Читать книгу The Royal Collection - Annie West, Rebecca Winters - Страница 42

LOTTY’S stomach churned and she shifted uneasily. She had been feeling queasy a lot recently. She’d tried to convince herself that it was anxiety about the Rowlands’ visit but, deep down, she knew that it was dread at the prospect of saying goodbye. Once today was over, she would have no excuse to stay. She had promised her grandmother that she would go home, and that was what she would do, but oh, it was going to be hard!

‘You’re fretting,’ Corran said lazily without opening his eyes.

‘I thought you were asleep.’

‘How can I sleep with you twanging beside me?’ he grumbled, but he pulled her hard against him. ‘Stop worrying,’ he said as his hands slid possessively over her. ‘It’ll be fine.’

Lotty wasn’t sure about that, but she let herself be distracted. She let him banish apprehension with skilful hands, let pleasure blot out all thought, and afterwards she pretended that nervousness about the day was all it had been.

She spent the morning fussing around, and made Corran change into a better shirt, although he refused point blank to put on a tie.

‘I’m supposed to be a working farmer,’ he said. ‘Farmers don’t wear ties.’

Lotty agonized for a while about her own outfit. She was afraid that some of her Montlucian clothes would look too elegant. As Corran pointed out, if she could afford clothes like that, it would look as if they didn’t need investment, but she could hardly wear her old working clothes either. In the end she settled for her faithful jeans and the raspberry pink cardigan she had worn every evening when she first arrived.

‘What do you think?’ she asked Corran. She offered a nervous twirl. ‘Is this casual enough?’

Corran looked her up and down, and his pale eyes were warmer than Lotty had ever seen them before. ‘You look perfect,’ he said.

Lotty was still glowing with his approval when the Rowlands arrived.

With its encouraging tax regime, Montluce had an impeccable reputation as a centre of international finance and Lotty had met plenty of financiers over the years. She had expected Dick Rowland to fit the same suave mould, but he turned out to be a bulky Yorkshireman with a meaty face and small, sharp eyes. His wife, Kath, was blonde and bubbly. She started talking before she was even out of the car and barely drew breath after that.

At least she seemed to like what she saw. ‘Oh, this is gorgeous!’ she exclaimed, looking around her. ‘What a wonderful place to live.’

Her wide blue eyes came back to rest on Lotty’s face with a slight frown. ‘Sorry, am I staring?’ she said when Corran introduced Lotty as his partner. ‘You look so familiar… We haven’t met before, have we?’

Lotty’s heart took a nosedive. Please, God, don’t let them have visited Montluce, she prayed. Why hadn’t she thought of that as a possibility? She had hosted countless receptions for visiting bankers at the palace. What if the Rowlands had been to one?

She fixed a smile on her face. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I would remember if we had.’

‘Maybe you look like an actress,’ said Kath, still puzzling. ‘Who does she look like, Dick?’

To Lotty’s relief, Dick ignored his wife. He was talking to Corran about the state of the track. ‘You need to do something about that,’ he said. ‘I thought I was going to lose my sump at the very least on the way here.’

‘I’ve included the cost of upgrading the track in the financial plan,’ Corran told him.

Lotty offered coffee, but they agreed to begin with a tour of the estate. Corran drove them all in the Land Rover, which had been specially cleaned for the occasion. After admiring the cottages, he took them on a bumpy ride up the hillside to where he could point out the features of the estate and tell Dick about his plans for improvement.

It was a bright, breezy day. Billowing clouds bustled past the sun and sent great patches of light and shade sweeping across the hills. Far below them, the loch shone silver and Lotty remembered her first sight of it. Now it all felt so familiar.

It felt like home.

Lotty wanted to stand and drink in the view while Corran and Dick talked business but Kath Rowland kept chatting in her ear. She was determined to remember who Lotty reminded her of, and worked her way through a number of actresses, none of whom she remotely resembled, before deciding that it must after all be one of the mothers at her daughter’s school. To Lotty’s dismay, Kath appeared to be almost as avid a reader of gossip magazines as Betty McPherson. Why couldn’t she be languid and sophisticated like most of the financiers’ wives she’d met?

