Heart's Demand (23 page)

Feeling furtive and reckless, she marched over to him, and he raised a curious brow as she approached. He didn’t stand but gestured to the chair across from him. She seated herself, and he studied her, waiting for her to clarify her purpose, but she wasn’t sure how to start.

“If you’re offering your delectable services,” he said, “I’m very happily married. I’m not interested.”

As she realized what sort of
services
he meant, she blushed so fiercely, she was glad her cloak hood was still up.

“I’m not here for salacious reasons,” she replied.

“Then why are you here?”

“I have something for you from Lady Radcliffe.”

“Susan Blair,” he corrected. “She was never the true countess. My mother should have been, and her name was Anne.”

Katherine wasn’t about to be drawn into an argument over the succession. She simply laid the satchel on the table.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s some documents for you.”

“What kind of documents?”

“You’ll see. Keep them safe. It took an enormous amount of effort for her to give them to you, and they’re very valuable.”

“What the devil…?” He lifted the flap and peeked inside, then whipped his blue gaze to hers. “She wanted me to have these? You’re positive?”

“Yes, and she said to tell you she was sorry. She said to tell you exactly this: She will be eternally ashamed, and she hopes this will help you to attain the justice you seek.”

“Thank you, Miss…?”

Katherine didn’t supply her identity. “Please don’t ever reveal how you came by this information. It would cause me harm that I’d rather not suffer.”

“I won’t breathe a word. I swear it.”

“Goodbye, and good luck to you.”

She stood and hastened out, sneaking into the woods to the trail that led to the castle. It appeared no one had noticed her swift trip, but then that’s the person she tried to be, the most ordinary, unexceptional woman in the world.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“May I drag you away from the party, Miss Webster?”

“Of course, Monsieur Valois.”

“This shouldn’t take long.”

Valois led Kat out of the main parlor. It was crammed with people, but no one noticed her departure.

To celebrate her return to Cairo—which she wasn’t certain ought to be celebrated—he’d hosted a large supper in her honor, complete with fourteen courses and four dozen guests.

She’d protested the extravagance, but he’d insisted if she was staying in the city for an extended period, she needed to meet other expatriates so she could begin building a social circle. She knew he was correct, but she was extremely upset over her quarrel with Bryce the previous night and in no mood to mingle with strangers.

After intense deliberation, she was positive she’d given him the wrong reply. On initially hearing his proposal, she’d viewed it through a royal lens, had evaluated it as if she was a princess who had to promote her family and country.

But as he’d bluntly reminded her, she was an adult who could choose any ending that tempted her. Why shouldn’t she wed Bryce Blair? Why shouldn’t she move to England with him? What was stopping her?

She’d looked for him all day, being sufficiently desperate that she’d even snuck into his bedchamber and peeked in his wardrobe to be sure his clothing was still there, that he hadn’t packed and left.

Neither he nor Mr. Hubbard had attended Valois’s supper, and she was terrified they’d book passage to England, then slip into the villa, grab their bags, and leave without her learning they had.

If it occurred before she had a chance to speak with him, she truly thought she might book her own passage and chase after him. Yet she was so self-centered that she hadn’t bothered to discover any personal details about him. If she showed up in London, how would she find him?

The only genuine fact she possessed was his being an occasional actor and gambler. Would she tarry at the theaters on Drury Lane, hoping to espy him? Would she lurk in the shadows outside White’s gambling club, praying he was a member?

“Mr. Blair and Mr. Hubbard seem to have vanished,” she casually mentioned.

“Oh, I forgot. They asked me to calculate their wages so they can be paid.”

To her great aggravation, his comment didn’t reveal their current situation.

“Yes, Mr. Blair requested it of me.”

“Your offer of employment was a godsend for them.”

“I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

Valois was whisking her down the hall toward his private quarters. Even though she was a guest, there were areas of the house that were off limits, so she hadn’t been in this section.

They halted at a closed door, and he murmured, “You have visitors.”

“
I
have visitors? Who is it?”

“They’re from Parthenia.” She blanched with astonishment, and he said, “I had them wait in here. With you shielding your identity, I didn’t suppose you’d want them paraded into the dining room.”

