Redeeming A Royal (The Royals of Aldonia Book 3) Read online

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Christopher said. “Which is why I asked for the information. I’ve some potential candidates in mind based on the little I know of the ladies, but I’ll look over the intelligence you gathered then pick a handful of the most suitable based on the criteria I’ve set for the future queen.”

  Once more, Jacob blinked at him before a wry grin lit his face.

  “You old romantic, you,” he drawled, earning a scowl from Christopher. “Do take care not to mention these criteria upon their arrival, Highness. You’ll likely have them all swooning at your feet.”

  Christopher rolled his eyes at Jacob’s sarcasm.

  It was an odd sort of relationship they had, Christopher mused.

  On the one hand, Jacob was a subordinate. On the other hand, he was his brother-in-law and friend. So, while he might call Christopher ‘your highness,’ he certainly wasn’t afraid to give his opinion, even when it wasn’t wanted.

  “What’s this list of criteria then?” Jacob was unperturbed by Christopher’s silence.

  And Christopher actually found himself answering.

  “Someone who understands the pressures of a royal life. Someone with excellent lineage and breeding. Someone who will make a good alliance for Aldonia. And someone who can be trusted to be discreet.”

  “Discreet about what?” Jacob asked. “Business or pleasure?”

  Christopher scowled slightly at the question but answered nonetheless.

  “I won’t be foolish enough to discuss anything business related with the woman I choose, not anymore,” he mumbled, remembering the sting of Althea’s betrayal.

  “Pleasure then. And you don’t think a wife would mind having to be ‘discreet’ about where you put your –”

  “That will be all,” Christopher bit out, but Jacob merely laughed.

  There was a silence before Christopher continued.

  “I need a political alliance. A queen. The lady in question is sure to be worldly enough to understand the way of these things. An heir will be produced, of course. After that, my business is my own. I will, after all, be king.”

  “I don’t know many wives who would be so amenable to waving her husband off to his business Christopher,” Jacob said slowly, softly. Right now, he wasn’t speaking as subordinate to prince. But friend to friend.

  Christopher couldn’t contain his bitter laugh.

  “You underestimate the appeal of the Crown, Jacob,” he said. “No lady will give a damn what I do or who I do it with, as long as she’s wearing a tiara while she waves me off.”

  “I think you’re the one underestimating here,” Jacob countered. “A good woman, a caring woman, won’t want that life, no matter how many jewels are attached to it.”

  Christopher stayed mutinously quiet.

  Jacob didn’t know the things Christopher did. He didn’t know how much a crown meant to some people.

  “Have it your way, Your Highness.” The former spy stood, a rare sombre look on his face. “But if I can give you some advice?”

  Christopher sighed and stood, too. He’d prefer not to be lectured whilst still sitting.

  “Look at Harriet and me.” Jacob was all seriousness. “Look at Alexander and Lydia.”

  Christopher merely raised a brow, waiting for the point.

  “Love happens to us unexpectedly,” Jacob continued. “And it doesn’t care about your plans or your criteria. It doesn’t care about what’s right and what’s wrong. It takes you by surprise, and it sweeps you off your feet. It just happens to you. And nobody – not even a future king – can control it.”

  Christopher merely smiled, though he knew there was little humour in his expression.

  “That might be true, Jacob. But I didn’t say I wanted to fall in love. I said I wanted a wife.”

  Jacob frowned and looked as though he’d say something else, but Christopher wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

  “Love has absolutely nothing to do with it,” he finished firmly.

  Chapter Two

  “I do wish these journeys weren’t so odious. We shall have to meet Queen Anya all wrinkled and rumpled from the journey.”

  Lady Lucia Allenwood grimaced slightly as her older sister’s petulant voice sounded yet again in the small confines of the carriage.

  She tried not to let it annoy her, but really, they’d been travelling in this conveyance for the better part of a week, and that was after a three-week journey from their father’s country seat in Surrey. Alice’s complaining had started from the London dock where they’d boarded their ship, and it was wearing extremely thin.