It was a relief when they went back to the house and she could escape to the kitchen to make tea. She had made the scone mix earlier so she just added milk and put them in the range while she boiled the kettle and set the tray. Wondering how Corran was getting on in the drawing room, she nearly forgot about the scones and had to whisk them out of the oven.

They were perfect.

She broke one open just to check. It was golden on the outside, light as air in the middle. Lotty could hardly believe it.

She carried the tray through to the drawing room, and her eyes met Corran’s as she set it down on the low table between the sofas. She saw him register the immaculate scones and they exchanged a private smile.

‘I’ve got it!’ Kath’s exclamation made Lotty jump. ‘I’ve been racking my brain to remember who you remind me of, and it’s just hit me. You’re the spitting image of Princess Charlotte of Montluce!’

Lotty went cold and then hot. ‘Oh, do you think so?’ she said as casually as she could. ‘Doesn’t she have dark hair?’

‘That’s true,’ said Kath, frowning in an effort of memory. ‘She has that wonderful signature bob. Still, the resemblance is remarkable. You even have the same name. Lotty’s short for Charlotte, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s quite a coincidence.’ Lotty’s hand shook slightly as she poured the tea. She could feel Corran’s eyes on her face but she didn’t dare look at him.

Kath was still talking. ‘I feel so sorry for that poor girl,’ she confided. ‘They say that family is cursed. First her father died, then her uncle and his son, and wasn’t there another son who was disinherited? He’s in prison for murder.’

It was for a drugs offence, but Lotty wasn’t about to correct her. Smiling brightly, she picked up the plate and passed it to Kath. ‘Would you like a scone?’

‘Ooh, these look gorgeous!’ Kath took one, but Lotty’s hopes that she might be diverted were soon dashed. Kath had more to say about Princess Charlotte.

‘Then she was engaged to Prince Philippe and he dumped her for somebody nobody had ever heard of. Poor thing, it must have been so humiliating for her!’

Desperately, Lotty offered scones to Dick and Corran, head ducked as if she could make herself invisible somehow.

‘They say Charlotte is broken-hearted,’ Kath went on inexorably. ‘She just dropped out of sight.’

‘Really?’ said Corran. His voice was empty of all expression, but when Lotty risked a fleeting glance at him she saw that he was watching her steadily and unsmilingly.

He knew. She could see it in his eyes, which were the clear, cold blue of icebergs. Lotty thought about the warmth she had seen there before the Rowlands arrived and she wanted to weep. You look perfect, he had said.

‘Nobody’s seen her for ages,’ Kath was rambling on. ‘Well, she couldn’t hang around and watch her fiancé flaunting another woman, could she? I don’t blame her for lying low.’

She had to say something. ‘I don’t think they were actually engaged, were they?’ she managed through stiff lips.

‘Oh, yes, they were,’ said Kath with all the authority of a regular Glitz reader. ‘She absolutely adored Philippe. It’s not surprising. He’s absolutely gorgeous, although they say he’s a real playboy.’

They didn’t know anything, Lotty wanted to shout at her, but she had to sit there and listen to Kath speculating about Philippe and Caro, and pitying poor Princess Charlotte who was so beautiful and good and so astronomically wealthy but so unlucky in love.

‘It just goes to show nobody can have everything, doesn’t it?’ she said.

It was a nightmare. Kath went on and on about Montluce and Lotty couldn’t think of a single way to stop her. Her perfect scones tasted like ashes in her mouth.

After that one glance, she couldn’t bear to look at Corran again. He wasn’t saying anything, but she could feel the cold fury radiating from him as clearly as if he had touched her. They were sitting rigidly side by side on the sofa facing the Rowlands, and the air between them was jangling with such tension that Lotty couldn’t believe that Kath hadn’t noticed.

