by Geneva Lee
The trouble was, I didn’t know where to begin. Any hope I had that he would come clean had been dashed by his stubborn silence. But Alexander had a warped perception of truth and lies. Given his family’s twisted politics and power plays, how could I blame him?
Grabbing clothes from the closet, I made my way to the lower apartments. I dressed quickly in my private office and then started rifling through the papers on my desk as my conversation with Henry replayed in my mind. Most of the files on my desk pertained to the Sovereign Games. I ignored the pang that shot through me as I stacked them in a neat pile and dumped them into a drawer. The rest of my papers were an odd collection of letters and notes. It took forever to dig out what I was looking for.
When Alexander had given Clarence House to Edward, I’d folded the list up and forgotten about it. Now, smoothing it open, I stared at the list of royal residences I’d brought to him weeks ago. All the names were antiquated and ridiculous, and I thought back, trying to remember the ones that I’d pointed out to him.
I’d wanted Edward close while still giving him some much-needed distance from the London press. My finger ran down the list until I reached Windsor Castle. Windsor would have been the perfect place, I argued then. Close to the city, but apart. But the castle itself wasn’t what I’d suggested. I followed the list down to an attached property that sat several miles away in a secluded hamlet.
Windsmoor House.
Unacceptable. That’s what Alexander had said. He’d called it practically condemned.
Now I saw how stupid I’d been. The Royal family didn’t leave estates to rot to nothing. If there were skeletons to be found, I needed to search Windsmoor’s closets first. I folded the sheet in half and stuffed it in my pocket. There was no way I was leaving the grounds on my own without someone alerting Alexander. I considered my problem and realized I only had one choice. I dialed the number and cut her off as soon as she answered. “I need your help.”
* * *
To her credit, Georgia Kincaid showed up in record time. She’d once told me her loyalty was flexible, and I could only hope that was still the case. She didn’t speak as I joined her in the garage.
“I need this to stay between us.” It was better to cut to the chase with her. We were both busy women. I had to figure out if the secret at Windsmoor was a danger to me or my family. I had no idea what Georgia did with her free time, but I assumed it was something along the lines of thwarting terrorism or meeting up for a quick dungeon date. It was impossible to say which.
“I don’t work for you,” she reminded me.
This was already off to a great start. “If you work for Alexander, then you do. We’re partners, after all.”
Her lips twitched but she revealed no other feelings on the matter. “What do you need, exactly?”
“You told me once that you were discreet.” I fought the wave of nausea this memory induced.
“I am,” she confirmed. She’d arrived here in her usual black, but her face was absent the usual crimson lipstick and coal-rimmed eyes. Barefaced, she was breathtaking and somehow even more intimidating.
I reminded myself that I had no other choice. If I was right, then Norris most likely knew about Windsmoor House. Brexton was totally loyal to my husband. I needed someone with a certain moral flexibility. Georgia had always struck me as that type. Of course, I’d met her after she’d been hired to kill my ex-boyfriend. That might have colored my perception of her.
“I need to visit a family residence,” I told her. “I’d like you to drive me.”
“Why?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Does it matter?”
She studied me for a minute before she shook her head with a laugh. “If you’ve come to me, then Alexander has no idea what you’re up to.”
I didn’t say anything. I’d only incriminate myself.
“So why do you want to go there? Or should I call Norris and ask him to take you?” she asked, calling my bluff.
“Because Alexander doesn’t want me to go there.” It was a hunch, but I was sure I was right.
“He loves you,” Georgia said, her words coated with a surprising layer of concern. “When he decided to marry you, I thought he was sending a ‘fuck you’ to his father. I didn’t consider it was because he loved you. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Why?” For two years I’d carried the burden of her thoughtless words. Now she was taking them back?
“Because I’ve been on the other end of his whip and I have the scars to prove it,” she said blackly. “If you had been, you would only see his darkness, too.”
I had seen his darkness lurking when he fucked me. I’d given him my body in every way and watched him chase ghosts. But I’d also made love to him when no shadows clouded his blue eyes. Alexander clung to the shackles that imprisoned him. It was up to me to set him free.
“Clara, are you sure?” she asked after a moment. “You might not like what you find.”
“Yes.” I’d given him everything and he’d promised me all of him. It was time to collect.
* * *
It was a short drive to Windsor so early on a Sunday morning. Georgia left me to my thoughts, and I was grateful for the silence. There was no way to prepare for what I might find. As the city gave way to countryside, the roads narrowed until we turned down an unpaved road that wound past Windsor Castle and into the untouched lands of the estate’s park. Trees clustered along the path, blocking curious eyes from view. It was oddly serene, with no sign of cameras or guards. They were focused on Windsor, I assumed. But before we reached the house, a guard station came into view.
My heart sank. It was the first proof Alexander had lied. Until that point, I’d begun to wonder if Windsmoor really was abandoned.
A guard ran into our path, panting, like it had taken real effort. Georgia slowed the car and sighed.
