The Stolen Princess (25 page)

“No, not that.” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “As a partner in the business there are things I need to know, to be able to do to be on the same footing as the people I'll be dealing with.”

She looked puzzled, then her brow cleared. “Do you mean you want me to teach you how to go on in polite society?”

“No.” He made a dismissive gesture. “I've been around enough officers to know how to ape the gentleman if I have to.”

“Mr. Delaney,” she said with brisk reproof. “You have no need to ‘ape the gentleman,' as you put it. You are more truly a gentleman than many men in society. And believe me, I know.”

“Thank you,” he said after a moment. The unexpected compliment had thrown him—and he was already off balance. He returned to the main point. He was going to get this over with if it killed him. “To tell you the truth, Miss Tibby, I have no desire to be what I am not, but there are things I wish to learn. And I want to hire you to teach me.”

“But, Mr. Delaney, what could I possibly teach you?”

Ethan took a deep breath. “Books,” he croaked. There, it was out.

“Books? What books?”

“Any books. All of 'em.”

“I don't understand.”

Ethan drew himself up as if he were facing a firing squad and said, “I can't read, Miss Tibby. Or write.”

She didn't say a word.

After a moment he looked at her. Her brown eyes were wide and steady on his face. “Mr. Delaney,” she said softly, “I'd be honored to teach you how to read and write.”

L
ondon was bigger than she remembered. Bigger, noisier, dirtier, and more exciting. Callie started feeling a little apprehensive.

She'd quarreled with Gabriel at luncheon. He'd been quite unreasonable. She'd simply asked him to recommend a hotel, and he'd told her in no uncertain terms that she was not staying in any hotel, that she was staying with his aunt, Lady Gosforth, and no argument. He'd written ahead and Aunt Maude was expecting them.

Callie pointed out that she had no claim on his aunt or her hospitality. His aunt would be delighted, he said, and that was the end of it.

Callie didn't see how any aunt would be delighted to have complete strangers foisted on her. He'd made a rude noise and said he thought he knew his aunt better than she did.

The small cavalcade drew up in front of an imposing house on Mount Street. Gabriel handed her and Tibby down from the chaise and conducted them up the steps to the front door. It opened smoothly as they reached it.

“Afternoon, Sprotton, keeping well I hope?”

The very dignified butler bowed. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gabe, I hope your trip was pleasant and uneventful, and may I say how good it is to see you here, sir? Ladies.” He bowed to Callie and Tibby. “Lady Gosforth asked me to conduct you all upstairs to Wash and Compose yourselves—”

“I did,” a tall, elegant, Roman-nosed matron interrupted him. “But I've decided I can't wait to meet you.” She swept forward holding out both her hands in a warm greeting, at odds with the severe cast of her countenance. “The height of inconsideration I know, my dears, to greet you when you are fresh from a long and tedious journey and I hope you will forgive me for it. How do you do? You are Prin—no, Mrs. Prynne of course—I know, Gabriel, but I am being very discreet—what glorious eyes you have my dear—and you are—?” She looked down her long nose at Tibby.

Callie jumped in, seeing a way of escape. “Miss Tibthorpe, my—my lady-in-waiting.” She did not want anyone looking down on Tibby. “And my, er, equerry is waiting outside, with my…son's companion. I am sorry, indeed I had no intention of imposing on you but your nephew—”

“Nonsense, no imposition at all, my nephew was quite right to bring you to me. I presume your maids and footmen are following on. They're all welcome. I am delighted to have you, for the season so far has been utterly tedious and this house is far too empty.”

She held out her hand to Tibby and said, “How do you do, Miss Tibthorpe, and you are, of course, Nicholas.”

“Nikolai,” he corrected her, then bowed very correctly and clicked his heels.

“What excellent manners, Nikolai. You will take note, Gabriel, this child has greeted me and you have not.”

He bowed ironically and grinned. “I was waiting for you to draw breath, Aunt Maude.”

“Nonsense, for you know perfectly well you would never get a word in otherwise. Now, up you all go. Sprotton will conduct you to your bedchambers and arrange hot water. Did you say your maids are following?”

“No,” Callie said awkwardly. No lady would travel without her maid.

