by Nina Milne
Whereas an agreement would be an opportunity to remodel Lady Kaitlin—transition her from prospective royal bride to a woman who had moved on from her break-up in a positive manner, the champion of a good cause that she genuinely believed in.
Yet caution still raised its head. ‘The press will try to find a romantic angle.’
‘Let them try. They won’t be able to locate it, because it doesn’t exist.’ His mouth twisted in a wry upturn that held more than a hint of challenge. ‘Unless, of course, you’re worried you’ll succumb to my deadly charm?’
Kaitlin narrowed her eyes. ‘In your dreams, Daniel.’ Been there, got the T-shirt and never again.
‘Then what are you so worried about? Worst-case scenario is that they speculate—you’re a free agent now.’ He eyed her for a moment, fingers drumming on his thigh, and then he snapped his fingers. ‘Unless you are hoping for a reconciliation with Prince Frederick?’ Disdain dripped from his voice. ‘Is that the plan—did he agree that if you weather the storm you will requalify as a Lycander bride?’
‘No!’ His contempt stung. ‘There is no plan. But it’s...complicated.’
With an effort she kept the crack of emotion from her voice as scenes from the previous day filled her mind.
The Duke and Duchess had taken disappointment to new heights—their frustration had filled the living room at Derwent Manor with palpable waves of fury.
‘You have let us down, Kaitlin. Not just us, but the Derwent name. The only way to redeem yourself is to get him back. Your destiny is with the House of Lycander—we want at least one grandchild with royal blood in his veins. Is that understood?’
The message had been loud and clear, and had been followed by the outline of a ‘Win Frederick Back’ action plan that had made her burn with humiliation. Yet she had listened in silence—had neither agreed to obey nor expressed refusal to comply. It had seemed the easiest option until she figured out for herself what she wanted to do. For months she’d been on a path and now...now she felt as though the proverbial rug had been pulled from under her designer wedge shoes.
‘So, explain.’
The blue of his eyes held not so much as a glint of compassion, but at least his censure had been put on hold.
‘This marriage is important to my parents and they believe I should keep my options open. I don’t want to rock the boat.’
‘You can’t marry Prince Frederick for your parents’ sake. They have no right to ask that of you.’
The sheer intensity of his voice rocked her backwards. ‘They have every right to ask. My father is recovering from a heart attack and my brother and sister have both made marriages my parents disapprove of. I have it within my power to make them happy by marrying a wealthy, handsome prince. It seemed like a no brainer.’
‘Seemed,’ he repeated. ‘Past tense. What about now?’ He tipped his palms up in patent disbelief. ‘The wealthy, handsome Prince has ruthlessly discarded you for fear of scandal. You can’t possibly still want to marry him.’
Kaitlin resisted the urge to cover her ears and tune out his questions. She had erected a block against Prince Frederick’s judgement. But now his words buzzed through the barrier like pellets of venom.
‘I am sorry, Kaitlin—you would have made a good Lycander princess, but I can’t take the risk of scandal or ridicule. Not now. My bride needs to be untainted by even a breath of scandal. You no longer qualify.’
For a moment the meaning of his words hadn’t dawned on her—and then the realisation that nine months could be dismissed so summarily had had her reeling, caused a wire of irrational hurt and anger to tighten her chest. Clearly once again she wasn’t worth fighting for; the threat of scandal outweighed her value as a person.
All those years ago her parents had made it plain that they wouldn’t expose her kidnappers—wouldn’t bring them to justice because of the potential smearing of the Derwent name. Now history had repeated itself with a vengeance.
It didn’t matter—she wouldn’t let it matter. Lady Kaitlin Derwent did not succumb to feelings. She had learnt to lock them down. Thus she had rid herself of pain, anxiety and the slither of horrific memories. So no way would she be goaded into emotion now.
Rising from the sofa, she faced him. ‘My association with Prince Frederick was an alliance, not a relationship, and as such he had the right to break it if expedient. End of.’
‘But you want to keep your options open to renew that alliance?’
His expression had dialled right back to disdain, but this time she steeled herself to suck it up. This conversation had gone far enough—exceeded the parameters of her comfort zone by a long way.
‘It’s always wise to keep your options open. Let’s go back to your plan.’
‘Your call. You’re the one with the concerns about the possibility of a romantic angle.’
Instinct warned her that a week with Daniel Harrington might lead to disaster, but logic reiterated the benefits.
‘I’m in.’
‘Good. Let’s face the press on your doorstep now. After that, I’m flying out to Scotland early tomorrow—we might as well travel together.’
‘No! Wait!’ Seeing the surprise in his eyes, she dialled down the volume of her response. ‘I mean, yes, but I need more information before we leave.’
New places had the ability to overwhelm her and trigger a panic attack, so she needed information so that she could prepare, research, lay the groundwork to minimise the chance. Plus she had to ensure she had knowledge of the correct image Lady Kaitlin should project, which facet of her persona would be on show.
‘So would it be possible to brief me more thoroughly after we do the press interview?’
