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

  Her smile was far too knowing for Christopher’s liking. Her brown eyes glowing astutely.

  “So,” she said with a casualness that he didn’t believe for a second. “Not Lady Penelope after all.”

  Christopher ignored her, but he felt her shrewd gaze on him until he shut the ballroom door behind him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “And Penelope is simply beside herself, as you can imagine. Why, I couldn’t believe my eyes when the prince chose her for the first dance.”

  Lucy smiled weakly as Alice raked over last night’s festivities. She hoped that her sister wouldn’t notice how pale she was.

  She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night.

  After her discovery of Prince Christopher’s true identity, and then the bizarre, whispered conversation in the middle of the ballroom, she’d been up in the boughs all night.

  In fact, as soon the prince had demanded a meeting with her tormentor last night then turned and left the ball, Lucy had pleaded a headache and slipped quietly away.

  Her mind, however, had been as far from quiet as possible.

  As Lucy had prepared for bed, she’d run over the evening’s events in her mind and even hours later, her cheeks had heated with the memory of her embarrassment.

  Bad enough that she’d not known who he was.

  Bad enough that her heart had fluttered alarmingly when he’d rushed to her rescue, ensuring that the overly familiar Count of Tresdon kept his hands to himself.

  Bad enough that she’d blabbed about Penelope acting as though he’d proposed marriage and not just a dance.

  But she’d argued with him. Stood there in his ballroom, in his country even, and argued with him.

  Was that a hangable offence here? He’d certainly been frowning at her as though she’d displeased him. And she knew why.

  After all, when she’d been unaware of who he really was, she hadn’t exactly been complimentary about the Crown Prince.

  “And this afternoon’s luncheon with Queen Anya should be very telling. For both of us.”

  “Hmm,” Lucy agreed distractedly before Alice’s words penetrated her woollen mind.

  “Wait.” She looked up from the plate of toast she’d been mindlessly tearing to pieces. “For us? Whatever do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Alice bit out, her exasperation evident in her tone.

  “Er –” Lucy thought about prevaricating, but there was no point. Alice would be able to tell she was lying, in any case. “No, not really,” she ceded.

  Alice’s eye roll was enough to let Lucy know exactly how much she disapproved of her wool-gathering.

  “The Countess of Tresdon is attending today’s luncheon. Her son was positively enamoured of you, Lucy. It would be an excellent match.”

  Lucy could only stare at Alice in disbelief and a healthy dose of horror.

  “But – he –”

  Lucy’s mind darted back to the profusely sweaty count and his seeming inability to control his hands.

  A shudder ran over her.

  “I would never consider it, Alice,” she insisted “Never.”

  Alice merely rolled her eyes again as she spread berry compote onto her own toast. Lucy had lost her appetite.

  “Don’t be silly, Lucia.” Alice’s tone was long-suffering. “You can’t turn up your nose at a count, for heaven’s sake.”

  “He’s disgusting,” Lucy answered firmly. “He was – well, he would have – taken liberties if, if—”

  Her voice trailed off as she remembered the tall, intimidating prince baring down on them, his black eyes glinting dangerously.

  Saving her.

  Helping her.

  Tying her in knots.

  “Psh.” Alice waved a piece of toast dismissively. “Gentlemen have their proclivities, Lucia. You’re old enough to understand that. And while I wouldn’t encourage you to be alone with the man for any prolonged amount of time, it’s never a bad idea to be encouraging when securing an offer.”

  Lucy felt her jaw drop at Alice’s words.

  “Alice,” she breathed. “That’s – that’s –”

  Awful. Mercenary. Disgusting.

  All of those words and more ran through Lucy’s head.

  She had always known that Alice was pragmatic when it came to the opposite sex, laughing at Lucy’s romantic heart and trying (and failing) to drill into Lucy that a good match was paramount.

  But this? Essentially telling Lucy to allow that meaty, grubby man to paw at her? She didn’t want to secure an offer with him, in any case. That was the very last thing she wanted.