“She lost her maid and footman and several grooms in a storm,” Gabe told his aunt. “Washed overboard on the way to England. Terrible tragedy. When I met Mrs. Prynne she and her son had just waded out of the sea and were dripping wet.”

Lady Gosforth stared. “How frightful, my dears. What a mercy you survived. I presume that's what happened to your clothes as well. Never mind, my maid shall attend you and tomorrow we shall procure new clothes. Tea in half an hour. Gabriel, where are you going?”

Gabriel, who had been heading back toward the front door, turned back. “I'll stay at my club—”

“Nonsense, you'll stay here with me, and so will that wretched brother of yours and don't try to tell me he is not with you for I looked out of the window and he is sitting outside on a rather good chestnut, looking handsome, brooding as usual, along with that lovely Ramsey boy and the other one—you know, what's his name?—the one the girls all sigh after. Divinely handsome with a fatally attractive air of tragedy.”

“Luke Ripton,” said Gabriel, trying not to smile.

“That's it, the Ripton boy. And the other man who looks like an elegant prizefighter, the one with the small boy sitting beside him—he's not a groom, is he? He doesn't look like a groom.”

“No, that's Mrs. Prynne's, er, equerry and her son's companion.”

“He looks interesting. Run outside and tell them they are all invited for tea and I won't take no for an answer. Cook's baked lemon curd cakes and gingerbread and some newfangled sugar wafers, which he fills with cream and are positively decadent. And you and Harry will
not
stay at your club.” She gave him an imperious look down her long nose. “Well, run along, Gabriel. Take your horses around to the mews or they'll take a chill in this frightful wind.”

Gabriel bowed ironically, then winked at Callie, who was trying not to giggle. “Now you know why I'm terrified of women.”

Callie and Lady Gosforth both snorted in disbelief. Lady Gosforth turned to Callie with a smile. “My dear, I can see you're just what my nephew needs.”

“But I'm not—” Callie began.

“Oh, and Gabriel,” Lady Gosforth called. “Your brother Nash was here looking for you.”

Gabe's face hardened. “Nothing to do with me.”

Lady Gosforth rolled her eyes. “Well, it is to do with you—and your guests also.” She nodded at Callie and Nicky and gave him a not-in-front-of-the-children sort of look. “Nash will dine with us tonight and explain.” She peered beadily down her nose at him. “But first there will be tea—tell those other boys I expect them! Now hurry up and tend to your horses.”

He gave her an ironic salute. “Yes, General Gosforth.”

N
ash Renfrew arrived an hour before dinner. “There is a fellow, a foreigner,” he told Gabe when they were alone. “A count from some obscure little country who claims that a Mr. Renfrew, the son of an earl, is illegally holding his head of state. The Foreign Office thought he meant me, but that was clearly nonsense, so the finger got pointed at you, though personally I think he must have rats in his upper story. He says you have in your custody the crown prince of his country, Zan—Zendar—”

“Zindaria,” Gabe corrected him.

Nash's eyes narrowed. “You mean you know what he's talking about?”

“I do. The lady currently staying in Aunt Gosforth's best spare bedroom is the crown prince's mother. I presume the fellow you've met is a dapper blond charmer called Count Anton.”

“Good God. But this is appalling.”

“He is an appalling fellow.”

Nash made an impatient gesture. “This is serious, Gabriel. It's a matter of state. He's claiming the crown prince has been illegally removed from his country and must be returned.”

Gabe shrugged. “His mother removed the crown prince from his country because people were trying to kill him. He's only seven, and being his mother she naturally took exception to it.”

Nash frowned. “I wish you'd be serious. This is bidding fair to becoming an international incident.”

“I'm deadly serious,” Gabe told him. “The child's life really is in danger.”

“This Count Anton is the regent. He'd take full responsibility for the boy's safety.”

“He's the fellow trying to kill the boy. He's next in line to the throne after the boy.”

“Ah, I see.” Nash frowned. “It's a tricky situation.”

“Nothing tricky about it—” Gabe began.

Nash shook his head. “It's very delicate. Count Anton has made an official complaint at the highest level, which means our government will be forced to act.”

