To Protect a Princess Read online

“The Prince Regent will likely arrive shortly, along with his mother and brothers,” Grantham said to their family group. “And we will be expected to greet them, so do not stray far and listen for the announcement.” He arched a brow toward the queen. “And Mother, perhaps you could…”

  Queen Giabella inclined her head. “I shall. Now go and greet your guests, Grantham. Remi, do try to behave yourself. And Ilaria, will you come with me, please?”

  Grantham did not meet her eyes before he ducked into the crowd, all proper greetings and serious connections. Remi, however, did. His expression was rather pitying, but he did nothing to intervene before he stepped away, not that there was anything to do. How she wished she had the freedom he had managed to carve out for himself.

  Giabella gave her an appraising look. “Do try not to look like I’m leading you the gallows, love.”

  “I certainly hope it shall not be so dire, Mama,” she said. “But I am surprised you are not waiting to throw me in the path of the Prince Regent’s brothers. There are three, are there not? Decrepit specimen of the best and brightest this country has to offer?”

  Her mother pursed her lips. “You would do well not to be overheard being so bold about the family that leads this country. And you will be happy to know that all parties involved have decided it is not in the best interest of anyone that you marry within the royal family itself.”

  “Why?” Ilaria asked.

  “The official reason is that it would give both sides too much power. You could too greatly influence British politics in favor of Athawick and vice versa.” Her mother shifted. “At least that is the reason the Regent has accepted.”

  “It is not the real one?”

  “If you think I wish to marry you off to anyone who is thirty years your senior and with the wit of a wet sack, then you judge me too harshly.” Her mother looked off into the crowd, refusing to meet her stare. “I’m going to do my best to find you a husband you can at least stand the look of.”

  Ilaria blinked. “You think if he is young that it will protect me?”

  Her mother sighed. “I think there is a better chance.”

  Ilaria considered a retort, for her mother and father had been of an age and that had turned out dreadfully. But in the end she swallowed it back. Her conversations with Sasha had reminded her that she did love her family, misguided as they were. And she didn’t want to hurt Grantham’s chances of presenting well to Court and to kingdom. “Lead the way.”

  Her mother looked relieved at the capitulation and slowly guided Ilaria through the crowd. But with every step, Ilaria’s heart leapt. They were heading toward Captain Crawford and his companion, and she could scarcely breathe as her mother came to a stop before the two men.

  “Your Majesty,” Crawford said, and he almost looked startled by their arrival.

  He executed a bow, though his gray eyes slid toward Ilaria. She felt the heat enter her cheeks and hoped she wasn’t turning as purple as a plum.

  “Captain Crawford, let me repeat to you what a pleasure it is to see you again,” her mother said, warmly and genuinely. The entire family had liked the man during his visit. And yet the queen didn’t keep her attention on him long. Her gaze shifted to the other man. “Ilaria, you met the Earl of Bramwell in the receiving line.”

  Ilaria forced her gaze from Captain Crawford to the earl. He was handsome enough, no one could say it wasn’t true. He had dark hair, a harshly angled jaw, full lips and warm brown eyes that seemed…kind. And yet she didn’t even recall meeting the man a few moments before.

  “Good evening again, my lord,” Ilaria said softly.

  He inclined his head. “Your Highness. How are you enjoying London?”

  “Not much so far,” Ilaria said. “We only arrived earlier in the day. This is a whirlwind, I’m afraid.”

  “Ah,” the earl said. “Well, then I hope you will have a chance to settle in and see our city to its full potential in the next few weeks and months.”

  “Perhaps you could be a guide, my lord,” Giabella said without even attempting subtlety.

  The earl cast his glance first toward the queen, then to Ilaria again. He looked as she felt in that brief moment, like a rat caught in a cage.

  “I would be pleased to give you some version of a tour if you would like that.” He cleared his throat. “And perhaps you would honor me with a dance?”

