Читать книгу Scandals Of The Famous: The Scandalous Princess - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 12

‘THE Truth Behind Jackson Sports Camps,’ Ben read aloud. His staff shifted uneasily in front of him, their eyes downcast. ‘Princess Natalia’s New Toy Boy,’ he continued, his voice gaining a definite edge. He threw the newspaper down on his desk, the movement one of disgust if not dismissal. He was furious with the press, with Natalia, and most of all with himself for allowing this to happen. His charitable enterprise was being dragged through the mud before the first day of camp. Exactly the kind of thing he avoided at all costs. The kind of tawdry publicity he despised.

Why on earth had he gone out for a drink with Natalia Santina? He’d surely known what the risks were, and yet he’d gone and done it anyway. Recklessly. Stupidly. And he knew why, even if he didn’t like the reason.

Because he wanted her.

He wanted her physically, had been so close to kissing her last night he’d almost tasted the sweetness of her lips, better than any champagne they could have drunk. His hands had ached to slide along the lush curves encased in that tight little skirt, slip beneath the snug T-shirt and touch the warm golden skin underneath.

He’d never wanted a woman so much, felt desire so painfully, and yet that wasn’t what infuriated him. It was the other, more dangerous wanting. He wanted to believe there was more to her than the shallow, party-going princess. Wanted to trust those glimpses of raw vulnerability and courage. Wanted more.

And there was more to her, he thought grimly. She was a vindictive, selfish bitch as well. He’d asked her out for a simple drink, and she’d used the opportunity—and him—shamelessly. He glanced up at his three employees. ‘If the press rings, tell them we have no comment and the camp will go ahead as planned. And,’ he finished, his voice sharpening, ‘when Natalia arrives, tell her to see me immediately.’ They nodded, and with a jerk of his head he dismissed them.

Alone in his office Ben took the newspaper and scanned the front page article once more. It was just as infuriating upon the second reading. The Santina family exploits, he saw, took up most of the tabloid’s pages. Alessandro and Allegra’s engagement took second place to other, more salacious events. Princess Sophia, apparently, had eloped to India with a maharajah. Carlotta, the disgraced single mum, was now in the company of some jilted prince. And Natalia had had the gall to accuse his family of bad behaviour!

He glanced at the photo of him and Natalia in front of the wine bar. It looked all too much like some kind of lovers’ embrace. His arm was snugged around her waist, her head upon his shoulder. And the other photo … a carefully angled picture of them standing close together at the restaurant, with the accompanying caption: Charity Work a Cover for Natalia’s Next Conquest?

Disgust and anger roiled in his stomach and he threw the newspaper down again. She’d planned it all perfectly, and played him for a complete fool.

A light knock sounded on the door, and then Natalia poked her head in, a small smile playing around her mouth, her eyebrows arched. Was she actually smirking? Ben rose from his desk.

‘Come in,’ he said coldly. ‘And shut the door behind you.’

‘Ooh, somebody didn’t sleep well,’ Natalia remarked as she closed the door and came to stand in front of his desk.

‘You aren’t wearing your T-shirt,’ Ben said, knowing it was probably the most inane thing he could have said but unable to keep from noticing. She wore a slim black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse, standard office wear, and yet somehow on her it looked as sexy and inappropriate as a black lace negligee. He could not keep his gaze from roving down those endless legs encased in sheer black tights, ending in high black stiletto heels. The skirt emphasised the perfect curve of her hip and thigh, and she’d left the white blouse unbuttoned at the throat, a silver pendant nestling in the shadowy, golden V between her breasts.

‘I had to have it washed,’ Natalia told him. ‘So if it really is required uniform, perhaps you could find a spare?’

He nodded tersely, not wanting to dwell on it or how enticing she looked in the clothes she’d chosen to wear. He shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. ‘Tell me, Natalia, how is it that in twenty-four hours you’ve managed to put this entire enterprise into complete disarray?’

‘Natural talent, I suppose.’

Ben planted his fists on his desk and leaned forward. ‘Do you realise,’ he demanded, ‘how much harm your stupid little ploy has caused?’

