Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2)

by Wendy Soliman

  They parted at the door to Amara’s room. Amara’s smile faded as her gaze alighted upon Cora, looking red in the face and with her cap slightly askew.

  ‘You look windswept,’ Amara said, throwing aside her shawl. ‘Have you been walking outside?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t care what I got up to.’

  ‘You sound like a petulant child, Cora. A child who forgets who employs her services. I asked you a question and would appreciate a civil answer. What do you make of this place, and have you enjoyed walking in the grounds, which is I assume what has kept you occupied? I know you don’t like mixing with English servants and would prefer to avoid them.’

  ‘They’re a godless lot, and no mistake. What do you intend to wear? I cannot understand why those gentlemen are still dancing attendance. Mr Harland has been here on consecutive nights, no doubt sniffing around your petticoats.’

  Amara let out a long breath, feeling as though steam was coming from her ears. ‘Cora, I will not tell you again,’ she said in a cold voice. ‘Attend to your duties and stop interfering in my affairs. It is no business of yours whom Mrs Kendal chooses to invite to dine. Now, lay out the red satin. I shall wear that this evening.’

  Cora opened her mouth, presumably to protest at the selection of such a bold colour that she only wore to perform in. She took one look at the set of Amara’s features and wisely refrained from speaking. Thus, an hour later, Amara felt a modicum of self-confidence trickle through her as she looked at her reflection. The gown sculpted her figure, the bodice was cut lower than Papa would consider suitable and the skirts whispered about her legs, finishing in a short train. Cora had curled her hair up behind her head, tugging at it with more force that was strictly necessary, but the result was pleasing to the eye and left long spirals dancing on her shoulders.

  Her eyes shone back at her from the glass, green and vibrant with a newfound awareness that was attributable to the prospect of spending another evening in Mr Harland’s company, despite the fact that his actions confused her. He said one thing yet his eyes told a very different story. Well tonight, imbued by the confidence provided by her lovely gown, she fully intended to make him tell her what he wanted her to do, not what he thought was best for her.

  ‘Thank you, Cora. Go and help my aunt and ask her to call for me when she is ready. We will go down together.’

  Cora went, looking mulish. The wait seemed very short before Eva joined her, looking delightful in pale lemon silk.

  ‘That was quick,’ Amara said, her eyes dancing with amusement. ‘If I didn’t know better, I might think there was someone you were anxious to see.’

  ‘You would be better advised to concern yourself with keeping Sabine waiting.’ Eva smiled as she took in Amara’s appearance. ‘That gown is positively shocking,’ she said smiling, ‘and I thoroughly approve of your making the best of yourself. Whatever point it is that you hope to make will be established the moment a certain gentleman sets eyes on you, you can rest assured on that score.’

  Amara shook her head, no longer bothering to tell her aunt that she had misunderstood. They both knew that she had not.

  The ladies made their way back to the drawing room. Everyone else was there already and their conversation stalled when the ladies walked into the room.

  ‘I hope we have not kept you waiting,’ Eva said, when no one seemed capable of speech.

  ‘Not in the least.’ It was Sabine who responded. ‘You must excuse the gentlemen. They are not being deliberately rude. I think it more a case that they are stunned into silence by your appearances, for which I cannot blame them. If I did not like you both quite so much, I might feel the need to pout.’

  ‘As always, my love,’ Lord Jonas said, slipping an arm around Sabine’s waist, ‘you underestimate your own charms.’

  They went through to dinner straight away, and Amara once again found herself seated beside Louis; a situation that would be easy but most unwise for her to become accustomed to. No mention was made of whatever was on the gentlemen’s minds, but there was still tension in the air and she sensed that they were waiting for clarification of some sort.

