“A surprise!” Eliza said. “I don’t think I can bear any more surprises.”

“Oh, I think you’ll like this,” the queen said.

“I’ll see her returned to you for tea, on my word,” Prince Sebastian said eagerly, and leaned forward and kissed Hollis’s cheek.

“Your Majesty, here is where I shall take my leave,” Prince Leopold said, and stooped to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“What? Where are you going? Will you not join us?”

“I’ve a prior engagement,” he said, and with a curt nod to everyone, he strode off before anyone else could speak.

The queen watched him go, then sighed and smiled sympathetically at Lady Eulalie. But Lady Eulalie gave the queen a slight shrug as if she didn’t mind at all.

Sebastian offered his hand to his wife. Eliza took it with a smile of pure adoration. The affection between these two was beginning to nauseate Caroline. Could two people really be so in love? She couldn’t imagine it—she’d never once felt the flutterings Eliza had described when she realized she’d fallen in love with Prince Sebastian. She had never felt anything more than a passing fancy, one that generally flamed brightly and died quickly as soon as the next, more attentive gentleman appeared. There had been times Caroline had wondered if there was something a little bit wrong with her in that regard. A heart too small or something like it.

“Come for tea!” Eliza called over her shoulder as her prince led her away in the company of Queen Daria and Lady Eulalie, and all the guards bringing up the rear. Hollis and Caroline realized at the same moment they were suddenly very much alone in the huge garden. It struck Caroline that she and Hollis would be very much alone in a matter of two days when they left Eliza’s fairy tale and returned to England without her. “Oh dear,” she said, and grasped Hollis’s hand. “I’m going to miss her terribly.”

“Me too,” Hollis said weakly. “Oh my, me too.” She sighed and looped her arm through Caroline’s. “Shall we return to our suite, then? There are a few notes I should like to make before we begin to pack.”

The day was lovely, and really, it was the first bit of air they’d had since festivities leading up to the wedding had begun. “I think I’d like to walk a little longer,” Caroline said.

“All right.” Hollis let her go. “Is it me, or does it feel strange to walk without a guard trailing behind?”

“It’s you,” Caroline said, and laughed. “I hope to never see a guard again.”

She watched Hollis stride off in the direction of the palace. Caroline went in the opposite direction, pleased to be free and alone, enjoying the sun and the air. After one full circuit of a considerable expanse of garden, she recalled the palace guard informing Eliza of benches at the center. The walking paths had been cut through hedgerows trimmed into various shapes and sizes, and every so often one would pass a seating area cut out of the shrubbery. She began to weave her way through the gardens toward the center. It would be nice to sit and think a bit in peace and quiet. She was in no hurry, pausing to look at various plants, or—blast it—to affix a train that had come loose. But as she neared the point where Eliza had left them, she heard low male voices.

Caroline slowed her step and moved quietly, pausing just outside the seating area. She leaned forward, trying to see through the thick bushes who was speaking.

She couldn’t see much of anything and leaned forward a little more. Suddenly, a man moved into her line of sight, his back to her. She surged backward, startled. She looked around, noticed a thinner part of the shrubbery where she might be able to see and crept toward it.

The men were speaking in Alucian. And then one abruptly said in English, “You can’t come here with this news.”

She froze. That was Prince Leopold. She dipped down to see through the shrubbery and saw the back of the man again. Oh, that was Prince Leopold, all right. She’d know that strong, square back anywhere. Or the collar-length dark brown hair brushed back behind his ears. But who was he speaking to?

Prince Leopold spoke again, but in Alucian. His voice was low, the cadence swift, the tone sharp.

Another man responded in Alucian. Caroline craned her neck to see, and when she caught a glimpse of the other man, she was all the more curious. He looked decidedly less privileged than the prince. He was broad, and his clothes very plain. His yellow-blond hair was unkempt and stuck out in a number of directions.

Prince Leopold spoke again, and he sounded slightly frantic. The other man smiled sadly at whatever the prince had said, nodded solemnly and said, “Je.”

She knew that meant yes.

Prince Leopold scraped his fingers over the crown of his head, looked once more at the mountain of a man and then, quite abruptly—or so it seemed to Caroline—walked out of the clearing.

She moved deeper behind the hedgerow. She waited for the man to go, but he dipped down beside a fountain and cupped his hands, bringing water to his face. He scrubbed his skin, then smoothed his scraggly beard. He seemed content to sit and think. Caroline meant to creep away, but when she tried, she found that blasted train snagged on the shrubbery. If she freed herself now, he would hear the rustle of her skirts.

After a few moments, he stood and began to amble toward the entrance of the clearing. By then, however, another sound had caught her attention, and Caroline glanced back to the path. Palace guards were quietly advancing toward the seating area the big man was about to leave. Her breath caught in her throat. She desperately wondered if she ought to warn the man, but before she could speak, it was too late.

The larger man tried to run, but he was no match for the younger, fitter guards, and they tackled him to the ground. Caroline may have cried out with alarm as they wrestled him, but it didn’t matter—no one heard her over the tussle. It took three guards to drag the man to his feet while one bound his hands. Two more guards appeared to help drag him away.

After they’d gone, Caroline stood rooted to her spot, still shaking a little. Who was that man? Had they arrested him? Had Prince Leopold set the guards on him?

What on earth had she just witnessed?