Natalia blinked, surprise flashing across her features at the restrained fury in his tone. Then her face cleared of all expression except perhaps boredom. ‘Which stupid little ploy,’ she drawled, ‘are you referring to?’

‘You didn’t read the papers this morning?’

‘I make a point never to look at them.’

‘How surprising. I would have thought you’d enjoy such an exercise.’

‘Just more proof of how little you know me.’

‘What I know,’ Ben gritted, ‘is your little plan to take my employees out to lunch and then trip all over me worked admirably. The press have sunk their teeth into the story and are claiming the only reason I’m sponsoring this sports camp is as a cover to get into your bed.’

‘How ridiculous,’ she scoffed. ‘Surely there’s an easier way to get into my bed.’

For a split second Ben once again had the bizarre sense that she was putting herself down on purpose, and he felt his anger drain away. He realized he was overreacting, and he knew it was because of his own experiences with the press. Still he could not get the bitter taste out of his mouth, the sickening feeling of being used and manipulated simply for the sake of a photograph. ‘Read that,’ he said, thrusting a paper into her hands.

She took it, glancing down at it without seeming to really read it. After a few seconds she tossed it back onto the desk. ‘All of it drivel. Just ignore it. It’s just a trashy tabloid anyway.’

‘Did you read it?’ Ben demanded, and she blinked.

‘I scanned it.’

‘Did you see the accusations they were making against the camp?’

She lifted one slender shoulder in an aggravatingly dismissive shrug. ‘It’s just gossip.’

‘Which you obviously don’t care about,’ Ben snapped, ‘based on how heavily you’re featured in these rags. I know you court the tabloids, Princess. You make sure they get all the photos they want of you at all your high-flying parties.’ She said nothing, only lifted her chin in challenge, which infuriated him all the more. ‘I read an astonishingly thorough exposé of an affair you had with some Frenchman,’ he drawled, ‘including rather intimate details you were clearly happy to provide.’

She stilled, and Ben had an odd sense that she’d somehow retreated from him even though she hadn’t moved. ‘You’ve really done your research, Ben,’ she said with a cool little smile. ‘I’m so impressed.’

‘Trust me, it didn’t take much. Just pick up a paper.’

‘You’ve made your point.’

Ben sighed, raking a hand through his hair. ‘My point, Natalia, is that I run a respectable business, with sensitive, high-profile clients who come to me for discreet financial advice. This kind of exposure is exactly what I don’t want and can’t have.’

‘Then maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to volunteer.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have,’ Ben agreed. He’d thought he could handle the press, handle her, but right now he felt like he couldn’t. He felt like he was spinning out of control, and not just because of the press. Because of her.

‘So,’ Natalia said, ‘is that it? You lasted one day with me?’

‘Not a chance, Princess. I never lose a bet.’

‘Just your temper.’

He glanced down at the papers again, felt a stirring of regret. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have become so angry.’

‘You must be used to this kind of thing,’ Natalia said, gesturing to the paper. ‘Your family is always featured in the tabloids back in England.’ He knew it all too well. ‘I’ve worked very hard to make sure I’m not featured in—’

‘Which is exactly why you’re so annoyed that you got dragged in this time,’ she finished curtly. ‘Shall I shed a tear? Now you know how it feels.’

He’d been dragged in before, and he hated it, but he wasn’t about to tell Natalia that. ‘Are you saying you don’t go after that kind of publicity? That you’re innocent?’

‘Is that so hard to believe?’

‘You know your own history—’

‘Better than you do.’

‘You’re saying none of what the tabloids print is true?’ Ben demanded. He watched her flush, and with a jolt of regret he realised he’d hurt her.

‘Not all of it is true,’ she said stiffly. ‘And in this instance, no, I didn’t plan it all. Really, you give me far too much credit. I took everyone out to lunch yesterday to be nice. End of story. And when we were coming out of the wine bar I tripped. You saw my broken heel yourself. The press jumped all over it as they always do, and they made it look as naughty as they could.’ Her lush lips curved in a brittle smile. ‘Really, I wouldn’t expect anything less.’

