Affaire Royale (22 page)

“Your Highness.” Loubet stepped onto the terrace, favoring his hip only slightly. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

He was, but her manners were too ingrained. Brie smiled as she held out her hands. In any case, she had discovered over the dinner they’d shared that she liked Loubet’s young, pretty wife very much. And she’d found it sweet that the stuffy, practical minister of state should be so obviously in love.

“You look well, Monsieur.”

“
Merci, Vôtre Altesse
.” He brought her hand up, giving it an avuncular brush of lips. “I must say, you’re blooming. Being home is the best medicine,
oui
?”

“I was thinking”—she turned back to her view of Cordina—“that it feels like home. Not always inside, but out here. Have you come to see my father, Monsieur Loubet?”

“Yes, I have an appointment with him in a moment.”

“Tell me, you’ve worked with my father for many years. Are you also his friend?”

“I’ve considered myself so, Your Highness.”

Always so conservative, Brie thought with a flash of impatience. Always so diplomatic. “Come, Loubet, without the amnesia, this is certainly a question I wouldn’t have to ask. And after all,” she reminded him with a slow lift of brow, “it is on your advice that my problem remains a discreet one. So tell me, has my father friends, and are you one of them?”

He didn’t hesitate, but paused. Loubet was a man who would always gather his thoughts together, sift through them meticulously, then put them into words. “There are few great men in the world, Your Highness.
Some of these are good, as well. Prince Armand is one of these. Great men make enemies, good men draw friends. Your father has the burden of doing both.”

“Yes.” With a sigh, she rested against the wall. “I think I understand that.”

“I’m not Cordinian.” Loubet smiled as he looked out over the city with her. “By law, the minister of state is French. I love my own country. I can tell you frankly that I would not serve yours but for my feelings toward your father.”

“I wish I were so sure of my feelings,” she murmured.

“Your father loves you.” He said it gently, so gently Brie had to close her eyes or weep. “Have no doubt there is nothing more important to Prince Armand than your welfare.”

“You make me ashamed.”

“Your Highness—”

“No, rightly so. I have a great deal to think about.” Straightening from the wall, Brie held out her hand again. “Thank you, Loubet.”

He bowed formally, making her smile. Then Brie forgot him as she turned back to the view and thought of her father.

Neither of them had paid any attention to the young man arranging pots of flowers farther down the terrace. Or the sturdy maid dusting glass just inside the doors.

Armand was keeping something from her. Of that she was certain. She knew nothing, however, of his reasons. Perhaps they were good ones. Yet even as she conceded this, the resentment didn’t fade. Whatever her father or anyone else thought she should or shouldn’t do, she’d have to find out.

Reeve found her there—after looking everywhere else he could think of. He had to control both his impatience and his relief as he stepped onto the terrace. Armand had assured him Brie was looked after—and he noticed the two people going about their business not too close to the princess, but close enough. But the prince had been cautious enough to enlist his help from the beginning, as well.

After their conversation, Reeve understood better why Armand had called in the help of an outsider, one
whose feelings for Cordina and the royal family were more or less secondhand. Or had been, Reeve thought as he stood looking at Gabriella. Now more than ever he needed his objectivity. And now more than ever he found it all but impossible to find.

“Brie.”

She turned slowly, as if she’d known he was there. Her hair was ruffled a bit by the wind, but her eyes were calm. “The first night we walked here I had questions. So many of them. Now, weeks later, too few of them have been answered.” She looked down at the rings on her hands—conflicting emotions, conflicting loyalties. “You won’t tell me what you spoke of with my father after I left.”

It wasn’t a question, but Reeve knew he had to answer it. “Your father thinks of you before he thinks of anything else, if that helps.”

“And you?”

“I’m here for you.” He came to her so that they stood as they had once before, under the moonlight. “There’s no other reason.”

“For me.” She looked at him, searching, fighting not to let her heart lead her mind. “Or to satisfy an old family bond?”

“How much do you want?” he demanded. When he grabbed her hands he wasn’t thinking of how small and delicate they were but of how strong, how searing her eyes could be. “My feelings for you have nothing to do with family bonds. And my being here now has everything to do with my feelings for you.”