‘She’s probably getting legless on some yacht somewhere,’ Dick Rowland interrupted his wife at last. ‘Corran, have you thought about a fish farm?’

So then they had to have a long discussion about the merits of salmon versus trout. Lotty crumbled her perfect scone on her plate and couldn’t decide whether she longed for them to go, or dreaded it because then she would have to face Corran.

It felt as if she sat there for hours before Dick finally slapped his hands on his thighs and announced that they would have to get on the road. He hauled himself to his feet, followed reluctantly by his wife.

‘I think you’ve got something here,’ he said to Corran. ‘Send me those figures, and we’ll talk when I get back from Skye.’

Outside, he thanked Lotty for the tea. ‘Those were the best scones I’ve ever tasted,’ he told her and then turned to shake hands with Corran. ‘You’re a lucky man, Corran, to have found yourself such a good cook!’

Dick was clearly waiting for Corran to put his arm around Lotty and smile and agree that he was a lucky man, but Corran couldn’t bring himself to touch her. To touch the missing Princess of Montluce. Because of course that was who she was. He’d seen her expression. Only a fool wouldn’t have guessed the truth long ago.

A fool like him.

Somehow Corran summoned a brief smile and managed to unlock his jaw enough to thank Dick for coming.

Face set, he stood next to Lotty—no, next to Princess Charlotte—on the doorstep and waved the Rowlands off. In silence they waited until the car had negotiated the bend in the track.

‘Well, I think that went well, don’t you, Your Highness?’ he said at last.

Lotty flinched at the unpleasant emphasis on the title, but she didn’t deny it. ‘I think it did, yes,’ she said and turned to go back inside.

Her coolness enraged Corran so much that he grabbed at her arm before he remembered just who she was and snatched his hand back as if he’d been stung. ‘You’ve been lying to me!’

‘How?’ Her face was pale, but her chin was up. How could he ever have mistaken her for anything but a princess? ‘How have I lied, Corran?’ she demanded. ‘I told you that I lost my purse. That wasn’t a lie. I told you I needed a job. That wasn’t a lie. I told you that I wanted to get away for a while but that I couldn’t stay for ever. That wasn’t a lie either. I haven’t lied about anything important.’

‘What about omitting the tiny little bit of information about you being a princess?’ he said furiously.

‘Would it have made a difference?’

Corran was thrown by her cool challenge. ‘A difference to what?’

‘To whether you’d let me stay. To whether you’d have made love to me. To everything.’

He rubbed a distracted hand over his face. ‘Yes! No! I don’t know!’

Lotty smiled sadly. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell you,’ she said.

Without another word, she turned and went back into the drawing room, where she began to gather up the teacups as if nothing had happened, as if his world hadn’t just been turned upside down.

‘You must have thought I was an idiot!’ Corran followed her, too angry and humiliated to let it go. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. There was so much that didn’t add up. I should have guessed what you were. Who else but a princess wouldn’t know how to make a cup of tea? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I couldn’t!’ Lotty’s voice rose, and she let the cups and saucers clatter onto the tray. ‘I didn’t want to tell you! I didn’t want you to start treating me carefully, the way everyone else does.

Just once, just for a short while, I wanted someone to look at me and see me, not a princess.’ She pressed a fist to her chest. ‘Me!’

There was a silence. Corran’s gut churned with disappointment and dismay as he stared at her, trying to see the old Lotty in the princess with the flashing eyes and the hectic flush along her cheekbones.

‘So what exactly are you doing here?’

‘I’m being selfish.’

Without warning, the fury drained out of her and she dropped onto the sofa as if someone had knocked her legs out from beneath her.

‘Everything I told you about my family was true,’ she said, looking down at her hands. ‘Except I didn’t tell you that Papa was Crown Prince of Montluce. He was a gentle man, and I don’t think he ever got over my mother dying when she did. He retreated into his studies, and my grandmother ran the country behind the scenes far more effectively than he could ever have done.’

