Authors: Cheryl Holt
Nicholas was more circumspect, but no less fervent in his comments. “Mr. Hubbard, get my sister. Tell her Romilard has kidnapped us. She’ll know what to do.”
“Hush!” a soldier growled, and he clapped a palm over Nicholas’s mouth to silence him.
Nicholas bit him and raged, “I am your rightful king. You don’t have leave to touch me. When we are home again in my kingdom, you will learn your manners.”
Isabelle added a remark in Italian that Chase couldn’t translate, but it must have been another curse, because the men holding Nicholas blanched with dismay.
The group was almost to the carriage, and Chase decided he had to make a stand. He raced in front of them and blocked their path.
“Stop it, Captain Romilard,” he commanded. “I was told that I was assisting with a reunion, but it appears I’ve been misled.”
“Move, Mr. Hubbard,” the Captain ordered.
“No. We’ll convey the children to their sister. If she says you may have them, then I will gladly step aside.”
“Move,” Romilard repeated.
“No.”
“I won’t tell you again, Mr. Hubbard,” Romilard fumed. “You dawdle at your own peril.”
Chase wasn’t much of a brawler simply because there was never much that mattered to him that was worth brawling over. But he’d been endangered too often in Egypt, and he’d trained hard with Valois.
For once, he felt very tough, very brave. He shouldn’t have listened to that lying bitch, Pippa Clementi. He braced his feet. “You’ll take them over my dead body.”
“That can certainly be arranged,” Romilard said.
Chase didn’t see the blow coming. Someone hit him—very hard—from the side. Isabelle shrieked with horror, then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap.
He had no idea how long he laid there, but when he awoke, he was prostrate on the dirty cobbles, people swarming by him as if he was dung in the gutter. His head pounding with agony, he peered around, not surprised in the least to find that the carriage was gone, the soldiers were gone, the children were gone.
How would he ever confess his treachery to their sister? And how many more hours would he be allowed to live before Bryce murdered him?
* * * *
Pippa entered Kat’s room without knocking. Kat was in the bedchamber, merrily humming to herself as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Why shouldn’t she be happy? Apparently she was in love for the very first time.
Pippa suffered a moment of regret for her friend that her affair would have to be abandoned. No doubt Kat had an entire fantasy life built up in her mind about Mr. Blair, but Kat knew better. She had a destiny that could never include him, and she had to remember who he was and who
she
was.
Pippa walked over to see Kat twirling in circles, lost in thought, smiling and more content than she’d ever been. As she noticed Pippa, she stumbled to a halt.
“Pippa, I didn’t hear you come in. Please go away.”
“I have to speak to you. It can’t wait.”
“After your behavior last night, I’m not in the mood to converse with you.”
“You have to, Your Grace.”
“Oh, shut up, Pippa. I won’t have you spewing absurd titles at me. When you call me
Your Grace,
I can tell you’re angry, and I don’t wish to deal with you.”
“You can’t deny your true station.”
“Kristof revoked my title, and I’ve decided he can have it. I don’t need it any longer, and I refuse to miss it.” She pointed to the door. “Now go!”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
On returning from Cedric’s camp, their trunks had been put in storage. Pippa had retrieved the one filled with court regalia, the robes, jewels, and crown that indicated Kat’s imperial condition.
Pippa had it with her, and she gestured to two servants who were loitering behind her.
“Place it on the bed,” she told them, “then you’re excused.”
Kat observed, frowning, as they wrestled in the heavy trunk and set it where Pippa had requested. They hustled out, their footsteps fading down the hall.
“What’s happening?” Kat inquired.
“We’re leaving for Parthenia.”
“We most certainly are not.”
“I’ve brought some of your official clothes. There is a royal escort outside. You’ll dress and we’ll meet with them.”
“Pippa, aren’t you listening? I’m not departing. Especially not for Parthenia. If you think you can command me in this, you are stark raving mad.”
“I don’t have to command you.”
“You don’t? Well, it definitely sounds to me as if you are.”
Pippa stared at Kat, wondering what would be left of their relationship after the facts were revealed. She didn’t suppose there would be any trace remaining, and again she suffered a twinge of regret at what would be forfeit. But Kat had always treated her like a servant and never as an equal, and Pippa was loyal to king and country.
