Linda Needham (24 page)

Best not to oblige her sarcasm. “Tomorrow you’ll be safely ensconced among many other royals and dozens of my agents. With me at your back.”

“You could be there today, Drew.”

“Princess…”

“But, Drew, these are the most important items for my exhibit.” She patted the taut canvas. “I want them
to be in place the moment the Great Exhibition opens.”

“If you want this lot displayed, Princess, then you’ll draw out a diagram for me, because you cannot talk me out of this. Not this time. I’ll lock you in the wine cellar first.”

“But, Drew, you—” She closed her mouth abruptly before saying, “I was going to exclaim that you wouldn’t dare lock up a
princess
against her will, but of course you would. You’ve done it regularly since the first moment we met.”

“And I’ll do it again.”

She frowned deeply at him. “Ohhhhhhh, all right!”

She stomped back through the orangery to her worktable, yanked a diagram out of the front of her logbook and showed him the list on the reverse.

She spent ten minutes explaining it all to him, drawing arrows and making boxes, time that he spent hoping that he’d understood her instructions, yearning for her.

“You’re sure you have it, Drew?”

“I’m a quick study, Princess.”

When he finally climbed into the wagon, his nostrils filled with her lilac fragrance, it seemed the most natural thing to do to lean down and kiss her good-bye.

But he couldn’t. She wasn’t his to kiss.

“Come right home, Drew.” She put her hand on top of his, the gentle squeeze as telling as the worry in her eyes. “What I mean is, don’t do anything foolish.”

“Have I ever, my dear?” He left a smile with her as Wheeler climbed onto the bench beside him. Then he snapped the reins and the wagon rolled out of the shed on one of his last errands for his princess.

Two hours later Drew and Wheeler had made their way through the traffic in Kensington and had managed to park the wagon at the east entrance of the Crystal Palace.

Between he and Wheeler and three eager policemen who had recognized Drew and offered their help, the wagon was unloaded into the exhibit space in a few minutes.

The time-consuming part was comparing the bloody diagram to the exhibit and then placing each item exactly the way his persnickety princess had indicated.

“My lord, doesn’t that round brass thing go on top of the cabinet instead of inside it?” Wheeler was staring down at the diagram and then up at the display, then flipping the page to its reverse.

“That’s it exactly, Wheeler.” Drew stalked up to the cabinet and made the change. “By God, I’d rather be posted fifty feet up a banyan tree in hundred degree humidity than to try to make sense of this. I think a pint at the Exhibitors Dining Room is the only cure.”

“I’ll not argue with you, sir.” Wheeler was leading the way down the aisle in the next instant.

Drew followed more slowly, still appalled by the amount of glass and open spaces, noticing the Flannery Brothers themselves, patching up one of the fountains in the transept.

“Oh, damn.” Realizing that he’d left his jacket draped across a statue in the exhibit, Drew started back down the less-crowded side aisle only to find someone standing on the Boratanian platform, peering inside the cabinet.

And if he wasn’t mistaken that was Peverel.

“Good afternoon, Lord Peverel.”

“God in heaven!” The man stumbled backward and then whirled around, wide-eyed. “Wexford! Ah. You startled me out of my skin.”

Touchy old fool. He must have been lost in whatever he was looking at.

No, that wasn’t exactly right. The man had been looking for something.

“Sorry, Peverel, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Peverel laughed and fanned his face with his hat. “That’s me, Wexford. Head in the clouds. I was just admiring Princess Caroline’s fine exhibit.”

“I understand she’s been collecting Boratanian artifacts for years and years.”

Including an old coffer from you with a few odd documents hidden away inside.

“Yes, yes, remarkable determination, hasn’t she, Wexford?”

“Downright foolhardy at times.”

Peverel only nodded and continued his indiscreet search.

It was on Drew’s tongue to mention the coffer, but something stopped him, that jangled warning in his left ear that made him continue. “By that I mean the woman seems to have no compunction about just walking off with anything she thinks was looted from her family’s castles at the fall of the kingdom.”