Gabe sat forward. “You can't mean to hand over that child to—”

“Not me, the government. I am but a minor official.”

“The child belongs to his mother—”

“Not according to Zindarian law. As crown prince, he belongs to his country. And in any case, he is a Zindarian citizen.”

“His mother is English.”

Nash shook his head. “No. When she married the prince, she became Zindarian. I have spent the last two days checking every aspect of the case.”

“Even though you didn't believe it could be anything to do with me.”

His brother gave him a withering look. “From the little I know of you, the very bizarre nature of the case seemed to fit with you perfectly.”

Gabe gave a thin smile. “You know me better than I realized.”

Nash leaned forward, his face suddenly earnest. “Gabriel, I wish we could heal this family rift. Surely, now that our parents are dead we can put their wretched folly behind us and finally behave like true brothers toward each other.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “True brothers?” he said sarcastically. “When I am—what was it you and your brother called me? The legitimate bastard. And Harry was the illegitimate one. So clever you thought yourselves.”

Nash shook his head. “I was eleven at the time, Gabriel, and Marcus was thirteen, and we were both just repeating what our father called you—foolishly and cruelly, I admit. And I've apologized for it before and will do so again, as many times as it'll take until you forgive me, for I bitterly repent it. If Father had ever seen you, he would have known that you are our true brother.”

“And Harry?”

Nash said carefully. “I will acknowledge him as my illegitimate half brother.”

Gabe snorted. “Big of you. I call him brother and I'll accept nothing less on his behalf. He's just as much a victim of my father's folly as I was. And Harry is the only family I have ever known: Harry, Great-aunt Gert, and since the latter part of my school days, Aunt Gosforth. Harry is my brother, my school friend, my comrade in arms. You and your brother are strangers to me.”

“Don't say ‘your brother' like that. Marcus is your brother, too.”

Gabe folded his arms and changed the subject. “You were talking about the crown prince of Zindaria. You're not handing him over. I won't allow it.”

Nash sat back with a thoughtful expression. “I won't give up on you, Gabriel. But, yes, to return to the subject of the crown prince, if the count wishes him ill, I agree, the boy must be protected. But how?”

“Boot the bastard out of England.”

Nash gave Gabe a look that said he could throw the word “bastard” around all he liked, Nash would not react. “Unfortunately the government cannot,” he said. “Zindaria, though small and obscure, is an ally of the Austrians and we cannot afford to provoke an international incident.”

He steepled his fingers and stared at them thoughtfully. “What we need is a complication. Something for the Foreign Office to chew over, to debate, to delay. Delay can be a government's most useful weapon.”

Gabe snorted. Delay had caused him many a problem in the army. Delay in funding, in provision of supplies. He had no patience with government delay. He looked at Nash. Except perhaps in this case.

Gabe sat forward as an idea came to him. “If the princess was married to an Englishman, would that make a difference?”

“Yes, that would certainly complicate things nicely, but she's not.”

“She could be. To me.”

Nash stared. “Are you mad? You hardly know her.”

“That doesn't matter. What matters is that she would not only be married to an Englishman, it would be to an Englishman with excellent family connections. An aunt who is a leader of the
ton
, a brother with an inside track to government decision-making—”

“And another brother who sits in the House of Lords and would make a huge fuss if anyone tried to take his sister-in-law's son! And besides, you're a war hero.” Nash sat back in his chair and gave his brother an admiring look. “It's brilliant. It will answer our purpose admirably—but are you sure you want to do this?”

Gabe nodded. “I'm certain.”

“Beddable little filly, is she?”

Gabe gave his brother a hard stare. “No.” He said the word like a whiplash.

“Not beddable?”

“Not your business,
brother
.” The violence of his reaction shocked Gabe. The mere thought of his brother regarding Callie as “a beddable filly” had made him want to thrash Nash to a pulp. His brother hadn't even met her.

Nash gave him a cool look. “Point taken. She will be my sister-in-law, after all. But there will be a deal of talk.”

“I'm counting on it,” Gabe said. “The more people know about the wedding the harder it'll be to have her son whisked out of the country.”
That's right,
Gabe told himself.
Keep reminding yourself that it's all about the child.