To Protect a Princess by Jess Michaels

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.

“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.