  Ilaria glanced again at Captain Crawford. He looked bored standing there, a witness to this first attempt to find her a husband suitable not for her, but for the future of her kingdom. She couldn’t help but think of another dance, one he had been far more engaged in. She pushed those thoughts away and her shoulders back.

  “I would very much enjoy a dance, my lord.” She tried not to glare at her mother as she stood by, beaming from ear to ear. But she refused to look at Crawford as Lord Bramwell led her to the dance floor and they began.

  If Captain Crawford didn’t care, she didn’t care. She certainly wasn’t going to go chasing after some man.

  “The entire country is aflutter about your visit, Your Highness.”

  She blinked and tried to refocus on the man dancing with her. “It seems so. They are all watching us dance, after all. The interest will not let up…unless someone else does something shocking and turns their attention.”

  He laughed and she examined his face closely. He really was very handsome and he had a nice laugh. He was a good dancer. For a first attempt at throwing her at a titled man, it wasn’t the worst choice. And yet…

  She stifled a sigh.

  There was no spark here. No instantaneous connection that made her want to lean a little closer. To know more about him. Somehow she’d always pictured her future with a man who made her feel that spark.

  Her gaze slid to Captain Crawford, who stood where she had left him, talking to her mother at the side of the ballroom. There were sparks galore with that one, at least on her side. Not that it mattered. If her mother and brother had their way, she would be matched for political connection, not desire or bond. Not spark.

  Whether or not she was going to accept that future was another story entirely.

  Jonah watched Ilaria glide across the floor in the Earl of Bramwell’s arms and he tried to ignore the stirring flare of pain in his chest at the sight.

  “They look well together, eh?” Queen Giabella asked at his side.

  He flinched and forced his attention back to her. “Certainly. Though I would wager your daughter looks well with any man lucky enough to dance with her.”

  The queen smiled. “That is true enough. She has grown into a beautiful woman, both inside and out. And whatever man takes her hand will be fortunate, indeed.”

  He cleared his throat as he stole another glance at Ilaria and Bramwell. She moved with such grace, such certainty. His stomach clenched at the sight. At the thoughts watching her created.

  “I—” he began, and then stopped with a shake of his head. “Never mind.”

  The queen pivoted to face him straight on and speared him with her sharp, brown gaze. “Well, now you have piqued my interest, Captain Crawford. Whatever were you going to say?”

  He opened and shut his mouth, staring at the woman before him. In her face, he could see where Ilaria had gotten her strength and her confidence.

  “Speak now, young man,” she said, her tone both playful and demanding.

  He shifted. She was as undeniable as any admiral he’d served under in his years in the navy. “I…was…I was going to ask you an impertinent question about a rumor I heard.”

  “A rumor about Ilaria?” the queen asked, good humor replaced by concern. “Or…God forbid, Remi?”

  “There are some who say that you are looking to match the princess with a husband on this trip,” he said.

  Queen Giabella’s expression relaxed. “Ah. Well, those rumors may indeed be true. We do not verify or deny such things.”

  He nodded slowly. “And I suppose you must be considering Bramwell as an option.” r />
  Queen Giabella stared off for a moment, not at her daughter, but almost past her. Like she was seeing something not on the dance floor. “It would be a mutually beneficial match.”

  “Hmmm,” Jonah murmured.

  Queen Giabella arched her eyebrow all the higher. “Hmmm. What does hmmm mean? Do you have an objection to the potential union?”

  He drew back. “I…I would have no right to object, of course. And I have no knowledge of Lord Bramwell except that he is the brother-in-law of a friend and that he seems to be a very decent man. I was only thinking that I do not know your daughter overly well, but she does not seem like the kind of woman who can be…managed easily.”

  Queen Giabella sighed, and now she did look at Ilaria. “No, that is true enough. She is headstrong. And yet she knows her duty to her king and her country. She will do it. I have great faith in that.” She smiled at him. “I do enjoy seeing you, Captain. My eldest son thinks highly of you. If you will excuse me, I must attend to my duties.”