Lotty risked a glance at Corran, who had folded his arms and was listening with a grim expression. How was she going to make him understand what her life in Montluce was like?

‘Papa was more interested in Ancient Greece than in shaking hands,’ she went on after a moment. ‘That was my job. As soon as I left school, I stepped into my mother’s shoes and became the public face of Montluce. I didn’t have a choice,’ she tried to explain, hating the desperation that curled the edges of her voice. ‘I’m an only child. Papa was wrapped up in his own world, my grandmother is elderly. I couldn’t refuse. I was brought up to do my duty and I did it.

‘Montluce may be a tinpot country to you, Corran, but it matters to the people who live there. Wherever I go, people are delighted to see me. I’m loved by thousands. They all think I’m wonderful. They all think I’m beautiful. I’m their perfect princess,’ said Lotty dully. ‘I can’t disappoint them by behaving badly, so I don’t. I let them put me up on a pedestal, and then I realised I couldn’t get down.’

‘So how did you get from the pedestal to Loch Mhoraigh?’ Corran’s voice was as hard as his expression.

Lotty let out a long sigh. How could someone like Corran possibly understand?

‘Worse than realising that I was stuck was realising that I didn’t know what I was doing up there in the first place,’ she said. ‘Why do all those people love me? It has to be because of what I am—how could it be because of who I am? Nobody knows who I am, least of all me.’

She paused. Corran was listening, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. ‘My family has a proud history. It’s full of individuals who fought for Montluce and what they believed was right. I’m not like them. I’ve never had to fight for anything. I’ve never been tested.’

‘That’s not true,’ said Corran angrily. ‘For God’s sake, Lotty, you coped with losing your mother at twelve and being sent away to school. How much more tested do you want to be?’

‘I just didn’t feel as if I had ever had a chance to discover who I really was,’ she said. ‘When Papa died, I was sad, but I thought that at last I’d have the chance to step out of the limelight and find a life of my own. The new Crown Prince had a wife, so they didn’t need me. But then my uncle died, and his son soon afterwards, and it seemed like every time I turned round there was another family tragedy.’

Lotty smiled sadly. ‘Someone had to represent the family while everything was in turmoil, and how could I refuse when everyone was depending on me? Now we’ve got Crown Prince Honoré. He doesn’t have a wife either, and his only heir is his son Philippe. My grandmother decided it would be a good thing if Philippe and I made a match of it, and I…I panicked. I felt as if I was suffocating. I’ve never been good at standing up to my grandmother, and I could see all my opportunities closing down, one after the other.’

Leaning forward, she straightened the saucers on the tray. ‘I knew I couldn’t run away for ever, but I was desperate to get away, just for a while. I wanted to do something for myself, to find out what life was like off the pedestal, so I made a plan with Philippe.’

‘The same Philippe who broke your heart?’ asked Corran with a scowl.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Lotty. ‘Kath had it all wrong.’

‘What was it like?’

So she told him about the deal she had made with Philippe and Caro, and how they had provided the excuse for her to escape for a while.

‘But now it’s all gone wrong,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what happened. Caro’s gone home and my grandmother is upset and Philippe sounds desperate. And I have to go home,’ she said dully.

‘Back to the pedestal?’

‘Back to my duty.’ Lotty lifted her eyes to his once more. ‘I’m a princess. I can’t do whatever I like. I have a position, and with that comes responsibilities.’ She swallowed. ‘I ran away from them for a while, but they’re still there.’

‘So these last few weeks have just been a game to you while you played at being ordinary?’

In a dim part of his mind, Corran knew that he was being unfair, but discovering that Lotty was a princess had left him feeling raw and foolish. And hurt that she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the truth. He’d always thought of her as transparent and true. Now he was wondering just how much of what she’d told him, how much of what she’d been, had been pretence.

