by Nora Roberts
He heard her laugh and the sound surprised him. It wasn’t quiet and prim, but rich and delighted. As he watched, Hannah leaned down to stroke the dogs, which pressed against her legs.
“There now, what a lovely pair you are.” Smiling she bent farther still to nuzzle. The moonlight slanted over her face and throat.
Instantly, Bennett’s eyes narrowed. She hardly looked plain and subdued at the moment. The moonlight accented the hollows and contours of her face, enriching the soft English skin and deepening the already deep green eyes. He would have sworn that he saw both strength and passion there. And he was a man who recognized both in a woman. Her laughter floated out again, as rich as sunlight, as sultry as fog.
“No, you mustn’t jump,” she cautioned the dogs as they circled her. “You’ll have mud all over me and how would I explain that?”
“It’s usually best not to explain at all.”
She snapped her head up as Bennett spoke. He saw surprise, or thought he did, but it passed quickly. When she straightened, she was the calm, unremarkable Lady Hannah again. He chalked up the passion he’d thought he’d seen to a trick of the light.
“Good evening, Your Highness.” Hannah took only a moment to curse herself for being caught unaware.
“I didn’t know anyone else was in the garden.”
“Nor did I.” And she should have. “I beg your pardon.”
“Don’t.” He smiled to put her at ease. “I’ve always felt the gardens aren’t enjoyed nearly enough. Couldn’t you sleep?”
“No, sir. I’m always restless when I travel.” The dogs had deserted her for Bennett. She stood beside the flowering jasmine and watched him stroke them with strong, capable hands. She was well aware that numerous ladies had enjoyed the same easy touch. “I’d seen the gardens from my window and thought I might walk awhile.” In truth, it had been their scent, exotic and alluring, that had urged her to loiter after she’d noted the layout of the space.
“I prefer them at night myself. Things often look different at night,” he continued, studying her again. “Don’t you think?”
“Naturally.” She linked her hands together just below the waist. He was marvelous to look at, sun or moon. When he’d strode into his father’s office that afternoon she’d thought that riding clothes suited him best. The dogs came back to press their noses against her joined hands.
“They like you.”
“I’ve always been fond of animals.” She unlinked her hands to stroke. He noticed for the first time that her hands were delicate, long and slender like her body. “What are their names?”
“Boris and Natasha.”
“Suitable names for Russian wolfhounds.”
“They were given to me as puppies. I named them after characters in an American cartoon show. Spies.”
Her hands hesitated only a heartbeat. “Spies, Your Highness?”
“Inept Russian spies who were forever after a moose and squirrel.”
He thought he saw it again, the flash of humor that lent something special to her face. “I see. I’ve never been to America.”
“No?” He moved closer, but saw nothing but a young woman with good bones and a quiet manner. “It’s a fascinating country. Cordina’s become closely linked with it since two members of the Royal Family have married Americans.”
“A fact that disappointed a number of hopeful Europeans, I’m sure.” Hannah relaxed enough for a cautious smile. “I met Princess Gabriella several years ago. She’s a beautiful woman.”
“Yes, she is. You know, I’ve been to England several times. It’s strange we never met.”
Hannah allowed the smile to linger. “But we did, Your Highness.”
“Boris, sit,” Bennett commanded as the dog lifted a paw toward Hannah’s dress. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, sir. Then you’d hardly be expected to remember. It was several years ago at a charity ball hosted by the Prince of Wales. The Queen Mother introduced you to me and my cousin Lady Sara. I believe you and Sara became . . . friendly.”
“Sara?” His mind backtracked and zeroed in. His memory, always good, was faultless when it came to women. “Yes, of course.” Though he remembered Hannah only as a vague shadow beside her glamorous and bold cousin. “How is Sara?”
“Very well, sir.” If there was sarcasm, it was well coated with manners. “Happily married for the second time. Shall I send her your regards?”
“If you like.” He dipped his hands into his pockets again as he continued to study her. “You were wearing blue, a pale blue that was nearly white.”
