Chapter Forty-Four

Late May…

We were in one of my hidey-holes.

You didn’t think I had just the one spare house in Varenna, did you?

This one I bought years ago, a sun-bleached stone cottage on an olive-tree-lined hill in Aix-en-Provence. Lush lavender bushes encircled the garden and, on clear days, one could see the Mediterranean from the bedroom window.

The window in front of the bed where Hugh and I had slept for the past three weeks after our small wedding in Scotland, on Nick’s estate. We had wanted a private ceremony, so anywhere in Drieden was out of the question, unfortunately. I still wasn’t sure I had reached the point where people would ignore my second wedding to a millionaire ex-bodyguard and I did not want any negative press to shadow either Gran’s Jubilee celebrations or the announcements about Thea thereafter.

It also felt like a fitting conclusion to the whole Christian Fraser-Campbell drama. Good defeats evil, love wins, every time, and then your foes get married in your family chapel. There was something vaguely medieval about the idea that Hugh especially enjoyed.

And then, while we were all in Scotland, there was one last medieval twist. In a cell that was electronically monitored 24/7 on an island in the middle of the North Sea, Christian died of a heart attack.

Thea ordered an immediate investigation, Nick hit the whiskey hard for a day or so, but I felt it was safe to say that the instigating cause of Christian’s death was likely lost to history, never to be discovered.

I thought I’d been so quiet, but when I tiptoed back to the bedroom still wearing nothing but his shirt, which I had tossed on, he asked, “Who was that?” Hugh’s voice was drowsy, but I knew he’d been yanked out of sleep as soon as the phone rang. Once a bodyguard on alert, always on alert.

I hesitated with my answer, which made his next words sharper. “Caroline? Who was on the phone?”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him. It was that I wasn’t sure I should.

Hugh and I had promised each other, no more secrets. I had told him all of mine after we became engaged. Hugh agreed with Sybil’s security assessment—I, along with Cordelia and Clémence, was a blackmail risk. But I decided to wait until after Thea’s ascension to the throne to tell her the truth about my forays into journalism. It would be the biggest moment in her life and I didn’t want my previous mistakes to distract from that.

If, after that, she couldn’t forgive me, then I was ready to accept it. If I had inherited anything from our mother, it was—finally—a peace about the mistakes I had made and the person I was growing to be.

Finally, I decided to just spit it out. “It was Dr. Lao, from the palace. I’m fine,” I added, with a reassuring smile when his frown instantly deepened with my answer.

“What did he want?”

I lifted my hands. “Apparently, there’s some antiquated rule of the office of palace physician. He’s not quite sure how to handle it at the moment.”

“And he thought you could help?”

“I think he might be trying to narrow the suspects.”

Hugh’s hazel gaze sharpened. Again, I should have really picked my words more carefully. Note to self: Don’t refer to oneself as a suspect. It makes one’s husband suspicious of your activities. “Explain, please.”

“The blood tests I arranged for Thea, Sophie, Henry and me. Remember, the ones I told you about?”

He nodded.

“They were analyzed blind by an independent lab. Dr. Lao’s nurse assigned each of the samples random code names and only she had the key, which was destroyed by a different clerk once they were returned.”

“Was there something wrong with one of the tests?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know if I can say that. But Dr. Lao says there’s this very old royal decree that requires the court surgeon to tell the monarch whenever he gets evidence that an heir is expecting a child.”

Hugh threw back the bedclothes and was crossing over to me in one blindingly fast movement. “Caro—”

I stopped him. I knew what he’d assume. “It’s not me,” I insisted. “The blood test was two months ago. I’d know it by now.”

His shoulders relaxed, but he still seemed concerned, going by the way his eyes were searching over me, as if trying to detect evidence of injury or pregnancy.

“Besides, it’s…you know…too soon,” I stammered, suddenly wondering if it was too soon for…that…with us. But when Hugh closed a hand around my waist and pulled me to his naked, muscular body my hormones snapped to attention. Yeah, maybe not too soon. And the way Hugh’s body reacted to me seemed to indicate that he also agreed with that conclusion.

“So what is Dr. Lao going to do?” Hugh asked. “If he’s got to report this? Call each of you and…inquire about your…ah…months?”

I helped him out. “No, I volunteered to do it.” Hugh gave me a you-didn’t look and I tried for levity. “The good news is, Henry says he’s definitely not pregnant.”

“That’s a relief,” Hugh said.

“And then I called the sister I thought most likely to get knocked up…”

Hugh knew who I was talking about. “And?”

I shook my head. “It’s not her.”

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