“Thank you.” She scowled. “Why have they come? Did they say?”

“No, and I didn’t feel I should pry. Let’s go in, shall we?”

“All right.”

“I’ll stay with you—if you like.”

“Yes, please stay.”

He nodded that he would and guided her into an ornate parlor.

There were four men from home, all dressed in formal court regalia displaying honorary sashes and swords. They were standing two on each side of the door, forming a sort of honor guard for her. When they saw her, they snapped to attention and bowed very low.

They were acting as if she was a princess, and she couldn’t decide how to interpret their behavior. Valois raised a curious brow as Kat shrugged and walked by them.

As she spun around, their leader, Captain Romilard stepped forward. He was Dmitri’s brother, a treacherous fiend whom she loathed, and she carefully shielded her exorbitant dislike. Why would Kristof send a Romilard to her? He had to realize she’d rather cut out her tongue than converse with him.

“Your Royal Highness,” he started, but she interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, Captain Romilard, but as you’re aware, I no longer claim the title.”

“Yes, but I am happy to inform you that your rank has been reinstated.”

“By who?”

“By his most gracious and benevolent majesty, King Kristof the First.”

The pronouncement was so strange, he might have been babbling in a foreign language. She frowned. “I have been reinstated?”

“Yes, and your brother and sister too.”

“Well…”

Kat was struck dumb. She wanted to spit in his face, wanted to tell him to take his benevolent King Kristof and jump off a cliff. But she had to tread cautiously. There was mischief afoot, and until she fully grasped what it was, she didn’t dare say or do the wrong thing.

“Miss Webster is my guest,” Valois said.

“
Her Royal Highness
is your guest,” Romilard corrected him.

“Yes, and I am her friend. May I inquire as to why you are here?”

“No, you may not,” Romilard curtly retorted. He spoke to Kat. “I bring tidings from the King.”

“How nice.” She kept her smile firmly in place.

“He begs your pardon for the past misunderstanding.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

“And he requests you read this letter and respond at once. I am to convey your answer to Parthenia with all due speed.”

He opened a pouch and pulled out an envelope. It was an official correspondence, the edges rimmed with gold, the King’s seal in the center. Romilard handed it to her with a great flourish.

Kat glared at all of them, then flicked at the seal and perused the missive. The words Kristof had penned were so outrageous that she nearly laughed aloud. Yet every move she made would be reported back to him.

“What is it?” Valois asked. “What does he say?”

“It is a proposal of marriage,” Kat told him.

“From whom, to whom?”

“It appears His Majesty, Kristof, wishes to marry
me
.”

Valois tried to tamp down his shock, but couldn’t quite manage it. “He has proposed?”

“Yes.”

“My, my,” Valois mused, “that’s interesting.”

“Very interesting,” she agreed. She looked at Romilard. “I’ll need some time to draft my reply.”

“There is no need for a reply,” Romilard said. “We are here to escort you and your siblings to Parthenia for the royal wedding.”

“Are you? That’s very kind.”

She stealthily reached over and squeezed Valois’s fingers so hard she was surprised he didn’t cringe. He was very shrewd and instantly recognized she was silently screaming for help.

“Your escort will be acceptable to all parties,” he blithely said. “Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I have guests. Captain, you may stop by tomorrow at three, and we will discuss the Princess’s departure.”

Romilard blinked, then shook his head. “My orders are to leave at dawn with the Princess and her siblings. The King is most eager.”

Valois snorted with derision. “It will take the Princess at least two weeks to prepare for such a lengthy journey.”

“But…these are my orders, Monsieur, and I cannot disobey. We go at dawn.”

“No, you don’t.” Valois was very regal, very grand, his centuries of aristocratic blood clearly evident. “The Princess will write a letter to the King to explain the delay. I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow afternoon.”

“It cannot be as you have said, Monsieur,” Romilard complained.

“The matter is out of your hands,” Valois countered.

He went to the door and yanked it open, indicating the appointment was over. There was a brief standoff where Kat was afraid that they would grab her and drag her out, but just as Valois had centuries of aristocratic blood in his veins, Romilard had had centuries of learning deference.