She had no loyalty to Katarina at all. From the instant she’d reported Kat’s escape plan to Kristof, their association had been severed.
And really, this wasn’t a betrayal, was it? Kat should be in Parthenia. Their family had ruled there for centuries. What other choice was there but to return?
In an odd and convoluted way, Pippa was doing Kat a favor, helping her get back to where she belonged. If Kat didn’t like it, so what? Pippa shrugged off any remorse. She never felt guilty about anything.
“Have you seen Nicholas and Isabelle this morning?” Pippa asked.
“No, why?”
“Mr. Hubbard lured them out of the villa.”
Kat gasped. “He what?”
“I bribed him, and for a great amount of money, he smuggled them out and delivered them to Captain Romilard.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. They are being whisked to Parthenia with all due speed. You’ll never catch them.”
Kat looked so pale that Pippa worried she might faint, but she recovered herself and marched by Pippa as if she were invisible.
“Isabelle!” Kat called. “Nicholas! Where are you? I need you!”
Pippa grabbed Kat’s arm, and Kat shoved her away, appearing so furious that Pippa thought Kat might physically attack her. Pippa hoped she wouldn’t. They shouldn’t brawl on the floor like a pair of tavern wenches. Even if Kat won the fight, even if she beat Pippa to a pulp, she couldn’t prevent what was transpiring.
“Here is the offer King Kristof makes to you,” Pippa said.
Kat yanked away. “Don’t mention his despicable name to me.”
“He has proposed marriage, but from your behavior yesterday, he perceived that you were opposed. So he forces your hand.”
“Kristof can jump off a cliff.”
Pippa continued as if Kat hadn’t spoken. “If you come without a fuss, he will put Nicholas in the line of succession so your brother will take the throne after Kristof passes away from what should be a long and fruitful life.”
“He’s a liar. He never would.”
“But if you refuse to obey as he has ordered…”
Pippa stopped and swallowed twice. The next part was a threat, but she was sure Kristof wasn’t serious. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, but Kat could be so stubborn.
“But what, Pippa? What can he do to me that he hasn’t already done?”
“If you don’t comply, he will have Nicholas thrown into the dungeons.”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“Nicholas will never be released. He’ll die without food or water.”
“You tell me this, Pippa? To my face, you share this shameful news? After all the kindness my family showered on you, you would act in this disgraceful manner? Do you detest us so much?”
Pippa steeled herself against Kat’s rage. “Then he will marry Isabelle.”
“He’ll…what?”
“He’ll marry your little sister.”
“She’s ten years old!”
“He doesn’t care. His advisors are clamoring for a Morovsky princess to be his queen. He will have you or he will have your sister. It is your choice.”
She went to the trunk and opened it. She pulled out the purple robe of state, the tiara Kat used to wear every day, the gold rings for her fingers and jewel-encrusted belt for her waist. She arranged it all on the bed and pointed to the clothes.
“The King commands that you attire yourself and travel as befits your station. He will have no more hiding and conducting yourself as a person of no consequence. You will present yourself at all times as a royal princess who is about to wed the King of Parthenia.”
They stared and stared, Kat’s hatred wafting out. There was no denying it, no pretending it wasn’t there. Pippa had known Kat would be very angry, but she hadn’t expected such virulence so soon. She’d expected concern, questions, grief. Not immediate, unmitigated ire. Not malice that was frightening to witness. But then Kat was her father’s daughter, and she’d been imbued with all the imperious traits for which he’d been renowned.
“What is it to be, Your Grace?” Pippa asked. “Captain Romilard’s men are waiting. They are eager to depart.”
“Leave me,” Kat hissed. “I need to reflect.”
“There is no time. I will help you dress, then we must go.”
“Leave me!” Kat said more spitefully.
“No. You are not to be alone a single second until you have been safely delivered to Kristof.”
Kat studied Pippa as if she were vermin, as if she were a rat or a maggot. She sneered, “Were you the one who informed Kristof I was sneaking away? Is that how I’ve been followed?”
“Of course I told.”
“You’re a spy. You’re a betrayer.”
“Not to my country. Not to my king.”
“Nicholas is your king.”