She even got to you, Peverel, didn’t she? Confiscated that box, right out from under your nose.

“Yes, a foolish, foolish girl, I’m afraid.” Peverel was almost muttering as he stepped down from the platform and glanced up at Drew, his face as pale as usual, his eyes skittish. “And how fares the princess? All right, I assume.”

Still alive.

“Very well, Peverel. Anticipating her coronation with great joy.”

“Water treaties settling down, I suppose? Boundary surveys in place.”

“Everything according to plan, Peverel.”

“Good, good. Well, there’s nothing left to do then, is there?” Peverel shook his head as though asking the question of himself, and then realized he wasn’t alone. A man on the brink. “Will you be attending tomorrow’s opening, my lord?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. And you?”

He nodded and nodded. “It seems I must, sir. Duties and the like. We all have our duties, don’t we?”

“Indeed.” Drew watched Peverel wander off down the main aisle toward the transept. He seemed a husk of a man, distracted by something dark inside him.

And he’d been looking for something in Caro’s exhibit. Something quite specific that he didn’t find.

Curious, wanting to soothe the all-too-familiar unbalancing feeling in his gut, the ringing in his ear, Drew paralleled Peverel’s route and kept an eye on the man as they both reached the transept.

That same feeling surged inside him again as Peverel stopped in front of the Flannery Brothers’ brick cart and studied the fountain from its base to the stone dish twenty feet above him. He shook his head, started toward the south exit.

Drew dashed into the dining room and found Wheeler.

“I want to follow someone, Wheeler. You stay here at the Palace and keep watch over the exhibit. If I don’t return in an hour, take the wagon back to Grandauer and tell the princess that I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Who is it you’re tailing?” Wheeler rushed with him out of the crowded dining hall.

“Let’s just say I have one of those feelings. You know what I mean. A snake in my gut.”

“Then run, my lord!”

Drew made it to the exit just as Peverel climbed into a hansom cab, which moved immediately into the jostling traffic feeding out into the cobbled streets.

“Bloody hell!” Drew found one of the policemen who had helped him earlier and wrangled a horse out of him.

“With the queen’s blessing, Lord Wexford!” the man said with a wave as Drew trotted off after Peverel’s cab.

Drew followed well behind the vehicle, heading east along Piccadilly, trying to dismiss his suspicions as ridiculous.

Lord Peverel? Christ, the man had been retained by the queen herself to guide Caro toward an easy transition, to build a set of policies to help her through her first years.

Why would he want to hurt her? And yet the man had stashed away a most damning set of documents.

Which Caro had stolen back from him.

Still, Peverel didn’t seem the type. And what would have been his motive? The man had obviously known all about Caro’s identity. No, this was a wild goose chase. It had to be.

Still that snaky feeling churned up bile, and his heart thudded against his ribs like a sledgehammer.

He nearly stopped breathing when the cab turned away from the crowds in Piccadilly onto St. James and then rolled to a stop in front of Tavistock’s.

The liveried valet opened the door of the hansom cab, greeted Peverel as he would a member in good standing, then escorted him through the door of the gentleman’s club.

Not just any gentleman’s club. Tavistock’s was the place where Paul Lauder had worked as a waiter.

And Peverel was an assistant to the Royal Commission for the Great Exhibition. How many times had he walked down the main aisle of the Crystal Palace and seen the masons who worked for the Flannery Brothers?

Christ, not Peverel.

Because it made no sense at all.

“T
he gown fits you to perfection, Princess Caroline.” Mrs. Tweeg was standing beside Caro, beaming into the cheval glass at her.

Princess Caroline.

Caro was getting better at not flinching at the sound of her name. Whoever’s name. It just didn’t seem like hers anymore.

“The gown is certainly beautiful, Mrs. Tweeg. Certainly fit for a coronation.” Brilliant white, and lush with satin, the bodice trimmed in real diamonds that were destined to grace the crown jewels of Boratania.

