Ever.
She offered each of the princesses a humble curtsy and followed in Princess Anastasia’s wake as she departed the drawing room. In the hall, Princess Anastasia made certain to close the doors so that her younger sisters wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on their conversation before turning to Eleanora.
“Thank you for your efforts on Prince Nando’s behalf,” Princess Anastasia said, her face fraught with worry.
It was as if a mask had slipped and the calm, poised façade she had presented to her sisters shattered. The previously composed princess appeared starkly worried.
“You needn’t thank me, Your Royal Highness,” Eleanora said. “It was my honor to assist the household in tending to the prince.”
A scratching sound at the door suggested that the princesses weren’t above eavesdropping after all.
With a raised brow, the princess inclined her head toward the hall. “Walk with me, Miss Brett?”
“Of course.” Eleanora moved to keep pace with the princess, following her down the hall and away from curious, listening ears. “How may I be of service to you?”
“Oh, my dear Miss Brett, it is too kind of you to ask,” Princess Anastasia said, reaching for her arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze that defied the bonds of their relationship. She sighed heavily before continuing. “You know that Prince Nando is beloved to me, even for all his faults and despite my determination to see him stay far from my sisters, do you not?”
Eleanora nodded. “Yes, Your Royal Highness.”
“His brother, King Maximilian, is married to my dearest friend, my former lady-in-waiting, Queen Tansy. I promised her that I would see to Nando as best as I could whilst he was here in London.” The princess paused, her lower lip quivering. “And now, he has been gravely wounded. I fear she’ll never forgive me. Nor will I forgive myself if anything…if he were to…”
Her words trailed away, as if she couldn’t bring herself to give voice to the real possibility that Prince Ferdinando would die from his injuries.
“I am so sorry, Your Royal Highness,” Eleanora hastened to say, feeling at a loss as to how she might proceed in such delicate circumstances. “If there is any way I can be of assistance, please know I’m here in every capacity you require.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Princess Anastasia said as they approached the grand staircase. “Because—and pray tell me if I am overstepping, Miss Brett—Prince Nando is in a great deal of pain. He’s been calling for you ever since you left his chamber earlier after you assisted with Dr. Crisfield.”
“It was most inappropriate of me to be so bold,” Eleanora said, terrified that she was about to lose her position for daring to enter an unwed man’s chamber and aid a doctor. She had seen the prince without his shirt. In a bed. And whilst she had been preoccupied by his state and the sight of so much blood,she couldn’t deny that it had been most scandalous of her to be present. Under any other circumstances, it would have been beyond the pale. Indeed, perhaps the princess felt it was.
“It was perfect, Miss Brett,” the princess shocked her by saying. “Just as you are. I am heartened, as I know my dear friend the queen would be, that you were there to aid Nando in his time of need. And I am selfishly hoping you might be willing to do so again.”
Eleanora was hardly perfect. Far from it, in fact. If the princess had any notion of just how far, she’d likely be shocked. They were on the staircase, slowly ascending, leaving the younger princesses behind in the drawing room. The house was wreathed in funereal silence, even the domestics traveling with a more pronounced, ominous hush than before.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re asking of me, Your Royal Highness,” Eleanora said earnestly. “But whatever it is that you wish, rest assured that I’ll be more than happy to do it.”
“Nando is restless,” Princess Anastasia said, frowning. “He’s in quite a state. I’ve seen him myself, and he was thrashing and carrying on in such a fashion that I can’t do anything but fear for his welfare. If indeed he doesn’t contract an infection or worse after the injury he suffered today…”
“How may I help?” Eleanora asked, fearing she already knew the answer to that question.
“He has been calling for you, Miss Brett, and insists no other will suffice,” Princess Anastasia said, her countenance a mixture of worry and regret. “He says he won’t rest peacefully unless you’re at his side, and I very much fear he will do himself greater injury if he doesn’t stay calm. Perhaps you might spare him a few minutes to put him at ease. His man Bruno will be in attendance, of course. You have nothing to fear where your reputation is concerned.”
Either Prince Ferdinando was delirious with fever and laudanum, or he was being his scoundrel self once more.
It didn’t matter. Eleanora would deal with him. She needed this lucrative post. Needed the unrivaled éclat she could receive from aiding royal princesses.
She didn’t hesitate in her response.
“If it is what pleases Your Royal Highness, I would be honored,” Eleanora lied.
“Oh, Miss Brett.” The princess blinked furiously, her long, dark lashes doing nothing to stay the flow of tears threatening to spill. A few trailed down her cheeks. “I’m indebted to you, truly.”
“Nonsense,” Eleanora said with false brightness. “I am indebted toyou, Your Royal Highness. With your blessing, I’ll pay a quick call upon the prince’s sickroom.”
“Thank you, my dear. You’re an angel,” Princess Anastasia said.
Eleanora stifled a guilty flush, but she held her tongue and followed the princess back to the rooms where Prince Ferdinando had been taken.
Just in time to hear His Royal Highness shouting that he must see Miss Brett or he wouldn’t have another drop of bloody laudanum, followed by a crash.
