Authors: Cheryl Holt
“About time,” Matthew grumbled.
“I’ve been so worried about him,” she said.
“When did he write it?” Matthew asked. “Is there a date? He must be on his way.”
“Yes, but he’s riding horseback. He decided not to sail.”
“Riding rather than sailing? Why?”
“He plans to see a bit of Europe, and he’s included a detailed itinerary. I’ll have to locate a map so I can track where he’ll be.”
She handed the letter to Michael, and he read the list of cities. “If he left Cairo right after he posted this, he must be halfway to England by now. He’ll be here before we know it.”
“We have some great news for him when he arrives,” she said.
“I hope he’s happy,” Matthew said. “Wasn’t he opposed to the whole idea of retrieving title to this rotting pile of stones?”
“He simply couldn’t bear to fight about it,” Evangeline said. “He felt no one would believe us.”
“Yet it was so easy to get it all back.” Michael snorted with amusement. “Like taking candy from a baby.”
Matthew chuckled at his brother. “It was only easy because you terrify everybody. You walk by, and they tremble and pray you won’t cause too much trouble.”
Michael raised a cocky brow. “It’s my best trait.”
Evangeline stared around the hall, wondering about her ancestors. The butler had mentioned that a portion of the building was six-hundred years old, so some version of the Blairs had been in residence a long time. Or had the Blairs swooped in during a border war and stolen it from a Scottish family?
She couldn’t guess, but she would learn her entire history. As a girl, she’d assumed she had no history. Now, with the truth revealed, she was keen to know every fact.
“I was thinking…” she mused.
“Uh-oh,” the twins said together, and Michael teased, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Very funny,” she muttered.
“What are you thinking about?” Matthew asked.
“It would be lovely to spend Christmas here, wouldn’t it? We could bring Aaron and Maggie and Clarissa. I bet Aaron’s brother, Lucas, and his wife, Amelia, would come too. We could have a full house. Or I should probably say a full castle.”
“I’m not spending Christmas with Aaron’s brother,” Michael griped. “The man’s a scoundrel who’s addicted to wagering.”
“You earn your money from dolts like him,” Matthew groused. “Don’t complain.”
“And don’t bicker,” she scolded. “We’re creating something grand here, aren’t we? We mean to honor our parents.” The more she considered it, the more excited she became. “Let’s do it. Let’s spend Christmas. We’ll have our first real family holiday.”
“December is an awful time to travel,” Matthew pointed out.
“We’ll do it anyway,” she said. “We’ll be reckless and wild and journey to Scotland when we shouldn’t.”
The twins gazed at each other, and it was obvious they were carrying on a conversation in their heads. They were very good at it, but when she couldn’t read their minds too, it could be annoying.
“It would be marvelous to have Christmas here,” Michael ultimately said.
And Matthew said, “We were calculating whether Bryce would be back by then. We thought this castle would be a fine Christmas gift for him to receive.”
“He’ll be stunned,” she agreed. “I wish we had some type of machine that could indicate his precise whereabouts. Or some way to magically contact him and advise him to hurry. I imagine he’s lollygagging in Europe, not realizing how impatient we are.”
The twins looked at each other again, a silent discussion ensuing that she couldn’t decipher. Eventually Matthew shrugged and said to Michael, “Why not? Clarissa will kill me, but she’ll get over it.”
“Why will Clarissa kill you?” Evangeline asked.
“We’ll ride to meet Bryce,” Michael said, “and fetch him to Radcliffe.”
“Across the continent of Europe? How would you locate him?”
“He’s told us his exact route. How difficult could it be? We’ll travel hard and fast to find him, then we’ll bring him home.”
“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Matthew said.
“What if you miss him on the road?”
“We’ll go as far as that little country. What’s it called? Parthenia? If we haven’t stumbled on him by then, we’ll turn around.”
She studied them, recognizing they were serious. “You’re both mad, and you’re correct, Matthew. Clarissa will kill you.”
Michael frowned at him. “Are you henpecked already? Will you let your wife prevent you?”
Matthew scoffed. “No chance of that, and we’ll only be away for a few weeks.”
