MONTGOMERY WASN’T EXACTLY EXPECTING dawn to be George’s definition of early morning, yet the sky was just turning gray when he was woken by a male servant and told his coach had arrived. He’d prepared ahead, though, in case he overslept, having packed his trunk before he left the house last night. Now he made quick work of dressing. The long strip of linen for his cravat he merely draped over his shoulders for now, and he didn’t take the time to club his hair back because he always had extra ties for that in his coat pockets.
The driver outside was standing by to secure his trunk to the top of the coach, but there were already so many trunks up there, he wondered if his would fit. “More’n one package?” he asked the young man.
“What package, m’lord?”
With a frown, Montgomery opened the door to see for himself how many people warranted that much baggage. One lantern was lit inside, not very bright, but bright enough for him to see just one body was present, huddled in the corner under a furry cloak, apparently still asleep. He thought about slamming the door shut to awaken it, whatever it was, but decided against it. He’d prefer a bit more sleep himself before the sun rose.
He tried, using one of the lap robes on the opposite seat as a cushion so he could lean his head against the side of the coach. One blaring question in his mind kept his eyes open. What sort of “he” could be termed a nuisance? Someone too young, too old, deranged like King George? Was he to be a bodyguard or a bloody nursemaid?
The driver failed to avoid a nasty pothole, which was not surprising when the sun hadn’t quite cleared the horizon yet. But the bounce nearly unseated the package.
Golden hair appeared first, a lot of it, then the untied cloak slipped back and the child sat up straight. Fine clothes, exceedingly fine, jewels dotting the starched high collar. Very slim fingers adorned with an excessive number of rings. A large medallion hanging from a very thick gold chain around his neck. The package was a walking bank of wealth. Smooth ivory cheeks, dark blue eyes, dimples that appeared now with a smile of greeting.
“That’s a pretty face,” Montgomery said suspiciously. “If you’re female I’m taking you right back to London.”
“Do you need to see my manly credentials?”
That was so unexpected Montgomery burst out laughing. “When we’re relieving ourselves on the same rock will be soon enough. George didn’t warn me the package would be this young. Is there a good reason he didn’t want me to know who or what you are?”
“Why would you add a ‘what’?”
“More precisely, are you one of his bastards?” Montgomery demanded.
The boy leapt to his feet in outrage but was a tad too tall to pull it off with aplomb, banging his head on the coach roof. The driver started to slow down, apparently thinking he was being directed to stop the vehicle. Montgomery growled before yelling out the window, “Keep going!” then snatched the boy’s arm, pulling him back onto the padded seat.
“You’re lucky you didn’t concuss yourself,” he said. “If you’re going to get angry, stay in your seat to do it. If you’re going to get angry at me, be warned I might shake you out of your temper tantrum. So you’re not a bastard? I suppose I shall apologize for that errant thought. But you’re a child. George bloody well should have warned me.”
“I’m seventeen, no longer considered a child,” the boy replied with markedly arrogant disdain.
“Is that so? Well, I’m Montgomery Townsend. You can call me Lord Townsend. And you—?”
“Can call me Highness,” the boy said stiffly.
“Not bloody likely. So this is what George meant about your predilection for lies. But if I’m protecting an urchin who happens to be wearing fancy clothes, maybe I won’t be very diligent about it. Out with it, who are you really?”
“Charles Maximilian Pachaly, the seventh Pachaly to inherit the throne of Feldland.”
“Never heard of it.”
“We’re a small kingdom near Austria.”
“Still never heard of it, but I was warned that you lie, so let’s agree at least not to tell such grandiose whoppers. I’ll call you Charley.”
The boy gasped. “I could have you beheaded for such insolence! My father certainly would have.”
Montgomery wasn’t impressed. “Want to take after him, do you? I suppose he’s a king, too?”
A curt, albeit sad nod. “He was killed in the rebellion. I was secreted out of the country to take refuge here. My father was an old friend of your Regent’s father, though the king is too ill to remember.”
“Just so you know, I’m not believing any of this and an in-depth explanation is bound to trip you up, so let’s hear it. I’ll give you a few minutes to convince me.”