Ben stared at her. Even though she was effecting a careless, relaxed pose, he suspected that’s all it was. A pose. He sensed a deeper, darker sea of emotions churning underneath. Disappointment. Hurt. Fear. Anger too—and he didn’t know if it was directed at him, the press or maybe even the whole world. If she hated the tabloid coverage, he wondered, why on earth did she go out of her way to get it? Granting interviews. Posing for photos. Waving at the cameras. He’d assumed she enjoyed the notoriety.

Now he wondered. Was Natalia just pretending—and why? It was a question he didn’t really feel like examining … or answering.

He straightened, raking his hands through his hair before dropping them to his sides. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I see now that I overreacted a bit because I hate the press.’

‘You hate the press?’ She widened her eyes in mocking astonishment. ‘What a surprise.’

‘Shocking, I know—’

‘Did something happen,’ Natalia asked abruptly, ‘to make you hate it so much? Something specific?’

Ben pressed his lips together. He had no desire to trot out his little sob stories, his mother’s distress at having her private heartache made into public shame, how the press had pounced on his own weaknesses again and again to milk a story. ‘I simply find the entire practice of making money off people’s anguish completely reprehensible.’ He stopped himself from saying anything more, for he knew he’d already revealed too much. Anguish. Yes, that’s what his mother had felt. What he had felt. Yet he didn’t want Natalia to know. ‘I suspect having you volunteer here has challenged me as much as it has you.’

‘As long as we’re both getting something out of it.’

‘When I asked you to volunteer,’ he continued steadily, ‘I didn’t foresee this kind of press coverage.’ That wasn’t, he knew, quite true. He had anticipated something like it, but he’d willfully ignored it, told himself he could handle it. And right now it felt like he couldn’t. ‘That was foolish on my part, I realise.’

Natalia’s eyes flashed, this time with sudden humour. ‘Wait a minute. You asked me?’

Ben felt a flicker of admiration for the way she adjusted, always matching him. And a flicker of something else. He watched her chest rise and fall under that crisp white blouse and he wanted to undo its buttons. ‘Didn’t I ask?’ he said, feigning confused innocence. ‘And you so politely agreed?’ A wry smile tugged at his mouth, and she smiled back, the moment spinning on and turning into something else—something that reminded Ben of how slender and lithe her body had felt last night, how close his lips had been to hers. How much he’d wanted to kiss her.

‘I think you’re rewriting history as much as the press do,’ she said.

Which brought them back to their current situation with an unwelcome thud. Ben jerked his gaze away from her blouse and those tempting little buttons. ‘I’m sorry for losing my temper and accusing you unfairly,’ Ben said. ‘I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. But we can’t have this,’ he continued, glancing down at the newspapers. ‘If the camp receives negative local press before it even starts, it could affect parents’ decisions to send their children, not to mention some of the camp’s endorsements.’ He glanced up, saw she looked serious now too, and maybe even a little sad. ‘I know you think I’m doing this as some sort of PR stunt—’

‘I don’t really,’ she said quietly.

‘The truth is,’ Ben said, the words sounding and feeling awkward, ‘I’m doing it for the children. Well, myself and the children. I—I used to love playing sport. It gave me a great sense of confidence and—and control when I needed it most, and I want to share that with others, with children who might never have an opportunity to kick a football or run around the pitch.’ He gave a small laugh, feeling oddly vulnerable at having shared so much. He knew to her it must sound like a small thing, but it felt like his very soul.

‘I understand,’ Natalia assured him with one of her lightning smiles. ‘The next time you ask me out for a drink, I’ll say no.’

He let out a little laugh. Natalia never let up, never admitted defeat. He liked that, he realised. Once again he wondered about the woman underneath the party-princess, publicity-seeking facade. Was she there? Was she real? And did he want her to be? ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘Fair enough. Now we really ought to do some proper work. I’m sure Francesca has some more photocopying or filing for you to do.’

‘Right,’ Natalia said. Her tone had turned brittle again, all traces of that odd moment of intimacy vanished. ‘I’m on the job,’ she said, giving him a mock salute, and left the room with Ben still staring after her, wondering if he’d ever understand her … and why he wanted to.