Hannah lifted her brow. She didn’t have to be told that he’d barely noticed her. The fact that he hadn’t, yet still remembered the color of her gown gave her a moment’s pause. A memory like that could be useful—or dangerous.
“You flatter me, Your Highness.”
“I make it a policy not to forget a woman.”
“Yes, I can believe that.”
“My reputation precedes me.” The frown was there, then gone, to be replaced by a careless smile. “Does it concern you to be alone in the garden, in the moonlight with—”
“The Royal Rake?” Hannah finished.
“You do read,” Bennett murmured.
“Incessantly. And no, Your Highness, I’m quite comfortable, thank you.”
He opened his mouth, then laughed and shut it again. “Lady Hannah, I’ve rarely been put so neatly in my place.”
So he was quick—another point she’d have to remember. “I beg your pardon, sir. That certainly wasn’t my intention.”
“The hell it wasn’t, and well done.” He took her hand and found it cool and steady. Perhaps she would prove to be a great deal less dull than he’d anticipated. “I should beg your pardon for baiting you, but I won’t since you obviously hold your own so well. I’m beginning to see why Eve wanted you here.”
Hannah had learned long ago to block off any form of guilt. She did so now. “I became very fond of her in a short time and was delighted with the opportunity to stay in Cordina for a few months. I confess, I’ve already fallen in love with little Princess Marissa.”
“Barely a year old and she’s already ruling the palace.” Bennett’s eyes softened as he thought of his brother’s first child. “Maybe it’s because she looks like Eve.”
Hannah withdrew her hand from his. She’d heard the rumors that Bennett had been half in love, or possibly more than half in love, with his brother’s wife. It didn’t take even so talented an observer as she to hear the affection in his voice. She told herself to file it away. It may or may not have its uses later.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I should go back to my room.”
“It’s still early.” He found himself reluctant to let her go. It was unexpected that she would be easy to talk to, or that he would find himself needing to talk to her.
“I’m in the habit of retiring early.”
“I’ll walk you back.”
“Please don’t trouble. I know the way. Good night, Your Highness.” She merged quickly with the shadows while the dogs whined a bit and thumped their tails against his legs.
What was there about her? Bennett wondered as he bent to soothe his pets. At first glance she seemed almost bland enough to fade into the wallpaper, and yet . . . He didn’t know. But as he walked back toward the palace with the dogs at his heels, he resolved to find out. If nothing else, probing a bit beneath Lady Hannah’s quiet breeding would keep his mind off Deboque.
Hannah didn’t wait to see if he followed her, but walked quickly through the garden doors. She’d been born with the talent to move quietly, so unobtrusively she could easily be missed in a group of three people. It was a talent she’d honed to a skill and which served her well.
She moved up the stairs without a sound, never looking back. If you had to check whether you were being followed, you were already in trouble. Once inside her own room, she locked the door and slipped out of her practical pumps. Because the woman she profess
ed to be would never leave her clothing scattered, Hannah picked them up, and with only a brief look of distaste, placed them neatly in her closet.
Checking only to see that her curtains were drawn, she peeled off the unflattering cocktail dress.
Although she thought it deserved its day in the garbage, she carefully hung it on a padded hanger.
She stood now, a slimly curved woman with milk-pale skin and long legs in a skimpy lace-edged teddy. Drawing the confining pins from her hair, she let it fall heavily to her waist with a sigh of pure pleasure.
Anyone who knew Lady Hannah Rothchild would have been stunned by the transformation, so complete, so ingrained was the role she’d played for nearly ten years.
Lady Hannah had a passion for silk and Breton lace, but confined it to nightwear and lingerie. Linens and tweeds were more fitting to the image she’d worked hard to create.
Lady Hannah enjoyed reading a pot-boiling thriller in a steamy bubble bath, but she kept a copy of Chaucer on her nightstand and if asked, could quote and discuss a handful of obscure passages.