“Not anymore,” Pippa retorted with a grim finality, and she gestured to the clothes. “Will you submit to your betrothed? Or shall I send word to Captain Romilard that you decline to obey? Shall I send congratulations to your sister on the high marriage she is about to make?”
Kat glared, glowering, pondering. Ultimately she vowed, “I will get even with you, Phillippa Clementi. I’ll get even if it takes the rest of my life.”
She pushed Pippa away and stomped to the bed to prepare herself without Pippa’s assistance. Pippa watched, wanting to feel something, regret or guilt or sadness, but all she could think about was the glory that would be showered on her once she was home.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What happened to you?”
Bryce glowered at Chase who was slouched in a chair in the corner of his bedchamber. His eye was black and swollen, his clothes dirty, the sleeve of his jacket torn. He was holding a kerchief to his cheekbone, staunching blood that oozed from a cut.
Had he been in a brawl? He must have been.
Bryce had been in his own room packing. He was excited to leave Cairo with Kat, and he wanted no delay. When he’d realized he hadn’t seen Chase all morning, he’d rushed over, expecting he’d still be in bed and sleeping off a hangover. What he hadn’t expected was to find him battered, injured, and not having made any preparations to depart.
“You won’t believe it,” Chase muttered.
“Yes, I will. From the looks of it, you’ve involved yourself in a huge mess that will ultimately bite us in the ass. What did you do?”
“Why must you always immediately assume I
did
something?”
“Because I’ve known you for over two decades, and you never surprise me. If there’s mischief afoot, you’re in the center of it. So I repeat, what happened? Don’t lie and don’t whitewash it. And don’t you dare tell me it will prevent our sailing this afternoon.”
“A problem has bubbled up.”
“What sort of
problem
?”
“Has Miss Webster ever confided in you?”
“On what topic?”
“Well, for instance, has she ever mentioned where she’s from? Or maybe has she talked about her true position there?”
“No, why?”
Chase scowled. “We’re in the soup now, Bryce. It’s my fault, and I take full responsibility.”
“For what? Spit it out, Chase. Your dithering is aggravating me.”
“You’re aware of how my head can be turned by a pretty face.”
Bryce blanched. “By…Miss Webster?”
“No, no, by Miss Clementi. She’s very sly, very clever, and I shouldn’t have listened to her.”
“About what?”
“I guess Miss Webster’s family ordered her to bring her brother home, and Miss Webster refused.”
“Yes, he’s very rich, and they’ve been after his fortune.”
“Are you certain that’s why she’s on the run?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Clementi claimed it was a different issue entirely. She claimed Miss Webster is deranged and her relatives feared for the boy’s safety.”
“Which is utter nonsense.”
“Miss Clementi said it wasn’t. She was…ah…very adamant and…ah…”
“And…?” Bryce pressed when Chase couldn’t finish.
“She agreed to help them retrieve Nicholas.”
Chase flinched as if Bryce might hit him, and Bryce gasped with dismay. “Oh, my Lord, Chase, what have you done?”
“She made it sound so noble, and she paid me a fortune for my assistance.”
He held out a pouch, and Bryce heard metal clinking. He grabbed it and opened it, seeing too many gold coins to count.
“She paid you,” Bryce repeated like a dunce.
“Blood money.” Chase looked ashamed for once. “I didn’t have to do much to earn it. I just took Nicholas for a ride out of the villa. Isabelle too.”
“What is your middle name? Chase Judas Iscariot Hubbard?”
“It was reprehensible behavior. I admit it.”
“So…you lured them out of the villa. Then what?”
“There were soldiers waiting for them, and they whisked the children away.” Chase gestured to the kerchief. “I tried to stop them.”
“How gallant of you,” Bryce sarcastically spat.
“I’m sorry,” Chase said.
“Where are they? Have you any idea?”
“Supposedly they’re on their way to Parthenia.”
“Parthenia? Where the hell is that?”
“It’s that little country north of Italy.”
“Parthenia? That’s where they’re from?”
“Yes, and they’re royalty or some such.”
Bryce frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Nicholas was the king, but he was deposed, and then Miss Webster sneaked him away and—”
“Whoa!” Bryce snapped. “Nicholas is King of Parthenia?”
“
Was
the king, Bryce. He’s not anymore.”