The Accidental Princess

by Michelle Willingham

  His thoughts returned to his parents. They had lied to him, letting him believe that he was their flesh-and-blood son. Had it been out of love, to protect him from harm? Or had they stolen him away?

  His earliest memories of Mary Thorpe were of a woman who had soothed him, rocking him to sleep. Ever patient and loving, he’d never had any reason to doubt her. He still didn’t want to.

  He held fast to Hannah’s hand, for she was his only constant presence in this ever-changing chaos. She grounded him, keeping him from losing his mind.

  God in heaven, he didn’t know what to do. It was clear that his life was a missing piece in this strange puzzle. But did he possess a birthright? Could he make the transition from pauper to Prince, if it were true?

  The soldiers escorted them to the front of the Schloss just as Graf von Reischor arrived with his servants. The ambassador’s face was nearly grey with exertion, and his footmen carried him towards them.

  ‘Coming here alone was a mistake,’ the Graf said without prelude. ‘You have no idea the threats you could face.’

  ‘Twice, men have tried to kill me,’ Michael retaliated. ‘I know precisely what we face.’ With a hint of satisfaction, he added, ‘And yet there hasn’t been an attempt on my life since we left your side. Why do you suppose that is?’

  ‘You should have waited for me,’ the Graf insisted. His footmen eased the ambassador to a standing position. A moment later, Reischor motioned the servants away and lowered his voice. ‘What happened?’

  Was I right? he seemed to be asking.

  ‘The Prince ordered us to leave,’ Michael answered. ‘His guards are escorting us to the borders.’

  His reply fuelled the Graf’s indignation. ‘I didn’t tell you to speak with the Fürst. Of course he wouldn’t want you in the Schloss.’

  ‘We weren’t given a choice,’ Hannah interrupted, her hand squeezing Michael’s in an attempt to calm him. ‘This morning the Prince sent men to the inn, and we were brought before him.’ Keeping her voice just above a whisper, she added, ‘He feels threatened by Michael.’

  ‘Well, of course he would.’ The Graf straightened, sending a thoughtful glance toward the Schloss. ‘It seems we will need to alter our strategy.’

  He spoke quietly to his own men, ordering them to escort Michael and Hannah to his hunting lodge. ‘I will join you there this evening, after I have spoken with Her Majesty.’

  ‘The Prince says the Queen will see no one.’

  ‘He means they won’t allow it.’ The Graf’s face hardened with frustration. ‘They accused her of madness and locked her up. No one wants to admit that she was right, all along.’

  ‘Right about what?’

  ‘About you being stolen away.’ The Graf cleared his throat. ‘But this is not the place to discuss it.’

  He signalled to the Prince’s guards. ‘My servants will drive Lieutenant Thorpe and his…companion to the border. You may return to your duties.’

  The Captain looked suspicious, but he obeyed. Within seconds, the Graf’s servants surrounded them, and they continued walking towards his coach.

  ‘My driver will bring you to my hunting lodge after he’s certain you aren’t followed out of Vermisten,’ the Graf told them.

  Hannah wasn’t convinced. ‘The Prince will order us out of the country, if he discovers we’re still here.’

  The Graf appeared irritated at her concern. ‘Your presence is not required, Lady Hannah. If it bothers you, my men can escort you to your cousins’ house in Germany, even now.’

  She looked uncomfortable and turned to Michael, her eyes searching his. He didn’t want her to leave, not yet.

  ‘I need someone I can trust, to be my translator.’ Michael took her hand in his. He didn’t mention that he was starting to remember the language. Best to let others believe he couldn’t speak a word.

  When they reached the coach, the Graf’s gaze flickered toward their joined hands. Michael saw the instant the Graf noticed the ring upon Hannah’s hand.

  ‘Have you gone and done something foolish?’

  Hannah blushed, covering the ring with her hand. ‘Not really. It was a gift. If others believed we were married—’

  The Graf’s face tightened with disgust. ‘I hope, for the sake of the Lieutenant’s future, that not too many people believe it.’