“We can still turn back,” she muttered. But we both knew that wasn’t true. The guard rapped on the window and she rolled it down, putting on a sweet smile that didn’t suit her.
“This is private property, miss. I’m s-s-sorry,” he stuttered, no doubt taken aback by finding a gorgeous woman behind the tinted window.
“It’s her property,” Georgia said in a voice so sugary I nearly gagged. She pointed to me and I resisted the urge to sink into my seat.
“Hi,” I said in a small voice.
The man’s eyes bulged out of his head when he saw me. Meanwhile, Georgia pulled out a badge that identified her position with royal security. He glanced at it, his eyes continuing to dart to me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, beginning to wave us on. “We don’t get many visitors out here.”
I started to ask him why that was, but Georgia pulled past him. Trees lined the way, shading the path as we continued toward the house. When they ended, the drive opened into a large, circular drive and Windsmoor came into view. It towered ahead, sprawling in every direction. The brick estate was half fortress, half country manor.
There was nothing remotely run-down about its appearance. The house was well-kept, the grounds tended, and, more significantly, it was huge. I gulped, considering the number of closets I might have to search.
Georgia pulled up to the front door and shut off the engine.
“Not very inconspicuous,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “First, you own this place. Second, they might as well know they have company. Or did you want to skulk around and hope we don’t get caught?”
She was right. There was no point sneaking around, since the guard had seen us. If Alexander hadn’t noticed my absence by now, he would probably be alerted to my arrival at Windsmoor very soon.
I climbed out of the car with a hand on my stomach. The baby began to flutter around, and I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I needed to stay calm, no matter what I discovered. I rubbed my belly, silently promising him that everything was going to be okay.
Georgia didn’t rush me. She stoo
d to the side, an odd expression on her face as I took a moment to consider the needs of my unborn child. When I finally started toward the house, she startled, as if waking from a dream, and joined me.
“Do I knock?” I asked her when we reached the door.
“Alexander wouldn’t,” Georgia said dryly. Before I could open it, she stepped in front of me. “Let me.”
She tried the knob and it turned. “Great security.”
I peeked around her as she stepped inside. The house was dated—a time capsule. Some of it was traditionally Royal, with tapestries and paintings and overly ornate furniture. Nothing looked like it had changed for at least twenty years. But the space was clean. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found.
We looked to one another.
“What the—” But Georgia was cut short by a robust woman bustling into the entry. She had on an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform and a shocked expression.
“We weren’t told there would be visitors,” she said curtly, but the moment the words left her mouth, she froze.
One day I would get used to being recognized like this, but it wasn’t going to be today.
“Sometimes my husband forgets to share things.” I searched for an excuse for our presence other than that I’d come to snoop around. “We’re sorry for the intrusion. I came to—”
“Visit,” Georgia broke in, shooting me a meaningful look.
“Of course. I do wish His Majesty had warned us about the visit. Not that there’s much to prepare,” she chattered as she led us through the labyrinthine halls. Georgia and I fell back a few steps.
“Visit?” I hissed under my breath.
“Look, I don’t think Alexander got into medical kink,” she whispered. “If there’s a nurse, she’s caring for someone.”
I held my stomach tightly as we followed her, my mind spinning in every direction but finding no answers. Finally, we reached a long, paneled hallway. Forgotten family portraits smiled in welcome from the walls, as if pleased to finally be seen.
“This way,” the nurse chirped. She didn’t stop to wait for me as she ambled toward a door at the far end.
I started after her and Georgia grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“I’ll be out here,” she said softly.
“Come with me,” I said, tugging her on, but she shook her head.
“Alexander kept this from everyone, even you. Part of being discreet is knowing when to turn around. He wouldn’t want me in there, and I’m beginning to like my job,” she added.
“Your job is safe,” I promised her. She released my arm and gave me a small smile. That was the most encouragement I could expect from her.
I turned back to the door, considering what she’d said. Alexander had kept this from me. What was I risking by walking through that door? But it was what I stood to lose by not opening it that spurred me on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Alexander
I woke up alone. My hand swept over Clara’s side of the bed as if it hoped to find her hiding in the sheets, but her spot was cold. Stumbling to my feet, I rubbed sleep from my eyes as I checked the clock on the nightstand. It wasn’t even seven, which meant she must be with Elizabeth. Heading into the bathroom, I splashed water on my face and washed up, determined to relieve her from parental duties. I’d kept her up late. It was my turn to play daddy.
When I opened the door to the nursery, Penny sat quickly up in the chair. Her eyes dropped when she saw me standing in nothing but my pants. I hadn’t thought to get dressed.
“Sorry, Sir,” she called in a low, embarrassed voice. “I dozed off.”
“Not to worry.” I glanced around the room, but Elizabeth was the only other soul present. “Is my wife…”
Penny tiptoed across the room, her eyes still glued on the floor. “She called me in.”
“Did she say why?” I asked in a strained voice. It wasn’t unusual for Penny to come in if we had other engagements, but it was Sunday, the day we reserved for family.