Because Drew had been right, nothing had changed. Nothing could change. Too many people were depending on her to be strong, to be a capable leader.

I love you, Caro.
Such a simple declaration for such a grand-hearted man.

I want children with you.
Dear Lord, they would have been fine children, and so well loved.

Everything had been said that could be said.

But the coronation was still a few days away.

The Great Exhibition was tomorrow.

It was nearly five o’clock, and Drew still hadn’t returned home to Grandauer. Telling herself not to worry about him simply didn’t work, only set her skin to aching and filled her eyes with tears.

“Well, I certainly can’t wear this to supper, Mrs. Tweeg.”

“That you can’t, Your Highness. We don’t want anyone to see it before your big day. Might bring you bad luck—like when a groom sees the bride before the wedding.”

“Just like that, Mrs. Tweeg.” Caro managed a smile instead of the sob that lurked just inside her chest, and suffered the dear woman’s happy chatter as she helped her out of her stunning coronation gown.

Caro went downstairs a half hour later and nearly collided with Mr. Wheeler as she started through the doorway to the investigation room.

“Ah, there you are, Princess!”

“Oh, good, Mr. Wheeler, you’re back!” Her heart leaped in relief, and she went speeding past him into the room, expecting to find Drew. But he wasn’t there. “Did Wexford come back from the exhibition with you?”

“That’s what I’ve come to tell you, Your Highness. We had just finished up the exhibit, which looks just as you wished it, by the way, when his lordship realized that he had some work he had to do.”

“What kind of work?” Perhaps he’d found a piece of evidence that needed investigating at the Factory.

“He was going to tail someone.”

That terrified her. “Who?”

“He couldn’t say who at the time. It all happened very quickly. But he did say to tell you that he’d be here as soon as possible.”

Frightened for Drew and weary to the bone, Caro wanted to sag into the nearest chair, but that might alarm the poor man. “Then good, Mr. Wheeler. Thank you for bringing the news, and for helping with the exhibit.”

“It’s been a great pleasure, Your Highness.” He put his hand to his heart and then hurried off toward the kitchen.

Drew didn’t come home in time for supper, or for the children’s story time.

Caro lingered in the library until she was nodding off in a chair, then fell asleep in her chamber listening for the sound of him in the next room, praying that he would arrive safely.

But Drew wasn’t back at dawn, wasn’t there to take breakfast, either. And still hadn’t returned as everyone began to gather in the foyer for their caravan to the Crystal Palace.

“Look at my new dress, Princess Caroline!”

Caro turned toward Annora’s huge smile. “Why, it’s lovely, Annora! And yours too, Marguerite. Mrs. Brendel, you’re a very fine seamstress.”

Both girls stretched out their hems and pivoted in little circles.

Karl’s wife blushed with pride. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Runson appeared at Caro’s side. “It’s getting late, Your Highness. Time to load into the carriages.”

“No word from Lord Wexford?”

“Just what we heard last night. Perhaps he’ll meet you there.”

Dear God, she hoped so. Otherwise…no, she wasn’t going to think about him tailing an assassin through the dark alleys of London. Couldn’t think about that bullet…

The three carriages rolled out of Grandauer Hall into a drizzling rain at noon, each of them bristling with Drew’s agents. They managed to work their way along the muddy roads, then through the impossible traffic around Kensington, reaching the sunlit drive along the south transept of the Crystal Palace by four o’clock.

But so had the crowd of a half million people who were thronging the park, doubtless hoping for a glimpse of the queen’s procession.

Caro stepped out of the carriage in front of the palace, her heart in her mouth as she scanned the entrance for Drew and his towering height.

But there was no sign of him anywhere.

She led her group toward the entrance, still looking for Drew around every corner, his agents pressing in closer to her, more obvious than usual. She flashed her season pass and her motley entourage was able to avoid the long lines of people because, of course, she was Princess Caroline of Boratania.