  Her face paled, and Michael tightened his hand on hers. This wasn’t her fault, and he’d not let the Graf lay the blame upon her. He held up the ring. ‘I’ve protected her reputation with this.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have brought her here,’ the Graf protested. ‘Her cousins are probably already wondering where we are.’

  ‘We’ve been gone only two days,’ Michael pointed out.

  ‘And do you intend to keep her with you, as your—?’

  ‘Don’t say it.’ Michael was about to move towards him when Hannah stepped between them.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said slowly. Looking the Graf squarely in the eye, she said, ‘I have no intention of interfering with the Lieutenant’s future. I will return to my cousins’ house soon enough.’ She released his hand, taking a step away. Her face was perfectly composed, showing no trace that she felt anything.

  She was right, of course. That was the proper thing to do, and Michael should never have allowed her to come with him. But the idea of her leaving him, returning to a house of strangers who would help her marry a foreigner, made him want to take her hand back again.

  After he helped Hannah into the coach, Michael asked, ‘Where is Mrs Turner now?’ He’d believed she would be safe, remaining with the Graf.

  ‘She is staying at an inn with Lady Hannah’s maid and the other servants.’ The Graf visibly winced. ‘She was not pleased about the journey here.’

  Michael didn’t doubt that. ‘Bring her to the lodge, if you would. I want to speak with her as soon as possible.’ Abigail Turner had known his mother since he was a small boy. She might be able to shed light on whether or not Mary Thorpe had ever been to Lohenberg.

  The Graf nodded, though he didn’t appear enthused about the idea. ‘As you wish.’

  Inside the coach, Hannah appeared shaken by the interaction. From the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze, Michael suspected she was considering leaving.

  Did he want to be a part of this royal family, though he was undoubtedly the black sheep? Instinct made him consider leaving it behind. They didn’t want him—of that he had no doubt. But if he turned his back upon them, he would not see Hannah again. He was torn between a life he didn’t want and a woman he did.

  The journey towards the border was a jarring, rough ride. The miles passed, and still he didn’t speak to Hannah. She was twisting the ring around her finger, deep in thought. When the afternoon sun began to drift lower in the sky, she turned to him and asked, ‘What did you think of the Prince?’

  ‘I think he’s afraid.’ As any man would be, when faced with an unexpected piece of the past.

  ‘What about you? Are you afraid of what will happen?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not the one with a kingdom to lose, sweet.’

  ‘He’s your brother, isn’t he?’ She looked troubled by the prediction, as though she didn’t want it to be true.

  He nodded. ‘I’m probably a bastard son. They’ll want to be rid of me, for appearance’s sake.’

  She shook her head, meeting his eyes with her own. ‘I don’t believe that, Michael. I saw the portrait of the King in the library. You are the very image of your father.’ Deep green eyes stared into his. ‘If anyone is a bastard son, it’s the Prince.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hannah stared out the window of the coach, feeling more and more uneasy about their circumstances. Now that Fürst Karl and Michael had met, she didn’t doubt that the threats would worsen.

  Michael rested his wrists upon his knees, glancing outside at the forest. ‘I don’t think there can be a good outcome for me, Hannah. There’s too much at stake.’

  ‘Bu
t if the Kingdom rightfully belongs to you…’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ he admitted, shaking his head. ‘I know nothing about Lohenberg. I was brought up in England as a fishmonger’s son. I couldn’t be a Prince, even if I wanted to.’

  He’d already discarded the idea; she could see it on his face. He didn’t believe he was capable of governing the people. But he was the sort of man who had seen the darker side of poverty. He would know, better than anyone, how to help those who were less fortunate.

  She rested her hands upon her skirts, leaning towards him. He needed to put aside his doubts and reach for the future he deserved. ‘You could. And I think you were meant for this.’ Thinking a moment, she asked him, ‘If it weren’t for you, how many more men would have died at Balaclava?’

  ‘I didn’t save enough.’

  ‘But many more lived.’ She reached out to touch his cheek. ‘You’re a man who takes care of others. Your men. Mrs Turner.’ She forced him to look at her. ‘Me.’

