Affaire Royale (23 page)

From the photos and newspaper clippings she’d been given, Brie recognized the tall, striking brunette in the St. Laurent suit. She felt nothing but a moment’s blank panic.

What should she do? She could rush across the room or smile and wait. Should she be polite or warm, affectionate or amused? God, how she hated not simply knowing.

“She’s your closest friend,” Bennett murmured in his sister’s ear. “You’ve said you had brothers by birth but a sister by luck. That’s Christina.”

It was enough to ease the panic. Both women had begun their curtsies, the younger with an eye on the prince, the older with a grin for Brie. Falling back on instinct, Brie crossed the room, both hands outstretched. Christina met her halfway.

“Oh, Brie.” Laughing, Christina held her at arm’s length. Brie saw that her eyes were soft, but full of irony. The mouth was lovely in a smile, but it was strong. “You look wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!” Then Brie was caught in a hard hug. Christina smelled expensive and feminine and unfamiliar. But the panic didn’t return.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Brie let her cheek rest against Christina’s expertly swept-back hair. It wasn’t a lie, she discovered. She needed a friend—simply a friend, not family, not a lover. “You must be exhausted.”

“Oh, you know flying leaves me wired for hours. You’ve lost weight. How unkind of you.”

Brie was smiling when she drew away. “Only five pounds.”

“Only five.” Christina rolled her eyes. “I’ll have to tell you the horrors of that pricey little spa I went to a few months ago. I gained five. Prince Bennett.” Christina held out her hand, casually expecting it to be kissed. “Good God, is it the air in Cordina that makes everyone look so spectacular?”

Bennett didn’t disappoint her. But as his lips brushed her knuckles, his gaze shifted to Eve. “The air in Houston must be magic.”

Christina hadn’t missed the look. Like the kiss, she’d expected it. After all, Eve wasn’t a young woman any man could ignore. That’s what worried Christina. “Prince Bennett, I don’t believe you’ve met my sister, Eve.”

Bennett already had Eve’s hand. His lips lingered over it only seconds longer than they had over her sister’s. But a few seconds can be a long time. He noted the long fall of rich, dark hair, the dreamy, poetic blue eyes, the wide, full curve of her mouth. His young heart was easily lost.

“I’m happy to meet you, Your Highness.”

Her voice wasn’t that of a girl, but of a woman, as rich and dark as her hair.

“You look lovely, Eve.” Brie took Eve’s hands herself to ward off her brother. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“It’s just the way you described it.” Eve sent her a sudden, alarmingly effective smile—alarming because it was as natural as a sunrise. “I haven’t been able to look fast enough.”

“Then you should take your time.” Smoothly Bennett brushed his sister aside. “I’ll give you a tour. I’m sure Brie and Chris have lots to talk about.” With a half bow to the other women, he led Eve from the room. “What would you like to see first?”

“Well.” Not certain if she should frown or laugh, Brie looked after them. “He certainly moves fast.”

“Eve doesn’t creep along herself.” Christina tapped her foot a moment, then dismissed them. After all, she couldn’t play chaperone forever. “How busy are you?”

“Not very,” Brie told her, mentally rearranging her schedule. “Tomorrow I won’t have time to take a breath.”

“Then let’s take one now.” Christina linked an arm through hers. “Can we have tea and cookies in your rooms, the way we used to? I can’t believe it’s been a year. There’s so much to catch up on.”

If you only knew, Brie mused as she moved down the corridor with her.

*   *   *

“Tell me about Reeve,” Christina demanded as she plucked an iced pink cookie from the tray.

Brie ran her spoon around and around in her tea, though she’d forgotten to put any sugar in. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Everything,” Christina said dramatically. “I’m eaten up with curiosity.” She’d tossed off her shoes and had her legs curled under her. The excitement of the flight was beginning to ease into relaxation. But she’d already noticed that Brie wasn’t relaxed. She dismissed it—almost—as tension over the ball. “You certainly don’t have to tell me what he looks like.” She gestured with the half cookie, then nimbly popped it into her mouth. “I see his picture every time I pick up a magazine. Is he fun?”

Brie thought about the day on her boat, about the drives they sometimes took along the coast. She thought of the dinner parties they attended when he would murmur something in her ear that was rude and accurate. “Yes.” It made her smile. “Yes, he’s fun. And he’s strong. He’s clever and rather arrogant.”

