Heart's Demand (31 page)

“Perhaps you should have considered that before you sold them for your thirty pieces of silver. Or was it gold? Yes, it was gold.”

“So…just like that, we’re splitting up?”

“Yes, Chase, just like that.”

“Our Egyptian adventure is ending with a whimper.”

“It definitely is,” Bryce agreed.

“It started with such a bang. Remember how excited we were when we left London? Shouldn’t we celebrate the conclusion? Shouldn’t we toast or reminisce?”

“I’m busy, Chase, and you need to move out of this villa. After how you conspired with Miss Clementi, I can’t believe Valois hasn’t thrown you out.”

Chase huffed with indignation. “You can’t storm off in a snit. This entire mess involves naught more than some foreign females and their internal squabbling. You know better than to let a woman come between us.”

“If that is what you presume this is about, you’re more of an idiot than I ever suspected.”

“You don’t have to insult me.”

“Then don’t act like a dunce.” Bryce’s temper flared. He was struggling to tamp down his emotions, but he was hurt and livid and couldn’t keep his frustration bottled up inside. “Kat and I were planning to wed!”

“You and the Princess?” Chase snorted with derision. “She never could have married you. Not if she’s a royal. She wouldn’t have stooped so low.”

“Exactly, Chase. I assumed her affection was real, so I’ve been played for a fool by everyone. Including you, and you’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not, Chase. That’s the problem. You’ve never been sorry for anything. Stop saying that you are.”

“I hate that we’re quarreling. Let me buy your ticket home, and we’ll work it out on the way.”

“I’m not interested. For now I’m too furious with you, but I expect I’ll eventually calm down. You head for London, and I’ll show up someday. We’ll talk then.”

Chase stared at Bryce, and he must have noted Bryce’s irritation and resolve.

“I’m already packed,” Chase said. “I’m leaving in an hour to catch a ferry to Alexandria. If you change your mind about accompanying me, I’ll be in my room.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

Bryce marched off, and thankfully Chase didn’t call out a final time.

He wondered if he’d ever see Chase again. It was always dangerous to travel, dangerous to be on the high seas, crashing through the waves. No passenger could ever be sure he’d reach his destination. He probably should have glanced back, should have taken a last look just in case, but he didn’t. He was too aggravated.

He went in search of the butler and was led to Valois. He was in his private garden, sitting at a table, drinking a glass of wine. He appeared cool and composed as ever, and if he was suffering any upset over the incident in his courtyard, there was no sign of it.

“Ah, my dear Bryce,” he said as Bryce sat across from him, “the Earl of Radcliffe. How delighted I was to hear you proclaim your heritage yesterday. Your father would have been very glad.”

“Fat lot of good it did me,” Bryce grumbled.

“Your heart is broken,” Valois commiserated like the Frenchman he was.

“I’ll get over it.”

“But she was worth it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Bryce’s feelings over his failed engagement were still too raw to explore. He wouldn’t discuss Kat. And he definitely wouldn’t parley over Princess Morovsky. It would be pointless.

“I’d rather not dither about what transpired.”

Valois gave an elegant shrug of his shoulder, but he couldn’t let it go. “It had to be hard to learn she would wed her cousin.”

“It wasn’t one of my better moments.”

“I’ve met her cousin.”

“Have you?”

“He’s a pompous, incompetent dolt. I doubt his countrymen will allow him to have the throne for long.”

“Really, Valois, I don’t care about any of this.”

“Yes, but might you be curious about some servant gossip?”

Bryce didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What gossip?”

“It seems our Princess was coerced into the marriage.”

“She didn’t seem all that coerced to me.”

“No, you’re wrong. Miss Clementi had the children kidnapped, and she told the Princess that—should she decline to come home—her brother would be killed.”

“Killed!”

“Yes, and Kristof would marry her little sister instead.”

“Isabelle is only ten. That’s disgusting.”

“Yes, isn’t it? Princess Morovsky felt she had no choice but to comply.”

“Everyone has choices. She could have refused.”

“You saw her with her siblings. Can you actually suppose she would have abandoned them? Over the past year, she gave up everything in order to keep them safe from just this sort of eventuality.”