But what were they? she wondered. He seemed so careful not to tell her. Was it so difficult for him to say, “I care”? Brie looked down at their joined hands. Perhaps for him it was, she reflected. Not all fairy tales ended happily ever after. Reeve wasn’t a knight galloping to sweep up the princess and carry her off. He was a man. She hadn’t given her heart to a knight.

“I want this to be over,” she said encapsulating everything from her blank past to the uncertain present. “I want to feel safe again.”

The hell with objectivity, with plans. He took her by the shoulders. “I’ll take you to America for a while.”

Puzzled, she put a hand to his arm, holding on or holding off, she didn’t know. “To America?”

“You can stay with me on the farm until this whole business is over.”

Until.
The word reminded her that some things had to end. Just end. She dropped her hand. “This whole business begins with me. I can’t run from it.”

“There’s no need for you to stay here.” Suddenly he saw how simple it could be. She’d be away. He could keep her safe. Armand would simply have to alter his plan.

“There’s every need for me to stay. My life is lost here somewhere. How can I find it thousands of miles away?”

“When you’re ready to remember, you’ll remember. It won’t matter where you are.”

“It matters to me.” She drew away from him then, backing up until she was braced against the wall. Pride came back, as much a part of her inheritance as the color of her eyes. “Do you think I’m a coward? Do you think I’d turn my back and walk away from the people who used me? Has my father asked you to do this so I won’t ask any more questions?”

“You know better.”

“I know nothing,” she retorted. “Nothing except that all the men in my life seem compelled to shield me from what I don’t want to be shielded from. This morning you said we’d work together.”

“I meant it.”

She watched him carefully. “And now?”

“I still mean it.” But he didn’t tell her what he knew. He didn’t tell her what he felt.

“Then we will.” But she didn’t tell him what she’d learned. She didn’t tell him what she needed.

She did step forward, even as he did. She did reach for him as he reached for her. They held each other close, both knowing that so much lay between them.

“I wish we were alone,” she murmured. “Really alone, as we were the day on the boat.”

“We’ll go sailing tomorrow.”

She shook her head before she pressed her face harder against him. “I can’t. There’ll be no time between
now and the ball for anything. So many obligations, Reeve.”

For both of us, he thought. “After the ball, then.”

“After.” She kept her eyes closed for only another moment. “Will you make me a promise? A foolish one.”

He kissed one temple, then the other. “How foolish?”

“Always practical.” Smiling, she tilted her head back. “When the blanks are gone and this is over, really over, will you spend the day with me on the water?”

“That doesn’t seem so foolish.”

“You say that now.” She linked her hands around his neck. She’d hold him there, if only for a moment. “But promise.”

“I promise.”

With a sigh, she melted against him. “I’ll hold you to your word,” she warned.

When their mouths met, neither of them wanted to go beyond the moment to that last day alone on the water.

“So I told Professor Sparks that a man would have to be made of stone to concentrate on Homer when there was a woman who looked like Lisa Barrow in the same classroom.”

“Did he sympathize?” Brie asked Bennett absently as she watched the freshly cleaned chandelier being raised back in place.

“Are you kidding? He’s got the heart of a prune.” Grinning, he stuck his hands in his back pockets. “But I got a date with the divine Miss Barrow.”

Brie laughed as she checked the long list of notes she had on a clipboard. “I could tell you that you aren’t going to Oxford to thicken your little black book.”

“But you won’t.” Easily he slung an arm over her shoulders. “You never lecture. I got a look at the guest list. It was a pleasure to see that the luscious Lady Lawrence will make it.”

That got her attention. Brie lowered the clipboard and scowled at him. “Bennett, Lady Alison Lawrence is nearly thirty and divorced.”

He gave her his charming choirboy look that had wickedness just around the edges. “So?”

Brie shook her head. Had he been born precocious? she wondered. “Maybe I should lecture.”

“Now leave that to Alex. He’s so much better at it.”

“So I’ve discovered,” she murmured.

“Has he been giving you a hard time?”

She was frowning again as she watched the next chandelier begin its journey up. “Does he usually?”

