To Protect a Princess Page 5

  “You certainly cannot have anything against the man?” the queen asked, almost triumphantly when Ilaria had been silent too long.

  “I don’t know him well enough to claim an objection against him, Mama. Nor is it likely I will come to know him in any meaningful way in the short time we will be in London. And yet you and Grantham are determined to leg shackle me to him or some other man who looks almost exactly like him.” She sighed. “What if he is dreadful under that façade? What if he is cruel?”

  “I’ll have you know, he has had a good source vouch for him.”

  “Who?” Ilaria asked, wrinkling her brow.

  “Captain Crawford.”

  “Cr-Crawford?” Ilaria repeated, and there was a sting that worked through her at the thought.

  “And I doubt you have anything to say about that. You liked the man well enough when he visited Athawick with the Regent years ago.”

  Ilaria turned to look out the window. Though Sasha knew about her past interest in Crawford, she’d never told her mother about the attraction she felt. Once she might have, for despite the fact they were knocking heads now, they had been close in the past.

  But back when Crawford had come to their island, her mother had been busy dealing with issues with the king. His illness had just begun, and sometimes her mother had been forced to cover. So Ilaria had kept the truth from her, and now she didn’t want her mother to see her true reaction to this news. Didn’t want to reveal too much of herself.

  “I’m surprised Captain Crawford would have an opinion whatsoever about my future,” she said at last.

  Her mother did not respond because the carriage turned into the drive and she was now distracted as footmen raced to help them down and their hostess, Lady Questington, hustled down the stairs to deeply curtsey. Her servants lined the stairs, waving large feathered fans to cool the entryway.

  Ilaria rolled her eyes at the grandeur. Sometimes it felt like it kept anything from being real at all. She sighed and followed her mother down to the drive.

  “Lady Questington,” the queen said, extending a hand.

  The woman blinked at it before she took it, then awkwardly kissed it before she flushed and managed a wobbly curtsey. “Oh, I am a-titter to meet you, Your Majesties.”

  Ilaria forced a smile to sooth their hostess’s nerves. She had committed at least four breaches in royal etiquette in the span of thirty seconds, but none of it ever mattered. Queen Giabella was never anything but kind and her children had learned to behave the same way.

  As they entered the house together, Giabella cooed and complimented everything from the paintings hanging in the halls to the color of the wallpaper. And slowly, Lady Questington seemed to relax. By the time they exited to the garden she was chatting amiably.

  The other guests were already gathered there, staring as Ilaria and the queen joined them. Murmuring and Ilaria was certain also judging their every move.

  She scanned the crowd for Lord Bramwell, just so she would be prepared for greeting him again. But before she could find him, her gaze fell on Captain Crawford instead, and her heart, traitor that it was, leapt. He was not in uniform today, but dressed impeccably in a dark jacket, perfectly tied cravat and gold-threaded waistcoat. His thick, ruddy hair was swept away from his forehead in waves that were almost too perfect.

  She set her jaw. Handsome or not, she was irritated with the man and she intended to do something about it. She moved to do so when her mother caught her elbow and pivoted her instead to face Lord Bramwell, who had apparently joined their party while she was staring at Captain Crawford.

  “Ilaria, you recall Lord Bramwell, do you not?” her mother asked, and her fingers dug just a fraction harder into Ilaria’s elbow. A warning, a reminder.

  She forced a smile to her face. “Of course I recall you, my lord. How nice to see you again.”

  Lord Bramwell executed a bow and he smiled, though it did not entirely reach his eyes as he said, “Your Highness, the pleasure is all mine. I wondered if I might introduce you ladies to my mother. The dowager countess is very anxious to make your acquaintance.”

  The queen said something, but Ilaria hardly heard it as she glanced back over her shoulder toward Captain Crawford. He was watching her now, there was no denying it. His gray gaze was focused on her face, and when she glared at him he smiled just a fraction.

  She turned away as she was all but dragged across the grass to an older lady with a bright smile and a dark pink gown. As they drew closer, Ilaria could see the similarities between Lord Bramwell and his mother, including the kindness of their eyes.

  The introductions were made and Ilaria felt herself being analyzed. Not judged, perhaps, but sized up certainly. A strange thing since she felt no interest in the objectively handsome man standing with his mother. And when he looked at her, it was not with a great deal of interest in return. He was polite, kind, even amusing, but there was no spark there. No heat.

  “Your Majesty,” Lady Bramwell said after a short time. “I wonder if you have ever played cribbage?”

  Ilaria cast a side glance at her mother and was not surprised when her expression lit up. “Oh my, yes. I often play with my private secretary, Dash—Mr. Talbot.”

  “That is excellent news,” Lady Bramwell said. “Would it be too impertinent to ask you to join me in a little tournament a group of ladies plays twice monthly? It is nothing formal, but it is high fun.”

  Ilaria watched a plethora of emotion pass over her mother’s face, and for a moment she forgot her own annoyance with the queen’s plan. Sometimes it was hard to recall all her mother had sacrificed for her children, for her country. She was not allowed many friends, she rarely indulged in frivolity like the game that was being offered now.