  Eva played the piano beautifully after dinner. Amara knew her aunt found release in her music, but she herself was too preoccupied to oblige when she was asked to sing; a request that she had learned from experience would inevitably be made. Her father might have harboured reservations about her performing in public, but he never hesitated to exploit her voice for the benefit of his guests, basking in the acclaim she received. She disliked being used to score some obscure point over his business rivals, some of whom she mistrusted and actively disliked, but it had never once occurred to her not to oblige Papa. She never would have dared, and wondered where she had found the courage to finally do as she pleased, albeit for a limited period of time.

  Sighing, she took the opportunity to wander outside. She sensed Louis watching her, and hoped that he would follow, but only because it would be the ideal opportunity to quiz him on the tense atmosphere that had prevailed in the dining room.

  Yes, she assured herself, that was definitely the only reason why she craved a few minutes alone with him.

  The gentlemen’s collective anxiety was probably to do with her, she reasoned, so she had a right to know what had caused it. If they were agonising over some sort of constitutional faux pas created by the prince then they would have remained in Brighton and used their diplomatic skills to put it right. She had seen and admired their dedication to their royal master. However, they were here, so whatever worried them must be to do with her.

  She felt a pang of guilt for unintentionally creating so many problems. Perhaps Louis was right. It would be less trouble for everyone if she returned to London and meekly awaited her father’s arrival. But having rebelled, Amara balked at the idea of returning subdued to the family fold. She had the rest of her life to settle down to a dull routine of domestic obedience, so she might as well enjoy her remaining independence before it was permanently snatched away from her.

  She had been outside for less than five minutes before she heard footsteps behind her. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to recognise Louis’s footfall. She inhaled his unique masculine aroma, marvelling at the ability of her heart to beat a little faster in his presence. Amara no longer felt the evening’s chill wind touching the bare skin of her arms and shoulders and instead found that she was a little too warm.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked, standing behind her without touching her. She desperately wanted to feel the reassurance of his touch but at the same time suspected she would be unable to maintain her sense of righteous indignation if he obliged her.

  ‘I suppose you have come in the renewed hope of persuading me to return to London,’ she said, folding her arms across her torso. Aware that her reaction probably seemed juvenile to a man of his sophistication, she was nonetheless unable to help her combative tone. What was it about him that made her want to fight with him one minute and throw herself into his arms and transfer her problems to his more than capable shoulders the next? She shook her head in a futile attempt to dispel the growing desire to do the latter. ‘Well, you can save your arguments, since I have made up my mind to stay.’

  ‘Finished?’ he asked, folding his arms as he leaned a broad shoulder against a pillar, looking lazily amused by what must have seemed to him a petulant and immature outburst.

  She scowled at him, a little taken aback by his nonchalance. ‘Now you’re mocking me. You find my situation diverting, I suppose. Something to laugh about with your friends after I have gone.’

  ‘No, you little fool, you do us both an injustice.’ He softened his tone. ‘I would never laugh at you. What’s more, I came out here in the hope of enjoying your company, not to deliver lectures.’

  ‘Well then, that’s all right.’ She sent him a sideways look, not entirely convinced. ‘What is it that you and the other gentlemen are so preoccupied about?’

  ‘What makes you suppose ther
e is anything?’ he replied with an amiable smile.

  ‘Do you always answer one question with another? I suppose that is as good a way as any of confusing the issue in the hope that I will forget what I asked.’ She slowly shook her head, enjoying herself now that he really did seem disinclined to scold. Even so, she was aware that it would be most unwise to let her guard down, and wagged an admonishing finger at him. ‘I am not quite that beef-headed.’

  ‘Beef-headed?’ He shot her another amused look.

  ‘Yes. It is an expression, no? I have heard it said.’

  ‘Mutton-headed,’ Louis gently corrected.

  ‘Well, I knew it was to do with meat of one sort or another. You were perfectly aware of my meaning, but yet again you tried to divert me.’

  He took her arm in a firm grasp, then changed his mind and linked his fingers with hers. Amara closed her eyes, overwhelmed with a whole raft of emotions created by the simple contact. Holding hands with an unmarried man in Greece would be looked upon as positively indecent. Amara smiled to herself, enjoying the idea of having joined that elite club. If what she felt, simply by holding Louis’s hand was anything to go by, then indecency had a great deal to recommend it.