  “That’s pragmatic,” Alice said stoutly. “And I beg you, Lucia. Don’t ruin this luncheon with—well—with your personality.

  How lovely.

  “Lady Travers will be there, too. I became acquainted with the lady and her son last night.”

  “Travers?”

  To Lucy’s surprise, a blush bloomed on Alice’s cheek.

  “Are they from England?”

  “Yes, Hampshire. Lady Travers is Aldonian.”

  “And you like him? This Travers fellow?”

  The blush deepened, and Lucy couldn’t contain her grin. Clearly, her big sister wasn’t as immune to romance as she maintained.

  “He is – suitable.”

  “Suitable.” Lucy rolled her own eyes. “How wonderfully romantic.”

  “Pragmatic,” Alice repeated firmly, though there was a definite twinkle in her blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. “And you need someone suitable, too.”

  Without warning, Lucy’s mind darted back to the dark, devilishly handsome prince.

  Nobody could be less suitable, yet her heart thudded at the mere memory of his eyes boring into hers.

  “And you’d leave me here in Aldonia, would you? Ship me off to foreign lands for someone suitable?”

  She tried to keep her tone light and airy but in truth, it stung a bit.

  Almost as much as the fact that if the person she was being shipped off to was a singularly handsome but terribly arrogant royal, she didn’t think she’d be so against the idea.

  Alice placed her knife on her plate before looking up at Lucy.

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Lucia,” she chided. “This is the way of the world, as we both know. And truth be told, you’ve never shown an interest in a gentleman before. Back home or here. So if a prosperous, titled gentleman who lives in a country you claim to adore wants to offer for you, it would be madness not to accept.”

  Lucy took a sip of her rapidly cooling tea, trying to hide her upset.

  “Besides.” Alice leaned forward to speak in a conspiratorial tone. Why, Lucy didn’t know. Nobody was going to interrupt their private breakfast in Alice’s chambers. “We both know Papa would hardly notice if we’re there or not. And if I were to marry someone like Lord Travers, then we’d be away from each other anyway. There are always letters, dear.”

  “I suppose so,” Lucy conceded doubtfully. “But I can promise you this – I don’t care if the king himself commands it. I absolutely will not see or speak to the Count of Tresdon again.”

  “Lucia, darling. Come and reacquaint yourself with Count Tresdon.”

  Lucy gritted her teeth as Aunt Ivy waved her over.

  This luncheon was supposed to have been for ladies only.

  And it had been, to begin with.

  However, after having been interviewed rather intensely by the Countess, Lucy was dismayed by the arrival of some of the gentlemen guests.

  They weren’t staying at the palace, of course. Most of them had townhouses nearby. And Aldonia didn’t seem all that different to England in this respect. Just like at home, the Peerage and Quality flocked to its capital city while parliament sat. And in a similar manner to England, they took the opportunity to socialise and make matches wherever possible.

  The Queen’s luncheon was unsurprisingly an event of huge importance, and Aunt Ivy had impressed on the girls
the compliment of being invited to attend.

  When they’d arrived in the formal dining room, Alice in the palest pink and Lucy in mint green, the room had already been filled with ladies of great esteem.

  Lady Travers had been one of the first to approach them, Lucy had been pleased to see. And she seemed rather fond of Alice.

  After that, Aunt Ivy had made swift work of bringing Lucy to the Countess Tresdon.

  The lady was the opposite of her son in every mannerism. She was stoic, rigid, and more importantly, kept her hands well and truly to herself.

  She was also far less friendly than Lady Travers had been to Alice. Which was a win to Lucy’s way of thinking.

  As far as she was concerned, she and Countess Tresdon would see nothing of each other in the future and therefore did not need to be on good terms.

  She’d extracted herself from the lady after what had felt like an interrogation and had been ready to hide away in the corner with either Alice, Penelope, Princess Harriet, or no one if those ladies were busy – which they were – when the door had opened and in had come an assembly of gentlemen from the morning hunt.