‘No problem—we can combine it with dinner.’
‘Great.’ Her tummy was as hollow as the adjective—after all the last time she’d had dinner with Daniel Harrington...
Stop. Don’t go there.
* * *
Daniel glanced sideways at Kaitlin as they traversed the busy London streets en route to a restaurant of her choosing. Her elusive rose scent tantalised him, brought back unwanted reminders of another city, another time.
Another woman.
Once again he marvelled at the difference between ‘Lynette’ and Kaitlin, squashed the urge to see if he could delve beneath the layers of Kaitlin to free ‘Lynette’.
Get a grip.
That perfume had clearly sent him towards delirium. No one needed freeing. From anywhere.
‘It’s here.’ Kaitlin slowed down and gestured to a small restaurant. ‘Cora and I eat here sometimes. It’s private, but it won’t give the wrong idea.’
As they entered Daniel saw what she meant. The effect was both quirky and fun; the mezzanine deck of the restaurant, where a number of booths were located, was approached by ladders, and the clientele was a mix of parents out with their kids, groups of friends and the occasional couple.
‘Lady Kaitlin.’ A stocky dark-haired man came forward. ‘Welcome. Will there be reporters who need to be quietly ejected?’
‘Hi, Carlos. We should be safe today.’
Daniel hoped so—the press had decamped from her door, having seemed to swallow their story, delivered with admirable aplomb by Kaitlin. It was a dexterity he had only been able to admire: the way she had sidestepped personal questions, explained her enthusiasm for the opportunity to support a cause her siblings already espoused. Though whether April Fotherington would fall for it or not was yet to be seen.
‘Then follow me.’
They climbed to the upper level, where Carlos ushered them into a wooden booth hung with low lighting that gave a homely impression of warmth, enhanced by the warm polish of the rustic pine table between high-backed benches, padded with lengths of cheerful red cushion.
‘I recommend the special
.’
‘I’m good with that,’ Kaitlin said.
‘That’s fine with me too,’ Daniel concurred.
‘Then leave it all to me.’ With a beaming smile Carlos departed.
‘I hope that’s all right? The food is good, it’s not pretentious, and whilst Carlos isn’t averse to a little publicity he draws the line if it becomes too intrusive.’
‘Did you bring Prince Frederick here?’ Lord knew where that had come from—it hardly mattered.
‘No.’ Her hand rose to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear, and then she reached down into her bag and pulled out a notebook and pen. ‘Give me five minutes, please, to list some questions, and then we can start.’
He watched as she bent over the notebook and started to write, took in the classical slant of her features, the glory of her hair, tinted with flecks of red and gold by the light, her small intent frown, the graceful line of her neck. Once again desire tugged at his gut, and it was a relief when a waiter appeared with sparkling wine and a bowl of glistening green and black olives.
And still she continued to write—until his limited store of patience ran out and he cleared his throat with theatrical emphasis.
Kaitlin looked up and her lips twisted in a small guilty moue. ‘Sorry. I got a bit absorbed. Let’s get started.’
Daniel pushed the olives towards her. ‘Shoot.’
‘First I need some background to this project. And an overview of our itinerary and what you want me to do.’
‘The idea is to help teens who come from abusive backgrounds, or who have been in prison, failed at school, and feel they have no future. The Cavershams aim to show them that they can stop the cycle, that they don’t have to repeat their parents’ mistakes and that their background does not have to define them. They can choose to walk away from the past, choose to leave the cycle of crime and move forward.’
‘Breaking a cycle is tough—especially when that cycle involves your family. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like there is a choice.’
‘There is always a choice. However tough. However hefty the price tag.’ He’d lost his family and it had nearly broken him, but it had been the choice he had made.
Give it a rest, Daniel.
Her green eyes were way too discerning.
‘Anyway, it’s an admirable cause. This trip is about giving them new experiences and a chance to have fun. Using the wilderness to illustrate the power of nature, give them a different environment to the one they are used to. So that’s an overview of what’s happening in the Highlands. Venice is a whole different scenario.’
‘What’s our remit there?’
‘The whole event is already organised—we will just need to double-check the details, sort out any last-minute glitches, host the ball and run the auction. Ethan and Ruby had planned to go, but they have had to change their plans.’
The Cavershams were adopting two children, a brother and a sister, and they were due to move in with them as soon as all the red tape and processes were completed.
Kaitlin nodded. ‘Cora told me—they must be over the moon.’
‘Yes.’
Try as he might he couldn’t inject his voice with any enthusiasm, and she frowned.
‘You don’t believe in adoption?’ Her perfect brows rose in a gesture that marked disapproval.
‘I do believe in adoption—and I wish the Cavershams well. But, speaking for myself, I don’t believe in parenthood.’
‘You don’t want children?’ The surprise in her voice was genuine.
‘No, I don’t.’
The idea of being a father caused him to break out in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the late-evening sunshine that slanted through the restaurant’s open sash windows.
‘Too much responsibility.’
