To Protect a Princess Read online

  “Captain,” she said, fighting to measure her tone when she feared she sounded excited to see him again. “I did not realize you were out here. I’m surprised you have not already departed.”

  He shrugged as he joined her at the terrace wall, close enough that she could feel his body heat. Smell the spicy hint of his skin. He still smelled the same as he had all those years ago and she only barely resisted the urge to lean in a little closer.

  “There is a bit of a crush on the drive,” he explained. “I thought it made more sense to wait a short while before I asked for my horse. I’d rather do it here than out with the half-drunk partygoers.”

  “More than half for many of them,” she said.

  “Most.”

  “Well, you never seemed the kind of man who indulged too much in anything,” she said. “So I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.”

  He turned slightly and caught her stare. “Ahhh, so are you no longer pretending you didn’t remember me from my visit to Athawick two years ago?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “Oh…I…” She shook her head. “You’ve caught me, Captain. I did pretend to not recall you earlier tonight.”

  He held her stare for a beat. “Playing games, princess?”

  She swallowed hard. There was something about the drawl to his voice as he asked that question that seemed to drive through her bloodstream. Settled in the most inopportune places. This man set her on her heels and she did not allow many people to do that.

  Any people.

  She forced a smile. “No, just doing as you once asked me to do,” she retorted, and was pleased when he shifted. It seemed he recalled the last time they’d seen each other, too. Those words he’d said that had stung her. She pushed them away and asked, “What about you, Captain?”

  “You’re asking if I’m playing games?” he said.

  She nodded.

  “No, Your Highness. I can’t afford games, I’m afraid.” He backed away from her, his hand flexing at his side as he did so. “I should not delay and I’m sure you have other things to do. It was a pleasure seeing you again. Good…good morning.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond, but pivoted on his heel and strode from the terrace, leaving her alone. She sucked in a breath, hating that her hands shook.

  “Is that who I think it was?”

  Ilaria looked down the terrace to find Sasha coming toward her. Now that most of the partygoers had gone, she could come out from the wings where Ilaria was sure she had been spying off and on all night. Her friend was still dressed in the same gown she, herself, was wearing, not a hair out of place of their shared style. She looked like a mirror image, except cooler and not as off kilter as Ilaria now felt.

  “Who do you think it was?” she asked, dully she knew.

  “Captain Jonah Crawford,” Sasha said. “Or was I seeing things?”

  Ilaria struggled to find her breath. “You weren’t. It was, indeed, the esteemed Captain Crawford. He was an attendee at the ball and we were just saying our…our farewells.”

  Sasha arched a brow at her. “Ilaria, you forget that I am your confidante and friend. I know you…well, you liked the man during his visit to Athawick, what was it…three years ago?”

  “Two,” Ilaria corrected. “It’s been two years, and yes, I thought him very handsome when he visited me…my family back then.”

  “When he stepped off the ship back then I thought you’d stopped breathing,” Sasha said.

  “Perhaps I did,” Ilaria mused. “There we were, in the midst of foolish pomp and circumstance and down the gang plank of the royal yacht comes this…this man. All certainty and angles and sharp gaze.” She realized she was letting herself drift away to that moment and jerked herself back to reality. “But you can see by the way he walked away without so much as a backward glance that he thinks nothing of me. And I can think nothing of him, thanks to my family’s plans.”

  Sasha tilted her head. “Ilaria—”

  “I’m simply tired,” Ilaria said. “With the travel and then this huge event. I’m tired. Come, we’ll have little chance for rest before the next event this evening. Let’s go before I fall over or my brother and mother find ten more men off the street for me to meet.”

  She could see Sasha wished to say more about the subject, but instead her companion wrapped an arm around her waist and the two walked down the length of the terrace, toward a door that led to a parlor, not the ballroom.

  She hadn’t lied, of course. She was tired. But she feared her sleep would be restless thanks to the man who had just left her on the terrace.

  Chapter 4

  Jonah weaved his way through the club, looking for Grantham. The king was impossible to miss, seated in the back, a circle of men staring at him from the main hall, while his bodyguards stood by, anything but inconspicuous. He sipped his drink and read the paper as if he didn’t even notice all the attention being lavished on him. Attention that would certainly extend to Jonah the moment he joined the man.

  He drew a deep breath before he did just that.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing before he extended a hand. The closest bodyguard twitched as if he would move if need be.

  Grantham rose to his feet and took the offered hand. “Crawford, very good to see you again, old friend. Please, join me.”

  Jonah did so and the steward rushed forward with another glass and the bottle of whisky that was apparently what his companion was drinking. It was a bit early for Jonah, but he didn’t refuse as the libation was poured.

  As the steward stepped away, Grantham raised his glass. “To old friendships, eh?”

  “Indeed, sir,” Jonah said, and the crystal clinked as they touched glasses. Jonah took a small sip of the drink and set it aside. “I admit I was surprised to receive your message to meet here today.”

  Grantham smiled. “Why is that?”

  “This is an official visit. I assumed you would have a packed schedule of activities and obligations.”

