Protecting The Princess Page 2

  Althea Furberg had the personality of the chair Harriet had been occupying moments ago. How the lady hadn’t bored her brother into a grave by now, Harriet didn’t know.

  Christopher clearly liked the fact that Althea never said or did, or probably even thought the wrong thing. But Harriet didn’t like it for him. She loved Christopher. She wanted him to find a woman with spark, and wit, and—and the ability to form a thought that wasn’t vacuous and ingratiating.

  It suited Christopher’s role as heir to the throne, this lack of any sort of interesting character, any sense of adventure in Althea Furberg. But it did not suit Harriet or what she believed Christopher needed in a wife. And she’d be damned if she’d waste weeks of her life with the Furberg family awaiting Alex’s arrival to drag her off to England.

  “This conversation is over, Harriet.”

  It was as though she hadn’t voiced any objection at all, Harriet thought bitterly.

  “The Furbergs will arrive by the end of the week to escort you to their home. With a full guard, of course. And there you will await Alex’s arrival.”

  “But—”

  “Enough,” Christopher snapped, and his tone was so commanding that Harriet fell immediately silent.

  She watched as he heaved his big shoulders and stepped closer to her.

  “Come now, Hari,” he said, his voice calmer, regret glinting in his eyes. “You know I am only worried for your safety.”

  “I know,” she sighed. Because as overbearing and even pompous as Christopher might be, he did truly care for her. Harriet knew that.

  But she was mightily sick of people deciding things for her.

  Her title decided the life she would live, even before she’d been born.

  Her parents would decide whom she should marry. Being the only princess, Harriet’s marriage would be used as a political alliance, just as soon as Father decided he wanted one.

  And her overprotective big brothers decided nearly everything else for her.

  Just once, Harriet would like to do something that she decided upon.

  A sudden memory flashed in her mind’s eye.

  A line of regimental soldiers, not one of them with so much as a hair out of place.

  And then, the rogue with the impish smile.

  Harriet would just bet that a man like him wouldn’t allow anyone to decide anything for him.

  She had no idea if he was still a soldier, though she doubted it. A mischievous personality didn’t exactly lend itself to army life.

  Why he had popped into her mind at that moment, Harriet couldn’t have said. But the memory of him triggered a sort of rebelliousness inside her.

  For her whole life, Harriet had done exactly as she should. They all had. It came with the territory of being a royal.

  The only time any of them had stepped out of line was when Alex had hidden the fact that he was a prince at all when he’d gone to England.

  And look how that had turned out!

  He was more in love with Lydia than anyone Harriet had ever seen, and he had a baby on the way. He was blissfully happy. And all because he’d followed his own path and not the one laid out for him.

  “So, you’ll go and pack?” Christopher asked, that steely determination in his voice.

  “I will,” Harriet agreed immediately. And she wasn’t lying. She was going to go and pack. But she wasn’t going anywhere with Althea’s dreadful family.

  She turned and hurried toward the door, her mind racing with possibilities.

  “Hari.”

  Stopping at the sound of her brother’s commanding voice, Harriet turned to see Christopher watching her with suspicion lighting his eyes.

  “You won’t do anything foolish.”

  It was a statement rather than a question, and once again, annoyance flickered to life within her.

  “You’ve always been—impulsive,” he continued. “But this isn’t the time for that. I need you safe so I can concentrate on fixing this.”

  He needed her out of the way, he meant.

  But Harriet didn’t argue.

  She gave her sweetest smile, trying to look as innocent as she could.

  “I would never put myself in danger, Christopher,” she assured him softly before darting from the room.

  She had no idea if she’d convinced him or not.

  But she didn’t particularly have the time to worry about it.

  Not if she was going to get out of here before the Furbergs arrived!

  Christopher stared at the space where his rebellious sister had stood before issuing a sigh that emanated from the depths of his soul.

  It was difficult to be the Crown Prince and a big brother. Especially to one such as Harriet.

  Her romantic notions and flair for adventure would get her in trouble if he didn’t have her watched closely.

  Allowing her to go to England with Alex had been a mistake, and he’d told their father as much.

  Alex had always been the renegade and had proven that by taking up with Lydia Charring and deciding to rusticate in the English countryside, rather than seeing to any royal duties in Aldonia.

  Christopher was happy for his younger brother, of course. He liked Lydia, and he’d never seen Alex so content.

  And of course, that wasn’t a twinge of envy he felt. He’d never minded being the heir to the throne, or the shackles of responsibility that came with it.

  But in the last couple of years, those responsibilities had felt as though they were drowning him.

  Firstly, with Father taking a step back, then with the renewed uneasiness in the truce with the Tallenburg family.

  And now, a damned assassination attempt.

  Christopher knew who he suspected. He’d be blind or completely stupid not to think his power-mad cousin was behind all of this. What he didn’t know, however, was how his cousin would have gotten someone past the guards, or how he would have known about his father’s routines and habits.

  With everything going on, the last thing he needed to worry about was one of Harriet’s flights of fancy.