“You’ve got it bad,” Christina murmured, watching her friend’s face. “I’m happy for you.”

Brie tried to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. Instead she lifted her cup. “You’ll meet him soon and be able to judge for yourself.”

“Hmmm.” Christina studied the tray of elegant cookies, lectured herself, then chose one, anyway. “That’s one of the things that’s bothered me.”

Instantly alert, Brie set down her tea again. “Bothered you?”

“Well, yes, Brie. Where
did
you meet him? I can’t believe you met this wonderful, clever, arrogant man last year when you were in the States, then stayed with me for three days in Houston without breathing a word.”

“Royalty’s trained to be discreet,” Brie said offhandedly, and pretended an interest in the cookies herself.

“Not that discreet,” Christina said over a full mouth. “In fact, I remember you telling me specifically that there wasn’t anyone in your life, that you weren’t interested in men particularly. And I agreed heartily, because
I’d just ended a disastrous affair.”

Brie felt herself getting in deeper. “I suppose I wasn’t entirely sure of my feelings—or his.”

“How did you work it out long distance?”

“There’s a connection through our fathers, you know.” She dug back to something Reeve had said to her once, something she’d nearly forgotten. “Actually, we met years ago, here in Cordina. It was my sixteenth birthday party.”

“You’re not going to tell me you fell for him then?”

Brie merely moved her shoulders. How could she confirm or deny what she didn’t know?

“Well.” Christina poured more tea in her cup. Because she found the idea so sweet, she forgot about details. “That certainly explains why you didn’t have much interest in all those gorgeous men in Paris. I’m happy for you.”

She laid her hand over Brie’s lightly, briefly. It was a very simple, very casual touch of friendship. Brie’s eyes filled so that she had to fight to clear them.

“I’m glad he was here for you after …” Christina trailed off, no longer interested in her tea. When she set her legs down, she touched Brie’s hand again, but the touch was firmer. “Brie, I wish you’d talk to me about it. The press is so vague. I know they haven’t caught the people responsible, and I can’t stand it.”

“The police are investigating.”

“But they haven’t caught anyone. Can you rest easily until they do? I can’t.”

“No.” Unable to sit, Brie rose, linking her hands. “No, I can’t. I’ve tried to go on with the daily business of life, but it’s like waiting, just waiting without knowing.”

“Oh, Brie.” Chris was at her side, hugging her. “I don’t mean to pressure you, but we’ve always shared everything. I was so frightened for you.” A tear brimmed over, but she brushed at it impatiently. “Damn, I told myself I wouldn’t do this, but I can’t help it. Every time I think about what it was like to pick up the paper and see the headline—”

Brie took a step back from the emotion. “You shouldn’t think about it. It’s over.”

The tears cleared, but now there was puzzlement. “I’m sorry.” Hurt, but unsure why, Christina looked down for her bag. “It’s too easy to forget sometimes who you are and what rules you have to live by.”

“No.” Torn between instinct and a promise, Brie hesitated. “Don’t go, Chris. I need—oh, God, I do need to talk to someone.” Brie looked at her then and chose. “We’re very good friends, aren’t we?”

Puzzlement and hurt became confusion. “Brie, you know—”

“No, just tell me.”

Christina set her bag back down again. “Eve’s my sister,” she said calmly. “And I love her. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for her. I don’t love you any less.”

Brie closed her eyes a moment. “Sit down, please.” She waited, then sat down beside Christina. Taking one long breath, she told her friend everything.

Perhaps Christina paled a bit, perhaps her eyes widened, but she interrupted Brie only twice to clarify. When the story was finished, she sat in absolute silence for a moment. But, then, volcanoes often sit quietly.

“It stinks.”

She said the words in her soft Texas drawl so that Brie blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“It stinks,” Christina repeated. “Politics usually does, and Americans are the first to say so, but this really stinks.”

For some reason, Christina’s sturdy, inelegant opinion made her comfortable. Brie smiled and reached for a cookie without thinking. “I can’t really blame politics. After all, I agreed to everything.”

“Well, what else were you going to do, for heaven’s sake?” Exasperated, Christina rose and walked over to a small cherry wood commode. She discovered she wanted badly to break something. Anything. “You were weak, disoriented and frightened.”