It wasn’t a matter of split personality, but necessity. If she’d given it any deep thought, Hannah would have been able to state that she was comfortable with both of her selves. In fact, more often than not she thoroughly liked the plain, polite and marginally pretty Hannah. Otherwise, she could never have tolerated the sensible shoes for extended periods.
But there was another part to Lady Hannah Rothchild, only daughter of Lord Rothchild, granddaughter of the Earl of Fenton. That part was not quiet and unassuming, but shrewd and sometimes reckless. More, that part had a taste for danger and a mind that absorbed and stored the most minor detail.
Combined, those parts of Lady Hannah Rothchild equaled an excellent and highly skilled agent.
Ignoring her robe, Hannah opened her top drawer and drew out a long, locked box. Inside was a strand of pearls handed down from her great-grandmother with matching earrings her father had had reset for her twenty-first birthday. In the drawers of the box were several other pieces of jewelry befitting a young woman of her class.
Hannah pulled a notebook out of the false bottom and taking it to the rosewood writing desk, began to write her daily report. She hadn’t gone into the garden merely to smell the roses, though she had lingered too long because of them. Now she had the complete layout and no longer had to rely on the information fed her. She took the time to draw a sketch of the palace, including the doors and windows most easily accessible. By the following day, or the day after at most, she would have a schedule of the guards.
It had taken her little time to form a friendship with Eve. Securing an invitation to the palace in Cordina had been as easy as asking for one. Eve missed her sister and the familiarity of her own country. She’d needed a friend, one she could talk to, one who would share her delight in her daughter.
Hannah had obliged.
She felt the quick trickle of guilt again and ignored it. A job was a job, she reminded herself. She couldn’t let the fondness she felt for Eve interfere with a goal she’d begun to work toward two years ago.
With a shake of her head, she made her first notes on Bennett. He wasn’t completely what she’d expected, Hannah thought now. Oh, he was as charming and as attractive as his dossier had said, but he’d given the dull Lady Hannah his time and attention.
An egotistical womanizer, Hannah reminded herself. That had been her own conclusion after doing her research on him. Perhaps he was a bit bored and entertained thoughts of distracting himself with a vulnerable and accessible woman.
Narrowing her eyes, Hannah looked back on the way he had smiled at her. A man of his looks, position and experience knew how to use that smile or a soft word to enchant a woman of any age and any class. The fact that he’d done so, with astonishing regularity, was well documented. Perhaps he would try to add another jewel to his crown by seducing her.
She remembered the way he’d looked in the moonlight, the way his eyes had warmed when she’d bantered back with him. His hand had been firm and hard when it had taken hers—the hand of a man who did more than wave regally to his people.
With a shake of her head, she brought herself up short. It wouldn’t do to consider a dalliance with Bennett for enjoyment, but for its usefulness. Thoughtfully, she tapped her pencil on the pad. No, a romance with Bennett would only lead to complications, no matter how advantageous it might be in the long run. She’d keep her eyes down and her hands folded.
Carefully, Hannah hid the notebook again and replaced the false bottom. The box was locked, but left in full sight if anyone searched her dresser.
She was in, she told herself with a growing sense of anticipation as she looked around the room.
When Deboque walked out of prison in two days’ time, he’d be very pleased.
Chapter 2
“Oh, Hannah, I’m so glad you agreed to visit awhile.” With her arm hooked with her new friend’s, Eve strolled behind the backdrop at the theater. Her body remained slender during the early months of her pregnancy, but her dress was cleverly cut to conceal even the slight weight gain. “Alex doesn’t find it as necessary to pamper me to death now that you’re here. He finds you so sensible.”
“I am sensible.”
Eve’s low chuckle flowed into her easy Texas drawl. “I know, that’s the beauty of it, but you’re not always telling me to sit down and put my feet up.”
“Men sometimes look at pregnancy and childbirth as a traumatic disease rather than a fact of life.”