As Evangeline saw their plot hatching, she felt as if she should quash it or slow it down. Her sisters-in-law wouldn’t like it, of that fact she was certain. If it grew into a disaster, she didn’t want any of the blame.
“Are you sure you should?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Michael said, and Matthew added, “I’m suddenly dying to meet my older brother. I’m dying to tell him Father has been avenged.”
“It all sort of fell in our laps,” Michael said. “We didn’t actually distribute much vengeance.”
“Are you joking?” Matthew said. “Our idiotic, murderous uncle broke his neck in a hideous accident and left this mortal coil. His crimes were exposed, his name ruined, no one is mourning him, and Bryce has the title that always should have been his. I call that vengeance served on a very hot plate.”
“Bryce gets a castle too,” Michael said. “He’ll be anxious to hear that news.”
“So…you’ve decided?” she tentatively inquired.
“Yes, we’re going,” they replied together. “We’re going right away.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Three months later…
“People are talking.”
“About what?”
“They’re saying I should have been king. Not Kristof.”
Nicholas stared at Katarina. They were in her bedchamber in her private rooms in the palace, so he felt he could voice the statement without being overheard. Apparently she didn’t agree.
She scowled and hurried over so they could murmur rather than speak aloud.
“Who is saying that to you?”
“No one in particular,” he lied.
Several different men had whispered the sentiment to Nicholas. They were older men who’d been his father’s advisors and friends. They were men who should have stood with Nicholas at the outset, but they’d been too cowardly to act in his defense.
So he didn’t necessarily trust any of them, but he was viewed as a child, so he could listen and spy without being noticed. He’d become an expert at it. Everyone was complaining about Kristof, from the richest merchants to the lowest scullery maids.
“You have to be careful in repeating gossip about Kristof,” Kat warned.
“I know that.”
“He could have you arrested.”
“I know that too.”
“He’d consider it treason, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he shut you away in the dungeons.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Nicholas huffed.
“He threatened it when we were in Egypt. It’s why I came back, so he wouldn’t lock you in there.”
This was a part of the story she hadn’t told him before, but then he’d just turned thirteen. Perhaps she thought he could better handle bad news.
“How can it be treason when I’m the rightful king and he’s not?” Nicholas asked.
Kat sighed. “It’s a difficult world, Nicholas. If I had an army, don’t you think I’d raise it for you? Don’t you think I’d shove him off the throne and put you on it instead?”
“But Kat, he’s expecting you to marry him.”
“Well, it hasn’t occurred yet, has it?”
“No.”
“I’m being very clever. I’m delaying and questioning his plans. I’ll keep on delaying too, and maybe something will…happen.”
“What could happen?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but I’m trying to devise a strategy.”
“I won’t let you wed him,” Nicholas said. “You don’t have to. Not to save me. Isabelle feels the same. We won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself for us.”
“I can’t figure out what else to do except constantly hinder him and hope an alternative arises.”
“Why don’t we leave again? I won’t remain and have him force you.”
“First of all, we don’t have anywhere to go. That fact was evident after our failed trip to Egypt.”
“It wasn’t a failed trip. Why don’t we go back? We don’t have to camp with Uncle Cedric. I’m sure we could stay with Valois.”
She didn’t answer, but said, “And second of all, if we depart, you’ll never have a chance to recapture the throne. If we’re here, it could transpire someday, but if you’re not, I can guarantee it will
never
transpire.”
“I don’t care if I have to relinquish it. I’d be happy to run away for you, to keep you safe from him.”
“You say that now, Nicholas, but you’re not mature enough to fully grasp the consequences.”
“I’m thirteen, Katarina.”
“I realize that, but I am still your guardian.
I
will decide what’s best for you.”
“I wish Mr. Blair was here,” he said.
She smiled a sad smile. “Why would you wish that?”
“He’d help us, and he’d succeed too.”
“Yes, I imagine he would.”
“Why don’t you write to him? Why don’t you ask him to come? I’m certain he would.”
“Oh, Nicholas, I can’t begin to explain.”
“He seemed to like you so much, and he was a grand fellow. He was teaching me to fence and fight.”
“He was? You didn’t tell me.”
“You don’t have to know everything, do you?”
“Where it concerns you? Yes.”
“I must learn how to fight so I can protect you and Isabelle.”
