But even after she nodded to show she was ready, he didn’t open the door. “We are agreed about your coming to Canterbury Court, aren’t we?” he asked softly.
She stiffened, but nodded again. What choice did she have?
Relief flooded his features. “Good.” Then he swung the door open.
Her great-uncle marched in. He had Lady Ursula with him, who looked decidedly pale. Monique had to wonder if her new friend really had been ill earlier, as the count had claimed, or, more likely, had been told the situation. Either way, Lady Ursula appeared as if she might faint.
Meanwhile, the count’s gaze scoured the room, then zeroed in on the table. “Why is your hat on the floor, niece?”
Curse it all. She’d forgotten about her hat.
As she fumbled for a plausible answer, Gregory said blandly, “I knocked it off. I’m afraid I became a bit . . . impassioned in arguing my case.”
Dear God, the man liked to live dangerously. How could he even think to use that word with her great-uncle?
But the count didn’t seem to care. He circled the room slowly, as if looking for evidence of perfidy. Apparently finding none, he came toward her. “I hope you have convinced him that we cannot go to the country.”
“Perhaps we should consider—” Lady Ursula began.
“Quiet, girl!” the count said. “I will handle this.”
Monique bristled, both at his treatment of the lady-in-waiting and his apparent assumption that she would simply fall in with his plans.
She would not. She must hold her ground, though she would undoubtedly have the devil to pay for it later. Gregory was right—her safety could not be ensured in London with so many people around. And she did not wish to die for Aurore.
Not to mention that Gregory had planted seeds of doubt in her mind regarding her great-uncle, which were sprouting with the count’s continued resistance to Gregory’s plan.
“Actually,” Monique said stoutly, “I agree with his lordship. The country might be safer. And there really is no reason I must stay here for the next few days, is there?”
“Of course there is,” he said coldly. “The Duc de Pontalba is remaining in town, and he is one of the delegates you should sway to your side before the vote takes place, after everyone returns.” He cast Gregory a sly glance. “Unless his lordship is prepared to invite him to the country as well.”
“That would give the princess an unfair advantage that none of the other possible candidates have,” Gregory said. “They might protest.”
“You are a delegate, too,” the count pointed out. “So if she went, she would have an unfair advantage with you. How is that any different?”
“I am not merely a delegate to the convention. I am in charge of her safety. Which is precisely why I shouldn’t like to have the duke there. We don’t know for certain if he had anything to do with the shooting.”
The count scoffed. “A duc? He would not risk such a scandal. The very idea is ludicrous.”
From her time in the theater, Monique wasn’t so sure. Dukes always thought they had the right to do anything in their power, scandal be damned.
Still, she’d spoken long enough with Pontalba to think he wasn’t the sort to engineer an assassination. He wasn’t so much a schemer as a man sure of his own position. And he’d seemed less interested in the results of the convention than in getting under her skirts.
That, too, was fairly typical behavior for a duke, in her experience.
A sudden commotion sounded in the hall, of boots tramping and loud voices. One rang out above the rest. “I must speak with Lord Fulkham. Now.”
Apparently that was enough to send a servant in to announce the man. “My lord, there’s a captain of the guard here to see you.”
“Good,” Gregory said. “Send him in.”
It was the same captain who’d helped them at the park. As he entered, he nodded courteously to her. “Your Serene Highness. I hope you are well.”
Monique flashed him a smile. “I am, thank you.”
“She’ll be better,” Gregory said, “if you can assure her that the villain is in your custody.”
The captain’s face clouded. “I’m afraid not, my lord. We scoured the woods, but were too late to apprehend the villain. There were enough people on horseback in the park to make it difficult to determine who might have been involved.”
“Damn,” Gregory muttered, threading one hand through his hair.
“We did find a witness who said he thought he saw a young man wearing a green frock coat and brown riding breeches, with a brown Tilbury hat, on horseback, shooting from behind a silver birch. But after two shots, the man galloped toward the Stanhope Gate and got through it before the witness even registered what was happening.”
