by Nina Milne
That made sense, and yet she had an instinct that there was more to it than that. Not that it mattered—the point was that he would keep their time in Barcelona to himself. But even as relief washed over her, her doubts grew. Could Daniel really not want anything? Could she trust him?
Even though an irrational gut feeling told her she could, she knew the world didn’t turn like that. A woman she’d trusted completely had been the one to collude with her kidnappers. Since then she’d made a point of not listening to her instincts—after all, she was living proof of how foolish trust could be.
‘So, you’ll walk away?’
There was a second’s hesitation as he studied her, and she swore she could see a flicker of concern in his ice-blue eyes.
‘Yes. But I’ll give you the same advice that I gave “Lynette” nine months ago. Don’t enter a gilded cage unless you have the means to leave.’
‘OK.’ Once again she wondered why it mattered so much to him. ‘And, thank you, Daniel.’
He rose to his feet and held out a hand. ‘Good luck, Kaitlin.’
Rising to her feet, she looked at his hand for a fraction too long, absurdly worried about so much as a touch. Truly absurd. She pulled on a smile that hopefully combined farewell with gratitude and placed her hand in his.
Not so absurd after all. His touch made her feel... It didn’t matter what it made her feel. Because it shouldn’t make her feel anything.
‘Goodbye, Daniel.’
As she turned to exit the room she waited for relief to wash over her. But instead her tummy felt weighted with a ridiculous sense of loss. An echo of nine months before, when she had walked away from that hotel room in Barcelona.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two weeks later
KAITLIN STARED IN the mirror, marvelled at the serenity of her reflection that thankfully showed no indication of the inner hysterics gallivanting inside her. But she shouldn’t be surprised. After all this was her forte—looking the part.
Her outfit was the perfect choice for a woman about to receive a marriage proposal from a prince. The flared cream trouser suit was cool and casual, and saved from blandness by the sparkly shimmer of a silver-grey camisole-style blouse. Her freshly washed hair fell in simple loose waves to her shoulders, and her make-up epitomised the art of discretion.
Time to go—even though her nerves quivered as she exited her old bedroom in Derwent Manor, taking comfort from the familiar smooth sheen of the oak under her fingertips as she descended the stairs and walked past the line of portraits of her ancestors. It was easy to imagine them all applauding with approval at the prospective alliance.
As she entered the lounge Prince Frederick turned from where he stood at the ornate fireplace.
‘Kaitlin.’
‘Frederick.’
He stepped towards her, his face expressionless, a picture of formal decorum, dressed in a tailor-made suit, his hazel eyes unreadable, but without a hint of warmth.
This is not how it is supposed to be, pointed out a small, insistent voice at the back of her brain.
And as if he too realised that, Frederick smiled.
But the smile didn’t reach his eyes and Kaitlin, a connoisseur of smiles, recognised its stoic element. He took another step forward, so he was near enough to take her hand, though of course he didn’t.
‘Thank you for seeing me. I assume you know why we are here?’
‘Yes.’
Don’t enter a gilded cage unless you have the means to leave.
Daniel’s words rang in her brain. Stupid. A man she barely knew. Yet a man she had trusted with not only her own name but that of the House of Lycander. A house that had been plagued with scandal enough to rock the throne with sufficient force to require the Prince to seek a marriage that would prove to his people that their sovereign cared. For that Prince Frederick needed a bride untainted by even the smallest germ of scandal.
Realisation weighted her tummy—she’d had no right to place her blind trust in a veritable stranger...to gamble with Prince Frederick’s name without his knowledge.
‘Wait.’ Kaitlin raised a hand. ‘There is something I need to tell you.’
Dread tightened her chest as she braced herself for the storm about to break.
* * *
‘What the...?’ Daniel stared down at the headline that confronted him from the top of his newly cleared desk.
‘I thought you might be interested,’ his PA explained, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. ‘As you attended the Earl’s wedding and...’
Daniel wrenched his gaze away from the laptop screen that displayed a website devoted to celebrity gossip and eyed Caroline, who returned his gaze expressionlessly.
Caroline Winterbourne looked as cool, collected and indifferent as ever, but Daniel knew differently. He’d given her a chance, despite her prison record, and in return she offered unassailable loyalty.
‘I’ll leave you to it.’
Daniel returned his attention to the article and an expletive dropped from his lips as the words slammed into his retinas.
Lycander Split: It’s All Off!
Lady Kaitlin Derwent and Prince Frederick of Lycander have announced the end of their relationship after ‘mutual agreement’. Neither side is willing to elaborate, but friends and acquaintances have declared shock and surprise.
The couple have been seen together for months and the world had awaited the announcement of an engagement—not a break-up. However, the ex-couple insist they will remain friends.
Watch this space as we try to discover the real reason behind the surprise split...
His intercom buzzed. ‘Daniel, I have an April Fotherington on the line. She’s a celebrity reporter. Shall I get rid of her?’
Caroline’s tone suggested she’d be happy to bury the body as well.
‘No. I’ll talk to her.’ There was a click and then he said, ‘Daniel Harrington speaking.’
