Modern Romance Collection: July Books 5 - 8. Natalie Anderson
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state events last year and her father sits in the public park playing chess with the...the peasants...’
Sabrina walked quietly into the room; unobserved, she stood in the doorway and made the decision not to waste another moment of her life playing nice with these spiteful women. It came as a relief.
‘Well, I feel sorry for her. If my husband cheated on me—’
‘You don’t have a husband, and if you carry on stuffing your face with pastries you won’t.’
Sabrina didn’t slow or quicken her pace as she walked towards the group of expensively dressed, beautifully made up women sitting around a table set for tea.
They got to their feet almost as one when they saw her.
She ignored their furtive expressions—a couple even had not lost the ability to blush—and kept her eyes fixed on the one woman who had remained seated.
Brought up in a much more relaxed atmosphere, Sabrina had always viewed the protocol that made everyone scramble to their feet when she walked into a room ludicrous, but on this occasion?
Sabrina’s smile was practised and smooth when a few moments later the other woman got to her feet, her pouty mouth twisted into a forced, rigid smile.
Sabrina’s eyes moved past her to the other women. ‘Please, ladies, as you were. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting but something unexpected has come up, so I’ll see you all on Thursday. No, actually, no, I don’t think I will. Our little gatherings are cancelled for the foreseeable future.’
She took a step towards the door before pausing and twisting back. ‘Actually, we don’t have peasants. My father was a chess grand master at seventeen, and my mother always taught me to judge the person and not the clothes they wear. Oh, and by the way, the only woman sharing my husband’s bed is me.’
Without waiting to observe the effect of her words she swept from the room.
Her painted-on smile faded the instant she stepped out of the room. She still felt dizzy with the anger that cooled slightly as she made her way back to her office.
‘Rachel, would you cancel all the lunches with the—?’ She stopped as she saw the personal items that her assistant was pushing into a large tote bag. ‘What are you doing? Have you been crying?’ She went over and put her arm around the girl’s shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I... I’m leaving...’
Sabrina shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
The girl managed a watery smile. ‘I have been—’
‘Rachel has been reassigned, Highness.’
Sabrina turned and saw a tall woman whose presence she had not been aware of move away from the wall. She arched a brow and kept her arm around Rachel’s shoulders. ‘And you would be...?’
‘I am Regina Cordoba, Highness—your new assistant.’
* * *
Sebastian’s jaw clenched in frustration as his father’s attack dog, Count Hugo, appeared from a doorway just as he was about to enter the private wing of the palace he shared with Sabrina. The man’s ingratiating manner irritated him, as did his conspiracy theorist determination to blame everything that was wrong with the country on the republicans he saw lurking in every corner.
‘Highness.’
Sebastian tipped his head, a glint of anger in his eyes as he responded smoothly, ‘Count, lucky coincidence or—?’
‘When he heard you had abandoned the meeting...?’
Sebastian arched a brow and let the silence stretch until the man, finally realising that the Prince was not about to issue an explanation, continued.
‘The King hoped that you might be available, unless you are unwell?’
‘Unwell?’ He shook his head. The man would probably disagree if he told him why he had wound down the meeting. ‘No, just...’ He shook his head. ‘Forget it—where is he?’
His father was in his study sitting behind his big desk that was raised on a dais. The tactic drew a wry smile from Sebastian as he walked past the chair meant for him on the lower level and straight up to the desk, where he remained standing.
‘I understand you wanted to chat, Father?’
‘Chat? I do not want to chat. I want an explanation as to why you saw fit to walk out of a meeting wasting the time of the people who had made the journey there.’
‘Do you really want to know? Fine, well, apart from the fact that everyone was so busy protecting their own interests that we could have sat there until next week and been no further forward, I made a joke and no one laughed.’
His father stared at him.
‘I know it sounds stupid but it was a very good joke and Sabrina would have got it, she would have laughed, so I came home to share it with her.’ He did not add that during the absence of laughter he had strongly felt the absence of other things...or another person, and in the process had finally diagnosed the vague symptoms that had been plaguing him recently—loneliness... That shock had barely penetrated before he had realised that his exile from the one person who eased that ache was self-imposed.
His father, very red-faced, drew himself up in his seat. ‘Well, if you are not going to do me the courtesy of being serious I can see there is no point... However, as you introduced the subject, there is something I must tell you concerning your wife.’
The faint air of humour in Sebastian’s manner vanished as he laid his hand flat on the desk and leaned forward, looking at his father through narrowed eyes. ‘Really?’ he said with deceptive calm.
‘I do not blame her—she doesn’t know how we do things here—however, it has come to my attention that she has been getting involved with areas of life that are unsuitable. Like, for example, the university.’
‘That well-known den of iniquity? What puzzles me is how you come to know what my wife does.’
‘There are dangers, a very real threat from malcontents and terrorists. The surveillance is for protection.’
‘I can and will protect my wife.’ A smile curved his lips as he repeated the last two words ‘My wife. And you will remove your spies from my meetings.’
The King blinked and looked horrified. ‘I need to know—’
‘And you will. I will keep you in the loop. That is the way it is and if you don’t feel able to agree with my terms—’
‘Terms!’ The outraged King looked like a man who had just had the rug pulled out from under his feet.
‘Crude, but accurate. I will do things my way or not at all and the next time I see that worm Hugo I will kick his bony butt...’ His voice lowered another icy note as he straightened to his full imposing height and looked down at his father with icy contempt. ‘I will do my duty by you but I will do it my way and with my wife by my side.’
‘And if your wife found out about your Paris trip? There was no meeting, was there?’
‘Is that a threat? Are you trying to blackmail me?’
The older man lowered his eyes. ‘No, of course not, the idea is disgusting. I am your father!’
‘Be careful, Father, the “how dare you?” attitude looks remarkably like guilt.’
‘Me, guilty? I’m not the one spending time with—’
‘My brother,’ Sebastian cut in softly.
The words stopped the King dead.
Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed softly. ‘I didn’t mean to tell you like that. Are you all right?’
‘You saw your brother?’
Sebastian