  She’d given her word, however, that she wouldn’t do anything foolish.

  So, it was a question of whether he trusted her or not, Christopher supposed.

  Sighing again, Christopher moved to his desk, ringing for a footman with one hand, whilst removing a sheaf of his personal parchment from the other.

  It was time to send for reinforcements.

  But with someone in the palace leaking information, this particular letter wouldn’t be going through any official channels.

  Chapter Three

  Harriet once again silently thanked her brother Alex for having insisted that they travel as commoners when they’d gone to England last year, for it lent her the experience needed for doing so now.

  Christopher would be furious, she knew. Her parents worried. And honestly, she was worried herself. After all, there was a presumably skilled killer on the loose. One who had it in for the royal family.

  And she was the only princess.

  But Harriet had lived a relatively private life, confined to the palace or the homes of the peers of Aldonia.

  She’d rarely travelled through the towns and villages of Aldonia, and certainly never without a royal guard and a full entourage of servants and maids.

  The only time she’d travelled anywhere of consequence had been when she’d gone to England with Alex. And being fussed over by one’s big brother didn’t feel remotely adventurous, she had learned.

  So being alone now, she wouldn’t draw much, if any attention. She hoped.

  By the time she was missed, she planned to be as far from the palace as possible.

  Harriet had no doubt that her actions would be viewed as careless, immature, and downright dangerous.

  But she had meant what she’d said to Christopher the other day; she had no intention of putting herself in danger.

  Equally though, she had no intention staying with the ghastly Furbergs.

  An
d she certainly had no intention of forcing Alex to take her to Chillington Abbey so she could be underfoot and in the way whilst he tried to enjoy his new family.

  Ever since Alex and Lydia had married, and Christopher had taken up more royal duties, Harriet had felt—dispensable.

  With no real purpose and no real responsibility, she felt decidedly on the outskirts of her own life.

  Knowing that Lydia and Alex would be forced to host her while they were trying to find their footing as new parents and a new family unit was humiliating.

  Not only that, but it would serve to remind Harriet just how alone she really was in the world.

  And it wasn’t as though she could talk about such feelings. She could only imagine how breathtakingly spoiled she would sound should she confess to someone that her life of wealth and pampered privilege was unsatisfying. Lonely, even.

  And so, here she was. Outside the palace, dressed in her least luxurious clothing and a cloak stolen from the servants’ quarters.

  She’d return it, of course, Harriet thought uncomfortably. Just as soon as she’d given Christopher enough time to solve the mystery.

  She’d even buy a new, fur-trimmed one for whomever she’d stolen from.

  And it wasn’t as though she’d left whichever maid was a victim of her thievery empty-handed. She’d left a cloak of her own there.

  The trundling sound of a coach interrupted Harriet’s guilty thoughts, and she looked up to see the mail coach making its way slowly to the inn she stood awkwardly in front of.

  She had worn her biggest bonnet so that her face would be hidden. She didn’t think anyone would pay much attention to a young serving girl travelling alone but didn’t want to take any chances either.

  The coach drew to a halt, and the driver jumped down, shouting about a thirty-minute wait time.

  Thirty minutes? Drat. Harriet thought.

  She didn’t have thirty minutes.

  If Christopher found her note sooner than Harriet hoped, he’d send a hundred soldiers chasing after her.

  Probably lock her in the tower, too, for good measure.

  And yet, what choice did she have?

  She couldn’t very well walk to the Winter Palace. Travelling by coach, especially public coach, would take days.

  Walking would be impossible.

  Especially given the fact that she’d had to pack every sort of supply she’d been able to steal from the kitchens in the last couple of days, and she now had two stuffed valises and no way of carrying them.

  Sneaking out this morning on one of the gigs Alex had left behind had been hard enough.

  She only hoped that someone would come and rescue the horses she’d stolen sooner rather than later.

  The temptation to take them all the way to the palace in Gant had been nearly overwhelming, but it was far too conspicuous. The guard would catch her before she’d even left the capital. No, she had to travel by public coach.

  Harriet wasn’t stupid enough to stay at the Winter Palace, of course.

  But there was an old, disused woodcutters’ cottage in the wilderness that bordered the grounds, and there she intended to stay until Christopher stopped trying to get rid of her, and until the danger to her family had passed.

  Nobody, not even her ladies-in-waiting, knew of Harriet’s plans to travel there, so it was unlikely that anyone else would be able to find her.

  In her youth, Harriet had spent weeks using the cottage as her own, personal hideout. No one ever seemed to know about it, no one ever seemed to go there but her. And she’d kept it a secret, even from Alex.

  She didn’t know who had owned it or why it was disused. It had sat there, hidden and vacant for as long as she could remember.

  A babbling stream provided fresh, clean water from the mountains, and though she’d never spent time there when the ground wasn’t thick with snow, she was fairly confident that firewood would be available in abundance.

  She would be just fine, Harriet told herself. Even though she’d never before been alone nor had to fend for herself, she would be fine.

