“Find me that footman.”
“My lord, the search has continued since last night, but the man is nowhere to be found,” Robert replied, looking at Valentin with concern. “As you said, he must have been paid to watch for any perceived indiscretion that Princess Hortense could use againstyou. Finding him won’t change matters, I fear. The damage has been done.”
Damage? Losing the woman of his dreams to a suspected plot that sickened him still at its maliciousness?
Hortense had insisted so innocently last night in the ballroom that she’d only been interested in protecting him and ensuring that their father’s wish for Valentin to marry a suitable bride be fulfilled. She’d admittedto no knowledge of this footman other than that he had come to her of his own accord with information that had deeply troubled him, never having been one to trust the English since the time when he’d fought for Napoleon.
Hortense had admitted, too, that she’d felt duty bound to share with Valentin’s privy council what she’d learned, but had asked them not to say anything unless he made an ill-advisedmove that she feared, he might.
No argument had swayed them, all seven members of his privy council—though to a man they expressed regret—had held fast to their insistence that the law was clear about the potential bride of a crowned prince of Bratavia being above reproach. Her reputation spotless, unsullied. It hadn’t seemed to matter that Valentin had been the one at fault to have gone to Estelle’sroom, however innocently and impulsively, to ask for her hand in marriage.
A foolhardy move that had cost him a lifetime with the woman he loved—God help him, how was he ever to bear it?
“Please, my lord, you must get some rest.”
“Leave me, Robert. I thank you, but leave me.” He heard his loyal friend heave a sigh, but Robert nodded and left the drawing room.
Valentin stared at the flamesburned down to glowing ashes in the fireplace…just as there was nothing left to him but ashes.
Ashes of a dream that was no more, Adam telling him when Valentin had gone a few hours ago to confirm that the privy council had not altered their decision, that Adam, his wife, and Estelle would be leaving in the morning for Calais. There they would find a ship bound for England so they might returnhome.
There was nothing else to be done, Adam had said as he clasped Valentin’s hand, his voice heavy with regret. Nor did he think it was a good idea for him to see Estelle, who had lain abed since last night, not sleeping, not speaking, and not eating.
Walking by her closed door when Valentin had left Adam and Linette’s room had nearly crushed him. Yet he’d kept going, out of respect for thewishes of a man he considered a friend and because he couldn’t bear to cause Estelle further pain by repeating news that would only break her heart.
As for his heart…
Cursing, Valentin thrust himself out of the chair and began to pace in front of the fireplace, just as he’d been pacing and thinking all night long and now well into the afternoon.
He’d given the footman’s description to his soldiers—yes,Valentin had realized with a jolt that the man must have been the same one he’d nearly run into the other night in the hallway. They had fanned out all over the castle and through the town, searching as long as he’d been pacing…and still there was no sign of the bastard as if he’d never existed at all!
Yet Valentin refused to accept that nothing could be done.
He refused to believe that by tomorrowmorning, Estelle would be on her way back to Cornwall and he would never see her again.
And he had refused to listen to Hortense’s incredible insistence last night—even with anguish written all over his face—that he must quickly choose a bride from among the three women who no doubt had watched what unfolded with delight.
Her mounting frustration had been plain to see as he’d turned a deaf earto her argument that strong alliances must be made.
That he must think of the future of Bratavia and not his own romantic whims, and that the women’s families eagerly awaited news of whom he would pick for his wife.
None of which mattered to Valentin, though everything his father had engrained in him over the years rang in his mind, too.
He was a prince and a prince must rule. A prince mustmarry, have children, a son to follow in his footsteps and daughters with auburn hair just like their mother…
“Estelle…” His voice ragged, Valentin leaned against the mantel in despair.
Even if his soldiers found the footman, what would that change? Even if the man confirmed Valentin’s theory that Hortense had paid him to spy upon him and Estelle, the damage was done.
God help him, the damagewas done!
***
“Miss Easton, please, you must try to eat something.”
Estelle turned her face away from Mattie, despair overwhelming her.
Even as the young woman had moved around the room packing her belongings until a supper tray had arrived from the kitchen, Estelle had lain upon the bed and kept her eyes closed as if she could blot out everything and what it meant.