  ‘I’m no good at it, Hannah.’ He glanced at the lavish gilt interior of the coach. ‘I don’t belong in a Schloss like that.’

  ‘And what if they are your real family? You’ll simply turn your back on them?’

  A harsh laugh escaped him. ‘They turned their back on me.’

  ‘You don’t know that. There are a thousand things that might have happened. Give it a chance. Find out the truth.’

  ‘And what about you?’ he asked quietly. ‘What will you do if we find out I’m the Prince of this country?’

  She stared at the ring on her hand, turning it over to hide the diamond-and-aquamarine cluster. ‘I suppose I’ll go to Germany.’

  He took her hand and turned the ring back to reveal the stones. Shrugging, he said, ‘I need you to translate for me. After that, it’s your choice.’

  There was no mention of wanting her there. She had hoped he would ask her to stay, to tell her that she meant something to him. But he didn’t appear to care whether or not she stayed. It battered her foolish dreams, and she berated herself for even thinking of it.

  Crestfallen, she chose her words carefully. ‘You’re remembering more of the language every day. You were born knowing it; it’s only a matter of time before you remember everything. You don’t need me.’

  Tell me you do, she pleaded silently. Let me believe that last night was important to you.

  But he said nothing.

  Hannah glanced outside so he couldn’t see her eyes brimming with tears. ‘The Graf was right. We shouldn’t have pretended to be married.’ Her face felt brittle, and her throat tightened in a struggle for control.

  ‘You want to leave,’ Michael murmured softly.

  ‘I want you to ask me to stay.’ The words slipped out, and she longed to take them back. ‘I know I shouldn’t have come with you here. It was wrong.’ One of the tears slipped free against her will. ‘But…I didn’t want to leave you.’

  Blood rushed to her face, as she laid her confession bare before him. ‘I wanted to be with you, for however long that would be. And I don’t regret letting you share my bed.’

  He moved across the coach to sit beside her. With his thumbs, he brushed the tears away. ‘If I were a better man, one who could take care of you, I wouldn’t let you go. I’d damn the consequences and force you to stay with me.’ He held her gloved hand to his face. ‘But there are people who want me dead. It might be best if you stayed with your cousins, where you can be safe.’

  She shivered, rubbing her arms, though the air was still warm. ‘Is that what you want?’

  He leaned in, touching his forehead to hers. She could feel the warmth of his mouth against her cheek, the hushed breath between them. The feverish burn of desire crept over her, the need to feel his body pressed close.

  ‘You know what I want. And there’s nothing honourable about it.’

  Spirals of need threaded through her, and Hannah softened beneath the onslaught of Michael’s kiss. The sensual pressure of his mouth and tongue loosened her doubts. Without words, he was coaxing her, silencing the warnings in her head.

  When he broke away, it took a moment to steady her breathing. Every memory of last night came crashing through her mind. The touch of his hands, the feeling of his body joining with hers.

  She needed to be with him, even if it meant being his mistress and not his wife. And though she knew he would break her heart in the end, she would take whatever moments she could.

  Michael couldn’t sleep. Though he’d been given the best room in the Graf’s hunting lodge, the soft featherbed offered nothing in the way of true comfort.

  When he heard the door creaking open in the middle of the night, he reached under his pillow for the knife he’d hidden. Slowly, the footsteps drew closer. He held his breath, waiting. It was a risk, for he didn’t know who was approaching or why. It might be someone trying to kill him, or it might be a servant who’d forgotten something. But then, a servant would have knocked first.

  It was risky to wait, if the assailant had a gun. He held his position for as long as he dared, while the footsteps came even nearer. There was a faint scent of faded herbs, like a lavender sachet that had been trapped in a drawer for too long. A familiar perfume, but one he couldn’t quite place.

  When he sensed the person standing by his bed, he charged forward, with the knife drawn. ‘Who’s there?’ he demanded.

  A woman gasped, and he reached out to turn up the lamp. The dim glow illuminated the room, revealing the presence of Abigail Turner.

  ‘Mrs Turner, what are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  She trembled, her face white with fear. He realised he was still holding the knife, and he set it down.