Lotty bit her lip. ‘I wanted to know what life is like without everyone watching your every movement, listening to your every word in case you make a mistake. Was that so bad?’

‘You should have told me,’ Corran said stonily.

Wearily, Lotty got up and put the last plates on the tray. ‘What would have been the point?’ she asked. ‘There was never any question that we would have a future together. I didn’t want to complicate things.’

‘So that’s it?’

‘What else is there to say?’ Lotty’s voice was very calm, but her knuckles were white as she gripped the tray and carried it through to the kitchen. ‘We both knew this was a temporary affair, Corran. I told you that I would have to go home to my grandmother, and I think I’d better do that now.’

‘How are you going to do that?’ he demanded furiously.

‘I just need to lift the phone, and someone will come and get me.’ Lotty turned on the hot tap and held her hand underneath it to check the temperature, while Corran stared at her incredulously.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Washing up.’ She glanced at his face. ‘You see, I knew it would be like this. You think princesses shouldn’t wash up.’

‘I don’t know what I think any more,’ Corran confessed.

He dropped into a chair at the kitchen table and dragged his hands through his hair as if he could pull his thoughts into some kind of order.

Too late, he realised that he had fallen in love, but he loved Lotty, not this cool, distant princess. He loved Lotty, who was sweet and true, or who he thought was sweet and true. How could he know any more?

And even if she was still the same Lotty, how could he tell her that he loved her now? A declaration of love following straight on from the discovery that she was a princess and—what was that phrase Kath Rowland had used?—astronomically wealthy, was hardly likely to be convincing.

The truth crouched like a boulder low in his belly. Why hadn’t he heeded his own instincts, which had warned him from the first that Lotty was trouble? Instead he had blundered on, forgetting Ella, forgetting the facts, forgetting everything but the smooth warmth of Lotty’s skin, and the sweetness of her mouth, and the insistent pulse of need. And look where it had got him, a fool sitting at his own kitchen table while everything he had thought was true evaporated into nothing.

Lotty finished washing up and dried her hands on a tea towel. She glanced at Corran and hesitated, but in the end all she said was, ‘I’ll go and ring the palace now.’

Corran was still sitting at the table, his chest burning, his throat tight with bitterness and anger, when she came back.

‘They’re coming to pick me up.’

‘Now?’

She looked out of the window to where the hills glowed in the early evening sun. ‘There’s plenty of light,’ she said.

Sure enough, the faint purple sky was only just starting to deepen when Corran heard the dull wop-wop-wop of a helicopter overhead. He stood at the front door and watched it touch down perfectly on the gravel he had cleared for Dick Rowland, sending the birds shrieking in outrage from the trees.

Corran had seen plenty of helicopters in his time, but this one looked alien, sleek and shiny against the backdrop of the hills. It looked wrong.

The dogs were barking furiously at it. Corran called Meg back with a sharp word, but Lotty had to bend quickly to pick up Pookie, who, undaunted by his small size, was bristling with eagerness to see off the intruders.

Before the helicopter was settled, officers in dark uniforms had jumped out and were ducking under the still-spinning blades. They came quickly towards the house, guns at the ready, their eyes moving rapidly between him and Lotty. Corran kept his hands in full view. He’d been on operations like this himself, and these officers were professionals. They weren’t taking anything for granted.

The lead officer spoke briefly to Lotty in French, and she replied in the same language. Presumably she told them that she was under no threat as he gestured to the other men and they all fell back, although they stayed alert.

‘I should go,’ said Lotty.

She ruffled Pookie’s fluffy head and put him on the ground. ‘Be a good d-dog,’ she told him, and Corran could hear the crack in her voice.

Biting her lip, Lotty stroked Meg’s head and then raised her eyes to Corran’s at last. ‘I’ll never forget my time here,’ she said.

There was a great weight in his chest, pressing, pressing against his heart, holding him immobile. Unable to speak, Corran managed a stiff nod.

