I stepped forward. "Welcome, Mr. Sutton. Do come in."
His eyes settled on me and widened just a bit as they ran from my head to my feet. He returned his gaze to my face and a grin pulled at his cheeks. He bowed. "Your Highness."
His open and obvious approval took me off guard. I forgot which words I should be speaking and floundered for a moment before Rogue saved me. He trotted forward and planted himself at James's side, gazing up in adoration.
James bowed to the dog. "Good evening, Rogue."
His silly gesture reminded me of my duty, and I proceeded to introduce him to my parents and then to Lorraina. It made me smile to see the usually confident Mr. Sutton looking nervous and unsure. It reminded me of the many times that I had seen gentlemen overwrought and awkward in my presence, and I was grateful that James had never been that way with me. Instead he had given me a loyal dog, returned my horse to me, and rescued me from my ill-fated venture as a wheat fairy. It was curious to think back on the enjoyment I had found when men were in awe of me. I doubted such a thing would hold that same excitement now.
Drinks were brought in for us to enjoy before dinner, and James seemed to relax as he fell into conversation with my father. As they discussed the merits of differing breeds of horses, James lit up, scooting to the edge of his seat and using his hands to emphasize his point. His passion for his work lent him a boyish charm.
My mother leaned over to murmur in my ear while keeping her eyes on the men's conversation. "You were right. He is a kind man."
"You doubted me?"
She looked to me, searching my face for a moment. "He's not the sort of gentleman that used to catch your attention."
My lip quivered as I considered her observation. "That doesn't speak well of me, does it?"
"Your perspective and priorities have changed, that's all."
I turned back to watch James. "He's a good friend."
Dinner was announced and we all stood. My parents and Lorraina all moved toward the door together, leaving James to offer his arm to me. I took it, feeling a bit shy, but warmed by the way his eyes lit up when he gazed down at me.
"You're looking quite like a princess this evening."
I set a dainty hand to my chest and fluttered my lashes. "You flatter me, good sir."
He smothered a laugh. "That was adorable."
I stiffened. Adorable and naive. "I'm not adorable."
His brow furrowed for a moment as he considered my insistent comment. "Radiant and beautiful, then."
I lowered my eyes, warmed by his insistence in complimenting me, but unable to keep Damian's words from ringing through my head.
James lowered his mouth to my ear. "It's your turn to return the compliment," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.
I cut my eyes over to him and made a show of looking him up and down. "You look like quite a handsome horseman."
He puffed his chest out as we entered the dining hall. "Such excessive flattery may make me blush."
"I would enjoy seeing you blush."
He pulled out my chair and as I sank into it, he leaned over my shoulder. "I'm certain you would."
Dinner conversation continued to be easy. James was clearly enjoying himself, though I got the sense that my father's questions were not quite as casual as he pretended. I didn't mind though, because I knew he was watching over me, and I also knew that James would pass the test.
"This is beautiful country you live in, Mr. Sutton."
James raised his glass. "I wholeheartedly agree."
"Perfect for raising horses, though perhaps a little removed from society. It must take an extra effort to acquaint yourself with others in the area."
I had to hide my smile behind my goblet, but James's eyes cut over just in time to catch me as I was ducking my head. He fought a smile as if he found the interrogation as amusing as I did.
"I don't mind the extra effort. There are wonderful people here, and I've never regretted going out of my way to get to know them."
My father nodded, turning his attention to his plate, and James sent a surreptitious wink my way. That became the pattern throughout the evening. He had the uncanny ability to know when a question from father would pull a reaction from me. I felt a surprising camaraderie with him, realizing that at least in one small way, we were able to communicate without words.
By the end of the evening, he seemed to have won over my entire family, earning a firm handshake from my father as we stood in the entry, seeing him off. Mr. Tennsworth opened the door, and my family turned back to the drawing room, leaving me to stand in the open doorway as James descended the front stairs and stepped up into his waiting carriage. He turned back and touched the brim of his hat before shutting the door.
It was odd to see him in a carriage, but I suppose the formal evening called for it. He rapped on the ceiling with his knuckles and the driver snapped the reins, sending his conveyance down the drive and into the night.
Returning to the drawing room, I heard the excitement with which my family spoke, and which immediately hushed as I entered the room.
I raised my brows and looked at each of them in turn, from the elegant tilt of my mother's head, to my father's broad shoulders and my sister's dark eyes. "I'm guessing you all approve of my neighbor?"
"He's delightful," Mother said. "I'm so glad to know that he is close by if you should need assistance."
"So am I," I said. "It's been a comfort to have the assurance of someone I could depend on if need be."
"His open temperament is refreshing." My father poured himself a small portion of wine. "I didn't have to wonder if he was hiding anything." He took a sip, then stared into the depths of his goblet. "That's a rare quality, and one I admire."
"Of course," Lorraina spoke up, "it doesn't hurt that Father has had guards out and about the neighborhood, finding out everything he could about Mr. Sutton."
"Father," I said, exasperated.
He shrugged, looking completely unapologetic. "If you expected anything less, then you underestimate me." He downed the rest of his wine and reached for my mother's hand. "Well my dear, I'm done in. Shall we retire?"