  ‘I wanted to talk with you.’ She sat down in a nearby chair, her voice quaking. ‘Since you didn’t heed my warning, I wanted you to understand. They’re going to find me, and then I can’t say what will happen.’

  She spoke as though she’d done something wrong. He half-wondered if she was having one of her spells again. ‘Find you?’

  Raising her chin, she nodded. ‘I was supposed to give you to them.’ Her lower lip trembled, and she shook her head, her face tight with unshed tears. ‘But how could I let them kill you? You were a boy…just a boy.’

  He was having trouble understanding what she meant. ‘Are you saying, you are from Lohenberg?’ he ventured. ‘This is your country?’

  She glanced away. ‘I haven’t been back in over twenty-three years. I never wanted to return…after…what I did.’ She gripped her arms, her voice fading softer. ‘They took my husband, you see. They said if I didn’t give you over to them, they were going to kill Sebastian.’

  He stared hard at her curling grey hair and her soft brown eyes, but could not tell if it was the truth she spoke. She reached out and cupped his cheeks with her hands. The tears did spill over now, and she wept openly for her loss. Michael held her hands, trying to offer her comfort, though his mind was reeling from her revelation.

  Though he didn’t want to cause her more emotional pain, he needed to understand. ‘You abducted me from my family,’ he said slowly. ‘Because these men took your husband.’

  She nodded. ‘I was in the Queen’s service and was one of a few women who could get close to you.’

  ‘Who were these men? Who hired them?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she wept. ‘They came to me on All Hallows Eve. There was a masked ball that night, and everyone, even the guards, had masks.’

  She wiped her tears, adding, ‘I imagine that’s how they were able to get inside the palace without anyone noticing. I was supposed to take you away from your nurse and bring you to a coach that was waiting outside. With all the other carriages for the ballroom guests, no one would notice it.’

  ‘How did you get past the guards?’

  ‘I told them I was taking you outside, to the gardens where the Queen was waiting. They believed my story and let me pass.’ She lowered her head in self-loathing. ‘They trusted me. I didn’t
know until later that the hired men had put another child in your place.’

  Michael didn’t allow a single emotion to be revealed. He struggled to keep back the surge of resentment. Mrs Turner had known about his past, all these years, and had never once said a word about it. She’d known that his parents were not his own.

  But if he revealed any of his frustration now, she might slip into a fit of madness, and he’d never hear the entire truth.

  Carefully, he asked, ‘What happened after you took me from my nurse?’

  She continued weeping, clutching her hands together. ‘I almost gave you over to them, God forgive me. You were asleep in my arms when I got inside the coach.’ Her hand went to her middle. ‘But I had recently learned that I was expecting a child of my own. Henry.’ A mournful smile crept through her tears. ‘And I thought about how I would feel if anyone harmed my own child. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Even if it meant losing Sebastian.’

  She dried her eyes, seeming to pull her thoughts together. ‘I stopped the coachman and bribed him to drive me home instead.’ Her gaze turned solemn with regret. ‘I suppose we were both having regrets.’

  ‘I gathered up all the money and jewels that I could, and I used it to buy our passage to London,’ she continued. ‘I kept you for a few months until I was about to give birth. It was then that I met Paul and Mary Thorpe. They were childless and they promised to take care of you and help me with my own baby.’

  Mrs Turner let out a heavy sigh. ‘I was afraid of anyone finding us. I also knew I would have to live in poverty for the rest of my days. It was the only way to avoid notice.’

  He’d often wondered how Mrs Turner had managed to survive, without a husband to support her. He’d always believed it was his parents’ charity.

  ‘Did my parents know about my past?’

  She shook her head. ‘It would have made them uncomfortable to know you were a Prince. They’d have treated you like a bit of glass, and then what sort of man would you have grown into?’

  She took a deep breath, blowing her nose in the handkerchief he gave her. ‘I told them you were orphaned in Lohenberg, and that I’d promised to find a home for you. I let them raise you as they chose. But the one thing I insisted on was your education. Dear heaven, how I pestered Mary about that. I told her that you might be a fishmonger’s son, but you deserved a chance for a better future.’