  ‘You have to understand that the prince’s often outlandish proposals are enough to distract anyone.’ His deep, velvety voice recalled Amara from her mental perambulations. ‘He has the best of intentions, but he is barely on nodding terms with reality and assumes that his influential position makes it possible for him to right all the world’s wrongs. Disabusing him of that notion is not easy.’

  ‘You are very dedicated to his service, I can quite see that, and advising him must require tact. He is clearly very strong-willed.’

  ‘We are not his formal advisors. He has enough of those—experts on every possible subject—but the rest of us are not always sure that they have his best interests at heart.’

  Amara frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘George is misunderstood. He is often looked upon as a buffoon born into a position of privilege that he abuses. In actual fact, he has a sharp mind but his father kept him short of funds when he was a young man in the hope that it would teach him the value of money and that he would follow his father’s austere example. But all it achieved was to set him on a course of overspending, which is the side of him that the general public sees and disapproves of. Rightly so, when half the country is starving. Anyway, there are factions who would like to see what power he has taken from him entirely, so that he can no longer meddle in politics.’

  ‘Then who would be king?’

  ‘That’s just the point. Better the devil you know, although I have some sympathy with his detractors. He can be a dogmatic devil who thinks he knows better than the experts. We are none of us blind to his faults, even if we do serve him faithfully. That is why I really think that you should—’

  ‘Ah, now I see.’ A smile played about Amara’s lips. ‘You are trying a different approach. Instead of insisting that you know what is best for me, much like you think you know what is best for the prince, you have decided to pretend to treat me as an intellectual equal in the hope that I will be flattered into agreeing with your suggestions.’ She shook her head slowly, sending long curls dancing round her face as she freed her fingers from his grasp and waggled one of them beneath his nose. ‘Nice try, Louis, but it will not serve. I fully intend to stay here for the next month, but if being assigned as my guardian, or whatever it is that you have styled yourself as, is inconvenient, then please don’t concern yourself. Eva and I can take care of ourselves.’

  ‘Insufferably stubborn female!’ he cried in frustration.

  ‘I do not answer to you, Mr Harland, and will not apologise for making my own decisions.’

  He let out a low growl, and pulled her against him, twisting one of her escaped curls around his forefinger. The air left her lungs and she felt frozen into place by the feel of that finger touching her face. Botheration, he still wasn’t taking her seriously, and she was no match for him when just being held in his arms made her head so dizzy that she could barely recall her own name.

  ‘Do you have any idea how much I want you to stay?’ he asked, screwing up his eyes and letting out a long sigh. ‘Or just how strong my protective urges are when I am anywhere near you? Everyone in your life seems to be using you, especially your father. And now George is doing the exact same thing.’

  ‘We have already discussed…’

  She licked her lips when she realised just how close his face was to hers, how dangerous and sinfully tempting the situation was becoming. She could hold her own against him after a fashion when he wasn’t actually touching her. When his gaze didn’t turn as dark and predatory as it had at that moment. When his smile wasn’t quite so intensely passionate. If she moved away from him, there was even a possibility that she would be able to think with a small degree of clarity. And yet she couldn’t find the strength to extract herself from the safe harbour of his arms, and barely recalled why it was so important for her to try.

  Something that felt so right couldn’t possibly be wrong. Could it?

  Amara looked up at him, a question in her eyes. How Louis might have answered it she was destined not to find out since the sound of approaching footsteps had them springing apart like the guilty lovers they were never likely to become.

  ‘Louis, are you out here?’

  It was Lord Jonas’s voice. Louis looked mildly concerned as he placed her hand decorously on his sleeve and they strolled in his lordship’s direction. Decorously but for the fact that Louis looked down at her flaming face and had the audacity to wink. She growled at him and he laughed outright.

  ‘Here, Chance. What is it?’