Penny shook her copper head. “She did mention that you would be here, Sir.”
“Of course,” I murmured. I was out the door and across the hall, mobile in hand before her words struck me. Clara hadn’t told her to call if she was needed. Instead, she’d shifted the responsibility to me. It wasn’t like my wife. I dialed her number and it went instantly to voicemail.
I tore through our private apartments, my panic ratcheting higher with every empty room I found. When I reached her study and found it deserted, I called her again. But the photo of her, caught in a private moment while she slept, was the closest I came to reaching her.
A pit opened in my stomach, threatening to swallow my heart. I forced myself to dial another number. Norris answered immediately.
“She’s gone,” I mumbled, the words foreign to my lips. “Clara’s gone.”
* * *
“Did she say anything?” Brex pressed. “Did you two fight?” He had asked the question at least a dozen times.
I shook my head, still numb. Brex had arrived with Norris nearly an hour ago. My answer hadn’t changed, but he still didn’t seem satisfied. We stood in my bedroom, the last place I’d seen her. We’d yet to find any clue as to where she’d gone. “Something’s wrong. Someone took her.”
“Alexander, no one could have taken her. We would know,” he said gently.
“Goddammit, I was making love to her a few hours ago. She didn’t leave,” I exploded, finally putting to words what everyone else thought.
I sank into a chair, collapsing under the weight of her absence. If only I knew she was safe. If there was a note. But there was nothing. She wasn’t answering calls. I’d called Belle and Edward. Now they were worried, too, and I wasn’t any closer to having answers. A dark thought occurred to me, one that sent my heart racing in my chest, but I forced myself to confront it.
“What’s his number?” I asked Brexton. I didn’t have to say what I was thinking.
He shook his head, dismissing the idea outright. “Alexander, there’s no way.”
“His number,” I barked.
It took a few minutes for Norris to dig it out of a file. I’d never called him before.
“‘Ello?” Anders’ sleepy voice greeted me.
“Is she with you?” I forced myself to ask him, squeezing my eyes shut as unwanted visions of Clara in his bed swam to mind.
“What? Who is this?”
I didn’t have time for this. “Is Clara with you?”
There was a pause and I died a million times in the silence. “What’s the matter, brother? Lost your wife?”
I suddenly understood why so many monarchs executed their siblings. I didn’t care what he was to me or what I’d promised Clara.
“So help me God, do you know where she is?” I growled. “Tell me or there will be a security team ripping your house apart in ten minutes.”
“I haven’t spoken to her,” he said harshly. “I can only hope she scraped together the last bit of willpower she had and left your miserable ass.”
I ended the call without another word. I didn’t care what he thought about me or my marriage. Only one thing mattered to me now.
Brexton threw his mobile on the floor and cursed.
“What is it?” I swallowed, expecting the worst.
He bit his lips as if struggling with what he was about to tell me. “I can’t reach Georgia.”
“Georgia?” I repeated.
Clara wouldn’t leave with Georgia, not given my past with her. But that only left one other possibility. Had I let the devil in through the front door?
“Georgia wouldn’t,” Brex said fiercely.
“Are you sure about that or are you too in love with her to see straight?”
“She wouldn’t,” he said again, stepping in front of me.
I grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer to me. “I don’t care what you believe. Find them.”
Georgia was a mercenary. I’d always known that. How had I let her close to
my family? Her loyalty could be bought—but who had purchased it?
Brex hurried out to consult with our security teams, leaving me alone with Norris.
“We’ll track her mobile. The men discovered a car is gone from the garage. They’ve turned on its tracking system.” He paused and leveled a serious look at me. “We will find her.”
It took an eternity to get a lock on the car. Brexton finally reappeared, and, without meeting my eyes, held out a tablet with a map. Tension tightened his jaw, but despite his obvious anger, he looked confused. “The car’s outside of London. Not far from Windsor.”
I took the extended tablet and stared at the screen.
“We’re looking into it,” Brex continued as Norris came to look at the map over my shoulder.
He stiffened but didn’t say a word.
That was up to me. “There’s no need.”
I knew where she was. It was the why and how I lacked. I glanced to Norris and our eyes locked. He cleared his throat. “We have it from here.”
“What?” Brex said, jerking back in surprise. “Are you fucking kidding me? What’s going on, Poor Boy?”
“We have it from here,” Norris repeated.
The door slammed behind Brexton and I wondered briefly if I’d finally driven him away for good. I trusted him with my family and my secrets, but I could never trust him with this. Norris was already on his own. He spoke in a low voice as I paced through the room. I watched as his expression shifted from grim to slack-jawed.
I stopped and clutched the mantle, searching for strength now that I had my answer. There would be questions later—mine and hers. For now, I needed to figure out how to face this.
“We have confirmation. Clara is at Windsmoor House,” Norris said finally. “She arrived a few hours ago with Ms. Kincaid.”
I closed my eyes, but my relief quickly transformed into dread.