He’d seen what it had done to his own parents. His father had been so desperate to do his parental duty that he’d died before Daniel had even been born. Giovanni Romano had worked all hours in a bid to provide for his family, and exhaustion had caused him to fall asleep behind the wheel of a lorry—with fatal consequences.
Kaitlin watched him with eyes that combined judgement with question. ‘Children are a huge responsibility, but I believe a worthwhile one.’
Daniel wondered if his father, killed in his prime, would have agreed. If it hadn’t been for his unborn son he might well be alive today. It was a question he could never know the answer to, and guilt tinged the sadness that tightened his chest with a familiar ache.
Enough. Face forward.
‘That is your prerogative. I’m happy to keep my life childfree.’
‘Yet you don’t strike me as someone who shirks responsibility. You certainly haven’t skimped on hard work.’ She looked down at her notebook. ‘According to my research, ten years ago you established a small firm in the North of England. You are now CEO of a global law firm.’
‘That’s a different type of responsibility, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I grew the company regionally at first, then nationally, and recently it has become global through a process of partnerships, mergers and acquisitions. A key to my success has been successful branding, but also an ability to create and maintain true corporate spirit and a shared ethos.’
Pride warmed him—success was what drove him. That and a need to prove he could make it without the backing of the mob, a desire to show his mother he could provide for her.
He glanced across at Kaitlin, who scribbled industriously in her book. ‘Why the research?’
‘Because having some information about you enables me to know the right thing to say to different people. So, for example, if I know you love archery and I am speaking to a guest in Venice who also loves archery I can put you together.’
Daniel studied her expression—the small frown of concentration that crinkled her brow, the serious set of her lips. Clearly the conversational prowess she was known for came at a price, and he wondered if she did this before any conversation, public or private, if she always vetted each and every word.
‘For the record, I’ve never done archery. I used to be a dab hand at basketball, and I’ve done some boxing, but nowadays I mostly work. I will admit to a love of food, though, and I like to cook. Does that help?’
‘Yes. Thank you. Now, can you tell me the exact itinerary for the days in Scotland? What activities are we participating in? How many teenagers will be there?’
‘Fifteen kids, aged from fifteen to nineteen. Nine boys, six girls. The first day we’ll be kayaking, the next day hiking, the third day there will be a choice—’ He broke off. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘No.’
‘Then why have you gone pale?’
‘It must be a trick of the light.’
Bending over the notebook, she appeared to be writing ferociously, but her fingers held the pen in a death grip and the pallor of her skin had nothing to do with the lighting.
She released the pen and looked over his shoulder. ‘Here comes the main course.’
CHAPTER SIX
DESPITE THE INCREDIBLY appetising scent that wafted up from their plates—garlic interlaced with a touch of parsley and a tang of lemon—foreboding touched Kaitlin. Kayaking... As if everything wasn’t bad enough already, she would have to face a water-based activity. Water had always inspired her with unease, and it was a fear her kidnappers had played upon—revealed to them by the Derwent Manor staff member who had help lure her to her capture.
After the kidnap that unease had matured into a full-scale phobia, alongside a multitude of anxieties that had had her seeing danger lurking at each and every corner. But water had been the worst... The idea of it dragging her down, of not being able to breathe, had been too reminiscent of what her captors had inflicted upon her. Black terror as she’d been blindfolded, held under the wate
r and pulled out only when her lungs had teetered on the verge of collapse.
Anxiety unfurled tendril after tendril of fear that twisted her tummy into knots of apprehension.
‘Earth to Kaitlin?’
The deep timbre of Daniel’s voice pulled her back to reality.
Focus.
A glance down at her plate. The swirl of linguine. Rings of calamari. The vibrant red of tomato sauce patterned by tiny green capers. Next she looked at the pale gold of the white wine. Up to Daniel’s face. Craggy, strong, intensity in his ice-blue eyes as they watched her, the formation of a frown on his forehead.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked.
‘Everything is fine.’ The panic began to recede and she knew she had it under control. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
The attempt at lightness not quite pulled off.
‘You’ve gone pale, and you zoned out for a couple of minutes there.’
Pride stiffened her spine—she would not admit her fear to Mr Fearless over there. She would work this out. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’
Daniel’s blue eyes watched her with a scrutiny way too deep, whilst his lawyer instincts were no doubt limbering up.
‘Something I’ve said has bothered you big-time and I want to know what it is. I am responsible for this project and I want it to work. So—spill.’
‘It’s not a problem, as such, but I’ve never kayaked before and I don’t want to make an absolute fool of myself.’ Or expose her panic attacks to the eyes of the world. ‘The thought of the press catching a candid camera shot of me tumbling into the water fills me with horror.’
‘That hardly warrants your reaction.’
Think.
‘Actually. it does. I told you. Image is everything.’
The Lady Kaitlin Derwent persona she’d built for herself relied on poise—she projected self-possession and people believed she was filled with an abundance of self-confidence. She couldn’t afford a chink in that façade.
‘I’d like to maintain mine.’