“Did you dispatch men into Mayfair?” Gregory asked.
“Yes, and St. George’s Fields, too, but no one matching the man’s description was discovered. My soldiers are still searching.”
Gregory shook his head. “He’ll be long gone by now. Have your men see what they can learn in the stews and elsewhere. This was probably a hired assassin. We must find out where he was hired, and that may lead us to who he is, and thus who hired him.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said deferentially, clearly used to taking such orders from Gregory.
“You should also increase the patrols around the park and especially around the residences of those involved in the conference, in case the princess isn’t the only person being targeted.”
“Very good, my lord.” The captain bowed and took his leave.
As soon as he’d gone, Gregory rounded on the count. “You see, sir? We have a witness who claims the gunshots were a deliberate act and not random recklessness. Now will you listen to reason and remove the princess and her retinue from London?”
“Will you invite the duke to your estate as well?” her great-uncle countered.
When Gregory bristled, Lady Ursula said, “You could also invite Prince Leopold. That would make it more fair. Then there would be two delegates—you and the duke—and two candidates for ruler—Her Highness and the prince. No one could complain about that. After all, it’s not as if the entire convention could go.”
Monique gaped at Lady Ursula. What on earth had possessed the woman to suggest that another candidate be included? And why Prince Leopold, of all people? Why not one of the other candidates presently in London? Everyone knew that Prince Leopold was out in the countryside and only intended to return next week, when the convention reconvened to announce the decision on who was to rule Belgium.
“See here,” the count said to Lady Ursula, “I know that the prince is your distant cousin, my dear, and that he and your family were friendly even before you were born, but that is no reason to suggest including him.”
The prince’s connection to Lady Ursula came as news to Monique. She couldn’t help noticing that Gregory wore the same inscrutable expression as when he was trying to hide his opinions, though she could guess what they were.
So she stepped in. “I don’t think it’s terribly polite of us, Uncle, to be suggesting extra guests to his lordship, when he’s been good enough to invite us to his home in the first place. Why, we have no idea how large his estate is, or if he could manage a party of such size.”
“Canterbury Court is more than sufficient for such a party,” Gregory said, with a hint of amusement that surprised her. “Indeed, my mother will be overjoyed at the idea of having so many important guests at the estate. She almost never gets the chance to entertain.”
“So you do not mind including Prince Leopold?” Lady Ursula asked.
“Not at all. Including him would satisfy any of my objections about including Pontalba.”
That gave Monique pause. She could see from the glint of calculation in his eyes that he knew something about Prince Leopold that he wasn’t letting on.
Apparently so did the count, for he scowled. “How do we know that the prince wasn’t part of the assassination a
ttempt?”
Gregory leapt upon that statement with great glee. “So now you’re acknowledging it was an attempt to murder the princess?”
Her great-uncle rubbed his chin nervously. “I’m merely saying that he’s even more likely a suspect than the duke, since he’s in the running for the position.”
“But very low on the list. We English prefer him, but none of the French or Dutch or Austrians do.” Gregory cast her a considering look. “And given that rumor says he’s interested in marrying the princess, I doubt he would risk her life.”
Marrying Aurore? Monique’s stomach knotted painfully. If that was true, the prince must know Aurore personally. Judging from the gloating glance Gregory shot her, he’d realized that, too. So he was including Prince Leopold in this party solely in hopes that the man would expose Monique as an impostor.
Oh, Lord. Lady Ursula had led them right into a trap.
Monique frowned. That made no sense. Why would Lady Ursula have made the suggestion if she’d known that Prince Leopold could expose their scheme?
“Actually,” the count said, “Prince Leopold made an offer of marriage to Aurore through an emissary some months ago and was rejected. So he may not have taken kindly to that. Perhaps he sent someone to shoot at my great-niece so she would be frightened into accepting his offer.”
