Page 12 of A Problem Princess

“Who are you?” she managed to choke out. She struggled to keep herself from fainting away completely as the room spun around her and black spots flashed before her eyes.

“No one important.” He carried her to the settee and placed her carefully onto the cushions. Then he clawed at his neck to untie his cravat and tore it off. “Butyoumust be, or he wouldn’t have come after you like that.”

She stared blankly at her arm as dull pain began to throb from her elbow to her fingertips. “He wanted to kidnap me…”

When he began to remove her glove, pain shot up her arm and landed in her chest with an alarming thud. She gasped and tried to pull away.

The blond stranger held firm to her arm and persisted in stripping off her glove. The white satin was soaked scarlet with blood. “No,” he countered softly. “He had no plans to kidnap you.”

Stunned, she didn’t try to fight him as he quickly wrapped the cravat around her forearm and tied it off with a tight knot to stanch the bleeding. The pain pulsed through her, growing sharper with every pounding heartbeat. “Then…why?”

His green eyes rose from her arm and seemed to bore into hers. “He wanted to murder you.”

“Oh God!” She pressed her good hand against her belly and turned her face away. She was going to be sick!

He took her chin in his fingers and gently turned her back to look at him. “Listen to me,” he urged in a controlled but intense and insistent voice. “In ten seconds, every guard in Carlton House is going to storm into this room. They’re going to arrest me first and ask questions later. You have to tell them exactly what happened and stop them from taking me away, understand?”

Her eyes darted to the dead body lying crumpled on the floor, and her stomach roiled. “I–I can’t… They’ll never believe…”

“Oh yes, you can.” His eyes shone with determination. “A brave woman like you who put up a fight like that—you didn’t even faint.”

“I might yet.”

A deep chuckle rose from his throat. “What’s your name?”

“Cordelia,” she answered quietly.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” The compliment did little to reassure her, especially as the pounding of running boots in the marble hall grew closer. “Remember, Cordelia. I’m counting on you to save me.”

“Why would you—” The aching in her arm began to thump as fiercely as her heart, each pulse of blood shooting agonizingly up her arm and into her chest. She pulled in a deep breath to tamp down the pain and tried again. “Even if they arrest you, you’ll be set free in the morning. They’ll only question you, and—”

He placed his fingers to her lips to silence her. Intensity radiated from him. “If they take me away tonight, I won’t live to see the dawn.”

He cupped her face in his hands. Then, stunning the daylights out of her, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers. The gentle kiss jolted her attention back to the urgency of the moment.

“Save me, Cordelia.”

Guards burst into the room. They rushed forward, stepping over the dead body to grab the blond man by both arms. He didn’t fight them as they yanked him to his feet and pulled him toward the door, yet his eyes never left hers.

Cordelia sat up. Fear and uncertainty gripped her, but so did a blossoming courage. He believed in her, this stranger who had no idea who she was. He’d called her beautiful and brave, said his life lay in her hands…

“Stop,” she called out. “Leave him here.” She stood, holding her wounded arm in front of her. Her spine straightened, and she lifted her head with as much imperial dignity as she could summon. “Stop—I order you!”

The guards stopped and turned back to stare at her.

“I am Her Serene Highness Princess Cordelia of Monrovia.” She leveled an imperious look at them that brooked no argument or disobedience. “This man saved my life. And Icommandyou to release him this instant!”

The blond gentleman smiled with relief as the guards stared at her, blinked with startled confusion, and then hesitatingly let him go. Silently, he mouthed, “Thank you.”

Five

Marcus looked down at the dead body at his feet. “I leave you alone for two minutes, and you kill a man in the prince regent’s drawing room.”

“I tried not to,” Clayton returned, mirroring Marcus’s low voice and crossed arms. “But he didn’t cooperate.”

Both men contemplated the dead man who still lay on the floor where he’d fallen. He couldn’t be removed until the welcome ceremony was over, all the guests gone, and the servants sent to their quarters. But at least he and Marcus had thought to cover the body with one of the drapes from the window. Thank God the dark blue damask was too thick for blood to soak through.

The ceremony was underway in the main reception rooms, but the guests were oblivious to what had occurred here. The sound of Clayton’s pistol had been hidden by the orchestra, and the drawing room was far enough away from the reception area that the guests didn’t see the guards come running. Under Marcus’s orders, the master of ceremonies announced regretfully that Princess Cordelia was exhausted from her travels and would be unable to join them this evening. The crowd was disappointed, yet the ceremony proceeded on as planned, with footmen lubricating the guests with trays of expensive champagne, claret, and port that further dulled their senses.