Frowning, he glanced at the papers again, and saw a few inches of print he hadn’t noticed before. Jackson’s Prodigal Daughter Parties with the Earl?

His frown deepened as he pulled the papers towards him and scanned the few lines. Apparently his stepsister Angel Tilson had left the engagement party last weekend with the Earl of Pemberton. Ben didn’t know him, but from the blurry photograph he looked dark, menacing, and rich. What could Angel possibly be up to this time?

Still frowning, he reached for his mobile and punched in his sister’s number. Although he wasn’t related by blood to Angel, his father’s second wife’s daughter from a previous relationship, he still felt responsible for her. Ben knew Angel had never really felt part of the boisterous Jackson clan. Tough and street-wise, she’d always been determined to make it on her own.

She answered the phone after several rings. ‘Big brother,’ she greeted him in a drawl, ‘what new worry has you ringing me?’

Ben smiled in spite of his concern. Angel knew him well. So did Natalia. Pushing that uncomfortable thought aside, he glanced at the paper in front of him. ‘What are you doing with the Earl of Pemberton, Angel?’

‘Having a blast,’ she told him, ‘of course. Had your daily dose of the tabloids, Ben? Why don’t you just stop reading those rags?’

‘Because I like to know what’s going on in my own family.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘You know I do.’

She sighed, and the sad sound pulled at Ben’s heart. He knew many were quick to assume Angel was just like her mother, social-climbing or even money-grubbing. Few tried to see beneath her streetwise facade, but Ben thought he did. He tried to know the woman underneath all the wisecracks, because he sensed she was both courageous and vulnerable.

Just like Natalia.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

‘Be careful, Angel.’

‘I always am.’

‘I mean it. I don’t even know this guy—’

‘He’s rich and titled, Ben. What more could I want?’

‘Don’t sell yourself short.’

She said nothing, and yet that silence seemed so lonely. So sorrowful. Ben sighed. ‘You will ring me if you need anything? Ever?’

‘Of course.’ But he could tell she didn’t mean it.

After saying goodbye, he disconnected the call and stared into space, thinking once again of another sharp, funny woman who hid her true self from him.

Back in the front office Natalia drew in a big breath and let it out slowly. Right. Photocopying. Filing. She could do this. She smiled at Francesca.

‘You have something for me to do?’

‘It’s rather boring—’

‘I think the point of me being here is to do boring,’ Natalia said drily, and listened as Francesca directed her to a pile of about a zillion envelopes that all needed stuffing with some sort of support letter. Perfect. It would take several hours, and required no more skill than putting one piece of paper inside another. She could do this. She nearly sagged with relief.

Yet Natalia soon found that stuffing envelopes left her mind all too free to wander. And to wonder. Did Ben now believe she hadn’t planned to trip into his arms on purpose? As pleasant as it had been to feel his hard body against her own, it had still been completely unintentional. And then in that dark alley … Just remembering that exquisitely taut moment caused a shudder of longing to ripple through her. He’d been so close to kissing her. A single breath away. He’d been going to kiss her, and then he’d forced himself to stop.

That was why he was so angry today, Natalia decided as she sealed yet another envelope. He’d desired her last night, and he knew she knew it, and it annoyed him. She could just imagine how aggravated Ben Jackson would be at wanting someone he thought shallow, spoilt and completely inappropriate.

She wondered just what kind of women decorated his arm … and warmed his bed. Brisk and business-minded, like himself? Surely not. She could certainly see Ben entertaining a model or starlet, and then calmly discarding them when he’d finished with their services. Sex—or even love—was probably just another item to tick on his to-do list.

She pressed her lips together and tossed another sealed envelope onto her growing stack. She would not be one of his ticked boxes. She would not be used by Ben Jackson at all. She might have a well-earned wild reputation, but she stayed in charge. In control. And if Ben thought he was determined to resist her … he had no idea how determined she could be. She wouldn’t get close to anyone, and certainly not Ben Jackson.