‘Mr Harrington. Thank you for speaking with me. I wanted to get your reaction to the break-up between Lady Kaitlin Derwent and Prince Frederick.’
‘I don’t have a reaction. Am I supposed to?’
‘My sources inform me that you and Lady Kaitlin were spotted deep in private conversation at the Earl of Wycliffe’s wedding recently.’
‘That is hardly a basis for me to have formed any opinion on Lady Kaitlin’s relationship with Prince Frederick.’
‘Hmm...’ The reporter’s tone was heavy with scepticism. ‘Thank you for your time. Maybe we’ll speak again soon.’
Daniel put down the phone and cursed under his breath. He drummed his fingers on the desk and then picked up the phone. ‘Caroline, please can you get me Lady Kaitlin Derwent’s number?’
‘Leave it with me.’
Twenty minutes later he was en route across London. Forty minutes later he had parked in the vicinity of Lady Kaitlin’s Chelsea flat and alighted from the car. He eyed the group of reporters that crowded the pavement outside.
Walk as if you have the right and then you do have the right.
Advice given to him by his stepbrother—the man he’d once revered more than any other being.
Moving through the baying throng of press, he ignored all the shouted questions, reached the door and banged on its navy blue surface in the pre-agreed code. Kaitlin pulled the door open a crack and he squeezed through.
Even now, when circumstance dictated frustration and anger, her beauty socked him. Her stance, her poise, the strength of her features, the vividness of her eyes—all endowed her with looks that wouldn’t fade with the ravages of time.
He followed her into a lounge that exuded elegance and good taste, where she turned to face him. ‘You said on the phone that we may have a problem.’
‘April Fotherington rang
me an hour ago for my reaction to your split with Prince Frederick. She suspects I am involved and I believe she will dig until she uncovers a link between us.’
The clenching of her hands was an indication that the news was less than welcome.
‘That woman has got some sort of super-sense about me. Probably because she has made it her business to be the Derwent family media expert.’
‘Well, she will not become an expert on me because I have no intention of being pulled into some media gossip frenzy.’
‘You may have no choice.’ Emerald eyes lasered bitterness at him. ‘Why, Daniel? Why did you have to come to the wedding? Why did you track me down? Come to that, why did I ever agree to have a drink with you?’ She gave a shake of her head and took a deep breath. ‘Doesn’t matter. You can’t turn the clock back.’
Her voice echoed motes of sadness across the air and he knew with gut deep certainty that she wasn’t just referring to her present predicament.
Not his business.
‘No you can’t. Time cannot be dialled back. That is why it’s always best to face forward.’ That was the vow he’d made when he’d walked away from his family, from his life of wealth and privilege.
Kaitlin sank down onto the sofa. ‘Unfortunately what I am facing is a tabloid tsunami that you have only made worse. Once April discovers you hot-footed it over here I am doomed—she’ll have all the “evidence” she needs to know there is a juicy story to unearth.’
‘So that still bothers you?’
‘Of course it does. If April digs up Barcelona I am the one who’ll bear the brunt of the damage. My image would be in tatters. I’d be painted as the woman who cheated on the Prince of Lycander and I have no wish to embroil myself in that kind of mire. In addition, this isn’t Prince Frederick’s fault—it is mine, and I feel I owe it to him to avert the scandal if I can.’
Her words rang true, yet for a second her gaze fluttered away and the slightest rose tint flushed the high angle of her cheekbone.
Irrelevant—his only concern here was to scotch the scandal. For his own sake.
‘OK. Then we are on the same page. I came here because I have a plan.’
Wary surprise touched her expression. ‘The only possible plan is to deny any connection between us.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘Too late for that. April will find out we met for breakfast and she’ll keep on digging. I propose to head her off at the pass. But to do that I need information—the real reason you and the Prince split.’
Her gaze dropped, but not before he saw a glint of hurt in her eyes—a glimmer she erased before she raised her head.
‘That is not your concern.’
‘Yes, it is. If we want to avoid a scandal then we need to put all our cards on the table.’
A half-laugh totally devoid of mirth fell from her lips. ‘By that you mean I need to put my cards on the table, when I don’t even understand why this matters so much to you.’
‘I told you. I have an international reputation to maintain as well, and I have no wish to see my name splashed across the tabloids. It would hardly make me look good in court.’
Though that would be the least of his worries if his connection to the mob was revealed. The adverse effect of that would reverberate through his company and impact on his employees, and he would not let that happen.
Her slim shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘I’m not an idiot either, and I’m pretty sure that’s not your full hand of cards.’
‘That is irrelevant. What matters now is that we prevent April Fotherington from unearthing what happened in Barcelona.’
A memory of that night, the sheer magic of their connection, sneaked up from nowhere and blindsided him with a bombardment of images. He rubbed a hand over his face, swiped them away. Their physical connection had been based on illusion, and as such its worth was zero. In any currency.
‘To do that I need to know why you and the Prince broke up.’
‘Give me a minute.’
