Lost in a Royal Kiss Page 2

  “Yes. I took extra Latin sessions with Mr. Steele, and Chloe often sat in on them.” A sad little smile twisted Dominic’s lips. “She’s much better at it than I am.”

  “And Ernest sometimes took lessons with you?”

  The boy’s smile turned downward. “Sometimes, but more often he went on his own.”

  “Did Chloe sit in then, too?”

  A reluctant nod was his only answer.

  “Dominic, what did Chloe think of Prince Ernest? Did she become friends with him, too?”

  The boy grasped the arms of the chair in a white-knuckled grip. “It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know any better. She thought—” He broke off when his voice grew thick.

  “Easy,” Anthony said in a soothing voice. “I’m sure Chloe is an innocent. But I need to know how this all came about, and I think you’re the only one who can properly tell me.”

  He heard the rustle of skirts as Linnet brushed past him and rested a gentle hand on Dominic’s shoulder. “You can trust Sir Anthony, Dominic. He will do everything he can to help us.”

  She glanced up at him, blushing, but meeting Anthony’s gaze head-on. And he saw that she did trust him, which was a bloody surprise.

  Reluctantly, he forced his attention away from the velvet trap of her gaze and back to the lanky problem sitting before him. “Dominic, did Chloe become fond of Prince Ernest?”

  The boy grimaced. “She thought he was sweet on her, because he flirted and spouted silly nonsense that girls like. I told her it was all a hum, that he was just bored with his lessons. But she didn’t believe me.” The frustration in his voice spoke volumes.

  “I take it, then, that Chloe wasn’t immune to Prince Ernest’s attentions.”

  When Dominic stiffened, ready to snap back, Anthony put some steel into his voice. “I need the truth, lad, not your offended pride. It will not help anyone if you lie, even to protect Chloe’s honor.”

  The boy stared at him, clearly waging an internal struggle. Then he looked at Linnet with an unspoken plea.

  “Dominic, no one will think the worse of Chloe, I promise,” she said, stroking a gentle hand over his dark head.

  Something about the way Linnet so generously comforted the distraught boy set off a yearning in Anthony. It was as if he’d lost something a long time ago, and was only now beginning to remember what it was.

  He mentally shook himself and returned his attention to Dominic. “So, it’s possible that Chloe initially welcomed the prince’s attentions. After all, a young, sheltered girl could not help but be flattered by such distinguished notice.”

  A reluctant nod from Dominic confirmed Anthony’s suspicions. It seemed that Ernest hadn’t raped Chloe, but he would gladly throttle the selfish little bastard for taking advantage of a girl not much more than a child.

  “How did it come about that Chloe was even alone with the prince? Where was her father?”

  Linnet sighed and moved back to her chair, her gown and petticoats settling about her with a crisp rustle. “Their housekeeper, Mrs. Mayfield, is primarily responsible for Chloe’s well-being. The woman does her best, but Mr. Steele is not as attentive to Chloe as he should be,” she finished in a prim voice.

  To Linnet, who devotedly cared for her younger siblings during their mother’s regular absences, neglect of family constituted a formidable sin.

  “It wasn’t his fault, either,” Dominic said, swiping a hand across his eyes. “It was Ernest’s. He should have to pay for what he did.”

  Anthony had a great many other questions, but Dominic had clearly been through enough for now. “I agree, but I fear that Chloe would have the worst of it if this incident were to become common knowledge.” He cast Linnet a swift glance. “I trust it has not.”

  She shook her head.

  “Thank God,” he replied. “I cannot even begin to imagine how the queen would react, much less the king.”

  Linnet turned pale, and Anthony didn’t blame her.

  “As much as it pains me, Dominic,” he continued, “the knowledge of this incident must be suppressed, for both Chloe’s protection and her father’s. Her reputation would be in tatters, and Mr. Steele would surely be dismissed without notice or recommendation. They would be in a very bad way if that were to happen.”

  Dominic looked stricken, but the boy knew the rigid moral characters of the king and queen. Although they would be furious with Ernest, their majesties would place most of the blame on his tutor. And, of course, on the girl, no matter how innocent she might be.