The rest of the week passed without incident. The press was thankfully occupied with the exploits of other members of the Santina family, and tailing Natalia being driven to work every day was not noteworthy enough to make a headline. Ben was out of the office for two days, checking out the island’s stadium where the camp would be launched on Monday. Natalia hadn’t given too much thought to her duties after this week, but as she helped Francesca sort stacks of youth-size T-shirts she wondered just what Ben was going to have her do on a football pitch. She could barely kick a ball; she’d never been much of one for sport. School, as a whole, had simply been something to endure.

Late Friday afternoon Ben strolled into the office, looking remarkably refreshed and energised. Natalia, in comparison, felt about as refreshed as a wet towel. Working just one week had very nearly done her in.

‘So, Princess,’ he said. ‘Be ready to work hard on Monday.’

Natalia glanced pointedly at the stack of T-shirts she’d been going through with Francesca. ‘Oh, excuse me, this isn’t working hard?’

His faint smile turned into a full-fledged grin. ‘Not even close. On Monday you’ll be working up a sweat.’

‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you that women glow?’

‘Then on Monday you’ll be fluorescent.’

‘What a thought.’ She shook her head and refolded a T-shirt. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she said, without rancor. Something about Ben’s blatant enthusiasm was almost catching.

‘I’m looking forward to starting the camp,’ Ben admitted. ‘Getting out on the pitch.’

‘You said you played yourself?’

‘A long time ago.’

‘Most millionaires would just throw a pile of money at a charity,’ Natalia said thoughtfully, ‘not get as involved as you do.’

For a second Ben looked almost trapped by her question, as if she’d asked something embarrassingly personal. Perhaps she had. Then he shrugged and said, ‘I like to be out there, actually playing. Coaching. It’s fun for me.’

‘Now, fun is not a word I’d associate with you.’

He slid her a sudden, sideways grin that ignited her senses. ‘You don’t know me well enough to say that, Princess.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Really. And wait until I get you out onto the pitch. We’re both going to have a lot of fun.’

She grimaced. ‘That sounds like a threat.’

‘Consider it a promise,’ he told her, and she arched her eyebrows.

Was he flirting? It felt like flirting.

‘If we’re going to have so much of your kind of fun on the pitch,’ she said, ‘perhaps we should have my kind of fun before.’ As soon as she spoke the words, she realized how provocative they sounded—almost as if she were propositioning him. Still she smiled in challenge, refused to avert her gaze as Ben stared at her speculatively, one shoulder propped against the doorway of his office.

‘That sounds … intriguing.’

Natalia’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Didn’t it just. ‘How about a deal?’ she suggested. ‘I’ll experience your kind of fun at camp, and you have to experience my kind of fun this weekend. Going out,’ she clarified quickly, and felt herself blush as she considered what he might have thought she meant.

‘Out where?’

‘I get to pick. It’ll be a surprise.’

‘And why should I do this?’ Ben inquired in a silky voice. ‘I don’t need to make a deal, princess. You’re already here because I convinced your father.’

‘Do it,’ Natalia told him, ‘because you want to.’ Ben’s gaze blazed into her own and distantly she wondered what on earth she was doing, daring him like this. Wanting him like this. And he knew it. And maybe even wanted her too. It was crazy, scary, and yet she couldn’t keep herself from it, from him, like a child playing with matches. Someone was going to get burned.

‘All right,’ Ben said softly. ‘When?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Where?’

Natalia drew a steadying breath. How had this even happened? How had they got to this place? ‘You can pick me up at the palazzo at noon.’

Ben was still gazing at her, his expression narrowed and assessing, and Natalia had the strange feeling that he was as surprised as she was that he’d agreed. That they were going out … tomorrow. Finally he nodded, and Natalia managed an insouciant smile despite the thud of her heart and the sickness of her palms. ‘Wear something nice. And don’t expect to be home until late.’

‘Sounds like you’ve already got a plan.’

‘Maybe.’ She didn’t, not really, not beyond showing Ben what fun could really mean. And it had nothing to do with football pitches. For a second, she dizzily imagined just how much fun the two of them could have. And then swallowed audibly.

Ben’s gaze still rested on her, considering, heavy, and once more Natalia wondered just what on earth she was doing. Risking. Then, without another word, the tension still tautening the air between them, he turned and went into the office.