CHAPTER SEVEN


A supper was held to conclude the royal wedding festivities, attended by the few remaining foreign dignitaries who had traveled from afar to attend the wedding. The Duchess of Tannymeade hosted the supper as one of her first official acts. For the occasion, Queen Daria lent her a tiara boasting sixteen emeralds and matching the emerald earrings the queen had earlier presented her as a gift.

There were many notable figures assembled for the last celebratory meal, and perhaps none so intriguing as the Wren of Wesloria, whose song is believed to have captured the heart of a royal prince. It is said the marriage agreement has already been negotiated. Expect a formal announcement by the end of summer.

Ladies, when traveling by sea, it is best to leave your finer fabrics in your trunk, as salt spray will ruin a good garment and keep your clothing damp.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

KADRO, LEO’S GUARD, casually reported that Lysander had been detained. The news sliced through Leo. “When?”

“This afternoon,” Kadro said. “In the palace gardens.”

After he’d left him? After Leo had strode from the garden with that terrible, heart-pounding feeling of unease?

Leo still didn’t know why he’d gone to meet Lysander at all. Maybe because he didn’t want to hear Eulalie sing again. He’d sat through two songs and it felt like ants were crawling up and down his legs, so anxious was he to be at anything else.

But his mother had been enthralled. “The duchess must hear,” she’d insisted, and away they’d all trooped, in search of Eliza.

Or perhaps he’d gone because he was afraid he would be saddled with Lady Caroline if he lingered. He didn’t know if he could engage in conversation with her without wanting to tie his neckcloth around her mouth. He imagined it for one gloriously silly and strangely arousing moment—Lady Caroline’s mouth bound while her eyes flashed hotly at him.

Whatever his reasons, Leo had gone.

Lysander was much larger than what he recalled, both physically and in bearing. Leo had immediately told Lysander he had no interest in anything he had to say, and to tell him so for his own good was the only reason he’d come round at all.

“Ah. Then you don’t care to know what your future father-in-law might be about?” Lysander had asked slyly. “The Duke of Brondeny?”

Well, that had certainly rattled Leo. He’d only just met the man himself. How could Lysander possibly know anything about the duke? “What of him?”

Lysander then told Leo something so outrageous and unthinkable that he was stunned. He warned Lysander that saying such things was dangerously slanderous. He said he didn’t believe it. “Lies. Whoever has told you this is lying.”

“When you return to England, there is a young woman who can prove to you what I say is true. She is in the employ of Lord Hill. Her name is Ann—”

“I don’t care,” Leo had said before he could fill him with any more scandalous news.

But Lysander patiently continued. “Her name is Ann Marble, and she is a maid in an important man’s house. She has assisted one of our—”

“You can’t come here with this news,” Leo hissed in English. Then in Alucian he said, “Not here, man! Do you think these walls don’t have ears?” He’d been so certain of it that he glanced over his shoulder. It felt to him as if the trees were listening.

“Mans princis, will you turn your back?” Lysander had asked quietly. My prince.

That had rattled Leo even more. Was he anyone’s prince? He might have been born into it, but in reality, he was a drunkard with a talent for avoiding conflict, duties and responsibilities. He’d very much wanted to turn his back the moment Lysander called him his prince. He’d wanted to walk away and hear no more of it. But something had kept him standing there. If there was even a scintilla of truth to what Lysander had told him, he couldn’t walk away.

But neither could he stand there and hear it. “Meet me tomorrow at the home of Jean Franck, the financier. He is a friend of mine. Do you know of him? His home?” he’d asked as his feeling of unease grew.

Lysander hesitated, but he nodded. “Je.”

“Two o’clock.” Leopold then left, striding away from the anxiety Lysander had produced, his thoughts on what he’d learned. As he neared the palace entrance, four palace guards stepped outside. They bowed to him in deference as he passed. One of them even uttered a greeting.

Leopold looked back at them as they carried on, uncertain what they were about. Were they on patrol? Looking for someone? But they appeared to be strolling along in no particular hurry, as if they were out for patrol. Had they detained Lysander?

Leopold could not shake the uneasy feeling that had come over him yesterday. Since Matous’s death, everything out of the ordinary left him feeling uneasy.

He left Kadro to dress for the last dinner with his brother and the few remaining guests. The king and queen would not be joining them this evening, and he was glad for it—that meant the evening would be far less formal and start sooner and end quickly. He wanted time to prepare to sail the next day.

But duty called, so he entered the salon that evening to join the guests.

He was immediately cornered by a Moroccan gentleman, Mr. Harrak. Harrak wanted to discuss the opium trade that shipped through the Mediterranean and how he believed his proposal to intervene in that trade could make them all quite rich in Morocco and in Alucia. “Why should Britain enjoy all the spoils?” he asked.

Leo listened with only half an ear—he had no interest in opium whatsoever. He’d known more than one man brought low by its “medicinal” qualities, and besides, he was no expert on trade—Bas was.

As Harrak ranted against the imperialism of England, Leo looked across the room and spotted Eliza standing with Lady Caroline. His sister-in-law looked radiant in a pale yellow gown. She had a sash of dark green across her breast, onto which two things had been pinned—the sapphire brooch Bas had presented her at their wedding, and a new medal that marked her entry into the royal family. The royal brand, so to speak. She was always charmingly a bit off-kilter, and tonight, the tiara his mother had lent her kept tilting to one side. Every time she righted it, Lady Caroline said something to make her laugh, and it slid a bit again. He considered, as Harrak continued to drone on, that Lady Caroline was the true beauty of the two, at least to his thinking. She had wide-set eyes and that bright smile that curved into two pert dimples.