Bryce squirmed in his chair. He was furious with Kat and wouldn’t listen to any details that might excuse her behavior. She was an adult. She could have confided in him, and he would have helped her.

But no. She’d acceded to her cousin’s demands, had let Miss Clementi torment and blackmail her, and she’d prepared to leave without a goodbye. If he hadn’t stumbled on her when she was scurrying out, she’d have gone without his being apprised.

How could she justify such conduct? How could Bryce forgive her for it?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he glumly stated.

“I realize that, but I hate to have you thinking badly of her. I knew her mother. She was a fine woman, trapped in awful circumstances.”

“What awful circumstances?”

“She was an American and not cut out for life as a royal. She tried her best, but she was miserably unhappy. I imagine Katarina will be the same.”

“She appeared eager to be a queen.”

“No, she was putting on a brave front. It’s what royals are taught to do, and don’t forget I’ve met her cousin. No woman in the world would willingly marry him—even to be a queen.”

“Don’t try to make me feel sorry for her. It won’t work.”

“I’m sure it won’t. You’re much too level-headed to be swayed by romantic sentiment.”

“Yes, and I’m too exhausted to be a knight in shining armor.”

“I understand completely. I simply thought it would be wonderful if
someone
cared about what happens to her and her siblings. Not you of course but someone.”

“Stop it, Valois. I’m departing for England, and I won’t be traveling anywhere near Parthenia.”

“Not if you sail, but if you rode cross country, it’s an easy detour. Have you seen much of Europe? The Alps are beautiful this time of year.”

“Stop it!” Bryce said more vehemently. “I won’t be anyone’s savior, and I most especially won’t rescue a reluctant princess from her ivory tower. No matter how you harangue, you’ll never convince me. It would be a fool’s errand.”

Yet even as he verbally refused to consider it, a small voice nagged,
Why not ride through Parthenia? Why not speak to her?

What if Valois was correct? What if she was in desperate need of a rescue? What if she was looking over her shoulder, watching for Bryce and certain he would arrive? What if she kept watching, but he never did?

The questions fired in his mind, but he shoved them away.

He wouldn’t be goaded into actions he didn’t wish to take. He wouldn’t let maudlin emotion spur him to recklessness. Even if he could help her, even if he could snatch her away from Parthenia, she could never wed him. She was a princess, which meant she was like an angel in Heaven. She could be adored and worshipped from afar, but that was it.

“I have a letter for you,” Valois said, yanking him out of his despicable reverie.

“A letter? My goodness. What a marvelous surprise.”

“I’m predicting it’s from your sister.”

“Evangeline! Finally.”

While he’d been away from England, mail service had been sporadic and unreliable. In total he’d received exactly three letters, and none of them had been from people with whom he’d truly wanted to correspond.

Valois handed it over, waiting silently as Bryce broke the seal.

“Was I right?” Valois asked. “Is it from your sister?”

“Yes.” Bryce skimmed the words, knowing he’d pour over it a thousand times in the coming days. As he reached the third paragraph, he paused and murmured, “Oh, my Lord.”

He must have appeared stricken, because Valois frowned. “It’s not bad news, I hope.”

“No, no. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”

“You’re scaring me, Bryce. What has happened?”

Feeling pole-axed, Bryce stared up at Valois. “She’s found my lost brothers. She’s found the twins, Michael and Matthew.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my Lord,” Valois muttered too. “How? Where?”

“They’ve been hiding in plain sight. One is the owner of a notorious gambling club in London. He’s something of a brigand, with a reputation for violence and deceit.”

“A criminal? It should make for some interesting family suppers. Which one is this?”

“Michael.”

“And the other?”

“Matthew is a captain in the King’s army.”

“How on earth would he have afforded it? He must have had a stable upbringing. Who provided it? Does she explain how he managed to climb so high?”

“No, she says she’ll write more in subsequent letters, but she was excited for me to know immediately.” He scanned down to the bottom. “She says she still has no information about Mother’s current condition, but she learned Mother’s ship arrived safely in Australia and she survived the journey.”

