Protecting The Princess

  Protecting The Princess

  (The Royals of Aldonia)

  Nadine Millard

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Nadine Millard

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Redeeming A Royal

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Nadine Millard

  About Nadine Millard

  Prologue

  “You shouldn’t be here, Your Highness.”

  Harriet Liezel Farago Wesselbach, Crown Princess of Aldonia spun around at the sound of the voice behind her, clutching a hand to her speeding heart.

  “I – I was – that is—”

  She stumbled to a halt under the scrutiny of the family’s private butler, Ansel.

  At only ten years old, Harriet was already well aware of what behaviours were acceptable for the Princess Royal.

  It was just that occasionally she forgot.

  Or chose to forget. She wasn’t usually caught though.

  “Your Highness, your father does not want anyone privy to his talks with the duke. Especially his children.”

  Harriet scowled up at the long-serving butler, who was honestly more like a family member than a servant. At least to Harriet.

  “But if Christopher wanted to listen—”

  “His Royal Highness is heir to the throne, Highness. And more importantly, he is eighteen.”

  Harriet scowled but well, facts were facts, and everything Ansel said was true.

  Heaving a sigh, she allowed him to guide her back to the private living quarters in the palace, away from where Father was conducting what sounded like a very tense meeting, if the shouting was anything to go by.

  They hurried along the corridor surrounded by windows on both sides that led to the family’s private quarters.

  Harriet loved it here. In the summer, the sun warmed her skin in the glass hallway. In the winter, she could see snow for miles around. In the rainy season, the rain lashed against the windows and she sat for hours listening to the sound, watching the stormy clouds stream by.

  She stopped now to watch the new recruits in her father’s army march in formation around the courtyard.

  Christopher was down there. She saw him, resplendent in his army blues, covered in medals and badges befitting the prince of the realm.

  As she looked on, another figure arrived in the courtyard, bedecked in the blue jacket sans the medals and badges.

  He skidded to a halt at the back of the last line of soldiers.

  As Harriet watched, the formation ceased their marching and a tall, straight-backed figure stomped toward the straggler.

  Even from up here she could tell the young man was in trouble. Harriet knew the feeling. She constantly seemed to find herself in trouble, too.

  “Come along, Your Highness,” Ansel coaxed Harriet away from the window.

  The captain, or whomever the large man was, had turned and strutted back to the front of the soldiers. It appeared the young man was safe for now.

  Just as Harriet was moving away from the window, the young soldier looked up. She was surprised by how fair he was. Golden hair glinted in the spring sunlight under his hat, and his skin was fairer than a lot of Aldonians’, too.

  He grinned up at her, delivering a flourishing bow, and Harriet giggled in response to his foolishness.

  Before she could see if he would be taken to task for his antics, however, Ansel called out to her with practised patience.

  Harriet dashed off ahead of the butler, wondering as she ran just who the golden-haired soldier could be. And why someone with such an apparent free spirit wanted to be a soldier, of all things.

  Chapter One

  Harriet Liezel Farago Wesselbach, Crown Princess of Aldonia, was bored.

  There really was no other word for it.

  Since her return from a winter in England where her older brother Alex had not only learned that he was to inherit a British earldom, but had also fallen in love and gotten married, she’d felt deflated.

  While Alex had fallen in love, the most exciting thing Harriet had done was go to a ball.

  The difference was stark and not at all pleasant to think on.

  Whilst her oldest brother Christopher was in line to be king, and Alex was living a life of bucolic bliss rusticating in the English countryside, Harriet was wasting away in the gilded cage of Aldonia’s royal palace.

  She had the best of everything. She wanted for nothing.

  Well, nothing except real friendships, a normal life—love.

  Heaving a sigh of irritation at her own maudlin thoughts, Harriet threw her gothic novel onto the window seat she was occupying and jumped to her feet.

  She turned to look out the open window, enjoying the feel of the cool spring breeze on her skin.

  Watching the goings on in the gardens below was always somewhat interesting; members of court and politicians conversing in small clusters, the occasional servant scurrying from one task to another.

  And there were her parents, King Josef and Queen Anya, taking a walk amongst their favourite Aldonian tulips.

  Harriet’s brow creased as she noticed her father’s gait was slower, more lumbering than it used to be, and her stomach flip-flopped with worry.

  Father had always been stern and distant. Being king would do that to a man, she supposed. But he was still her father, and she didn’t like to think of him aging or becoming in any way frail or vulnerable.

