will take the throne after Kristof passes away from what should be a long and fruitful life.”
“He’s a liar. He never would.”
“But if you refuse to obey as he has ordered…”
Pippa stopped and swallowed twice. The next part was a threat, but she was sure Kristof wasn’t serious. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, but Kat could be so stubborn.
“But what, Pippa? What can he do to me that he hasn’t already done?”
“If you don’t comply, he will have Nicholas thrown into the dungeons.”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“Nicholas will never be released. He’ll die without food or water.”
“You tell me this, Pippa? To my face, you share this shameful news? After all the kindness my family showered on you, you would act in this disgraceful manner? Do you detest us so much?”
Pippa steeled herself against Kat’s rage. “Then he will marry Isabelle.”
“He’ll…what?”
“He’ll marry your little sister.”
“She’s ten years old!”
“He doesn’t care. His advisors are clamoring for a Morovsky princess to be his queen. He will have you or he will have your sister. It is your choice.”
She went to the trunk and opened it. She pulled out the purple robe of state, the tiara Kat used to wear every day, the gold rings for her fingers and jewel-encrusted belt for her waist. She arranged it all on the bed and pointed to the clothes.
“The King commands that you attire yourself and travel as befits your station. He will have no more hiding and conducting yourself as a person of no consequence. You will present yourself at all times as a royal princess who is about to wed the King of Parthenia.”
They stared and stared, Kat’s hatred wafting out. There was no denying it, no pretending it wasn’t there. Pippa had known Kat would be very angry, but she hadn’t expected such virulence so soon. She’d expected concern, questions, grief. Not immediate, unmitigated ire. Not malice that was frightening to witness. But then Kat was her father’s daughter, and she’d been imbued with all the imperious traits for which he’d been renowned.
“What is it to be, Your Grace?” Pippa asked. “Captain Romilard’s men are waiting. They are eager to depart.”
“Leave me,” Kat hissed. “I need to reflect.”
“There is no time. I will help you dress, then we must go.”
“Leave me!” Kat said more spitefully.
“No. You are not to be alone a single second until you have been safely delivered to Kristof.”
Kat studied Pippa as if she were vermin, as if she were a rat or a maggot. She sneered, “Were you the one who informed Kristof I was sneaking away? Is that how I’ve been followed?”
“Of course I told.”
“You’re a spy. You’re a betrayer.”
“Not to my country. Not to my king.”
“Nicholas is your king.”
“Not anymore,” Pippa retorted with a grim finality, and she gestured to the clothes. “Will you submit to your betrothed? Or shall I send word to Captain Romilard that you decline to obey? Shall I send congratulations to your sister on the high marriage she is about to make?”
Kat glared, glowering, pondering. Ultimately she vowed, “I will get even with you, Phillippa Clementi. I’ll get even if it takes the rest of my life.”
She pushed Pippa away and stomped to the bed to prepare herself without Pippa’s assistance. Pippa watched, wanting to feel something, regret or guilt or sadness, but all she could think about was the glory that would be showered on her once she was home.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What happened to you?”
Bryce glowered at Chase who was slouched in a chair in the corner of his bedchamber. His eye was black and swollen, his clothes dirt
y, the sleeve of his jacket torn. He was holding a kerchief to his cheekbone, staunching blood that oozed from a cut.
Had he been in a brawl? He must have been.
Bryce had been in his own room packing. He was excited to leave Cairo with Kat, and he wanted no delay. When he’d realized he hadn’t seen Chase all morning, he’d rushed over, expecting he’d still be in bed and sleeping off a hangover. What he hadn’t expected was to find him battered, injured, and not having made any preparations to depart.
“You won’t believe it,” Chase muttered.
“Yes, I will. From the looks of it, you’ve involved yourself in a huge mess that will ultimately bite us in the ass. What did you do?”
“Why must you always immediately assume I did something?”
“Because I’ve known you for over two decades, and you never surprise me. If there’s mischief afoot, you’re in the center of it. So I repeat, what happened? Don’t lie and don’t whitewash it. And don’t you dare tell me it will prevent our sailing this afternoon.”
