So he had left her. She had become Lady Lydingham and he had gone off to make something of himself. Now he had returned home and she was free. Still, it scarcely mattered. Too much time had passed for them both. He was a different man than he had been all those years ago. And she was, no doubt, an entirely different woman. A widow of independent means with her own plans for her own life. Whatever might have been between them once was lost with the passage of years.

But once they had been friends, and it was as a friend that he would make his aunt’s delivery. They would exchange pleasantries. She would inquire as to his uncle’s health. He would ask about her sisters. He would linger for the correct amount of time required for a call of this nature; then he would bid her felicitations of the season and take his leave. And that would, at long last, be that.

He ignored the voice in the back of his mind that whispered, What if it wasn’t?

Three

Three

“Now then, Mr. Fortesque.” Camille studied the actor standing before her in the parlor. “Are your players ready?”

“We are always prepared for a performance, my lady,” Frederick Wenceslas Fortesque said in a lofty manner. Fortesque was the manager and lead player of the troupe of actors she had hired. He had taken the part of the family butler because, as he had said, regardless of the play, the butler was the pivotal role. Camille bowed to his expertise in this particular matter, even if she wasn’t entirely convinced. “The prince noticed nothing out of the ordinary when he arrived this morning.”

Indeed, Nikolai had arrived an hour or so ago in a most discreet manner, in an elegant hired coach. He was now freshening up from his travels and would shortly join her for tea. He had arrived unaccompanied, which had struck Camille as odd. She had always assumed royalty, even royalty traveling incognito, would travel, nonetheless, in a manner befitting, well, royalty. Or, at least, nobility. Still, the prince was adamant about not attracting undue attention. Not merely because of his desire to see the true nature of a country he was visiting, but because he had hinted darkly to her that one never knew what sort of brigands might be lurking about. Kidnapping and assassination were a constant threat for a royal. She had never quite considered that, but it did tend to dampen a bit of her enthusiasm for becoming a princess.

“That’s something at any rate,” Beryl said sotto voce. She sat on a nearby sofa to lend her sister what she called moral support, although Camille suspected Beryl simply hated to miss the opening act.