  Christopher was currently in France meeting—oh, someone terribly important, Harriet was sure. Truth be told, she probably didn’t pay as much attention as she should to the goings on of Aldonia. Although even she had noticed the tension increase over the past few weeks. Her uncle, who had fallen foul of Papa years ago, had recently died and her cousin, his son Augustus, had been causing issues of some sort.

  She didn’t know what he was doing exactly or why.

  But then, nobody would expect her to.

  Her job was to be pretty and proper and charming to visiting dignitaries. That was it. That was the extent of her responsibility in life.

  As she gazed out across the verdant palace lawns, a movement at the corner of the walled garden in which her parents were strolling caught her eye.

  A solider in full regalia was moving briskly toward them.
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  Harriet frowned at the unusual sight.

  Her parents rarely, if ever, wanted guards when in their gardens, preferring to have their time there as private as possible.

  But this guard, whoever he was, was hurrying toward them with seeming determination.

  A feeling of foreboding swept over Harriet, though she couldn’t have said why.

  There was just something—off about what she was watching.

  Harriet glanced around the gardens but none of the other soldiers were even nearby, instead they were all at their stations. Where they should be.

  She pressed her forehead to the window, keeping her deep-brown gaze trained on the renegade soldier.

  And because she was looking so closely, she spotted the early spring sun glint off something in his hand. A dagger!

  “No.”

  The word left Harriet on a horrified breath. Screaming would be useless. She was too far away, on the second floor of the palace. Yet what else could she do?

  “Guards,” she shouted at the top of her lungs, knowing someone would come running any second. But they would be in the same position as she; stuck here looking helplessly on.

  The rogue soldier was nearing the perimeter of the gardens. She needed to do something!

  Even now she heard the sound of footsteps coming. When a member of the royal family screamed, people came running.

  But it wouldn’t be enough to save her parents.

  Harriet darted her eyes around, panic clawing at her, setting her heart thumping frantically and fear skittering along her veins.

  Her gaze landed on an ornate vase. An heirloom that had been in her family for generations. Without a thought for the priceless artefact, she picked it up and threw it as hard as she could against the windowpane, which exploded with a loud crash.

  Harriet leaned out as far as possible without tumbling out, supporting herself on the window frame, shards of glass digging into her flesh.

  She looked straight to the small maze in which her parents strolled, oblivious to the threat just feet away.

  Harriet opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could, watching with relief as she caught the attention of people below.

  “The king,” she cried, even as soldiers and household staff skidded to a halt below her. “Get to the king.”

  Without stopping to question why, soldiers and parliamentarians alike turned and ran toward the flower mazes.

  The would-be assassin had entered the maze by now, and Harriet nearly cast up her accounts as she watched him creep terrifyingly closer to her parents, the dagger now unmistakeable.

  But Harriet’s frantic warning was gaining traction and more and more people were running toward the maze.

  Mercifully, her parents took notice. So, too, did the mysterious attacker.

  Just as help arrived, the soldier turned and fled with a speed that seemed impossible, darting through the maze and out the other side.

  Harriet’s knees gave out as relief swept over her.

  Her parents were safe.

  But even as her maid Olga helped her regain her feet, even as household staff fussed around her whilst outside the king and queen were bustled into a crowd of protective guards, a knowing fear slithered along Harriet’s veins.

  Someone wanted her father or mother dead. More than that, someone wanted the king or queen dead.

  But why? And what on earth was going to be done about it?

  Chapter Two

  “That’s out of the question, Christopher. And if Alex does come back to “collect me” as though I were a child, I’ll tell him the same thing.”

  Harriet tried her best to keep her tone even, lest her overbearing older brother accuse her of hysteria. Again.

  In the two weeks since the failed attempt on her parents’ lives, the palace had been in turmoil. Harriet couldn’t move without a guard trailing her, most social engagements had been cancelled, and now Christopher, who had returned from his trip to Paris, was acting like a dictator, demanding that Harriet be sent away like a recalcitrant child.

  “Harriet, we’ve been through this.” Christopher reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his black eyes serious and devoid of emotion.

  Harriet felt a brief pang of guilt that she was adding to Christopher’s rather enormous pile of stress.

  As their father had been aging, Christopher had been taking on more and more duties in preparation for ascending the throne. And Harriet knew that the job of heir to the throne of Aldonia was a big enough mound of stress on her brother’s relatively young shoulders.

  Now they had an assassination attempt to deal with. And this just after Alex had rocked the kingdom to its core by moving to England to become an earl.