Lotty inhaled slowly, steadying herself, and then she turned and walked towards the helicopter.

Oblivious to the atmosphere, Pookie romped after her, head cocked eagerly as he looked up at her in expectation. Lotty stopped, and Pookie stopped too, his absurd tail wagging.

Corran found his voice. ‘Pookie!’

Pookie glanced back at him, puzzled, but evidently decided that his place was with Lotty. In the end, Lotty picked up the little dog and carried him back to Corran. When she put Pookie in his arms, Corran saw that her eyes were swimming with tears, and his heart clenched painfully.

He thought about how hard she’d worked, about the difference she had made.

He thought about the feel of her, about turning to her in the night and finding her warm and soft and responsive.

He thought about how much he was going to miss her.

He thought about how much he loved her, and how he’d left it too late to tell her.

Now Pookie was whining in his arms and she was walking away once more.

‘Lotty—’ he called impulsively.

She paused, half turned so that she could look at him over her shoulder.

There ought to be some way to tell her how he felt, but Corran’s mind went blank. All he could think was that she was leaving, and there was nothing he could do about it. ‘Thank you,’

was all he said in the end. ‘Thank you for everything.’

Lotty looked at him for a moment, and she jerked her head, just as he had done when he had been unable to speak. Then she turned and walked on to the helicopter, her back very straight. An officer saluted, and they stooped to avoid the whirling propeller blades as he escorted her to the door.

She climbed in without looking back.

The rest of the officers followed. The door was pulled shut, the spinning propeller picked up speed and the helicopter lifted into the air. It hung there, ungainly, for a moment, before veering round and heading off down the glen, its shadow skimming over the silver surface of the loch.

Corran watched it until it receded into a tiny speck and finally disappeared. The birds settled back into the trees, ruffling their feathers. Pookie sighed. Meg lay down and put her nose on her paws. Silence rolled down from the hillsides.

She was gone.

Lotty stood at the window of her apartment, looking out over the lake. It was a pretty scene, with sailing boats making the most of the autumn sunshine, and trees along the lakeside turning red and gold, but her heart still ached for the silver loch and the austere hills of Mhoraigh.

And for the man who belonged there.

Caro came to stand beside her. She touched Lotty’s arm gently. ‘Have you told your grandmother yet?’

‘Not yet, no.’ Lotty mustered a smile. ‘She’s not going to be happy.’

‘It’s more important that you’re happy,’ said Caro. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ It was the only thing Lotty had been sure of since seeing the double line on the strip. ‘I’m having this baby.’

‘What about Corran?’

It had been such a relief when Philippe had brought Caro back to Montluce. Lotty was fiercely glad for their happiness together, even if it did make her own misery more apparent. Caro’s presence changed the whole atmosphere in the palace. There was laughter in the long corridors and even the Dowager Blanche was seen to smile occasionally.

Reluctant to intrude on Caro’s joy, Lotty kept her grandmother company, and took up her duties once more. Eventually she hoped to be able to pass them on to Caro, but for now Caro was busy planning a wedding at the beginning of December and at least visiting factories and schools and hospitals made Lotty fix on a smile and hold her head up.

So she smiled and shook hands, moving through the days on automatic pilot, but inside she felt as if she was blundering through a smothering fog of despair. She missed Corran desperately. At night she lay awake, aching for him, remembering him. If she thought about him hard enough, would he feel her? Would he pause and look up from whatever he was doing, sensing that she was dreaming of him?

Everyone in Montluce was treating her very gently, as if she had been through some traumatic experience. Nobody asked her what she had been doing, or why she had disappeared.

Only Caro wanted to know about her time at Loch Mhoraigh. Only Caro knew about Corran, and it was to Caro that Lotty went when the consequences of that reckless afternoon in the cottage bathroom, with the sun streaming through the window and the sawdust on the floor, finally caught up with her.