  “Of course. I would not keep you, Your Majesty.” He bowed deeply as she floated away through the crowd toward her next interaction.

  Leaving him to return his full attention to the dancefloor. To Ilaria. To the thoughts he could not let grow or fester or intrude upon duty. His. Or hers.

  Ilaria drew a deep breath as she trailed behind her mother and brother toward the entryway to the ballroom. They had been told by Grantham’s courtier, Blairford, that the prince regent had arrived at last, late of course…far beyond fashionably.

  There was a buzz in the room, a ripple through the throng. Though the masses might not love their future monarch, he still caused a stir. Ilaria had no doubt he enjoyed it, especially as the doors to the ballroom opened and he swept in behind bleating trumpets.

  Her jaw nearly dropped when she realized the regent was wearing his formal court robes with all their feathers and golden stitching and silly slippers. They also left little to the imagination and she had to use all the control her mother had taught her to keep from staring at the exaggerated codpiece of his costume.

  She saw Grantham’s jaw twitch at the ridiculousness of it all. Unlike their father before him, he had a difficult time pretending when he thought someone a fool, and yet he swept the disgust from his face as he approached his fellow monarch. The ballroom held its collective breath as the bows and greetings were exchanged.

  “Your Majesty,” Grantham said. “You recall my family, I believe.”

  The introductions were made, along the lines of rank, which made Ilaria the last to extend her hand to the prince regent. He lifted it to his lips and lingered there just a little too long. “You are even more beautiful than you were two years ago, my dear. I could not have thought it possible.”

  She forced her court smile to her lips and ducked her head. “You are too kind, Your Majesty. I trust your Season has begun well enough.”

  The prince regent rolled his eyes. “Dreadfully, I’m afraid. This entire year has been a travesty.” He pivoted away from her toward her brother. “You will understand, I think, now that you have taken the crown. The people can be cruel, indeed.”

  Grantham’s lips thinned. “The people make demands, of course. But as their sovereign I feel compelled to hear them out.”

  The regent sniffed. “Your country is so small, it is different. I rule an empire. The best I can do is crush anyone who questions me. You’ll learn soon enough, young man.”

  Ilaria saw Grantham holding back a retort. Luckily he was not forced to reply, for the prince regent’s attentions were redirected toward Queen Giabella. “Your Majesty, would you honor me with a dance?”

  If the queen was as put off by this silly man as the rest of them, she made no expression of it. Instead she took his hand with her most dazzling smile and let herself be led to the dancefloor. The music rose and as the crowd stared on, the pair began the intricate turns.

  Grantham shook his head and walked away without another word, leaving Remi and Ilaria to watch their mother and the strutting regent who was a shockingly talented dancer.

  “He is elegant, I give him that,” Ilaria said. “And it is always lovely to see Mama dance. She is so good at it.”

  Remi sighed. “Indeed. Though I suppose the regent must be a good…dancer, mustn’t he? Rumors are he…dances with a great many women.”

  Ilaria pivoted toward him. “You are an absolute cad, Remi. You can’t refer to dancing as a euphemism when the man is spinning our mother across the floor. It’s indecent.”

  “I’m sure if Mother would give him a second glance, he would happily…dance with her again.” Remi snorted when Ilaria glared at him. “And judging from the way he drooled all over your hand, he’d dance with you, too.”

  “Ugh.” Ilaria couldn’t control her disgusted expression. “Well, luckily he is not in the running to be my future dance partner. Mama is making some attempt to keep me from the clutches of the English monarchy. And even if she wasn’t, the regent already has a wife.”

  “Two, if rumors be true.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What?”

  “His hated future queen and the one he married illegally decades ago.”

  “Great God, I’d all but forgotten that,” Ilaria muttered. “And yet Grantham worries about using the wrong fork. It seems he could get away with almost anything.”

  “Not if he doesn’t want our people to hate him,” Remi said, and now he sounded more serious.