  “It’s my fault,” Dominic whispered in a broken voice. “I should have done a better job of protecting her.”

  “Dominic, you must not take this onto yourself.” Linnet’s voice rose with agitation. “I saw Chloe go off alone into the gardens, but I never thought—” She broke off, pressing a hand to her mouth.

  Anthony had to clamp down hard on the instinct to pull her into his arms and comfort her. Linnet rarely showed any vulnerability, and that she did now made his chest cinch tight. He glanced at Dominic, who was gazing miserably at his feet.

  Anthony crossed to the bellpull. “Dominic, I want you to go down to the kitchen and get something to eat. Carter will show you the way.”

  The boy’s head came up. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Perhaps not, but you’ve suffered a shock. You’ll feel better once you’ve had something to eat and drink.”

  When Dominic shook his head, Anthony took him by the elbow and pulled him up. “I know you feel like you won’t be able to swallow a bite, but you’ll do Chloe no good if you make yourself ill.”

  The boy cut him an assessing glance. “It doesn’t seem right. Me eating and drinking, like everything is fine, while Chloe is—” He quavered to a halt.

  Anthony placed his hands on the lad’s shoulders. “You must trust me. I’ll see to it that Chloe and her father are taken care of, and that Ernest will never be able to harm her again.”

  Dominic nodded as some of the tension drained from his shoulders. When the butler came in, Anthony nudged the boy in the direction of the door. “Carter, please see that our young guest has something to eat and drink, and bring tea up for Miss St. Clare.”

  Anthony turned to find Linnet on her feet again, furtively dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “My eye is irritated,” she protested.

  “I understand,” he said gently, taking her arm and steering her back to her chair. “Now, sit down before you fall down. You look exhausted.”

  Her creamy complexion was pale as goat’s milk, and she had purple smudges of fatigue under her eyes. The blasted girl had always taken too much responsibility upon herself, especially after the appointment of her mother as sub-governess to the princesses. That had left Linnet in charge of her widowed mother’s household, and entirely responsible for the care of her younger brother and sister. It frustrated the hell out of Anthony to see her run herself ragged, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

  Not yet, but that would be changing very soon.

  Linnet dabbed her nose, gave a heartbreaking little sniff, and stowed her neatly folded handkerchief into her reticule. Finally meeting his eye, she gave him a rueful smile. “It has been a rather trying day.”

  When Anthony raised his eyebrows, she let out a grudging laugh. “All right. It’s been a completely horrible day. Everything’s a muddle, and I haven’t a clue how to fix it.”

  Despite her protestations, Linnet was rarely at a loss, and Anthony guessed she already had a plan tumbling around in her pretty head, one that clearly involved him. “It seems to me you’ve done very well so far. I have a number of questions, but I’ll forestall them if you’ll answer the most pertinent one.”

  She tilted her head, frowning. “And that is?”

  “Since you’ve spent the last several months avoiding me, what the devil are you doing here now?”

  Chapter 2

  Linnet’s thudding heart raced blood through her veins, sending a flush of
embarrassing heat to her face. She had been avoiding him, but she could never tell him why. It took all her discipline not to quail under Sir Anthony’s penetrating gaze.

  Blast the man. She’d lost count of the times he’d made her feel like a blushing maiden. Strictly speaking, she was still a maiden, but she’d given up blushing years ago—along with simpering, flirting, and so many other talents deemed useful to unmarried women.

  Except, of course, in Sir Anthony’s august presence.

  Not that he was ever overbearing, or put on haughty airs. But at age thirty-seven, he carried himself with cool gravity and a sense of authority far greater than most men his age. Not everyone liked Sir Anthony, but everyone respected him. As his trusted liaison to the Home Office, the king invested a great deal of confidence in him, all of it well-placed as far as Linnet could determine. Sir Anthony came by his air of command honestly, and Linnet supposed it wasn’t surprising that he possessed such a knack for intimidating her.

