Page 84 of A Problem Princess

She stared down at her fist, her vision blurring with disbelief and anger.

“They’ll descend upon London for his address, in which your uncle will most likely announce that you have been killed because the government and crown couldn’t keep you safe. He’ll make it clear exactly how inept and incompetent the current royal family has become, filled with madness and corruption.” He released her hand and dropped his arm to his side. “Before his speech ends, there will be peers and MPs at all levels standing up in Parliament and calling for the renouncement of the current royal family and their replacement by Parliamentary decree.” He paused to let that sink in. “And how convenient that when the MPs look around to find a new monarch, the next non-Hanoverian heir is standing right there in Westminster, in front of an empty throne.”

“No.” She shook her head and shoved the necklace at him. She pounded her fist against his chest until he had no choice but to take it back. “My uncle is a ruling prince! Why would he go to the extremes you’re accusing him of when he’s already a monarch?”

His countenance darkened with sympathy. “Even men who are already rich and powerful want more money and power. You once said so yourself,” he reminded her quietly. “Theveryworst among them will do anything to have it, including destroying a government.”

No…no, no, no!Shaking her head hard, she stepped back to put distance between them, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as imperiously as possible.

“I know why you’re doing this.” She wanted to sound forceful, but her voice emerged as little more than a trembling breath. “You’re still trying to prove yourself to your father and the men who executed him, even now, even after last night.” She swallowed hard to keep back the overwhelming emotions whirling inside her. “You still have to be the most loyal, most patriotic man in England, don’t you? But to go so far as to accuse my uncle of this, just to prove yourself to a dead man…oh, you are wrong. You are sovery wrong!”

Clayton said nothing, his green eyes looking back at her without reproach.

“When we return to London and my uncle sees I am unharmed,” she announced as firmly as possible, “then you will know exactly how wrong you are.”

“Princess,” he agreed quietly, “I certainly hope so.”

Beneath his somber gaze, her heart ripped in two.

She knew at that moment she’d lost him.

Twenty-Five

Eighteen hours later, Cordelia let out a long breath as their hired carriage finally arrived in Mayfair and stopped in front of a narrow town house. The bells of St George’s rang out the late hour across the dark streets.

“Oh,” Lady Agnes Sinclair said in surprise as she climbed into the compartment and dropped onto the seat across from Cordelia and Clayton.

“Ohmy,” Viscountess Bromley agreed as she plopped down next to Lady Agnes.

Both aunties gaped as they slid their gazes back and forth between the two. Then they turned to look at each other. Two sets of brows rose knowingly, and the ladies nodded in silent agreement. Then, with their surprise at finding Cordelia alone with Clayton over, they eased back against the squabs in the shadows cast by the light of the single carriage lamp and smiled like two cats who’d gotten into the cream.

No, Cordelia decided as her chest tightened with trepidation, like two cats who’d gotten into both the cream and the meat larder, then stumbled into a basket of yarn.

Clayton pounded his fist against the roof to signal to the jarvey to drive on.

“Ladies.” He turned politely to the aunties. “You remember Princess Cordelia.”

Viscountess Bromley nodded deferentially, although she frowned at the state of Cordelia’s clothes. “Of course. Your Serene Highness, how wonderful to see you—”

Lady Agnes clamped a hand over Lady Bromley’s knee to silence her friend and interrupted. “You’ve dragged us out long past the dinner hour and surprised us in a dark carriage, one in which you are alone with a princess who has been missing for three days, and both of you are wearing unkempt clothing that is not your own.”

Cordelia winced at how that sounded. Yet it was the God’s truth.

“Yes, ma’am,” Clayton answered, “we have.”

“Then there isn’t time for pleasantries. Where have you been—” she began.

“And what have you been doing with the princess?” Lady Bromley finished.

Oh heavens.Cordelia was in no condition for this half-mad interrogation and rolled her eyes, wanting to crawl under the carriage and disappear.

She was exhausted from the day of travel in the hired carriage, mostly spent in grim silence while Clayton kept watch out the windows for any sign of danger and Cordelia kept from screaming for the driver to stop, for Clayton to listen to reason, for…foranythingthat would have brought back the magic of last night in his arms. Instead, the past pressed in upon them across every long mile and hour between the coast and London, with only short breaks from the thick tension between them when changing teams and drivers before hurrying on.

Thankfully, Clayton interceded gently, “We were safely hiding in the countryside near Windsor. That’s all I can tell you.” The tone of his voice brooked no argument. “And that’s all you need to know.”

The two older women exchanged another knowing look. They knew he’d just lied to them.

“We need your assistance. And your silence.”