She took his hand, stopping only long enough to kiss my temple before quitting the room.
***
Several days later, I sent an invitation to Sutton manor, inviting James to come to dinner again. Marcus returned with the news that Mr. Sutton was not at home and was not expected to return for several more days, perhaps more than a week. I wondered where he might be, but was happily distracted as I spent the next eleven days with Lorraina, enjoying her company more than I ever had as a child, and loving the opportunity to sit with my parents and let them heal my hurt bit by bit.
Lorraina and I even took a day to arrange the front parlor into a suitable miniature ballroom. She showed me the new dance that had become popular in the last six months, and I itched to try it with a real partner. I was certain that James would do an admirable job of it, but was not at all sure that I was brave enough to ask him for such a thing.
A week later, my family was set to depart. They had planned on staying longer, but my father had received several messages making it clear that Dalthia needed its monarchs to return. Despite our time together being shortened to three weeks instead of five, my confidence had been well bolstered by their visit.
We were eating breakfast and I was enjoying the novelty of it one last time. My father cleared his throat.
"Marilee. Lorraina tells me that she has asked you to return with us. Have you given any thought to her proposal?"
I kept my eyes on my plate, pushing food from one side to the other with my fork. "It would be a relief to go home...but I can't." I brought my eyes up. My father's gaze was intent, but not disappointed or condescending. It gave me courage. "I want to try taking responsibility for myself. And I think that I can."
"I have no doubt that you can. But I want you to know that you don't have to."
"Thank you."
"Then you
are determined to stay for the time being?"
I sucked in a breath, shoring up my determination. "Yes."
He gave an encouraging nod. "Good girl. But you must let us know if ever you need assistance."
"I will."
"Or you can just show up at home any time you wish," my mother added. She was smiling, but it was tremulous and her eyes were bright with emotion. She did not want to leave me but put on a brave face to support my decision.
As we gathered around the carriage, saying our final goodbyes, I wrapped my arms around Lorraina. "You really should study with a master painter, Raina. You could be absolutely brilliant."
She pulled back and gave an excited but anxious nod of her head. "I will."
I grinned at her bravery, her willingness to pursue her passion. "Good. Now go."
She gave me a swift kiss on the cheek and climbed into the carriage. My parents followed and they all pulled away.
Chapter Thirteen
WITH MY FAMILY'S departure, I settled back into my quiet life, with the added presence of my guards. They were always close at hand, but never hovering.
Each day, I wondered if James had returned. During the rest of my family's visit, I had half hoped that he would come by, finished with his travels. He never appeared though, and by the time my family had been gone for three days, I could no longer deny that I missed him.
I was making lace and humming to myself, enjoying the quick movements of my hands as I twisted and knotted the different spools.
"Mistress?" Beatrice spoke from the doorway.
"What is it, Beatrice?"
"Mr. Sutton is below."
My heart lightened and I pushed to my feet, brushing off my skirt and tucking a few stray hairs back into place. "Thank you." I hurried toward the door.
"Mistress?"
I turned back to her, seeing her distress for the first time. "Is something wrong?"
She took a breath. "Mr. Sutton has brought Mrs. Braithwhite with him."
A chill pushed the air from my lungs. Just knowing that that woman was in this house again made me want to shrink, but I refused to give her the power to hurt me.
I leaned against the wall until I was sure that my legs would continue to support me. I tugged at my sleeves and pulled my shoulders back. "Where are they?"
"The drawing room."
I nodded and told my feet to get moving. They didn't.
"I'll walk with you, Mistress."
I grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed, drawing on her strength. Then I let go and traversed the corridor with Beatrice at my side. When we reached the drawing room door, I paused.
"Shall I wait out here, Mistress?"
"No, you can come in." I nodded to Falstone, and he opened the door. I swept into the room, reminding myself with every step that I was mistress of this house, that I was a member of the royal family, and that I was not insane.
James stood just inside the door and though I wished to focus on him, my eyes were drawn to the far window where Mrs. Braithwhite stood, her back rigid, her severe bun as tightly wound as ever. Her eyes inspected me and I had the distinct impression that she disapproved. However, she did manage to sink into a shallow curtsey. "Good day, Lady—"
James cleared his throat loudly.
Mrs. Braithwhite's nostrils flared. "Your Highness."
I was trying to decide whether this reluctant greeting deserved a response, but James spoke up. "Mrs. Braithwhite, do have a seat."
She looked as if she were going to refuse, but then glided to a chair and sat.
James crossed to me, laying a hand on the small of my back and leading me to my own seat. He took the chair closer to Mrs. Braithwhite, creating a barrier with his body. I wondered if it was intentional. Then he turned to me. "Princess, do you have any questions for your guest, or would you like me to inquire?"
"Please go ahead." My voice was strained.
He turned back to Mrs. Braithwhite. "Madam, you were employed here at Bridgefield for three years before Princess Marilee married Lord Rockwell, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"You were a devoted servant of Lord Rockwell. You had proved your worth and he found you trustworthy?"