As he closed the door Natalia sagged, saw she’d been clenching the T-shirt she’d been folding so hard there were nail marks in the fabric.

When Natalia arrived back at the palazzo that evening, her mind still buzzing from her exchange with Ben, her mother called her into her private rooms and Natalia knew from the lavender silk evening gown her mother wore that once again royal duty beckoned.

‘Back from your charity work?’ Zoe asked, which Natalia knew was how her mother liked to view her volunteering for Ben Jackson. She nodded, and Zoe turned to a waiting maid. ‘I’ll wear the amethyst parure.’

‘Very good, Your Highness.’ The maid went to fetch the magnificent set of diamond and amethyst earrings, necklace, bracelet cuffs and tiara from her mother’s private safe. Zoe turned to Natalia.

‘We have several foreign dignitaries coming to dine tonight. You will attend. It is perfectly possible that one may represent your future husband.’

Natalia felt an icy plunging sensation in her middle. ‘My engagement to Prince Michel only ended a few weeks ago.’

‘All the more reason to press on. You are twenty-seven years old, Natalia. High time you were married.’

‘It’s the twenty-first century, Mother,’ Natalia protested, even though she’d made this argument before, to little effect. ‘Twenty-seven could be considered young these days.’

‘Not for a princess,’ Zoe replied firmly. ‘In any case, we are not ruled by current fashions. Your marriage is an important negotiation that will strengthen our country.’

‘Plenty of royals marry whomever they please,’ Natalia pointed out, and Queen Zoe arched her eyebrows.

‘You do not, I trust,’ she said, ‘have anyone in mind.’

Ridiculously and unreasonably, Ben—his quirking smile, his powerful body—flashed through her mind. ‘Of course not.’

Zoe sighed. ‘I know it is hard for a young woman to face her royal duty. And perhaps your father and I have been too lenient, allowing you the freedom to live life as you saw fit for too long.’ Although her mother spoke delicately, Natalia still heard the judgment, felt it in herself. She hadn’t done much with her life. She knew that. She just didn’t know how to change, or if she even wanted to. What was the point?

The maid returned with the parure and laid out the pieces on her mother’s vanity. Zoe glanced down at them, her eyes narrowed in assessment. ‘It is time you stepped into the role to which you were born, Natalia. It is time you started acting like a princess.’ The maid lowered the bejewelled tiara onto Zoe’s silver hair. Her mother met Natalia’s gaze in the ornate mirror. Natalia saw compassion there, but also an implacable will she knew she didn’t have the strength or resources to defy. ‘You will start,’ Queen Zoe told her, ‘tonight.’

An hour later, dressed in a sedate and modest evening gown of ivory silk, Natalia followed her mother into the palazzo’s formal receiving room. She hated these evenings. Hated how she felt like a dressed-up doll, or worse, a slab of meat. Something to be assessed and bargained over, and then picked apart or even devoured.

The hours dragged on as her parents engaged the dignitaries in social niceties and political innuendoes that Natalia didn’t even bother to listen to. She’d long ago learned not to have an opinion about any of it. As they headed into the dining room, her mother whispered in her ear once more.

‘At least smile, Natalia. You’re behaving like a block of wood.’

‘I thought that was exactly what you wanted,’ Natalia muttered.

Her mother silenced her with a quelling look and swept into the dining room. Natalia took her place at the table, her mind wandering as the conversation continued to flow around her. Then she heard her name.

‘The Princess Natalia has enjoyed herself, hasn’t she?’ One of the dignitaries—from some Middle Eastern island nation, Natalia thought—glanced at her with a smile, although his words had held a sharp edge.

‘All young girls enjoy themselves,’ Zoe answered with a gracious smile. ‘But the princess now needs a strong husband to guide her.’

Natalia nearly choked on her vichyssoise. She didn’t want a man to guide her. Or even love her. She didn’t want to get married at all. The thought of being auctioned off to some nameless autocratic royal made her insides clench in a spasm of both fear and fury.

Even as she told herself that her parents couldn’t force her to marry anyone, she acknowledged that they very well could. They could certainly make her life unpleasant or even unbearable unless she agreed to whichever husband they had chosen for her. She might as well live in the Middle Ages.

