“You love him.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather a knowing statement.
She pressed her lips together, staving off a sob, summoning her control to keep from humiliating herself. “Yes.”
Desperately.
Hopelessly.
Futilely.
“He should be marrying you instead of the princess,” Prince Ferdinando said with great feeling. “To hell with allies and wars. He’s sacrificed enough of himself for Varros. He deserves to be happy.”
He did deserve happiness. Maxim was a good man. A misunderstood man. A man who had been through hell in the name of his people. But she couldn’t bear the agony of watching him with the princess.
“I understand why he must marry Princess Anastasia.” The words left her with great difficulty. She had to pause and collectherself before continuing. “But tonight showed me that I can’t stay in Varros. It’s far too painful. I’m not strong enough to bear it.”
“Damn it,” the prince cursed, tossing away his cheroot and smothering it beneath the sole of his boot. “You should tell him, Lady Tansy.”
“If I tell him, he will only try to keep me here. He can be very persuasive when he chooses to be.” Her cheeks heated as memories of just how persuasive he’d been earlier filtered through her, chasing some of the anguish. “He cannot know.”
“You do him a disservice in not giving him warning,” the prince cautioned.
But she was firm on this. She was weak and vulnerable where Maxim was concerned. She didn’t trust herself not to succumb, should he attempt to dissuade her.
“He can’t know,” she repeated. “Promise me you won’t tell him either.”
“My lady,” Prince Ferdinando protested, clearly not liking the idea of keeping a secret from his brother.
The two of them were close, she knew. And she hated being the reason the prince lied to Maxim. But she was desperate.
“Please,” she begged. “Promise me.”
He exhaled a weary sigh. “Very well. I promise you. However, I insist that you allow me to assist you in securing passage from Varros. Maxim would want me to make certain you’re safe.”
The offer was a relief. She hadn’t been sure how to obtain passage in a ship on her own.
“Thank you. I would be most grateful for your assistance.”
The prince nodded, looking grim in the flickering light of a nearby torch. “How soon do you intend to leave?”
“As quickly as I’m able.”
The sooner she left Varros, the better. Her heart couldn’t bear the strain.
Prince Ferdinando inclined his head. “Consider it done.”
CHAPTER 17
“You look as if you’re attending your own funeral, madam,” Maxim observed grimly.
The day had dawned dark with storms rolling in from the sea. Rain was lashing against the windowpanes where Princess Anastasia stood, wind howling beyond. He had summoned her for the meeting with her brother, who had newly arrived from England in preparation for the invasion of Boritanian shores.
He hadn’t failed to note the dark crescents beneath her eyes. Nor her wan complexion and utter lack of joy. Maxim couldn’t blame her, of course. He felt the same. He missed Tansy. The damned betrothal feast the night before had kept him from her, and he’d spent the night in his bed alone after finally managing to return to his apartments at half past two in the morning.
By that time, Tansy had long since disappeared from the feast.
His obligations thus far today had similarly kept him from her.