Gregory laughed outright. “Who’s being ludicrous now? The prince can have his pick of royals in Europe.” He shot Monique a furtive, knowing look. “Of course, if he fell in love with her when he met her—”
“They’ve never met,” Lady Ursula said swiftly.
“Ah,” Gregory said, disappointment fleetingly crossing his face.
Relief swamped Monique. Hah! His plan to have the prince unmask her wouldn’t work after all, thank God.
Though it was still curious that Lady Ursula wished to include the man. Bringing Monique into contact with Aurore’s spurned suitor didn’t seem wise.
“Well then, I see no issue with having the prince come.” Gregory dusted off his hands. “So that’s settled, as far as I’m concerned. Princess?”
Monique felt trapped between the count’s disapproval and Gregory’s insistence. But the captain’s words confirming the deliberate nature of the shooting had frozen her blood. She had to get away, if only to have a place where she could breathe and figure out whom she could trust. “Yes, I would prefer that, too,” she told Gregory.
The count assessed her and Gregory with a long look, then shrugged. “Very well. We will decamp to your estate. Tomorrow?”
Gregory nodded. “In the afternoon. I have a few matters to attend to before I can leave London, including sending an invitation to Prince Leopold in Brighton. Then we can set off for Canterbury Court, if that meets with everyone’s approval. I’ll speak to Pontalba myself tonight.”
“Excellent,” her great-uncle said.
Meanwhile, Lady Ursula appeared oddly cheery about the excursion to Kent. Monique would try to find out why once she had the lady-in-waiting alone.
Gregory turned to Monique with a veiled smile. “So, Your Serene Highness, you’re finally going to get your wish.”
“My wish?”
“You said you weren’t fond of the city, and it looks like you’ll get to spend time in the countryside. I hope it does not disappoint.”
She nodded. Before they left town, she’d have to ask her great-uncle about the real reason for Princess Aurore’s illness.
As soon as Gregory took his leave and the count turned to her as if to chide her for forcing him to go to the country, she asked the question that had been burning in her brain.
“Was my cousin poisoned, Uncle?”
The count blinked, and Lady Ursula gasped. Clearly, neither of them had expected that question. “Of course not!” he said. “She has cholera.”
He certainly looked as if he believed it. But she wasn’t entirely convinced. “So you did not put me in Aurore’s place to protect her from another assassination attempt.”
“What?” His shock was palpable. “Why would I do such a thing? If I’d thought Aurore was at risk, I would have whisked her back to Chanay and given up on the idea of her being queen.” He was red in the face now. “Mon Dieu, she’s my great-niece! As are you, I might point out. I would not risk either of your lives. What would even make you think—”
“I was shot at, Uncle! What am I supposed to think?”
That unsettled him. “I am still not convinced that anyone was trying to hurt you specifically—”
“Yes, I know. Meanwhile, if you’re wrong, I could be risking death over this scheme.”
Looking concerned, Lady Ursula stepped forward. “My dear, surely you’ve heard that cholera has been raging through the Continent.”
“In Russia, Germany, and Hungary. Not France,” Monique said. She had indeed seen the reports in the papers of the death toll mounting.
“Calais is where nearly everyone in Europe goes to cross the English Channel, niece,” her great-uncle snapped. “In our hotel alone, there were foreigners of every stamp. She could easily have caught the contagion from one of them.”
He had a point.
“And as for someone shooting at you,” he said, “your champion Lord Fulkham seems more than eager to prevent that from happening again.”
“But you tried to keep him from doing so,” she accused.
Conceding her point with a shrug, he said, “I was not happy to hear that you would be kept away from the other delegates. But once he included the duke, I thought better of his suggestion. Besides, Fulkham is the man most influential in making the selection. So it would probably do you good to have him more to yourself for a few days.”
He drew himself up, making clear that he was done with the discussion. “Speaking of this upcoming house party, you must excuse me. If we are to travel tomorrow, I must see to the arrangements.”