  Ilaria squeezed her mother’s hand. “I think you should, Mama. It sounds like grand fun.”

  There was another beat of hesitation, and then Queen Giabella slowly nodded. “I would very much appreciate the invitation. And I’m certain we can make the time and place work. Mr. Talbot is very good at managing my schedule.”

  “Wonderful. Why don’t you come with me, then?” Lady Bramwell said. “And I will introduce you to a few of the other ladies who come to our group.”

  She sent a meaningful glance toward Lord Bramwell, and Ilaria’s heart sank. As much as she was pleased that her mother might make an actual friend during this trip, it was clear that did not change the goal of either lady. They both seemed determined to make the match of their children.

  The queen sent Ilaria much the same look and then the ladies moved off together, chatting as they went. Ilaria sighed. “It was kind of your mother to offer. Sometimes the queen finds it hard to indulge in pleasures due to the reverence people hold to her title.”

  Lord Bramwell smiled. “Well, she will find both reverence and companionship in my mother. The countess has never met someone she didn’t consider a friend. She can do nothing but welcome all comers.”

  “That sounds like a very nice quality,” Ilaria said, and meant it. She examined her companion a bit more closely. As choices went, he was not the worst. He was handsome enough, he had a nice smile and thus far he had not said anything foolish or irritating.

  “It is,” he agreed. “She is the best of women.”

  Ilaria nodded and they stood together in silence a moment. Long enough that it became uncomfortable.

  He gave another of those false smiles. “I-I think she is a bit taken in with all the court intrigue. My mother.”

  Ilaria shifted. “I suppose there is some of that. Though in comparison to the machinations in this country, I think we are staid.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know. I’ve never met a lady who had a double.”

  Her smile slowly fell. Sasha had played the role of her double for years, though very rarely. It allowed Ilaria to skip processions if she was needed elsewhere and provided safety in some dire situations. But the purpose of it was secrecy, which was why at certain parties Sasha only lurked where she wouldn’t be seen. Ilaria’s husband would know of it, of course, but this man was not yet her husband.

  “I-I’m not sure what you mean,” she said slowly.

  He tilted his head. “I met her at the ball. Miss Sasha Killick, yes?”

  “You met her?” Ilaria asked. “How?”

  He shrugged. “I went onto the terrace to get a bit of air and saw you standing at the wall, staring up at the stars. I thought I would come speak to you, but as I approached and the woman turned, I realized she was not you, but someone dressed and styled as you. It didn’t take long to figure out the rest.”

  She shifted. There was no danger from this man, she felt that in her very bones, but she was still uncomfortable with him knowing even a small part of her secrets. “Did you speak?”

  “We did,” he said, somewhat slower. “For a moment.”

  She pursed her lips. “Sasha never said anything.”

  Now there was a flicker of something in his stare. A brief flash of…pain. “Ah, well, perhaps I did not make much of an impression.”

  Ilaria glanced him up and down. She wished this man could make an impression on her, that she could will what her family desired to be something she wanted just as badly. But she couldn’t. There was just no spark here with this man. There was nothing.

  “Ah, it seems my mother is coming back to us,” Ilaria said. “I suppose she will wish to introduce me all around.”

  “Indeed,” Bramwell said with a small bow. “It was a pleasure seeing you again.”

  She met his eyes and held there a moment. “And I’m sure it will be a pleasure we will soon repeat.”

  He gave her a tight smile that said everything. That he understood. That he was just as uninterested in the situation being created by their families. And that he had no way to fight it, just as she had no way to fight it.

  He stepped away, and within a moment, her mother had returned to her side. She smiled at Ilaria, expectant. “I was watching you.”

  “Of course you were,” Ilaria sighed.

  “You two look well together. And you seemed to be having a good time.”

  Ilaria faced her mother. “He is fine, Mama. Perfectly pleasant. But I feel nothing when he speaks to me and it’s evident neither does he.”

  Her mother’s mouth went tight and she edged a little closer. “This isn’t about feelings, my dear. That is a childish notion. And one I shall not discuss in the middle of a garden party.”

  “Mama,” Ilaria began.

  “No,” her mother insisted, cheeks pinkening. “Now I must speak to more of the attendees. I suggest you do the same.”

  Her mother stepped away and Ilaria gripped her hands at her sides, frustration pulsing through her. Of course this wasn’t the time for the conversation she wished to have, but damn it. How could she be truly offered no say in her life?

  She drew in a long breath and settled herself as best she could. As her mother had said, this was not the place for a breakdown. She would simply have to gather herself and perhaps try again in a more private setting. At some point her mother or Grantham would have to listen to her.

  She turned, but before she could find herself a person to approach, she saw Captain Crawford standing a short distance away. Still watching her.

  The frustration she had been trying to fight returned in an instant. After all, he had been encouraging her mother to press her toward Bramwell, hadn’t he? And if she could not have words with her mother about it, she was absolutely going to have them with him.