“That’s splendid, Bryce. I’m glad for you.”

“So…she could be alive, as Evangeline always insisted.”

Valois flashed an enigmatic smile. “Yes, she could definitely be alive.”

Bryce sat back in his chair, and he sighed heavily as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Matthew and Michael,” he mused, as if trying out the names. “I’ve crossed paths with Michael once or twice. I’ve wagered in that gambling club he owns. He’s a dark-haired, blue-eyed devil, renowned for his cunning, bravery, and obsessive drive to succeed.”

“Just as your father was.” Valois sighed too, as if charmed by the revelations. “This is all too impossible.”

“Yes, and with how I stumbled on Evangeline last year, it’s as if it was all meant to be. I told Evangeline to search for the twins, but I never actually thought she’d find them.”

“I’m convinced your parents are watching over all of you.”

“Yes, and if our luck continues, we’ll locate Mother too.”

Bryce rippled with an odd swell of emotions. He was impatient to be home so he could meet his brothers, but sad too that he couldn’t tell Kat what had occurred. Over the past few weeks, they’d spent every second together. He’d gotten in the habit of discussing everything with her.

But Kat had never existed. She’d been a figment of Bryce’s imagination, and while he hadn’t been looking, Princess Morovsky had swooped in and taken Kat’s place. Princess Morovsky was a stranger, an exotic foreigner, who had nothing in common with Bryce and who could never understand the simple pleasures of his small world.

Yet even as he tried to persuade himself that he and the Princess were too different, that little voice was back, reminding him it was a lie. Kat might have been a royal princess, but in the period he’d been with her, they’d been very close.

A terrifying prospect rattled him, one he’d conveniently forgotten in the hours since Kat had turned into the Princess.

They had rushed their wedding night, had made love several times, with Bryce expecting to wed her the next day. Had it dawned on her that she might arrive in Parthenia, deflowered and with someone else’s child growing in her belly?

If she was increasing, she wouldn’t be able to conceal it for long. When her condition was discovered, what would happen to her? By all accounts, her cousin was a fiend. If she couldn’t marry him, what might he do to her? The answers to that question were frightening and vexing.

“I’m leaving for England, Valois. I have the wages I earned from protecting Princess Morovsky, so I’m in financial shape to travel.”

“I know. My servants are very good at apprising me of every detail.”

“You’ve helped me in incalculable ways.”

Valois waved a dismissive hand. “It was no trouble.”

“I’m very grateful to you.”

“I’m honored I could be of service to Julian’s son.”

“I will always call you my friend,” Bryce told him. “If you ever need anything, contact me. If I can provide it, I will.”

“You’re a fine man, Bryce. You father would be proud.”

“Yes, I think he would be.”

“On your journey home, will you reflect on reclaiming your title from your kin?”

“I probably will forge ahead. I’m starting to want it very much.”

He was tired of being scorned for his lowly birth, of being viewed as an ordinary person, when in fact he was extraordinary. His parents were Anne and Julian Blair, his blue blood the best he could have received. He’d been born to be an earl, and it was an insult to his father’s memory to deny it.

When he hid his status, he was complicit in his grandfather’s dastardly sins. When he kept the truth from being revealed, he kept the man’s crimes from being exposed.

In Bryce’s opinion, one of his Scottish relatives could declare himself Earl of Radcliffe, but from here on out, Bryce would declare it too. If his cousins had a problem with that choice, they could tell him to be silent. And Bryce would tell them exactly what he thought too. He would tell them what he
knew
.

As if his father was suddenly present, he felt that comforting hand on his shoulder again, and for just a moment he shut his eyes and relished the sensation.

A vision stirred from when he was a tiny boy. His father had burst into their house after being so long away. He’d grabbed Bryce and thrown him up in the air.

“How’s my little lord?” his father had asked. “Look how you’ve grown while I was away. You weren’t supposed to grow!”

Bryce had laughed with joy, and the twins had been in the corner, laughing too. They were all Julian Blair’s sons. The three of them would always make him proud.

His father’s aura faded away, and Bryce gazed at Valois.

“I miss my Father,” he said.