  ‘He’s done it,’ Lord Jonas replied curtly. ‘Word has just arrived.’

  ‘Done what?’ Amara asked. ‘Why do you both look so concerned?’

  ‘Come back inside and we will tell you,’ Louis said, sounding unnaturally serious.

  Amara entered the drawing room and glanced at Eva, who shrugged to imply that she was completely in the dark too. There was now no mistaking the tension between the gentlemen, who stood together in front of the fire.

  ‘Miss Kazan,’ Lord Jonas said, speaking for them all. ‘We hoped to spare you this latest unpleasantness, but events have overtaken us and it seems you must be made aware.’

  Amara shared another bewildered look with Eva. ‘What is it?’ she asked, looking at Louis with a combination of anxiety and condemnation. If he hadn’t distracted her with his…well, his tried and tested methods of distraction, she would have made him tell her when they had been alone.

  ‘We have spent the day trying to talk the prince out of inviting visiting dignitaries to Brighton,’ Lord Jonas said, ‘using you as the temptation.’

  ‘Me?’ She widened her eyes in total confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘A deputation has arrived in London from Greece to open discussions about the Elgin Marbles, as they are known here,’ Louis told her. ‘I mentioned to you earlier that the prince often comes up with grandiose plans to solve political disputes.’

  ‘And he thinks that Amara singing for this deputation would change their point of view?’ Eva shook her head. ‘Her singing is superb but the deputation will not be in the mood for appeasement and will likely point out that the prince has borrowed Amara in much the same way as Lord Elgin helped himself to other Greek treasures.’

  ‘That is what we have spent the entire day attempting to make the prince understand, but his so-called political advisors are using him to deliberately stir up trouble,’ Lord Robert said, scowling. ‘They don’t care about creating a diplomatic incident—in fact that seems to be their objective.’

  ‘Why?’ Amara asked, bemused.

  ‘Political loyalties,’ Louis said crisply. ‘Those seeking to overthrow the current government smell blood.’

  A premonition caused Amara to shudder. Still standing, she fell into the nearest chair.
Louis looked worried and stepped towards her but she waved him away again. ‘What are the names of the men in this delegation?’ she asked, holding her breath as she waited for a response.

  Lord Jonas consulted a slip of paper that he withdrew from the inside pocket of his coat.

  ‘Egan Christoforou.’

  Amara and Eva exchanged a look and simultaneously shook their heads.

  ‘He is a political aide to the current Greek administration. Then there is Faustus Drakos.’ Amara gasped. ‘You know him?’ Lord Jonas asked.

  ‘He works for my father,’ Amara said. ‘Why on earth…’ Eva squeezed her hand and Amara’s words trailed off.

  ‘The third person is Demetrius Estevan.’

  A tremor passed through Amara’s body as she clutched cheeks that she suspected had turned deathly pale. Eva knew why she felt so overwhelmed, and placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Are you all right, Amara?’ Sabine asked in a solicitous tone, glancing with a worried frown at Lord Jonas.

  ‘What is it, Miss Kazan?’ Louis asked at the same time, sharing a bewildered look with the rest of the gentlemen. ‘Why has the name overset you so badly? Clearly, you are acquainted with the man.’

  She struggled to find her voice. ‘He is the man my father expects me to marry when I return to Greece,’ she said, looking directly at Louis as she spoke.

  Chapter Ten

  Mercifully, the rain had held off for most of the day, but there was still a chill wind blowing off the sea that seeped beneath Claus’s clothing and bit into his skin, further souring an already black mood—a mood that hadn’t lifted since Amara got above herself and had the temerity to dispense with his services.

  He seethed at the memory. He had made her what she now was; he had convinced her father that it would be a travesty, a crime against Greece, to deprive the world of her talent. And how did she convey her appreciation? By casting him aside like a worn-out shoe when he had served his purpose. Her connection to English royalty had turned her head and made her forget the duty she owed to her father, and to himself. Claus would be happy to remind her, just as soon as he got his hands on the disobedient chit.