  The king’s mouth tightened. “Yes. There is hardly a moment free. I had to argue with my courtier for what felt like an eternity to force him to find time in my day today to sit with you. Sometimes it feels as if they are running the country and my life, rather than me.”

  “I suppose that is a hazard of the job,” Jonah said. “I recall the influence of the courtiers when I was traveling with the regent. They can be quite a bit to manage.”

  Grantham rolled his eyes before he took a long drink. Then he set his glass down. “I suppose each of us have a great deal more to manage than we did when last we met.”

  “Indeed,” Jonah said. “There have been big changes for us both.”

  “Mine are obvious, and trust that I am sick to death talking about them,” Grantham said with a chuckle. “Indulge me for a moment by pretending I am not a king and you and I are just old friends catching up.”

  Jonah inclined his head. “If that’s your wish. Yes, when last we saw each other, I was still in the Royal Navy. I thought I would be there the rest of my life. But then a…” He hesitated. “A family member passed and suddenly I was left an inheritance and an estate to manage. It was evident doing both was not an option.”

  “So you chose the estate,” Grantham said.

  Jonah sighed. “There were duties and dependents that came along with it.”

  “Ah, heavy is the head that wears the crown. That I understand.” Grantham shook his head. “And do you find the gift you were left a blessing or a curse?”

  That was a question whose answer Jonah had avoided for some time. “Both, if I am honest. I didn’t want to leave my position. I sometimes long for what I once had. And yet…I am good at managing the estate. I have made it a better place in the last year and a half. That has meaning, at least to the lives of those who are impacted by what I do.”

  Grantham took another sip of his drink and nodded. “There is a good feeling to knowing you are helping others. It’s almost worth all the rest.”

  “I know you said you were sick to death of speaking of your own change of fortunes, but may I ask how things are going here in London? This is your first official visit as monarch.”

  Grantham strummed his fingers against the edge of his glass restlessly. “Yes, and it is with our most precarious ally. So there is a great deal riding on what happens here.”

  “I can see how that would be true,” Jonah said.

  Grantham held his gaze a moment and let out his breath slowly. “I’m going to say something to you now that I hope you understand must be kept in confidence.”

  Jonah wrinkled his brow. “Of…course. What is it?”

  “This entire endeavor is less than a week old and I already feel like I’m herding cats. I’m shuttled from event to event, shaking hands, having the most ridiculous conversations about the weather and the roads. Any encounter with the regent makes me wonder if I’m going to say the wrong thing and be invaded the moment I return home.” Grantham paused and ran a hand through his hair. “And home is an entirely other conversation. One I ought not to get into with an acquaintance.”

  “There is trouble?” Jonah asked. “My recollection is that you and your family are well liked by your subjects.”

  “For the most part it seems that is true, but there are factions and—” Grantham stopped himself suddenly and shook his head. “As I said, I ought not to talk to you about this.”

  Jonah nodded slowly. “I understand the reticence. But I hope you know that I hear this only as a friend. I have no ulterior motive, no desire to use the knowledge against you in any way.”

  “I…appreciate that. Normally I would discuss this with my family, but things have changed since I took the title of king. And coming here has created even more of a wall between us.”


  “How so?”

  “From the moment he arrived, Remi went off to whore his way through London,” he explained.

  Jonah chuckled. “I will only say that doesn’t seem out of character.”

  “Not in the slightest,” Grantham agreed, and a flutter of a smile turned up this lips. “Only there is the potential for greater consequences. My mother is…worried. I see her trying to hide it, but it’s there in her every stare, her every movement. Thank God her secretary, Dashiell Talbot, is accompanying us on this journey. Sometimes it feels like he is the confidante she needs.”

  “And then there is Princess Ilaria,” Jonah said softly, bringing them around to the topic that interested him most. The topic he had not been able to forget since he’d last seen her after the welcome ball three mornings before.

  “Yes, there is Ilaria.” Grantham stared off into nothingness for a moment. “She thinks me such a villain at present—she can scarcely look at me. And she’s determined to punish me. Make my life difficult.”

  “Why?” Jonah asked, though he knew why. He’d seen the why as she danced with all those eligible titled men.

  “She doesn’t like my plans for her,” the king said softly. “And perhaps I don’t entirely blame her for that. I only wish she understood that to refuse this future is to create problems. And perhaps even dangers.”

  “Dangers?” Jonah asked. “What does that mean? Does it have to do with the unrest you mentioned a moment ago?”

  Grantham rested his tightly clenched hands against his thighs. “The beginnings of unrest. My courtiers try to tell me this is normal during a transition. They try to convince me to crush it swiftly and cruelly enough that no one ever attempts it during my reign again. But that does not seem right.”

  Jonah hesitated. He was in no position to advise a king. The lemon-faced courtier standing staring at them from a few feet away had that job. And yet this wasn’t advising a king, was it? It was helping a friend.

  “I think,” he said carefully, “that you must do what you think is right for yourself and your country.”

  “Yes. As soon as I figure out what that is and manage to finagle my family back into line.”

  “Do you really think the princess will step out of line?” Jonah asked. “That she won’t do as you wish?”