For the first time since he’d entered Daniel looked round the room. It was impeccably furnished, and good taste abounded—neutral cream walls a backdrop for a fourth wall of elegant patterned wallpaper with a splash of colour in the bird-themed print. Pictures dotted the walls in a mix of modern and retro, and the simply striped upholstered furniture looked both comfortable and stylish.
Yet something grated on his nerves; it was the knowledge that the lounge looked exactly as Lady Kaitlin’s lounge should look—ready for a photographer to descend at any moment. The fact that there wasn’t so much as a hint of ‘Lynette’ to be seen.
Kaitlin gestured to the armchair opposite. ‘OK. I’ll bite. The Prince and I split up because I told him about Barcelona.’
Daniel stared at her, wondered if perhaps his ears had ceased to function, whether his brain had somehow rewritten the signals and garbled her words. ‘You told Prince Frederick about Barcelona. Why?’
‘It wasn’t fair to put his good name at stake without his knowledge. I couldn’t place trust in your discretion on Frederick’s behalf—he needed to make that decision for himself.’
A mix of emotion hit him—chagrin at her lack of faith, and admiration and surprise at a level of principle he hadn’t expected from the woman who had duped him...a woman set on a marriage made of glitter and lined with gold.
‘So he decided to break up with you because of the potential scandal or because he felt angry at the thought of you with another man?’
Weariness made her shoulders slump for a fraction of a heartbeat and then she straightened, dropped her hands to her lap from their mid-rise to a defensive fold.
‘The former. Frederick needs a scandal-free bride and I no longer qualify.’
‘In which case I could talk to him and convince him I won’t go public.’
‘It wouldn’t work; his view is that it happened, therefore there is always a risk of discovery. However small the risk, he doesn’t feel it’s worth it.’
Didn’t feel Kaitlin was worth it. That had to hurt. Whatever the ins and outs of their relationship, however political or convenient it had been, they had spent nine months together.
‘And they say chivalry is dead.’
‘I don’t want chivalry—I messed up and there are consequences.’ A shadow flitted across the emerald-green eyes—one that spoke of weariness and a bitter knowledge of how cause and effect worked. ‘Anyway, I’ve given you the information you requested, so now it’s your turn. Tell me your plan to deal with April Fotherington.’
The idea that had spun into his mind as he’d travelled across London coalesced into a tangible reality. ‘OK. Listen up.’
CHAPTER FIVE
A PLAN—A POTENTIAL solution to their predicament was a good thing, right? Kaitlin tried to focus, to think... But right now it was hard to think at all through the confusion brought on by Daniel’s unexpected arrival on the scene. A veritable knight in shining armour. Not.
Daniel’s involvement suited his own purposes—her rescue was a mere by-product, and she’d do well to install that fact in her memory banks. But no matter—the past twenty-four hours had been abysmal, as she’d watched her future spiral out of her control, so if she could ride his coattails out of this mess then she would.
‘Go ahead.’
He rose to his feet in a lithe ripple of muscle. Clad in blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, he exuded energy as he paced the beige coir carpet.
‘At the wedding I said I had a project to discuss with you. We’ll run with that story. As I told you, in return for an invitation to your brother’s wedding I agreed to make a donation to the Caversham Foundation. Gabriel insisted that the donation not be monetary—instead he demanded I pledge a week of my time. I spoke with Ethan Caversham and I agreed.’
‘Why?’ The question was not germ
ane to the situation, but curiosity propelled the question from her lips.
‘I wanted the invitation—your brother and Ethan are valuable contacts—and Ethan is a very persuasive man. Enough that I agreed to take this week off work. I’m to travel to the Highlands, where I will spend three days participating in outdoor activities with a group of troubled teenagers. Then I fly to Venice to host a fundraising ball.’ He halted and turned to face her. ‘I propose that you come with me. What do you think?’
Say what?
He stood there as if he had come up with the equivalent of a winning lottery ticket instead of the nuttiest scheme ever.
‘I don’t think anything. I know you’ve run mad.’
‘That is because you haven’t thought it through.’
‘Nope. It’s because it doesn’t make any sense—we would need to spend a whole week together.’ The idea fuzzed her brain with cotton wool even as her insides twisted in panic. ‘That will only fuel speculation about us—not prevent it.’
‘Not if we play it right. The story provides a perfectly logical explanation for the time we’ve spent together, both at the wedding and at breakfast the next day. I tried to persuade you to get involved—you couldn’t because of your commitments with Prince Frederick. So when I heard about the split I hot-footed it over here to see if I could convince you to join me now.’
There was a certain plausibility about it, but... ‘That might work as a cover, but I could have still refused to join you. There is no need for me to actually come to Scotland or Venice.’ The idea shortened her breath, pierced her chest with the stab of anxiety that preceded panic.
Chill, Kaitlin.
‘But it would be better if you did come.’
‘Better for whom?’
‘Better for the project. Right now the press is focused on you—you could make a real difference...raise awareness of the Caversham Foundation by a substantial amount.’ His eyebrows rose with more than a hint of derision. ‘Think of your image as well. A refusal to participate wouldn’t look good.’