“A problem has bubbled up.”
“What sort of problem?”
“Has Miss Webster ever confided in you?”
“On what topic?”
“Well, for instance, has she ever mentioned where she’s from? Or maybe has she talked about her true position there?”
“No, why?”
Chase scowled. “We’re in the soup now, Bryce. It’s my fault, and I take full responsibility.”
“For what? Spit it out, Chase. Your dithering is aggravating me.”
“You’re aware of how my head can be turned by a pretty face.”
Bryce blanched. “By…Miss Webster?”
“No, no, by Miss Clementi. She’s very sly, very clever, and I shouldn’t have listened to her.”
“About what?”
“I guess Miss Webster’s family ordered her to bring her brother home, and Miss Webster refused.”
“Yes, he’s very rich, and they’ve been after his fortune.”
“Are you certain that’s why she’s on the run?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Clementi claimed it was a different issue entirely. She claimed Miss Webster is deranged and her relatives feared for the boy’s safety.”
“Which is utter nonsense.”
“Miss Clementi said it wasn’t. She was…ah…very adamant and…ah…”
“And…?” Bryce pressed when Chase couldn’t finish.
“She agreed to help them retrieve Nicholas.”
Chase flinched as if Bryce might hit him, and Bryce gasped with dismay. “Oh, my Lord, Chase, what have you done?”
“She made it sound so noble, and she paid me a fortune for my assistance.”
He held out a pouch, and Bryce heard metal clinking. He grabbed it and opened it, seeing too many gold coins to count.
“She paid you,” Bryce repeated like a dunce.
“Blood money.” Chase looked ashamed for once. “I didn’t have to do much to earn it. I just took Nicholas for a ride out of the villa. Isabelle too.”
“What is your middle name? Chase Judas Iscariot Hubbard?”
“It was reprehensible behavior. I admit it.”
“So…you lured them out of the villa. Then what?”
“There were soldiers waiting for them, and they whisked the children away.” Chase gestured to the kerchief. “I tried to stop them.”
“How gallant of you,” Bryce sarcastically spat.
“I’m sorry,” Chase said.
“Where are they? Have you any idea?”
“Supposedly they’re on their way to Parthenia.”
“Parthenia? Where the hell is that?”
“It’s that little country north of Italy.”
“Parthenia? That’s where they’re from?”
“Yes, and they’re royalty or some such.”
Bryce frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Nicholas was the king, but he was deposed, and then Miss Webster sneaked him away and—”
“Whoa!” Bryce snapped. “Nicholas is King of Parthenia?”
“Was the king, Bryce. He’s not anymore.”
“What about Isabelle and Miss Webster? If Nicholas was a king, are you saying they’re…what? Princesses?”
“Miss Webster is actually Her Royal Highness, Princess Katarina Morovsky.”
Bryce studied his friend, wondering if he’d ever really known him. Yes, he was unreliable and untrustworthy. Yes, he could be flighty and flippant and capricious. But he’d never been deliberately cruel. What had possessed him?
“You abetted the kidnapping of Miss Webster’s siblings?”
“Princess Morovsky’s siblings,” Chase corrected.
Bryce smacked his palm on a nearby dresser. “I don’t care what name we use to speak of her. You helped Miss Clementi kidnap Nicholas and Isabelle.”
Chase huffed with offense, almost as if he was the injured party. “Pippa acted as if Princess Morovsky was an unhinged criminal who was endangering them.”
“You should have talked to me. You should have asked my advice.”
“I’m sorry,” Chase mumbled again.
“Where is Kat? Have you told her?”
“No, I just returned myself. I haven’t had a chance.”
Bryce bristled with fury. “How long were you intending to sit in here without breathing a word to anyone?”
“I was about to find you. In case you haven’t noticed, I was roughed up.”
“I noticed, but I have no sympathy.” Bryce pointed to the door. “Come.”
“To where?”
“To confess your sins to Miss Webster.”
“Me! I can’t.”