Perhaps she would have been better off with Prince Michel.

‘The princess is involving herself with some charity work,’ Zoe continued. ‘For disadvantaged children.’ She turned to Natalia, acknowledging her presence for the first time. ‘You find it very rewarding, don’t you, my dear?’

Natalia thought of the hundreds of envelopes she’d stuffed and sealed over the past few days. From somewhere she dredged up a small smile. ‘Very.’

Zoe smiled at the men assembled, who looked satisfied by Natalia’s meek answer. One of them gave her what she suspected he thought was a benevolent look. ‘I’m glad to hear the princess is changing her ways.’

‘The princess,’ Natalia said before she could stop herself, ‘is right here.’

The ensuing silence was like a thunderclap. Defiantly Natalia reached for her wine glass and took a large sip. What could they do to her after all? She was twenty-seven years old, a grown woman …

A woman who was dependent on her parents and their generosity because there was no way she could ever support herself. No way she could ever make it in this world.

After an icy pause her mother resumed the conversation, steering it towards more innocuous matters. At the end of the meal Queen Zoe rose to retire with Natalia to one of the smaller salons while the men discussed politics—and her possible marriage—in another room.

As soon as they were alone, the staff dismissed, Zoe turned to Natalia. ‘How dare you embarrass me,’ she hissed. ‘And yourself, and your family. We have been very patient, Natalia. Very tolerant—’

Natalia flushed. ‘I didn’t like them talking about me as if I wasn’t there.’

‘That is how it is done, Natalia! That is how these negotiations take place. These men want to see you and how you comport yourself so they can make a report to their sovereign. Is even this concept too difficult for you?’

‘I am not,’ Natalia said through gritted teeth, ‘that stupid.’

‘You could have fooled me tonight,’ Zoe snapped. ‘The way you have carried on these past years, never mind your abysmal performance in school! At least your sisters have learned how to behave themselves.’

That stung. ‘Oh, really? Carlotta is unmarried with a child and Sophia eloped with—’

‘Their marriages are now settled,’ Zoe cut across her, ‘and so must yours be.’

‘And if I don’t want to marry?’ Natalia flung out. ‘At all?’

Zoe sighed, the anger seeming to drain out of her. ‘You are a princess, Natalia. Princesses marry.’

‘This is the—’

‘Twenty-first century. Yes, I’m well aware.’ Her mother sat on a little antique chair, her back ramrod straight as always, and yet for the first time Natalia realised how old her mother looked. Living a life for duty’s sake took its toll on you, she supposed. Had her mother ever been happy? Or was happiness not even a consideration?

‘What other option do you have, Natalia?’ Zoe asked wearily. ‘Would you prefer to live your whole life in your parents’ palazzo, and then with your brother and his bride, an object of pity and scorn?’

Natalia swallowed. It sounded horrible. Everything did. ‘I don’t want to marry a man who—’

‘Doesn’t love you?’ Zoe filled in, her voice ending on a sigh. ‘Really, Natalia, love is for fairy tales.’

‘I don’t care about love,’ Natalia said stiffly. She’d seen and done enough not to trust such a concept. ‘I just want respect.’

‘Then perhaps you should start acting like you’re worthy of it.’

The words felt like a slap. She knew she hadn’t done much with her life. She didn’t have much to be proud of. She’d always known that. She just didn’t know how to change. If she could. Even if she wanted to. ‘Is that all?’ she asked her mother, her voice wooden. ‘Because I’ve had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.’

‘Very well.’ Zoe sighed and waved her away. ‘At least you have curtailed your evening exploits. But I do not want this ridiculous volunteering of yours to interfere with your real duty—and that is to find a husband.’

‘Father insisted I volunteer for a month,’ Natalia reminded her mother. ‘I must do as he says.’

‘So you must. And then you must do as I say, Natalia, and marry.’

Nodding again, her heart like a stone inside her, Natalia slipped out of the salon and up the stairs. A week ago volunteering for Ben had seemed like a prison sentence. Now it felt like a reprieve.