  Ilaria sighed and watched as the regent executed a ludicrous bow as his dance with her mother ended. “Oh dear, he’s coming back and he is staring right at me. It appears I am to be his next victim.”

  Remi chuckled. “At least it helps you escape the arms of the dozens of men who have been watching you all night.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Behind them, the crowd was watching, and indeed, there were a great many male eyes focused on Ilaria rather than the queen and the prince regent. Most of their expressions could only be described as mercenary but as the crowd stirred, she saw Jonah Crawford also watching her.

  Unlike the other men, his gray eyes were not filled with visions of importance or fortune…no, he had a very different expression. She had seen it once before, been drawn to it all those years ago. But just as her body gave a great shiver or reaction, he turned and walked away. She couldn’t track him because the regent and her mother returned and she was forced back into the role of dutiful princess rather than woman with a beating heart. One that wanted what it wanted, even if she could never have it.

  Ilaria was exhausted and her feet hurt. The party was winding down at last, even as the first hints of dawn brightened the horizon outside. She had danced with what felt like every eligible man in entire country, plus most of the married ones. And after her dance with the regent, the attention of the room had focused more fully on her. Something she could not have imagined possible. Even when she wasn’t dancing, hoards of eligible gentlemen had crowded around, practically drooling on her. Her mother had pushed and prodded and her eldest brother had encouraged and all the while Jonah Crawford had stood off to the side, a witness to every moment of her humiliation.

  And it was a humiliation. Anyone who had attended the ball tonight had to be certain of Ilaria’s status. They knew that her family was willing to barter her for gain. Her stomach turned at the thought.

  “And how was your night?”

  She tensed as Grantham stepped up beside her and smiled as if he weren’t the very one holding the keys to her future.

  “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Though I’m not certain why you ask.”

  His brow wrinkled, and for a moment she no longer saw the passive expression of her king, but the hurt of her brother. At least he was still in there, though she wasn’t sure for how long. The Crown tended to change a man and perhaps not in the best ways.

  “Because I care about your well-being,” he said softly.

  “Hmmm. Well, you were watching me all night, keeping track o
f your investment. So I’m sure you already know all the twists and turns of my evening. Your little spies and bodyguards must have reported anything you didn’t see, as well.”

  “Ilaria,” he said on a sigh. “Please.”

  “Please what?” she asked, pivoting to face him head on. “Please tow the line? Please stop wanting more from your future than the exact nightmare we watched our mother live out all our lives? Please be dutiful and never have a thought for my own happiness?”

  His shoulders rolled forward and his mouth twisted. “There is more at play here than perhaps you realize,” he said softly.

  She wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean?”

  He opened his mouth, and for a brief moment she thought he might actually let her in. But then his expression went stony once more. Sibling gone, king returned. “Trust that I do what I do for the good of us all, Ilaria.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what to trust anymore, Your Majesty.”

  He flinched at the use of his title, but he said nothing. He just turned on his heel and walked away. Back across the now-sparsely populated ballroom to where their mother stood with one of the many potential suitors who had been thrown in Ilaria’s path earlier. She couldn’t even remember the man’s name, but she did recall his absolutely terrible breath.

  She shuddered and looked toward the doors which led to the broad wraparound terrace behind the ballroom. If she was not to be found, she could not be forced to do something she didn’t want to do. That was what Remi did to avoid duty, after all. Why should she not exercise the same option?

  She slipped through the terrace doors, shut them firmly behind her and then drew a long breath of the cool, early morning air. She moved to the edge and rested her hands on the rough stone wall to look down at the garden below. Once she had slept for a while, she would have to explore the gardens. She had always loved the peace of a green space like the one below.

  “Your Highness.”

  She froze at the sound of a man’s voice behind her. Not just any man’s voice either. One she recognized even though she didn’t wish to do so. She slowly turned and found Captain Crawford coming from the shadowy corner of the terrace.