  The journey had been long and tiring, yes. But it had also been Alice’s idea. When their aunt had written from Aldonia to say she was travelling to the palace for a three-week sojourn that summer, Alice’s eyes had lit rather zealously. She’d looked as though she were preparing to charge into battle as she’d gripped the missive. It had been quite frightening.

  Alice had asked – well, demanded really, as was her wont – that Papa allow her to write post-haste to Aunt Ivy and have her invite Alice along.

  Aunt Ivy had only one daughter, Alice had reasoned, and was her god-mamma. She had a duty, Alice argued, to see her goddaughter married well. And everyone knew that the crème de la crème of European Society was sure to attend any party thrown at the Aldonian Palace.

  Papa had capitulated immediately rather than prolong a conversation with either of his daughters as was his wont, and in the end both Alice and Lucia had found themselves invited. Alice because she desperately wanted to come. Lucia because, she was sure, Aunt Ivy would never be rude enough to leave her out.

  Alice had been up in the boughs with excitement. Lucia less so.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy Society events. Indeed, she found them rather enjoyable. All the music, and laughter, dancing, and champagne.

  Lucia loved champagne, though she’d only had the stuff on a handful of occasions. Champagne reminded her of ton events. It was frivolous and decadent and made her feel sophisticated.

  Perhaps not as sophisticated as Alice, who had turned being a young lady of the ton into an art form. But more sophisticated than she usually felt being the youngest, slightly less well put together member of the estimable Allenwood family.

  Yes, she enjoyed it all immensely. Only she didn’t crave it the way Alice did.

  Aunt Ivy had always had a bit of a soft spot for Little Lucy, as she’d called Lucia, since her infancy.

  And given that the girls’ mother had died when Lucy had been but a babe, Aunt Ivy was the coddling mother figure both the girls had always wanted.

  Though the distance of an ocean made it difficult, Aunt Ivy had always been there as much as possible for her brother’s girls.

  And staying in a palace! That really did sound like a grand adventure. Mama would have been beside herself about her daughters’ invitation to stay in the Aldonian Palace and rub shoulders with royalty, Aunt Ivy had said in her letter.

  And of course, Alice had nearly bankrupted poor Papa buying dresses for the occasion.

  Thankfully, they’d been in the London townhouse when confirmation of their invitation had arrived, so they’d had access to the most revered mantua makers in the country. And when the indomitable ladies of fashion had heard they’d be dressing the daughters of an earl not just for another London Season but for a royal party, they’d been beside themselves, too.

  In point of fact, it seemed to Lucy that the only one who had remained well and truly within herself was she.

  If anything, she was feeling more apprehensive than excited. Because no amount of champagne, or gowns, family connections, or lectures compliment of Alice, would make her fit to be living among royalty.

  “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time to freshen up before an audience with Her Majesty,” Aunt Ivy said now from across the carriage where she sat beside her daughter, Penelope. “Then we can rest and recover before tonight’s opening dance.”

  Mention
of the dance had the ladies chattering happily, wondering if the gowns they’d picked to wear would suffice, speculating wildly about who would attend and why they’d been invited in the first place.

  “You’re sure we’ll be welcome, Aunt Ivy?” Lucy voiced the niggling doubt she’d been carrying since London. “We weren’t really invited, after all.”

  “Tosh.” Aunt Ivy immediately dismissed her concerns. “It isn’t as though the palace is too small to accommodate you,” she laughed. “And your dear departed uncle was a friend of King Josef. I know that the royal family would welcome anyone I brought along. Especially two such lovely guests.”

  Lucy shook her head at her aunt’s bias while Alice preened beside her.

  Perhaps Aunt Ivy was right, however. What were two more relatively insignificant guests, after all? It wasn’t as though they’d even come to the attention of the royal family after a first, formal introduction.

  And if Uncle Gregor had been friends with the king, Aunt Ivy might be extended more courtesy than others.