They shuffled into the great barrel-vaulted transept, past the huge grandstand that had been erected beneath one of the galleries. A raised dais with the queen’s magnificently draped throne was roped off beneath the central arch, ready for the ceremony.

“I never expected anything half so grand, Your
Highness.” Karl and his wife were standing behind her, their eyes wide with wonder.

Wilhelm only muttered to the others.

The children
oohed
and
aahed
at everything.

“There’s a big stone lady on a big stone horse!” Marguerite shouted, tugging on Caro’s skirts.

“They’ve grown a whole forest in here, Princess Caroline!” Robert Frederick was pointing at the huge old trees that had dictated part of the design and the exact location of the building.

“Those are elms, Frederick.”

And that’s when she finally saw Drew.

The blackguard!

Safe and sound and staring directly at her, his smile slanted and easy, his tall, shiny boot resting on the base of the enormous crystal fountain, his arms crossed over his broad chest as though he had been waiting for her.

“Look! There’s Lord Wexford!” Annora said, taking off toward the man, the three other children racing along behind her.

Caro wanted to run to him, too. To throw her arms around him as Marguerite just did.

But this was the last place in all of London where she might have the liberty to do such a highly improper thing. She was a royal princess, after all, almost an empress.

And just now the Crystal Palace was mobbed with members of Parliament, orators, foreign dignitaries and statesmen, nobles and lions of industry, all of them awaiting the arrival of the queen.

But Caro had found Drew, and was feeling remarkably better already.

“Ah, Lord Wexford,” she said, offering her gloved hand as he finally reached her side in front of the queen’s dais. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be joining us.”

“A slight change of plans,” he said, fixing his dark gaze on her and then lifting it to scan the galleries.

He seemed even more the caged wolf today. Nodding to his agents in some code she’d never noticed before, his muscles shifting beneath the fine cloth of his crisp linen coat.

He was freshly shaved, his hair trimmed, and his fine clothes clean and pressed to perfection. Which made her wonder, incongruously and with a stunning jolt of jealousy, where he’d slept last night after he finished tailing whoever it was he tailed.

What if he had found himself a comfortable private life, after all?

A woman to endow with his attentions.

Which he had every right to do, of course. She had no claim to him at all.

Except that he had stolen her heart.

And that he loved her.

“Did you sleep well last night, my lord?” Gad! What a prying thing to ask!

But his sardonic smile only deepened. “Hardly at all, Your Highness.”

There! He must have been restless, or he worked all night…or he was…no! She just couldn’t follow that image. Her Drew in another woman’s bed.

“Did you and Wheeler have any trouble finishing the display, Lord Wexford? My drawing wasn’t the best.” She’d almost forgotten the reason he’d set out without her yesterday.

“We finished easily, madam, with time to spare.”

She was about to ask Drew about who he had been following last night, when a cannon went off in the distance like a clap of thunder, rattling the iron and sending the children squealing.

“Did someone start a war, Lord Wexford?” Oscar put up his arms to be carried.

“Nothing to worry about, Oscar,” Drew said, lifting the boy into his arms with such fatherly grace. “That’s just to announce the arrival of Queen Victoria.”

“Is she a real queen, Lord Wexford?” Oscar asked. “As real as our Princess Caroline?”

“As real as our Princess Caroline.” Drew’s eyes glinted intensely as he turned and looked down at Caro. “But not nearly as enchanting.”

“Lord Wexford, please!” He shouldn’t be saying such things. And still her heart skipped madly as he moved to stand behind her as he had promised yesterday morning.

Her loyal warrior.

Her thoughts were cut off by the raucous blare of a trumpet from the gallery.

“Looka there!” Oscar shouted from where he was hanging off Drew’s shoulder. “Is that the queen?”

Her Royal Majesty entered the Crystal Palace with great pomp. Caro couldn’t help looking at her cousin in a more tightly focused light. A conspirator in Caro’s life. An active participant in a royal falsehood that had global implications.

Prince Albert strode grandly beside the queen, clearly pleased with his magnificent success, twice turning back to the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal to keep them from wandering off toward all the wonders.