“You realize I am not required to do any such thing?” Charles said.
“You realize you ought to make the effort?” Montgomery countered. “King or not, boy, you have twice taken umbrage for no good reason, which needs to stop. King or not, you can’t bloody well act like one if you want to remain hidden. So spit it out. This is the only opportunity I’ll offer you to make your case for kingship.”
“Because you think I will ‘trip up’?”
“Exactly.”
The boy smiled. “Truth might be forgotten, truth might be embellished, but the essential truth will remain. My country is rich in resources, which is why Napoleon didn’t ignore us. He demanded we join his Grande Armée when he marched deep into Europe. My father refused to support the upstart, but our people were afraid the little French emperor would bring his war to our land so they revolted against us. Father died when the palace was stormed, while I was secreted out of the country. But I still have many supporters at home, which is why these rebels think their new republic will fail if I remain alive. They are determined to kill me and have tried numerous times when I was on the way to England and even in this country.”
“You know that Napoleon was defeated last year?” Montgomery mentioned.
“Yes, and exiled to Elba, only to escape early this year to take up arms again. I was making arrangements to go home when he took control of France once more.”
“I doubt the new war will last out the year. He simply doesn’t have the support he had when he tried to conquer all of Europe.”
“I agree, and the rebels in Feldland are once again fearful of losing power because your Regent sent them a warning that he expects the monarchy to be restored. It was worded nicely, without threats, but still provided powerful incentive for them to kill me. I think he sent the missive out of desperation. I suppose I overstayed my welcome with him.”
Mentioning something George would likely do without approval from his ministers was a nice touch. He could definitely see why George had issued the warning, not that he gave credit to anything the boy had said so far. He was proud of himself for not laughing. But Charley could be a foreigner. His slight accent suggested he hadn’t been born in England or at least not raised here. And his clothes and manner suggested lofty social status. George had mentioned factions and esteemed bloodlines, after all, oh, and national importance, though Montgomery took that with a grain of salt. No doubt it was merely an embellishment the Regent had added to convince him to do the favor.
Still the threat to the boy’s life could well be true, so he felt a little sorry for him for having to endure such travails at his tender age.
Which had him saying, “Buck up. Even a polite request from England can yield amazing results, so we just need to keep you alive until the new war ends.”
“Then you believe me?”
Montgomery gave the boy a hard look before he answered, “It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. I was curious and you spun an interesting tale to satisfy my curiosity, but it’s a tale that shouldn’t be mentioned again—to anyone. There’s obviously a good reason why I wasn’t told who you are, Charley. You obviously know what it is, so you shouldn’t have told me that preposterous tale, which is bloody well much worse than the truth could possibly be. A tale like that will not deflect attention from you, it will just enlarge the target on your back. Do you understand me?”
“You asked,” Charley grumbled.
Montgomery gave the boy a narrow look. “Yes, I did, but what should your answer have been?”
The boy’s cheeks suddenly turned red. “That I’m nobody?”
Montgomery shook his head, waving a hand at Charley’s garb. “Unless we find some rags for you to wear, you’re obviously not a nobody. You should have just used the false identity the Prince gave you.”
“I wasn’t told about any false identity. But one of the servants at Carlton House handed Arlo a note when we left.”
“Who’s Arlo?”
“He’s driving us.”
“Well, I’ll ask him for the new names we’re to use when we stop.”
Charley sighed dramatically. “This effort to safeguard me seems too hastily planned.”
“Possibly, but secretive is the operative word and one you need to take to heart, so consider it your motto henceforth. I’ve been charged with taking us to a safe location where neither of us can be found, and that I will do.”
“I was told you were a soldier.”
“I was.”
“And a master duelist.”
“That’s . . . possible.”
“Then you can protect me no matter what?”
“Boy, how do you envision that happening if a dozen ruffians overtake us because you sound off about being someone worth abducting?”
“Are you referring to the men who are after me?”
“No, nor the ones after me. I’m talking about criminals who will see you as a prize.”
“I think I get your point.”
“About bloody time.”