“Grow a spine, Chase. You were brazen enough to harm two innocent children. Surely you can face their sister to confess your diabolical conduct.”
“Would you tell her for me, Bryce? Please? I can’t bear to.”
Bryce remembered their years together as boys at school. Bryce had befriended Chase when he’d been a bullied runt. Bryce had fought for Chase and defended Chase. Gradually it was dawning on him that Chase probably hadn’t been worth all that effort.
“I’ll tell her, you pathetic coward,” Bryce fumed and he stormed out.
He burst into the hall and hurried to the other wing where the women’s bedchambers were located. His pulse was racing, his hands shaking. He was terrified about Nicholas and Isabelle and vividly recalled the prior attacks on Kat and Nicholas. The brigands who’d initiated both assaults had been violent fiends.
But he was also alarmed over the discovery that Kat was a royal. He and Kat were planning to marry and start a new life in England. Yet if Kat was from a royal family, she couldn’t have been serious. Could she?
The previous night had been splendid, like no evening Bryce had ever spent with a female. Ever since she’d crept out of his room at dawn, he’d been walking on air, elated and excited and astonished by his decision to proceed.
He’d been a man in love, a man on the precipice of a future that could only be amazing and remarkable. What was he now?
He was awhirl with frantic emotion. He wanted to bellow her name, to demand answers, to demand the truth. He had to apprise her of what Chase had perpetrated. Had she learned her siblings were missing? He had to be strong for her, had to be calm and rational, and he took a deep breath and slowed his pace.
He’d just managed to compose himself as he entered the villa’s central courtyard. A contingent of soldiers was marching toward him, approaching from the direction of Kat’s suite.
Pippa Clementi was leading the way, and she looked very grand, thrilled with herself and what she’d wrought. There was no evidence to indicate that she’d once been a lowly traveling companion.
She was dressed in a blue velvet gown with heavy petticoats and jewels on her fingers and neck. The outfit was stunning, but it was much too weighty for the hot climate. He hoped the disloyal shrew sweltered to death before she was able to depart Egypt.<
br />
The others followed behind her, ten in all, and they were more ceremonial than protective. They were flashily attired, with sashes, gold braid, and plenty of medals, but while they had sabers on their hips, the weapons were more the sort for decoration at balls and weddings.
There was a woman in the middle, wearing a purple cloak and tiara. She was bedecked in gold and diamonds, a jeweled choker around her throat, a belt embedded with rubies and emeralds around her waist.
It took him several seconds to realize it was Kat, and his heart sank. Currently there was nothing about her that resembled the lonely spinster who’d charmed him, who’d made him yearn to be a husband rather than a bachelor.
She was still very beautiful, but there was a regal aura about her, as if the purple cloak shielded the person underneath. She appeared untouchable, unknowable, unlovable. She was a stranger, an exotic, foreign dignitary who probably wouldn’t bother to glance at him as she passed by.
Yet as the group neared, he said, “Kat.”
The men kept on, nary a one so much as peeking over to see who had called out.
“Kat!” he said again, and he stepped in front of them.
Pippa Clementi pulled up short and scowled. “Mr. Blair, you have rudely interrupted a royal procession. Please move or I will have you moved.”
“You think you could, Miss Clementi? Go ahead and try, you deceitful, lying doxy.”
At the taunt, her cheeks flushed bright red, and Bryce thought she might slap him. She was clearly considering it, but in the end she peered over her shoulder and spoke to the soldiers.
“We shall continue to the carriage. There will be no delay.” She whipped her furious glare to Bryce. “We are on important business of state.”
Bryce didn’t budge, and the only way she could get past him was to knock him over or walk around him. Her enormous pride wouldn’t let her walk around, and she wasn’t strong enough to knock him down.
She gestured to the soldier with the most medals on his chest. “Captain Romilard, rid the Princess of this uncouth boor at once.”
The burly, thuggish fellow huffed up to Bryce. He looked cruel and stupid, and Bryce was sizing him up, taking his measure, preparing to throw the first punch as Valois had taught him to do.