And Tansy did her best to tamp down the worry and guilt festering in her belly.
CHAPTER 6
Something mysterious was afoot.
And Maxim didn’t like mysteries. Or liars.
Or princesses who were meant to be taking his carriage as transport and yet inexplicably turned it away.
“You’re certain?” he asked again of his coachman, who had returned early with an empty carriage and the news that the lady he’d been meant to squire to Archer Tierney’s town house that evening had declined the use of the carriage and walked away.
“I’m certain, Your Majesty,” the coachman said. “The lady said she wouldn’t be needing the use of the carriage this evening, but that she would arrange for a different night.”
Yes, something was definitely wrong. Either the princess was engaged in deception of some sort as he suspected, or her nighttime activity had been discovered. And if the latter was the case, the princess’s life was in danger. Not just hers, but her lady-in-waiting’s as well.
His gut clenched. He had to go and see for himself. Messages could be intercepted or misconstrued.
Maxim thanked the coachman and gave him directions to take him back to the town house where Princess Anastasia was staying. Essentially where the coachman had just arrived from.But if the man questioned the reason or found it odd, he gave no indication. And that was why Maxim paid him so well.
He settled on the squabs, crossing his too-long limbs that were never at home in a carriage, and tried to practice patience as the carriage rocked into motion. He was weary to the bone, having spent the night before chasing an earl across London to avoid a disastrous duel. Bribery had, as he had suspected, won in the end. Nando hadn’t met anyone at dawn this morning with pistols, and he’d also been forced to assure Lord Levering that he would avoid Lady Levering for the duration of his stay in London.
Nando had sighed on the carriage ride home, objecting to being banished from the countess’s bed, even if he had understood the reason for it. Maxim had narrowly avoided giving his brother the thrashing he deserved. In the end, no members of the aristocracy had been maimed or hurt—the only damage had been to masculine pride. And that was precisely how Maxim wanted it, because he had far more important matters to attend to.
Namely, where the long-lost, exiled Prince of Boritania was. And why the devil the princess had turned his carriage away.
He couldn’t lie—the closer the carriage drew to his destination, the greater his anticipation, and to his shame, it hadn’t a thing to do with either the exiled prince or the princess he would be marrying. Rather, it had everything to do with Lady Tansy Francis, the gray-eyed spitfire he couldn’t stop thinking about.
She had damned well better be safe, he thought as the carriage finally drew to a halt outside the town house.
The prospect of harm befalling her lying heavy on his chest, he leapt from the conveyance before it had completely come to a halt, calling out his order for the coachman to return and collect Felix, his trusted bodyguard. A man he decidedly shouldn’t havecome here without, he thought wryly as he approached the front walk and rapped at the door. His need to solve the mystery of the princess’s refusal of the carriage had spurred him on, supplanting all else. Even the thought of his own protection.
But he couldn’t lie to himself. It had also been the need to make certain nothing had happened to Lady Tansy. His protective instinct where she was concerned was as strong as it was baffling.
The door opened to reveal the English butler Gustavson had hired, a perfectly placid gentleman who hadn’t the slightest notion he was working for a cutthroat, deadly usurper king.
“His Royal Highness, King Maximilian of Varros for Her Royal Highness Princess Anastasia,” Maxim announced unnecessarily, for the fellow knew damned well who he was.
This was the third evening in a row Maxim had arrived at this very door, paying a call. Moreover, he was a king. He didn’t imagine it was every day that the butler greeted royalty, even if Maxim hailed from a tiny island kingdom that was below the notice of most.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” the butler intoned, bowing. “Follow me, if you please.”
Maxim stepped inside, listening for any hint of unrest within and hearing nothing untoward. All was silent as a tomb, which was generally the prevailing mood within the town house upon his every visit. He waited in the entry hall while his visit was announced to the guards and then proceeded up the by-now-familiar staircase and down the hall to Princess Anastasia’s room, passing the guard he had warned two days before. The fellow lowered his head as Maxim strode by him. He hoped to hell the fear of him would last until he could pry Princess Anastasia and Lady Tansy from these walls.
At last, he reached the door and knocked smartly, not bothering to request a guard do so. The farther away those bastards stayed, the better.
“Who comes?” Lady Tansy called in almost flawless English.
For the benefit of the servants, no doubt.
“King Maximilian,” he announced in return. “To see Her Royal Highness.”
Although he listened closely for the slightest hint of a curse, the only sound that reached him was a faint floor creak and then the rattle of the door latch as she pulled it open a tiny crack, revealing one eye.
“Her Royal Highness is sleeping,” she announced coolly.
“I’ll wait,” he returned smoothly, flattening a hand on the paneled door and gently but firmly pushing it inward.
Lady Tansy had no choice but to allow him entrance, and they both knew it. Still, as Maxim stepped over the threshold and snapped the door closed at his back, he couldn’t deny a certain sense of pleasure unfurling in his chest.