  “Not only am I not certain that she will do as is required, she might thwart me entirely. At home she has a nasty habit of slipping her guards. I’m sure she is already plotting the same here and could do all manner of things to make this hard on me and herself.”

  “I could…” Jonah swallowed hard. He should not continue that sentence. He should cut it off and stand up and end this conversation. But he didn’t. “I could look out for her.”

  Grantham tilted his head. “Now that is an idea.” He set his drink aside and steepled his fingers, strumming them together. “I could present you with her schedule and help arrange for you to be invited to any events where she would be present. If she saw you, she would never guess it was because you were following her, guarding her. She only vaguely recalled you from your time on Athawick.”

  Jonah bit his lip. There was no need to inform Grantham about Ilaria’s subterfuge. Or their encounter after the welcome ball on the terrace that he had been pondering for days.

  “Would it put you out?”

  Jonah blinked and pulled himself back to the present. “Er…no. I have a few matters to attend in Town, but most of my time is taken up by frivolous activities. I really don’t mind having a vocation.”

  “Excellent,” Grantham said. “There is a garden party in two hours, actually, that my sister will be attending.” He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, and the courtier who had been standing by stepped up.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “Blairford, can you arrange for Captain Crawford to get a last-minute invitation to Lady Questington’s garden party?”

  The courtier cast Jonah a quick and rather dismissive look. “I can certainly do everything in my power, sir. Is there anything else?”

  “No, just that.” Grantham waved his hand as if to dismiss the man. As he walked away, Jonah couldn’t help but take note of Blairford’s sour expression.

  “Friendly fellow,” he said.

  Grantham laughed. “He is that. He was my father’s right-hand man and I inherited him. He is very knowledgeable about the goings on in my country, so I keep him.”

  “Hmm,” Jonah murmured.

  “Thank you for offering to keep an eye on my sister. It will be helpful to know that a friend is doing so.” He rose, and Jonah saw that this was his dismissal, and done very politely and royally.

  He took the hint and stood, as well, extending a hand, which the king shook. “I’m happy to do so.”

  “I’ll follow up with you soon,” Grantham said. “Good afternoon.”

  Jonah stepped back, executed a bow and then departed, back through the buzzing club. Normally he might have taken note about who was there, what they were doing, but at that moment, his mind was occupied with other things.

  Such as the fact that he had just agreed to trail Ilaria across London. Follow the woman who had inspired several entirely inappropriate dreams over the past few days. Years.

  “Bloody idiot,” he muttered.

  “Mr. Crawford?” He turned to find Grantham’s courtier, Blairford, at his heels, looking unpleasant as ever.

  “Captain,” Jonah corrected, though he thought the man already knew that. He was calling him by the wrong honorific as an insult, not a mistake.

  “I have sent a message requesting that you be included on the guest list for the tea this afternoon. A reply will be sent to your home directly.”

  “Thank you, Blairford,” Jonah said. “I’m sure the king appreciates your hard work.”

  Blairford arched a brow as he looked Jonah up and down. “There are many who look out for the best interests of Athawick, sir. Whether you are one of them remains to be seen. Good day.”

  Jonah watched as the man flounced away and sighed heavily as he exited the club and motioned for his horse to be brought around. It seemed he had upset the applecart, the chain of command, and the courtiers weren’t pleased with it. One more mess to potentially deal with.

  But it was too late to go back now. So it seemed he would have to go prepare for tea.

  The royal carriage rumbled over the uneven cobblestones that lined the London streets. Ilaria hardly noticed the motion as she stared out the window and tried to block out the never-ending stream of conversation coming from where her mother sat. It was all jabber about the upcoming garden party and the expectations to be found there.

  At last Ilaria leveled her gaze at her. “And which suitor will be there waiting for me, Mama?”

  Queen Giabella blinked. “Suitor? What makes you think there is a suitor at today’s gathering?”

  Ilaria pursed her lips. “You have never been one to chatter idly, but since we stepped into the vehicle half an hour ago, you haven’t stopped talking. Which makes me think you are nervous. And it can’t be because of the gathering, you hold court with ease.”

  “Ilaria,” her mother began, and she sounded weary.

  Ilaria didn’t stop. “And Grantham is not attending because he has some tedious meeting elsewhere. Remi is nowhere to be found so he can’t cause a scene. Which means you are worried about me. And since I don’t think I’ve ever humiliated you when it came to a party, that makes me think you’re worried about something else.” She folded her arms. “Such as how I will interact with one of the suitors you insist on throwing in my path.”

  Her mother tossed her head. “I’ve never thrown anything in anyone’s path in my life. The thought, Ilaria.”

  “Which one, Mama?” Ilaria arched a brow and knew it was exactly as her mother did it. She had learned the action from the queen, after all. “Or is it some new one? Will I be forced to meet every eligible man in England?”

  “Very well, you are not wrong. There will be a potential suitor in attendance this afternoon.” Her mother folded her arms. “The Earl of Bramwell.”

  Ilaria wrinkled her brow and tried to conjure an image to go with the man. Finally she recalled him as the one she had first danced with at the ball a few nights before. The friend of Captain Crawford’s.