“It’s just his way.” The loyalty was there, too strong to waver.

“Prince Perfect.”

His face brightened. “Why, you remember—”

“Dr. Franco told me.”

“Oh.” His arm tightened briefly, both in reassurance and disappointment. “I didn’t have much time to talk to you last night when I got in. I’ve wanted to ask you how you were.”

“I wish I could tell you—along the windows, please,” she directed as men brought in two twenty-foot tables. They’ll be covered with white linen, she thought as she checked her clipboard again, then laden with little delicacies to help the guests get through the long night of the ball. “Physically, I’ve been given the nod, with reluctance. I think Dr. Franco would like to pamper me awhile longer. Everything else is complicated.”

He took her hand, turning the diamond so that the facets caught the light. “I guess this is one of those complications.”

She tensed, then relaxed. He could feel it. “Only temporarily. Things are bound to fall into place soon.” She thought of the dreams, of the thermos. “Bennett, I’ve been wanting to ask you about Nanny. Do you think she’s well?”

“Nanny?” He gave her a quick look of surprise. “Has she been ill? No one told me.”

“No, not ill.” Brie hesitated because the war of loyalties confused her. Why didn’t she simply tell what she suspected about her old nurse? Tell and be done with it? “But she’s quite old now, and people often become odd or …”

“Senile? Nanny?” This time he laughed as he squeezed her hand. “She’s got a mind like a brick. If she’s been fussing around you too much, it’s only because she feels entitled.”

“Of course.” Her doubts didn’t fade, but she kept them to herself. She’d watch and wait, as she’d promised herself.

“Brie, there’s a rumor running around that you and Reeve are the love match of the decade.”

“Oh?” She only raised a brow, but her thumb came around to worry the diamond on her finger. “Apparently we’re playing the game well.”

“Is it—a game, I mean?”

“Not you, too?” Impatient, she walked away from him toward the terrace doors. “I’ve done this round with Alexander already.”

“It’s not a matter of pushing my exalted nose in.” Equally impatient, he followed her. Though they were close to an argument, they kept their voices low. Servants were notorious for their excellent hearing. “It’s only natural for me to be concerned.”

“Would you be so concerned if the engagement were genuine?” Her voice was cool, too cool. That alone gave Bennett the answer to his question. But it didn’t tell him whether he should be relieved or disturbed.

“I feel responsible,” he said after a moment. “After all, it was more or less my idea, and—”

“Yours?” This time she set her clipboard down on a table with a snap.

Bennett fumbled a bit, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. If there was one thing he avoided, it was an argument with a woman. He was bound to lose. “Well, I did point out to Father that it would look a little odd for Reeve to be escorting you everywhere, living here, and … Hell.” Frustrated by her calm, icy look, he dragged a hand through his hair. “There had been all kinds of talk.
Commérage
.”

“What do I care for gossip?”

“You’ve never had to deal with that kind before.” His voice wasn’t bitter, but resigned. “Look, Brie, I might be the youngest of the three of us, but I’m the one with the most experience with the tacky little tabloids.”

“Justifiably, it would seem.”

He, too, could become very dignified. “Yes, quite justifiably. But while I’ve chosen to live my life a certain way, you haven’t. I couldn’t stand seeing your name and picture splashed all over, sneered over. You can be angry if you like. I’d rather have you angry than hurt ever again.”

She could have been furious with him. Brie understood it was her right to be. She could have told him, stiffly and finally, to stay out of her affairs. That by interfering, he’d made her more vulnerable than any scandal would. The ring on her hand was a prop—a support. One day she’d look down and it would be gone. It would be over.

She could have been angry, but love poured through her, warm and sweet. He was so young, and so inherently kind. “Damn you, Bennett.” But her arms went around him. “I should be furious with you.”

He rested his cheek against her temple. “I couldn’t know you’d fall in love with him.”

She could deny it and save some pride. Instead she shook her head and sighed. “No, neither could I.”

Just as Brie drew back, she saw a footman escort two women into the room. She’d left instructions that Christina Hamilton and her sister were to be brought to her as soon as they arrived.