  It didn’t help that he was so handsome, either, with broad shoulders and a long, lean body that topped most of the men at Court by several inches. He had a high brow and thick, unpowdered brown hair that swept back from a widow’s peak. But his best feature—or worst, depending on one’s point of view—was his eyes. They were an intriguing, tawny shade, with green flecks that caught the light in the most startling way. They seemed to glow, attracting her with a fascination that bordered on the obsessive. Whenever Sir Anthony fastened his gaze on her, Linnet fancied he saw right into her heart, stripping her emotions down to their most vulnerable state.

  It was a ridiculous fancy, sprung from the fact that she’d nursed a tendre for him these last two years. Most days, her weakness didn’t inconvenience her in the slightest, since she usually managed to avoid him. And even when she couldn’t, Sir Anthony tended to regard her with something like amusement.

  That was a good thing, since he was the last man she should ever fall in love with.

  For one thing, he didn’t need her—not like Mamma and her brother and sister needed her. For another, he was too controlled and calculating for her taste. Linnet had little doubt he was the kind of man who would place his wife in a neat little box and expect her to be nothing more than a dutiful and meek spouse. Dutiful she could manage, but meek? Never.

  Linnet had almost convinced herself that she wanted nothing to do with him. Besides, Sir Anthony would wish to marry a woman of means and influence, not an aging, penniless spinster. Nor had he displayed any interest in her physical attractions.

  Well, except for that one time at the Queen’s Drawing Room last summer, when they’d ended up crammed into a corner together, pressed on all sides by the usual ridiculous crowds. But Linnet had finally decided he’d probably been in his cups when he’d called her by her given name, and stroked a gentle hand—

  “Miss St. Clare, I asked you a question.”

  Linnet practically fell off her chair as Sir Anthony’s dry voice jerked her back to attention. She pressed a hand to her flaming cheek, mortified at the direction of her thoughts. No wonder he was staring at her like she was a half-wit.

  “Forgive me, Sir Anthony,” she said in a dementedly bright voice. When his eyebrows marched up his forehead, she had to repress a sigh. Yes, half-wit described her very neatly. “I was simply trying to compose my thoughts.”

  “Or avoid the question.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his long fingers across his rich, burgundy-striped waistcoat, observing her with an amused gleam in his vivid eyes.

  That look swept away her lingering traces of humiliation. His manner might sometimes bring out the shrew in her, but that was certainly preferable to the idiot schoolgirl that too often surfaced in his presence.

  “I came to you because you are one of the few members of the Court who doesn’t treat Dominic with disdain or cruelty,” she replied in a firm voice. “He respects you and will listen to your advice. Dominic has always struggled to control his temper, and that temper could prove his undoing in this situation.” She couldn’t hold back a grimace. “Not that he doesn’t have every right to be enraged.”

  Just thinking about what she had stumbled upon in the gardens behind Kew Palace made her feel ill. Chloe, huddled on a patch of grass behind a tall hedge, her skirts rucked up around her thighs and her bodice askew, choking on tears and betrayed innocence. Her young seducer stood over her, furtive as he hastily shoved his shirt into his unbuttoned breeches. Only a few moments later, Dominic rounded the hedge, looking for Chloe. He’d gone white-faced with shock, then uttered a strangled yell and fallen upon the prince. Only Chloe’s hysterics and the fortuitously placed bucket of water had stopped Dominic from throttling the king’s son.

  “I’m happy you felt you could trust me with this matter,” Sir Anthony said quietly. “But let us set aside Dominic’s situation for the moment until I can attain a better understanding of today’s events. How did you find yourself in the middle of it?”

  Linnet gave a tight nod, trying to order her thoughts. She felt like she’d been stumbling from one fire to the next, barely snuffing one out before another sprang to life.

  Fortunately, the butler entered with a tea tray, setting it down on the big desk. Sir Anthony waved Carter away and prepared her a cup himself, pouring in a splash of brandy from a decanter on the trolley behind his desk. Linnet didn’t even pretend to object.

  “Now,” he said, after she’d taken a cautious sip of the fiery but welcome brew, “start at the beginning and don’t worry if it makes sense right away. I’ll figure it out as you go along.”