“That’s it exactly.” Delighted with Hannah’s dry wit, Eve drew her into her office. With Gabriella so often in America and her own sister visiting only rarely, Eve had indeed yearned for another woman to relax with. “Alex keeps expecting me to faint or get overly emotional. I never felt better in my life, except perhaps when I was carrying Marissa.”
Tossing back her fall of dark hair, Eve perched on the edge of her desk. Here, at least, she could still claim some measure of the privacy she’d given up when she’d married a prince. Though she never regretted the sacrifice, she always enjoyed stealing a bit of her own back.
“If you hadn’t come, I’d have had to fight him tooth and nail to continue working. He only agreed because he felt you’d keep a close eye on me when he’s busy.”
“Then I won’t disappoint him.” Hannah took quick stock of the office. No window, no outside access. With a smile, she chose a chair. “You know, Eve, I really admire you. The Fine Arts Center always had a good reputation but since you took over here, this theater has become one of the most important in Europe.”
“It’s what I’ve always wanted.” Eve looked down at the diamond-encrusted band on her finger. Even after two years it sometimes astonished her to find it there. “You know, Hannah, some mornings I’m almost afraid to wake up; I think that I’ll find out it was all a dream. Then I look at Alex and Marissa and think, they’re mine. Really mine.” Her eyes clouded a moment with both fear and determination. “I won’t let anything or anyone hurt them.”
“No one will.” Eve’s thoughts were on Deboque, Hannah surmised. The princess was bound by duty to keep some fears to herself. “Now, not to pamper, but I think we could both use some tea, then you can show me what sort of job I can do around here.”
Eve brought herself back with an effort. Nightmares of Deboque, a man she’d never seen, continued to plague her. “Tea’s a wonderful idea, but I didn’t bring you to the Center to work. I just thought you’d like to see it.”
“Eve, you of all people should understand that I need something to do or I’ll be bored to death.”
“But I’d hoped this could be a vacation for you.”
The guilt shimmered a bit. “Some people aren’t meant for vacations.”
“All right then. Why don’t you watch rehearsals with me for an hour or two and give me an honest opinion?”
“I’d love to.”
“Great I’m worried about the opening. We only have a couple of weeks l
eft and I’ve had nothing but trouble with this playwright.”
“Oh, who is it?”
Eve rose and took a deep breath. “Me.”
* * *
Hannah drank her tea and stayed in the background. It didn’t take long for her to see that Eve was respected not only as the wife of the heir, but for her knowledge of theater. She noted too that guards, unobtrusive but in force, were always close at hand. When the princess was in the theater, every entrance was blocked, every interior door was double guarded. Hannah was also aware that a special unit of security checked the Center daily for explosives.
While seated mid-theater with Eve, Hannah watched the rehearsal. She’d always had an affection and respect for actors, as she understood the effort and skill that went into characterization. Now, while lines were cued and staging set, she matched the members of the troupe with the information she already had compiled on each of them.
They were certainly talented, Hannah thought as she found herself drawn into the rhythm and emotion of Eve’s play. The sets were still incomplete, but the players needed no more than Eve’s words and their own skill to make a statement. Each one of the actors had a reputation in theater and a complete security check.
But it had been an actor—Russ Talbot—who’d nearly carried out Deboque’s revenge two years before. Hannah couldn’t forget that it was a strong possibility that someone other than herself had been planted. Deboque was known for covering his bets.
“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?”
Drawn back, Hannah looked over at Eve. “I beg your pardon?”
“Chantel O’Hurley. She’s exquisite.” Shifting in her chair, Eve leaned on the seat back in front of her. “She rarely makes a stage performance, so we’re lucky to have her. I’m sure you’ve seen her films in England.”
“Yes.” Hannah gave her full attention to the curvy blonde center stage.
Chantel O’Hurley. Hannah paused to recollect everything she’d read in the actress’s file. Twenty-six. American film star. Residence, Beverly Hills. Daughter of Frances and Margaret O’Hurley, traveling entertainers. Sisters, Abigail and Madelaine. Brother, Trace.