  “We’ll be nearing the gates of the palace soon,” Aunt Ivy said, moving the crushed velvet curtain of her window aside to peer out. “What do you think of the capital, my dears?”

  Alice gave the passing view the swiftest of looks.

  “It’s fine. I confess, all cities look the same to me.”

  “Alice!” Lucy leaned past her sister to gaze out at the city. “How can you say that? It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “You like it then?” Penelope grinned.

  “I love it,” Lucy said immediately. And she meant it, too.

  From the second their boat had docked in the Aldonian harbour, Lucy had been enthralled by Aldonia. Or the capital, at least, since she hadn’t seen more than that.

  But, oh, it was like something from a children’s fairy tale.

  The bluest waters lapped against white-stoned beaches either side of the huge, busy harbour in which their boat docked.

  The streets were cobbled and surrounded by white, gleaming buildings. And in the backdrop were the most spectacular, snow-capped mountains, their rich foliage visible even from the valley in which the capital stood.

  Though Lucy was sure Aldonia had its problems, as every country did, she couldn’t help but be enamoured of the place.

  And now that they were approaching the quarter that housed the palace, with its magnificent townhouses gleaming in the bright summer sun, she could see the building itself, rising majestically to the cloudless sky, its white turrets topped with glittering gold domes and elaborate sculptures.

  “Oh my goodness,” she whispered.

  “Just so,” Aunt Ivy said happily, evidently pleased with Lucy’s reaction.

  The carriage stopped in front of a pair of giant, wrought iron gates and they could hear the muffled sound of Aunt Ivy’s driver giving their names.

  After a moment or two, the carriage set off again and as they passed the now-opened gates, Lucy caught sight of the Aldonian insignia and a pair of guards resplendent in royal blue military jackets adorned with silver buttons and braids.

  The long, gravel road on which they now travelled was lined on each side by a type of tree that Lucy didn’t recognise but which blossomed with beautiful white flowers.

  Through the trees, Lucy glimpsed verdant grass as well as sculptures and abundant flowers. She fairly bounced in her seat with the urge to dash off and explore them all.

  She knew, of course, that she would have to meet Queen Anya first. Though the official presentation to the royal family would be later that night, Aunt Ivy’s friendship with the royal family was such that the queen was going to greet them in her private salon upon their arrival.

  Lucy would never embarrass her aunt or her own family by not attending an event hosted by a queen of course, but it wouldn’t have been her first choice of activity.

  She wanted to walk. To stretch her legs and breathe in fresh air.

  Instead, she would sit demurely with her sister and her cousin, only speaking when addressed.

  This rule had been embedded in her head by Alice, who knew that Lucy had an unfortunate habit of allowing her mouth to say precisely what her brain was thinking at any given time, whether or not she should.

  “Ah, here we are.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the palace, and Lucy felt her jaw drop.

  It looked – well, palatial. What other word was there for such an overwhelming building?

  The circular drive was centred by an extravagant white marble fountain portraying a fearsome-looking Poseidon flanked by mythical sea creatures.

  It should have looked ostentatious but set as it was in front of the famed Aldonian palace, it was almost ordinary looking.

  “I don’t belong here.” Lucy didn’t even realise she’d spoken aloud until her aunt leaned over and squeezed her hand.

  “You belong wherever you choose to be, my Little Lucy.” The older lady smiled. “And I know Her Majesty will be enchanted by you both. She’s already so fond of Penelope.”

  “Her Majesty is very magnanimous.” Penelope smiled demurely.

  She was always demure, Lucy thought as she studied her cousin whilst servants and footmen appeared to escort the ladies from the carriage.

  Penelope was so pretty, so elegant. She favoured her late father in colouring, having the dark eyes and hair so common in Aldonia. Aunt Ivy, being English, was a lot fairer and though her hair was greying now, it had always been a much lighter shade than Penelope’s chocolate brown.

  And her eyes were the same dark blue as her sister, Lucy’s mother, as well as Alice.