  Among them, to Lucy’s horror, was Count Tresdon, and his beady eyes scanned the room until they fell on her. His rotund face grew positively lecherous as he raked an insolent gaze over her.

  She’d turned and darted toward the other end of the sizeable room, of course. But it was no use.

  She’d not made it more than a few feet when Aunt Ivy called out to her.

  With no choice but to come at her aunt’s bidding, Lucy steeled herself for what was sure to be a most unpleasant meeting.

  She smiled and curtsied in response to Count Tresdon’s bow, pointedly ignoring the man’s suggestive smirk.

  “Lucia, dear, I was just telling the count of your fondness for flowers. And as luck would have it, he was just planning a stroll through the rose gardens you were so taken with yesterday.”

  Lucy smiled weakly.

  “How coincidental,” she tittered, all the while glaring at her aunt.

  Aunt Ivy blinked a little too innocently for Lucy’s liking.

  “Indeed,” the count responded, and Lucy had no choice but to turn her gaze to his own. “I hoped that you might join me, my lady, since you are so fond of the gardens.”

  Lucy stood momentarily frozen to the spot.

  She absolutely, categorically did not want to go anywhere with the disgusting count. But what choice did she have?

  She could feel more than one set of eyes on her, and Alice’s dire warnings about not embarrassing Aunt Ivy were flitting through her head, impossible to ignore.

  And so, preparing herself for a singularly unenjoyable walk in the gardens, she fixed a polite smile to her face.

  “I should be delighted, my lord.”

  If anything, concentrating on keeping her distance from Tresdon would allow her to stop thinking of the prince.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I also heard from Hans. He’s on the Belgian border and has secured the document from his Parisian contact. He should be back in Aldonia by the end of the month. Your Highness?”

  Christopher shook his head slightly, trying to drag his mind back to the task at hand. Namely, his weekly meeting with Jacob regarding the work that his elite team carried out for him all over the continent. The world, really, since the palace had business in the Americas and India.

  “Excellent,” he answered, though he couldn’t have said what Jacob had just told him. Thankfully, Jacob was his most talented spy and knew more about the business than anyone else. More than Christopher, even. He could be trusted to keep things running smoothly without Christopher’s input.

  A good thing, too, for his input in all state affairs this morning had been lacking.

  And all because of a red-headed, blue-eyed flower thief.

  He’d dreamt of her last night. He’d never dreamt of anyone before. Yet, there she was, haunting his dreams.

  When he’d awoken for the second time and seen that it was three in the morning, he’d been tempted to send for the mistress he kept near the palace to slake the desire that had been tormenting him.

  However, he quickly dismissed the idea. Because he knew that it wasn’t the dark-haired Celeste that his body was craving, but the red-headed temptress with mesmerising eyes.

  “Your Highness?”

  Once again, Jacob’s voice brought Christopher’s mind back to the present.

  “Is everything well?” Jacob asked.

  Christopher sighed and stood from behind the desk.

  He was irritated with himself.

  He’d met the chit only twenty-four hours ago, yet here he sat obsessing over their meetings, constantly distracted by the sinful red of her hair and unusual aqua of her eyes.

  Worse still, he was yet more distracted by her wit and her brutal honesty. Even charmed by her penchant for stealing roses.

  If it was just that she was beautiful, he wouldn’t mind so much.

  Last night the palace had been bursting at the seams with beautiful women.

  But no. This baffling attraction had more to do with her personality than her looks.

  And that made him more uneasy than he could say.

  “I’m fine,” he answered brusquely now. “I think we can leave this for today and catch up again next week.”

  Jacob gaped at him for a moment, but he knew better than to question Christopher’s orders.

  While his brother-in-law gathered the files and parchments they’d been discussing, Christopher moved to the windows to gaze out at the gardens once again.