“You don’t have to protect me, Nicholas. I can look after myself.”
But that wasn’t true.
She’d returned to Parthenia because Nicholas and Isabelle had been used to compel her obedience. Kristof and Dmitri had been shrewd in choosing that route. It was the only way they could coerce Katarina.
Nicholas was angry at how they treated his sisters, and he hated feeling powerless. He needed an ally, someone tough and smart and brave who could assist him. No matter what, he wouldn’t let Kristof push her into marriage. If she wouldn’t leave prior to it happening, then Nicholas would make her leave. He and Isabelle would steal her away even if she didn’t wish to go.
They’d fled before, and they could do it again, and this time they wouldn’t have a traitor like Pippa Clementi in their midst. It occurred to him that he should write to Monsieur Valois to inquire about Mr. Blair and how he might be contacted.
Despite what Katarina thought, Nicholas was positive Mr. Blair would help them, and he didn’t understand why Mr. Blair hadn’t shown up in Parthenia already. He lived in England, and maybe they could seek him out in London. He wouldn’t turn them away, would he?
Nicholas was determined to discover the answer to that question, and he’d just decided to head to his own room, to write to Valois, but he was halted by a loud knocking on the outer doors to Katarina’s suite.
They left her bedchamber and went out to the sitting room. Dmitri was there, Katarina’s women having admitted him. He was flanked by a phalanx of guards.
“Dmitri.” Katarina nodded, barely able to conceal the scorn in her voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“The King commands me to inform you that—after lengthy consultations with his advisors—he can no longer delay the wedding.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, so it will be held in three days.”
“Three days?” Katarina scoffed. “That’s not possible. We agreed to have it in the spring when the weather clears so we can invite foreign guests. It’s to be a national celebration.”
“He’s changed his mind.”
“He can’t expect dignitaries to travel this time of year. If an early blizzard hit in the mountain passes, they’d be trapped.”
“He will not wait.”
“Is he prepared to miss out on his royal wedding? He was counting on it.”
“He has more pressing issues to deal with than the size and spectacle of the ceremony.”
“He must be so disappointed.” She oozed sarcasm.
Nicholas slipped his hand into hers, and he could feel she was trembling.
“I am my sister’s only male relative,” Nicholas said. “No one has asked me if I approve of this union, and I suggest Kristof find a moment to confer with me about it.”
Dmitri’s disdain was obvious and insulting. “His Majesty is too busy to parley with a child, but he must speak with you immediately on another subject.”
Nicholas loathed Dmitri more than Katarina did, and he wouldn’t walk across the street with the vile oaf, let alone accompany him to a meeting with Kristof.
“I’m completing my school lessons,” Nicholas fibbed. “My sister is assisting me with some difficult mathematical problems. I’ll come as soon as we’re finished.”
For some reason, Dmitri didn’t argue. “Yes, come at once. The King has an important topic to discuss with you.” He shifted his glare to Katarina. “Three days to your wedding, Your Grace. Make ready.”
He clicked his heels but didn’t bow or display any deference. He turned his back on them and marched out as if he was better than them or above them in rank. But he was simply Kristof’s lowly, distant cousin, so his behavior was particularly galling.
Katarina’s women shut the door after him. Several of her servants were spies for Kristof and Dmitri, so she kept her smile firmly in place, not giving them the satisfaction of witnessing a reaction. She’d assumed they had all winter to formulate a plan. She’d assumed they could delay into the spring and perhaps the summer.
Nicholas was still holding her hand, and he led her into her bedchamber. One of her women tried to enter with them, but Nicholas flashed such a furious glower that she didn’t dare. She slinked out, and he and his sister had some privacy.
“You can’t do it, Katarina,” he insisted.
“What is my choice, Nicholas? I didn’t tell you this before either, but I suppose you’re old enough now. If I don’t marry him, he’ll marry Isabelle.”
“Over my dead body,” Nicholas fumed.
“It’s why I would force myself through it—so I don’t have to worry about him harming you or her.”
“I hate him!”
“It’s pointless to be angry,” she counseled. “We have to buck up and carry on.”
“No, Katarina, we have to
do
something. I won’t let you proceed. It’s madness, and you’ll regret it your entire life.”