  Harriet huffed out an impatient sigh and cast her gaze around the busy courtyard of the inn.

  She took in the building, the people bustling about, and—

  Her eyes skidded to a halt as she realised, with no small amount of dread, that she seemed to have drawn the attention of the most unsavoury looking man she’d ever seen.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered, fear making her clutch her reticule tighter.

  Harriet turned her head away, but she could sense that he was still watching her.

  She’d known, of course, that it was going to be risky making this journey alone. But she wasn’t even out of the city yet!

  “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone?”

  Harriet felt a jolt of fear shoot through her as she realised the man had made his way closer.

  Even with her back turned, she could smell the alcohol mixed with unwashed clothing and sweat emanating from the man.

  Should she ignore him? Turn to face him?

  Harriet had no idea how to deal with such behaviour. Barring one or two lascivious glances from visiting dignitaries, she’d never been exposed to unpleasant male behaviour. In point of fact, she’d never been much exposed to males at all. Kept at a distance befitting the Crown Princess, the only time she’d felt anything close to normal was when she and Alex had visited England and hidden their royal status.

  Even then they’d travelled in private, relative luxury, and with a small retinue of servants.

  And much as she’d envied the young women of Aldonia who lived a non-royal, freer existence than she, this part of things she really could have done without.

  Mustering her courage and considerable diplomatic skills, Harriet turned to face her unwanted companion, hoping that a cool but pleasant smile and a request to be left alone would suffice to send him on his way.

  But her smile stiffened then died as she turned and saw that he was watching her in a way that could only be described as predatory.

  “Don’t you talk then?” he slurred.

  “I – I do,” she stumbled, tightening her grip on the reticule that held her only coin. Coin she desperately needed.

  “Where you off to all alone?” the man repeated, his eyes taking in the two bags at her feet.

  “That’s not really any of your business,” Harriet answered with a boldness she didn’t feel.

  The bloodshot eyes that were studying her filled with an ominous menace.

  “I can make it my business,” he threatened softly, putting the fear of God into her.

  “Sir,” Harriet could hear the accent she’d tried to adopt slipping, could hear that she was sounding more imperious by the second. “I suggest you take yourself elsewhere. I have no interest in speaking to you further.”

  She watched in horror and no small amount of trepidation as the blackguard raked an insolent gaze over her then promptly burst into a peal of laughter, spittle flying from a mouth absent of several teeth.

  “Sounds like you could do with learning some manners, my lady,” he sneered, the moniker clearly meant as a jeer.

  “I—”

  Whatever Harriet had been about to say was cut off with her outraged gasp as the man suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm.

  Harriet didn’t know what to do. Screaming for help would draw too much attention to her, and her efforts to drag herself from the drunkard’s grasp weren’t doing any good.

  “Sir, if you do not release me, I’ll—”

  Suddenly he leaned forward, and Harriet almost wretched from the stench radiating from him.

  “You’ll do what?” he smirked.

  “Ah, there you are, sweetling. Please, forgive my delay in joining you. Made a new friend, have you?”

  Harriet spun around at the sudden sound of a jovial voice behind her.

  There stood the handsomest man she’d ever seen. Though his clothing was simple, it was well made and clean,
leading her to believe that he was a merchant of means or perhaps a modest gentleman.

  She could only stare at him, taking in the golden blonde hair, the shockingly blue eyes.

  Something about him was familiar, though she knew they’d never met before. She would have remembered.

  So distracted by his chiselled jaw was Harriet, that it took a moment for his words to sink in, and when they did, she was more confused than ever.

  Was everyone in Aldonia mad?

  Between the blackguard accosting her and the handsome stranger acting as though they were—well, that she was his sweetling, Harriet was fit to scream and run back to the safety of the palace.

  She turned her gaze to the drunk’s and saw that his own was now darting warily between Harriet and the stranger.

  “Ahem.”

  The sound of the golden-haired man clearing his throat brought Harriet’s eyes back to him, and she noted that though his expression remained neutral, his eyes, as they took in the drunk’s hand still on Harriet’s arm, were coldly dangerous.

  Without speaking a word, those same eyes rose to meet the drunkard’s, and Harriet almost felt sorry for the man, so lethal was the look.

  “I assume you don’t want this man’s hand on you, my dear?” The stranger’s tone was soft and would have been pleasant, if it wasn’t for the dangerous edge to it.

  Just who was this man?

  Guessing that she was “his dear” though she had no idea who he was, Harriet managed to shake her head.

  “Um, no,” she answered.

  She had no idea what the stranger was up to, but there was an air of authority about him that made Harriet feel secure in his presence. Strangely enough, she trusted him though that was probably rather foolish, given the fact that he was an unknown to her just like the drunkard.

  But she instinctively knew that her chances of safety were far better with the blonde man helping her than the drunk one threatening her.

  “And you.” He turned to her would-be harasser. “I assume you would like all of your limbs to stay attached to your body?”

  Harriet felt her jaw drop at the words, so softly spoken, so calm.