  Despite himself, he found his eyes drawn to the spot where he’d seen Lady Lucia for the first time yesterday.

  The garden was empty now, and – wait!

  His thoughts skittered to a stop as the lady herself suddenly appeared in his eyeline.

  Today, she wore a pale green confection that made the red of her hair seem deeper. More sinful.

  He gulped past the sudden lump in his throat.

  This was insanity. He shouldn’t be reacting this way to a mere glimpse of the girl.

  Yet nothing could have dragged his eyes from her.

  As he watched, he saw her shoulders visibly stiffen, and Tresdon made a sudden appearance.

  Christopher gritted his teeth as the count’s hand reached out and ran down the length of Lady Lucia’s arm.

  He saw with a grim satisfaction that she pulled her arm away.

  What the hell was he doing in the royal gardens anyway? After their meeting that morning, Christopher had dismissed the weasel and expected his immediate return to Tresdon.

  Yet there he stood, pawing at innocent young women in Christopher’s grounds.

  Why was the lady alone with the cad, in any case?

  Even as the question sprung to his mind, Christopher spotted both Lady Bonne and the Countess Tresdon further behind Lady Lucia and the count.

  Much further behind, in point of fact, and facing in the complete opposite direction.

  Never had Christopher seen such blatant machination.

  His temper, renowned for being even and calm, flared hot and fiery.

  What the hell was Lady Bonne playing at, allowing her niece to be manhandled?

  In his peripheral vision, Christopher saw Lady Penelope walking with Lady Alice in a different part of the garden, a gentleman he vaguely remembered as being one of the English peers in attendance accompanying them. But the man’s name escaped him and frankly, he didn’t much care who the fellow was at this moment in time.

  “Ah, watching one of your potential brides, are you?”

  Jacob’s voice sounded in Christopher’s ear, and he spun around to stare at the golden-haired man.

  “What?” he choked out.

  Had he somehow given himself away? Had he accidentally spoken aloud? Admitted his attraction to the girl?

  Jacob stared at him as though he’d grown another head.

  “Lady Penelope,” he finally answer
ed, nodding his head in the direction of the gardens. “One of the lucky list ladies.”

  Christopher scowled at the sarcasm even as relief swept through him. he hadn’t given himself away after all.

  “Look at her strolling in the garden, overflowing with criteria. You must be besotted.”

  “Jacob, you’re fired,” Christopher snapped.

  But the blackguard merely laughed.

  “If you’re going to waste time staring out the window at your guests, I’ll go and run over plans for the ball with the guards. Prince Alexander has confirmed his arrival date, too, so I’ll organise the escort for him and Lydia.”

  Christopher barely heard him. His entire focus was on Lucia and Tresdon.

  By now she’d marched ahead of the portly count, but the man was determined and soon caught up to her.

  “Where the hell are the guards for the gardens?” he snapped.

  “They are where they always are, Your Highness. Stationed at the entry and exit points.”

  There was a pause that Christopher didn’t even try to fill.

  “Is there a problem?” Jacob asked, his voice even.

  Christopher knew that it was deliberately so. Jacob Lauer was renowned for getting information out of people. That’s why he’d come to Christopher’s attention in the first place.

  “No, of course not.” Christopher knew he sounded defensive. “I just –”

  Before he could speak another word, Tresdon’s hand snaked around Lucia’s waist.

  “That’s it,” he spat, and without a glance in Jacob’s direction, he spun on his heel and darted from the room.

  “My lord, please remember yourself.”

  Lucia was hanging onto her temper by a thread.

  She’d suspected that the count would act in some inappropriate manner or other, but really! The constant touching in full view of anyone who happened to look in their direction was beyond the pale.

  She looked desperately around the garden, but Alice and Penelope had wandered toward the walled shrubbery, and Aunt Ivy and the dowager countess had their backs turned. Deliberately, Lucy was sure.

  A dart of betrayal shot through her at Aunt Ivy’s behaviour.