Blurry with unhappiness, it had taken her longer than it should have done to notice the signs of change in her body, and now she put a wondering hand on her stomach. It was an extraordinarily powerful feeling to know that a child was growing inside her.

Except that it wasn’t extraordinary at all, really. Ordinary women around the world were having babies, just like her, and perhaps some of them were feeling the same jumbled mix of joy and terror and breathless awe at the miracle of it.

Caro was watching her in concern. ‘Corran’s going to be a father, Lotty. You have to tell him.’

‘I know, and I will tell him, of course I will, but I can’t yet, Caro.’

‘Why not?’

Lotty hugged her arms together as she turned from the window. ‘His ex-wife tricked him into marriage by pretending that she was pregnant. I’m not going to do the same thing.’

‘You’re not pretending,’ said Caro, exasperated. ‘You are pregnant!’

‘But how will Corran know that?’ asked Lotty. ‘I spent two and a half months pretending to be someone else. Why should he believe me now?’

‘If he loves you, he’ll believe you.’

‘He never said he loved me, Caro.’ Lotty sank into a chair and pushed her hair back from her face. Her bob had nearly grown back in, and it was smooth and dark, just as it had always been. She looked almost like her old self.

She just felt different.

‘Corran was very clear,’ she told Caro. ‘He’s not ready for children yet. A disaster was the word he used. He’s got too much to do getting the estate back on its feet. I’m not going to push him into a relationship he doesn’t want. If I tell him about the baby now, of course he’ll take responsibility. He’ll say we should get married, just like he did to Ella, and saddle himself with the wrong kind of wife all over again.’

‘You love him,’ said Caro. ‘Doesn’t that make you the right kind of wife?’

‘Not in Corran’s book. He’s determined to marry someone sensible and practical next time round, and I understand that. I think that’s what he needs too.’

‘You’re sensible,’ Caro insisted. ‘You’re practical too. Didn’t you tell me you did all that cleaning and painting? How much more practical does he want?’

‘He wants someone who’ll belong,’ said Lotty. ‘Someone who’s used to the isolation. Who can help with lambing if necessary, and who knows about farming and growing vegetables. Not someone like me, who didn’t even know how to peel a potato.’

‘You learnt, didn’t you? Just like I had to learn how to behave in a palace.’

In spite of herself, a smile trembled on Lotty’s lips. ‘I saw you and Philippe laughing at the Ambassador’s reception the other night. I’m sure that’s not how you’re supposed to behave!’

‘That was Philippe’s fault!’ Caro grinned then sobered. ‘The point is that I didn’t belong here either, but I’m learning. It could be the same for you at Loch Mhoraigh. And don’t you think Corran deserves to know he’s going to be a father?’

‘Of course he does, but not yet, Caro.’ The arguments had been going round and round in Lotty’s head until she was dizzy. ‘I don’t want Corran to feel as if he’s being forced into anything. I don’t want to be with him if that’s how he feels.’

She saw that Caro was still looking dubious. ‘When I’ve had the baby and am settled, I’ll tell him then, I promise. I’ve got to tell Grandmère first, and the Crown Prince. They’re going to be so disappointed. Perfect princesses aren’t supposed to get pregnant!’ she said with a twisted smile.

‘Oh, Lotty!’ Caro put her hand over Lotty’s. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to have this baby,’ said Lotty. ‘I know my grandmother won’t like me being a single mother, and maybe the people won’t like it either, but I’ve spent my whole life doing what everybody else expects of me.’

Her heart clenched at the thought of Corran, but she had meant what she told Caro. She would rather be by herself than push Corran into another disastrous marriage. Her time at Loch Mhoraigh had taught her that she was capable of doing whatever she set her mind to. She could be as strong as Raoul the Wolf when she needed to be. Wasn’t that what she had wanted to learn when she ran away from Montluce?

‘This is something I’m doing for myself, and for my baby,’ she told Caro. ‘I’m going to do it alone.’