The queen took her seat on her richly draped
throne, to the applause of all. Next came Prince Albert’s dry report from the Royal Commission and a short speech from the queen. Then a prayer from the archbishop of Canterbury, and the “Hallelujah Chorus” sung by an enormous choir accompanied by no fewer than five pipe organs.

There came another trumpet fanfare and the Great Exhibition was declared officially open.

A kind of disorderly madness happened next, as everyone shoved and jostled their way toward the exhibits.

Drew handed off Oscar to Karl, then kept Caro close to him near the dais, while the others floated out into the sea of attendees.

Caro tugged at Drew’s elbow and he bent to listen to her. “Now, my lord Wexford, you’ll tell me everything! Where were you last night? Did you find him?”

He was frowning deeply at something over the top of her head, his gaze dancing between the galleries, sliding over the top of the crowd. “Possibly, Princess.”

“Who then, Drew?” She tugged on his arm again, but his attention seemed fixed on something.

“Ah, cousin, there you are! Albert, look, here’s our beautiful Princess Caroline, looking lovelier than ever.” Queen Victoria and her family had finally made their way off the dais through the clot of nabobs who were doubtlessly hoping for a place of honor during the queen’s Parade of the Exhibits.

But instead of her usual feelings of affection for the queen, a shocking bolt of raw anger shot through Caro, striking her nearly speechless.

And yet the queen was beaming at Caro. “I’m so glad you could be with us today.”

I’ll bet you are, Victoria dear!
Caro swallowed hard, hoping that she hadn’t spoken aloud.

“Your Majesty, I wouldn’t have missed a moment.”
Though I shouldn’t be here at all.
Caro managed an elegant curtsey, princess to queen. “The exhibition is marvelous.”

“And you, Lord Wexford,” the queen said, looking up at the frowning earl, tapping the buttons on his waistcoat with the tip of her finger, “are looking quite well, as usual.”

“Forever at your service, Your Majesty,” he said, barely sparing the queen a glance, which didn’t seem to bother the woman in the least. Her golden boy.

Albert bent to kiss Caro’s hand and then smiled. “Her Majesty and I are looking forward to your coronation, my dear.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness.” She wanted to pinch him hard but restrained herself.

Then, like a school of fish, the lot of them followed after the prince to begin the hours-long parade around the building.

“I’m expected to join them like the other foreign dignitaries, Drew.”

“Not a chance in hell, Princess.”

Drew hated being trapped like this in the middle of a crowd, no room to react, poor visibility. He pulled her against him and then whispered into her ear, “Walk with me, Caro.”

“To where?”

“Out of here. It’s too dangerous.” And he hadn’t been able to locate Peverel since the man entered
Tavistock’s last night, though he’d spent most of the night following leads that all seemed to wind closer and closer to the man.

Circles of people, lines of connections. Significance of places, objects.

Because he was now absolutely certain that the threat was all about Caro’s identity.

Who she was, who she wasn’t.

And Peverel was involved somehow.

“But I can’t leave, my lord. I have duties and I haven’t seen my exhibit.”

“You’ll have to visit next week, madam. When you’re empress.”
And hopefully still alive.

He started forward into the press of people, giving a nod to Halladay and Casserly as they fell into place a few yards ahead of them.

“Who are we looking for, Drew?” she whispered over her shoulder.

“We?” No wonder she was suddenly so remarkably cooperative, his reckless, beautiful operative, shifting easily to the right and then the left as he guided her forward, his hands spanning that perfectly curved waist.

He’d been a fool to let her come today; the place was a chaos of thundering voices and rambunctious children and blaring music.

A colorful military band was carving a strident, sinuous path toward them, the conductor’s baton bouncing high in the air, the horns swinging from side to side in rhythm.

Drew started to guide Caro around them, but the mob only packed in more tightly, stopping to stare, becoming a wedge as well as an ever-strengthening eddy as they approached an intersection.