"I believe so, yes."
"And you trusted his Lordship?"
"Unconditionally." Her chin rose with pride.
"Might I ask why that same loyalty didn't extend to your new mistress?" His voice held not a hint of anger.
"It did," she said with conviction. "I was always loyal to Lady Rockwell."
"You locked the princess in her room against her will on many occasions. You consider that loyalty?"
How did he know about that? I hadn't told him. The shame that washed over me shocked me with its strength. I didn't want James to know that about me.
"She was quite unbalanced," Mrs. Braithwhite explained. "I knew that from the start. Lord Rockwell had measures in place for when she would throw one of her fits. Everything was for her protection." Her eyes remained fixed on James. It was almost as if I weren't even in the room. I felt small.
"And yet she was hurt." Still no anger from James, just a statement of facts.
She shrugged. "She would hurt herself on occasion, certainly. That's why Lord Rockwell had his rules."
"Will you explain to me how Princess Marilee suffered the wound on her neck?"
Mrs. Braithwhite's eyes darted over to me, then away. She adjusted in her seat, clearly agitated.
"I assume the circumstances surrounding that event were different," James clarified.
"Yes. That's true."
"The princess didn't hurt herself in her fall, did she?"
"No. No, she didn't. But it was only a matter of time. Her fits were getting worse, but some of the staff thought we were treating her unfairly. They didn't understand the danger. They didn't realize that if she wasn't kept under control, something truly awful would surely end up happening to her."
"What happened after she fainted?" The utter calm of his voice was shocking, especially when I felt like crawling out of my skin.
"Lord Rockwell was terribly concerned. He could see that she was starting to pull some of the servants into her lies. She had tried to escape his protection before, and he knew that if one of the servants decided to help her, she might end up killing herself."
"Did Lord Rockwell discover a way to convince the servants of the truth?" His voice was calm, but his hand was fisted so tightly that I knew it was a facade.
"He knew it would be better to show the servants the danger, to show them what she could do to herself."
My face felt numb as I stared at Mrs. Braithwhite in horror. Damian had done it deliberately—to perpetuate the lie, to make me seem unstable. I'd never felt such fury, such blinding anger as what was building, expanding and exploding in my chest. I started to shake.
"So he cut Lady Rockwell's neck?" James asked, his calm demeanor slipping just a little as he reached over and took my hand.
She shook her head. "He couldn't bring himself to do it. We both knew it had to be done, but his tender feelings for his wife got in the way. He was such a caring man. I told him not to worry, that I would take care of it. I took the blade from him and did what needed doing."
I sucked in a breath, so angry, so indignant that I was paralyzed. I barely registered the increased pressure of James's hand around mine. My breathing was thick and labored as I tried to rein in my anger.
"We never had trouble with the servants after that." Her tone was satisfied, almost smug. "They realized we were only trying to protect her and they were more than willing to help. She needed us to look out for her. And Lord Rockwell, bless his soul, was so understanding, so long-suffering. It was truly—"
"How DARE YOU!" The scream ripped from my throat as I stood and lunged toward Mrs. Braithwhite. Her eyes widened in alarm, but James caught me around the waist, leaving me to flail in his arms as I screamed out all of my pain and frustration. "You took a knife to my neck!"
She
rose slowly, her chin high, her disdain more pronounced than ever.
"You cut into my skin so that you could keep the other servants under your thumb!" I tried to jerk away from James's grasp. I wanted to hurt her, to make her feel just a little bit of the vulnerability she had visited on me, but his hold stayed strong. "What is wrong with you?" I demanded, each word strangled with tears. "Did your obsessive loyalty run that deep? Could you not see the injustice? Could you not see that he was slowly killing me?"
Her lips set in defiance. "Perhaps now this new man you've caught in your snare will realize the truth that's right before his eyes."
"GET OUT!"
Falstone and Marcus stepped over, having entered the room at some point.
"Get her OUT OF HERE! I don't ever want to see her face again! Get out, get out, EVERYONE, GET OUT!"
The room cleared in an instant as the guards dragged her away. Beatrice shut the door as she left after them, tears on her face and fury in her eyes. James remained, still holding me back—or holding me up; I couldn't really tell.
"Let me go!" I jerked away, and this time he let me escape. I whirled on him. "I said get out."
"Marilee." He reached for me.
"Don't use that calm voice on me! Don't pretend everything is fine. I don't want you here! I want you to leave!"
His lips pressed together. "I don't believe that's true."
"Why? Why would you want to stay here with the mad woman? I just proved her right." I flung my hand in the direction of the door. "I don't want you here when I'm like this. I don't want you to have a reason to believe her lies. I don't want to prove that anything Damian said about me has any truth. But look at me!"
James's breathing was heavy as fury and empathy did battle across his face. "You're angry with very good reason. That has nothing to do with madness."
I closed the space between us and pushed on his chest. "I want you to go." I shoved harder. "Go. Just go!"
He stayed frustratingly immobile, and instead of yielding to my hands pushing into his chest, he covered them with his own, squeezing my hands.
Saving Marilee Page 13