  Not to mention the nasty split in the Wesselbach family, which was heating up again since her estranged uncle’s death. Her cousin, the new Duke of Tallenburg, seemed determined to reopen old familial wounds, and Christopher as it turned out, had been trying to smooth things over with their odious cousin when the attack had taken place. That’s why he’d been in Paris. Meeting their cousin on neutral ground, so to speak.

  But much as Harriet could sympathise about the enormous strain Christopher was under, she wasn’t about to have her life decided for her.

  “Go to England with Alex and Lydia,” Christopher said with practised patience. “And stay there a while. Just until we get to the bottom of whatever is going on here.”

  “I’m not a child, Christopher. You can’t just send me off when—”

  “For God’s sake, Harriet. Do you not think I have enough to deal with without worrying about your safety, too?”

  Harriet glared at her older brother, resenting the regal tilt of Christopher’s chin, the cold anger in his dark eyes.

  “I understand that you have a lot going on right now, Christopher. But sending me on a ship to England hardly seems a reasonable solution.”

  Christopher sighed wearily, and Harriet’s resentment grew. She hated feeling as though she were an intractable infant.

  But she hated even more feeling like an inconvenience that needed to be removed so Christopher could concentrate on the truly important issues.

  This was her home. And she was his sister, for goodness sake. Not just a royal.

  Ever since the attempted attack and Christopher’s return home, there’d been a team of spies, agents, and soldiers working round the clock to figure out who had wanted her father dead, and if it was just the king or the entire family in danger.

  Christopher had always erred on the side of caution in all of his actions, so it was no real surprise that he’d want her gone.

  The problem was that he hadn’t asked her if she’d leave before writing to Alex about it.

  As soon as she’d found out, she’d written to Lydia, Alex’s wife and Harriet’s friend.

  Do NOT let that great big oaf of a man come to collect me as though I were a child, she had written in anger, and do NOT let Christopher bully either of you into thinking that Alex should leave you and the baby.

  Harriet had been thrilled when Lydia had written the news that she was expecting.

  Originally, she had planned to travel back to Chillington Abbey to visit with Alex and Lydia, and spend time with her new niece or nephew.

  Now however, wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag her from Aldonia.

  Her mother had always despaired of Harriet’s stubborn streak.

  Well, it was out in full force now.

  “Let me be very clear.” Christopher’s tone was as rigid as the set of his shoulders. “I will be writing to Alex to tell him to ignore your childish letter to Lydia and to request that he do his duty to this family and come to escort you to England. If he has more sense than you, which wouldn’t be difficult at this particular moment in time, he’ll oblige.”

  Harriet gasped aloud at Christopher’s juvenile insult, but her odious brother ignored her.

  “Lady Althea has kindly agreed to have you stay at her family’s home. It�
�s closer to the docks and is therefore better suited to your travel plans. Now, I suggest you tell your maids what to pack for you. Because if you don’t, I will.”

  Harriet was so enraged by Christopher’s high-handedness that it took her a moment to process what he said, and when she did, she jumped to her feet, her daffodil skirts fluttering around her feet.

  For a moment she could only glare at her brother, the only sound breaking the tense silence in his office the ticking of the ornate longcase clock in the corner.

  But then, she found her voice.

  “I can tell you with absolute certainty, Christopher, that I will not be going anywhere with Althea Furberg. And I will definitely not be staying with that family.”

  Christopher’s eyes narrowed at Harriet’s obvious display of dislike for Althea and her snivelling family.

  They were the most sinfully sycophantic people Harriet had ever met.

  From her infancy, the family had grovelled at the feet of the royal family at every opportunity. And Harriet wouldn’t mind, if any of it seemed sincere.

  But the Furbergs were the epitome of social climbers.

  And for the last couple of years, Althea had clearly had her sights firmly set on Christopher. Nothing could mean more to the raven-haired woman, Harriet was sure, than a chance to become Queen of Aldonia.

  And the worst of it was that Christopher seemed completely blind to the woman’s machinations.

  If Althea were a fiery, tempestuous beauty like Lydia Charring, Harriet might be able to understand.

  Alex had fallen in love with Lydia from the moment she’d burst into that drawing room at Chillington Abbey covered in leaves and twigs. Harriet had seen it, though Alex had denied it for a time. And her romantic heart had swelled as she’d watched her beloved brother and Lydia fall in love.

  But this? Christopher and Althea?

  Harriet despaired of the potential match.

  When they’d been younger, Christopher had been just as fun-loving as Alex, though he had always been the most serious of the siblings. Understandable, given he’d been raised from birth to run the country. But the point was he had a personality!