He clicked his heels and motioned to his men. They bowed and sidled out, not showing their backs to Kat, so apparently Romilard hadn’t been lying. She was really and truly a princess again.

Valois’s butler arrived and hustled them to an exit where they wouldn’t be observed by anyone. Once the sound of their boots had faded, Valois proceeded to his sideboard, poured two glasses of brandy, and brought them over.

As he gave one to Kat, he said, “Pardon my rough language, Your Grace, but what the hell is going on?”

“I have no idea.”

“What would you predict is happening?”

“For some reason, Kristof suddenly needs me as his wife.”

“I’m trying to imagine a scenario where that would arise, but I can’t devise any. Perhaps his crown is not resting easily on his fat head, and the citizenry is clamoring for your brother’s reinstatement.”

She scoffed. “I doubt it very much. We were forced to accept Kristof’s rule. We couldn’t muster a single supporter to our cause.”

“No offense, Your Grace, but your people were idiots to pick Kristof over you and your brother.”

Kat had always thought so. “Have you heard any news from Parthenia?”

“No. Have you?”

“None, although before I left Cedric’s camp, I received a very brusque letter from Kristof commanding me home.”

“Your siblings too?”

“Yes.”

“So first you were commanded, and now you are cajoled.” Valois smiled a sly smile. “He must want you back very badly.”

“But…why?”

Valois shrugged. “With Kristof, who can guess?”

“The man is deranged.”

Valois sipped his drink. “Will you marry him?”

“No. After what he did to my brother and how he insulted my parents, I never would. Not in a thousand years.”

“You’ll be ruining any chance for your brother to sit on the throne.”

“There is no benefit to my delivering Nicholas to him. Kristof would never step down or put him in the line of succession.”

“It might be best to take him home though. His subjects might eventually demand he be crowned.”

“Yes, but then I’d have to be Kristof’s bride while I waited for this miracle to occur. I’d rather slit my wrists.”

He chuckled. “I understand.”

She staggered to a chair and plopped down. For a long while, she stared at the floor. Ultimately she peered up at Valois. “Am I being selfish to refuse Kristof? Am I throwing away my brother’s future? Maybe I should go. Is that what you would advise?”

“I can’t give you an opinion.”

“Why not?”

“It is a political matter that is beyond my purview. And whatever you choose, it’s probably the wrong option. You must either return to Parthenia and wed an oaf you despise or wander the courts of Europe with your deposed brother. As I said, there are no good options.”

“Your reply does not make me feel any better.” She rubbed her temples where a fierce headache was suddenly forming. “I’m so confused.”

“Shall I call you Princess? Or should I still call you Miss Webster?”

“Let’s stick with
Miss Webster
for the moment.”

“Well, Miss Webster, Captain Romilard seemed determined to abscond with you, so I believe I can counsel you on this one topic. If you don’t journey to Parthenia with him as he’s requested, he won’t cease pestering you.”

“No, I don’t suppose he will.”

“We’re in agreement on that point anyway. So…if you don’t wish to accompany him, you’ll have to hide from him and steal away again, and it’s clear your last furtive flight wasn’t so furtive after all.”

“I see that now.”

“I can stall him and keep him thinking you need a fortnight to prepare. When the deadline arrives, we can claim you’re still not ready. But he won’t let you delay forever.”

“Perhaps I should depart Cairo while he’s cooling his heels.”

“Perhaps you should.” Valois grinned a conspiratorial grin. “I know two gentlemen who are leaving Egypt very soon. They would be excellent bodyguards to escort you safely to England.”

“Are you saying I should settle there?”

“I’m saying nothing of the sort. I’m simply saying there are two gentlemen headed in that direction.”

*   *   *   *

Bryce was in his bedchamber. It was very late, and the house had finally quieted. Valois had hosted a large supper party, but Bryce had skipped it. The excuse for his absence was that he’d been running errands to arrange his trip.

In reality, he wouldn’t sit across the table from Katarina Webster and moon over her like a smitten boy. It was his specific intent to never see or speak with her ever again.