“Yes,” Brie murmured. “Yes, I was.” She watched Christina rummage and locate an exquisite little decanter.

“I need a brandy.” Without ceremony, Christina poured. “You?”

“Mmmm.” Brie only nodded an assent. “I didn’t even know that was there.”

Christina spilled a bit of brandy over the side of a glass, swore and blotted the drop with a finger. “You’ll remember.” She walked back, and her eyes were bright and strong when she handed Brie a snifter. “You’ll remember because you’re too stubborn not to.”

And for the first time Brie believed it, completely. With something like relief she touched her glass to Christina’s. “Thanks.”

“If I hadn’t let myself get talked out of it, I would have been here weeks ago.” With an unintelligible mutter, Christina sat on the arm of the sofa. “Your father, that Loubet and the wonderful Reeve MacGee should all be rounded up, corralled and horsewhipped. I’d like to give all three of them a piece of my mind.”

Brie laughed into her brandy. This was what she’d needed, she realized, to counterbalance that fierce protection from the men who cared for her. “I think you could do it.”

“Damn right I could. I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“Actually, I have.”

“That’s more like it.”

“The trouble is, my father does what he thinks best for me and the country. Loubet does what he thinks best for the country. I can’t fault either of them.”

“And Reeve?”

“And Reeve.” Brie looked up from her glass. “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh.” Christina drew the word out as she studied Brie’s face. She’d already made up her mind that she’d stay right there in Cordina until everything was resolved. Now she reaffirmed it. “So that part of it is real.”

“No.” She didn’t let herself look down at her ring. “Only my feelings are real. The rest is just as I told you.”

“Ah, well, that’s no problem.”

Though she didn’t want pity, she had been expecting a bit of sympathy. “It’s not?”

“Of course not. If you want him, you’ll get him.”

Both amusement and interest flickered over her face. “Will I? How?”

Christina took a quick swallow of brandy. “If you don’t remember all the men you had to brush out from
around your feet, I’m not going to tell you. It isn’t good for my ego. Anyway, they’re not worth it.” She touched her glass to Brie’s.

“Who isn’t?”

“Men.” Christina crossed her stockinged feet and examined her toes. “Men aren’t worth it. Louses, every single one.”

Somehow Brie felt they’d had this conversation before. A laugh bubbled in her throat. “Every one?”

“Every single one, bless ’em.”

“Chris.” This time Brie reached out. “I’m glad you came.”

Chris leaned over and brushed her cheek. “Me, too. Now why don’t you come to my room and help me pick out something devastating for dinner tonight?”

*   *   *

When Reeve came to her rooms, she wasn’t there. He saw the depleted tray of cookies, the cooling tea. And the empty brandy snifters. Interesting, he thought. He knew Brie drank little, and almost never during the day. He thought she had either been relaxed or upset.

He’d been told Brie was entertaining Christina Hamilton, of the Houston Hamiltons. Rocking back on his heels, he studied the remains of the little tea party. He’d done some careful research on Brie’s old college friend. They had passed the point where he’d take any chances. A call to a friend in D.C. who owed him a favor, and Reeve had everything from Christina Hamilton’s birthday to her bank balance. He’d turned up nothing that shouldn’t have been there. Yet he felt uneasy.

Not uneasy, he admitted as he wandered around Brie’s sitting room. Jealous. Jealous because she was spending time with someone else. It was laughable. He hated to think himself so tied to a woman that they couldn’t spend an afternoon apart. He hated to think himself that unreasonable—or that sunk.

It was her safety, Reeve reminded himself. His feelings for her were tangled in concern. It was natural—but
it wasn’t comfortable. When there wasn’t any more reason for concern, perhaps his feelings could change. It was logical. It would probably be for the best. It was, he thought ruefully, extremely unlikely.

He could smell her even now, though the room was delicate with the scent of the flowers that were always in vases here and there. It was here, that very feminine, very sexy, very French fragrance that habitually clung to her. He could picture her sitting on the love seat, sipping a cup of tea, nibbling at a cookie, perhaps, but without any real interest. She ate too little.

There had been strain. He knew it—hated it. She would feel dishonest talking with her old friend who was a stranger now.

Is that why he felt so strongly? he wondered. He was, of all the people in her life, the only one who had no strong ties from the past she couldn’t remember. There weren’t years of memories between them, drawing them together, pulling them apart. There was only now.