  Only Lucy seemed to have gotten the strange, aqua-blue eyes that always made her a little uncomfortable, because they were commented on constantly.

  Even Lucy’s hair was different to her family’s. A deep, rich red with accents of auburn and copper, in contrast to Alice’s and Aunt Ivy’s toffee coloured tresses.

  The door to the carriage opened at last, and Aunt Ivy’s footman began handing the ladies out of the carriage.

  Lucy looked up to see two guards at the entrance of the palace, looking both elegant and intimidating all at the same time.

  A glace around the parts of the grounds she could see showed yet more soldiers dotted around the place.

  “The incident I told you of,” Aunt Ivy leaned over to whisper. “The assassination attempt from two years ago? It’s made Prince Christopher positively zealous about palace security.”

  “One cannot blame him,” Lucy whispered back. “I can’t imagine how frightening it must have been.”

  “Quite,” Aunt Ivy said as they began to move to the steps that led into the palace. “Of course, he did a wonderful job keeping the whole thing relatively quiet. I, myself, only know about it because of your uncle’s correspondence with King Josef.”

  Even now, more than a year since his passing, Aunt Ivy’s eyes dulled with grief.

  Her husband had been a formidable man. A peer of excellent lineage and distinction within Aldonia, he had still doted on his wife and their children. Penelope was the youngest of their three children, and their only girl. Both of her brothers were married and settled. Only Penelope remained unattached.

  Lucy knew she must have felt her father’s death keenly, too. Lucy hadn’t even known her mother and still felt pangs of sadness when she thought of her.

  This visit to the palace was an honour indeed and would do both ladies a world of good. And there could be no denying Father had been happy to wave them off, no doubt relishing the idea of not having to tend to anyone else’s needs for a couple of months. Or even acknowledge their existence.

  The foyer of the palace had Lucy’s jaw dropping yet again. She felt like a fish, opening and closing her mouth every two seconds but really – she’d never seen anything like this place. It was intimidating. Opulence was practically oozing from the walls.

  A bevy of servants were awaiting their arrival and immediately set about showing th
em to their rooms in the east wing.

  Lucy walked into her appointed bedchamber, and her feet immediately sank into the plushest Persian rug in shades of blue. A lighter blue adored the walls and coverings on the luxurious oak bed.

  The windows were open, admitting a pleasant summer breeze, and Lucy was delighted to see that her room looked over a flower garden so expansive she could just make out the wall at the other side of it.

  From here she could see that the grounds expanded even further than that wall.

  Everything here was so elaborate, so overwhelming. So much more than what she was used to.

  As the daughter of an earl, Lucy had long since considered her life to be one of privilege and luxury. And it was. But not, she knew now with absolute certainty, compared to royalty.

  “My lady.”

  Lucy turned from the view to see her abigail, Jane, bustling in carrying a freshly pressed gown.

  Jane’s efficiency was always impressive.

  The servants had arrived mere hours before the ladies, since Aunt Ivy had insisted on visiting a friend who stayed in the city all year round, and Lucy was relieved to see that Jane had had the time to prepare one of her new afternoon gowns.

  It was a simple enough design, a pale blue with short sleeves in deference to the warm, summer weather. The square neckline was simply cut with only a line of tiny pearl buttons leading to the empire waistline.

  Sadly, Lucy’s thick hair had fought valiantly against the arduous journey but ultimately lost, and it took all of Jane’s impressive skills to make it fit for viewing by a queen.

  Lucy refused any fanciful adornment for her hair, choosing instead a white ribbon that was simple but looked well with the white buttons of the gown.

  All in all, she might look more ordinary than she should, but she always felt utterly ridiculous in the frills and fripperies Alice enjoyed and, she reasoned, the gown had come from one of the best mantua makers in London. So it couldn’t be all that bad.

  “Your aunt has sent a message to remind you that you are to meet Her Majesty at three o’clock, my lady,” Jane said as she placed yet more pins in Lucy’s uncooperative hair. “You won’t be late for the queen, will you?”