Narrowing his gaze on her, he added, “But if you ever again put me in the position you did today, forcing me to agree to your terms in front of someone like Fulkham, I will put an end to this scheme, as you call it. And you will be back in Dieppe in a flash, looking after your grandmother alone again. Is that understood?”
She swallowed the hot protests that rose in her throat. “Yes, Uncle.”
“Good,” he said, and stalked out the door.
Lady Ursula came up to lay a reassuring hand on her arm. “Pay him no mind. The count’s bark is worse than his bite. He’s fond of you, though he won’t admit it.”
“Or show it,” Monique said bitterly.
The lady-in-waiting laughed. “You didn’t hear him after your presentation to Parliament yesterday. ‘She was spectacular, Ursula, a true stateswoman! I daresay Aurore could not have done better if she tried. I told you she would be perfect.’ He’s proud of you, though he’s afraid to show it for fear that you will take advantage of his soft spot for you.”
Monique snorted. She hadn’t noticed any soft spot. But Lady Ursula was clearly a peacemaker in the household.
Which reminded her . . . “Did Prince Leopold truly offer for Aurore?”
Lady Ursula’s face clouded over. “He did. And was refused.”
“Why?”
The lady-in-waiting moved away to go stand by the fireplace and warm her hands, though it was hardly cold in the drawing room. “Aurore does not wish to marry anyone. And of course she must. So she and the count and her mother argue about it incessantly.”
“Why doesn’t she wish to marry?”
“Who knows?” Her voice sharpened. “She’s young and impetuous and has some notion that a husband will curb her freedom.”
“Which he will,” Monique pointed out.
With a laugh, Lady Ursula faced her. “Indeed. That’s why I have never married. That, and the fact that the one I love cannot marry me.”
Monique’s heart constricted. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She wanted to ask who he was, but she didn’t want to make her ally uncomfortable.
“Don’t be,” Urs
ula said brightly. “One cannot always have whom one wants. It is simply the way of the world.”
“True.”
The thought depressed her. Because she was beginning to think that the only man she might want was Gregory. And there was no way on earth he would ever marry an actress and impostor, even if she was also related to a princess. His life was here, and her life was in Chanay with Grand-maman. Best to remember that before she fell for his sensual charms.
Ten
The following day, Gregory headed for Apsley House to meet with the Duke of Wellington, who was about to lose his position as prime minister. Which meant this discussion could be tricky. Wellington was hard to manage on a good day, but given the current political climate, he was downright cantankerous.
Still, he liked Gregory . . . most of the time. And it would be political suicide for Gregory not to inform the man of his plans to whisk so many important people out of town.
As he drove by the Hyde Park entrance, yesterday’s events flooded his mind, and a chill settled in his bones. Monique could have been killed. The image of her lying in a pool of blood had haunted him ever since the shooting, making him anxious to leave town. Something was definitely amiss, and he meant to figure out the whole matter, but first, he must keep her safe.
The way he’d kept Mother safe all those years ago.
He scowled. And he’d do it again, if he had to, not just for Mother but for Monique. They were both in his charge now, whether the impudent Mademoiselle Servais liked it or not.
Though he did wish he knew why Princess Aurore—presumably the real one—had refused Prince Leopold’s offer of marriage. Perhaps she really was as shy and reclusive as all that. Perhaps the idea of him as her husband had terrified her. Otherwise, it made no sense. It seemed an excellent match to him.
Could that be behind the masquerade? Had Beaumonde brought Monique into it in hopes of renewing the arrangement? Gregory didn’t see how that could work. Surely the two women weren’t that much alike.
Unless the real princess was dead.
A chill ran through him. There was always that possibility. If someone had succeeded in assassinating Princess Aurore, and the count hadn’t been willing to give up on having the royal family of Chanay in power in Belgium . . .
The Secret of Flirting Page 12