  Haltingly, Linnet told him how she’d been visiting the Reverend Steele, hoping to arrange some additional lessons for her younger brother. Peter was almost eighteen, but his health was poor, and he wasn’t up to the rigors of university. The tutor had seemed the perfect solution, since Peter would have only a short walk from their house off Kew Green to the Steele cottage. While discussing plans with Mr. Steele in his study, Linnet had chanced to glance out the bow window facing the cottage garden. Chloe had walked past at that moment, heading toward the gate that opened to the expansive grounds behind the palace. Linnet had been mildly surprised to see Chloe wandering off by herself, but hadn’t given it more than a moment’s passing notice. After all, it was common for the members and attendants of the Court to use the gardens, or pass through them on their way to and from the palace and the various residences in Kew.

  “And after you finished your discussion with Mr. Steele, you cut through the gardens, I presume?” Sir Anthony asked.

  “Yes, I was on my way to see Mamma. She had been more or less chained to the royal nursery for the last several days, and I wanted to tell her of my conversation with Mr. Steele.”

  “And that’s when you came upon the, er, precipitating event.”

  “Sir, I’m not a schoolgirl. Your delicacy is appreciated, but not necessary. Not in a case like this.” After today, Linnet suspected nothing would ever shock her again.

  One corner of Sir Anthony’s firm mouth kicked up in a faint smile. “You may be sure I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She peered at him, mystified by his evident amusement. But a moment later his smile faded, and his gaze turned inward with a thoughtful air of abstraction. When he didn’t say anything for several long moments while he stared at the polished surface of his desk, she began to fidget.

  “What are you thinking?” she finally blurted out.

  When he raised his eyes, she felt a familiar flutter in her belly at the way the light picked out the shards of emerald in his eyes. Firmly, she squashed the inconvenient surge of girlish pleasure.

  “I’m glad we are speaking plainly, since I must ask you a rather indelicate question.” He stopped, as if asking her permission.

  Puzzled, she nodded.

  “Are you absolutely sure that Prince Ernest and Chloe consummated their encounter? They are both quite young.”

  “Not young enough,” Linnet said dryly.

  Sir An
thony grimaced. “I hate to press, but . . .”

  She put her cup down on his desk with a decided click. “I’m quite sure.”

  “And are you also sure Chloe was a virgin?”

  Despite her earlier conviction that nothing could shock her, Linnet blushed. Being forced to discuss carnal relations with the man she’d been half in love with for months made her skin prickle with embarrassment.

  Still, she understood why he asked.

  “I’m certain of that as well,” she said. “I helped her clean up.”

  “Christ,” Sir Anthony muttered, shaking his head. “The poor child.”

  He rose from his chair and came around the desk, settling once more on the edge, right in front of her. The toe of one boot nudged up against her petticoats and he towered over her, a masculine, overwhelming presence. His closeness should have made her feel nervous. On any other occasion it would have, but right now it gave her a curious sense of comfort.

  Restrained anger carved grooves around his mouth, but his eyes were gentle as they inspected her. “I’m sorry you were forced to deal with so ugly a situation, but Chloe was the better for you being there. I can’t imagine anyone who could respond to the situation with more kindness and good sense.”

  She ducked her head to hide the absurd rush of pleasure at his words. Forcing herself to shake it off, she met his gaze. “I doubt Prince Ernest would agree.”

  “What else did you do besides throw water on him?”

  “I boxed his royal ears. Then I told him if he ever uttered a word about Chloe, I would beat him within an inch of his life.” The memory of Prince Ernest glowering at her, half defiant and wholly bad-tempered, brought a rush of anger to the pit of her stomach. “And I would, too,” she muttered.

  Sir Anthony went wide-eyed. But then he let out a low laugh that drifted over her like a slow caress. “Well, that should work.”

  “I hope so. Obviously, he will not say anything to his parents, but his governor and tutors are another matter, particularly since he was quite a mess when I sent him home. I told him to say that he and Dominic fell into a foolish argument that led to an exchange of blows. No one should think twice about that, since they argue on a regular basis. Prince Ernest takes an especial delight in tormenting poor Dominic.”