  Chapter 5

  Jonah knew that Ilaria was coming toward him. He’d seen her as she made her initial approach and dropped his gaze so his stare wouldn’t be too obvious. People were watching her, after all. Everyone was watching her, not just him. But he felt her as she moved closer, closer. Felt her down to his bones and in his rapidly heating blood.

  “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed as she reached him.

  He lifted his eyes and let his gaze flit over her face. One had to appreciate that her expression could remain cool and detached even when her words were heated and the spark in her eyes said she was raring for a fight.

  She was absolutely stunning in that moment. He had to use every ounce of control in his arsenal not to be well and truly stunned.

  “I beg your pardon?” he drawled, glad he could sound far more detached than he felt.

  She clenched her jaw and her tone was tense as she said, “My mother tells me you made your exalted opinions public when it comes to Lord Bramwell and our potential union.”

  Jonah’s jaw dropped at that and he stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  She folded her arms, which only served to highlight the lovely curve of her breasts. Still, he had to maintain focus. No ogling.

  “You encouraged the match,” she declared with a quick glance around her to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

  They weren’t. People were watching, of course, but no one was close enough to hear them. Still he stepped a little farther away from the main group and motioned her to follow.

  “I did no such thing,” he argued softly.

  “You didn’t talk to my mother about the Earl of Bramwell?” she snapped.

  He pursed his lips. “Queen Giabella did ask me what I knew about Lord Bramwell because he is the brother-in-law of a friend of mine. And yes, I did recommend him to her because he seems a decent man. But that was as far as it went. I never suggested you should be matched with him. I never gave a stamp of approval for such thing.”

  She shifted and he could see some of the starch coming out of her. “That…makes sense, I suppose.”

  “I certainly hope so. I don’t think I have any place in encouraging any matches for you.” He had said the words but immediately wished he could take them back. Especially when she tilted her head and examined him more closely.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  A dozen answers raced through his mind. All of them inappropriate. None of them something he could say to her as she stood what felt like too close, staring up at him with those beautiful dark brown eyes.

  “It isn’t my place,” he said at last, his voice choked.

  She sighed and the sound seemed to shudder from her very soul. “Well, I am sorry. I was upset and it seems I’ve taken it out on you.”

  He shrugged. “This—” He waved his hand around to indicate the gathering. “—can be overwhelming.”

  She nodded. “What you say is most definitely true. No matter how long you are raised in it. Honestly I don’t know why you’d put yourself in the middle of this. Where do you fit?”

  He cast her a side glance. “You think me unsuitable for Society, Your Highness?”

  Her eyes widened a fraction and her breath hitched. “Of course not. I just think you are a military man and one with little patience for frivolity.”

  He smothered a smile. She wasn’t wrong there. At least about the second part. Though the first…

  “I was once a military man,” he corrected.

  “Once?” she repeated.

  “I thought you knew. I am retired.”

  She blinked. “No, I didn’t know. No one told me. But you loved the Royal Navy, that was evident any time we talked about it back in Athawick. What could compel you to take your retirement at such a young age? You are vital and potent—certainly you could have continued.”

  He sucked in a breath at the descriptors she used. Certainly he felt a bit potent at present, with the lilac scent of her hair wafting on the light breeze to his nostrils and her gaze focused so intently on him.

  He swallowed. “I could have in body, yes. But you see I received…” He hesitated, just as he always hesitated at this subject. “I received an inheritance just after we last met. And it came with responsibilities I would not have been able to aptly discharge if I were still serving. So I was forced to take on this choice.”

  Her eyes widened a fraction and he saw how much she understood that statement. How much it connected them that circumstance forced them into situations they did not want. Her gaze flitted down his body and he tensed. Added to that emotional connection was the physical one. Because he knew she…well, wanted might be a strong word. A woman like Ilaria had likely been raised not to recognize those types of things.

  But they were still there, burning hot under the surface. And they mirrored his own wicked feelings that he had to control under all circumstances.

  “And so you are here seeking a Society bride then?” she asked, her voice a little rougher and lower.

  A Society bride. He had a few in his life encouraging him to do so, both voices he respected and ones he did not. But he never thought about that future. It didn’t feel like his. None of this did.

  But he couldn’t say that to Ilaria. Nor could he tell her that his real purpose in being here was to watch her, report on her to her brother. Keep her from doing something reckless.

  So he inclined his head. “As you are seeking a husband.”

  “No,” she said. “No. My brother and mother are seeking a Society husband for position and rank and duty.”

  “You say that word as if it is a curse.”

  “If it is all anyone cares about, to the detriment of all else, then I think it is,” she said softly. “I saw what a union only about duty entails, Captain. That they would want that for me…that she would want that for me…”

  For the first time since he’d met this woman, glittering in her palace on her island, he saw a crack in her. And behind it all the pain and darkness and fear that she so carefully hid behind a façade. He saw it all, in a brief moment that she erased almost before it began. And he wanted desperately to help her. Truly help her, not just keep her from making her situation worse.

  “I am sorry, Ilaria,” he said softly.

  Her eyes widened and he realized he had been far too familiar. Now her cheeks flamed and she worried her hands before her. “I-I see Remi has somehow made his way here and I need to speak to him. Please excuse me.”