The Accidental Princess (19 page)

Hannah blushed, covering the ring with her hand. ‘Not really. It was a gift. If others believed we were married—’

The Graf’s face tightened with disgust. ‘I hope, for the sake of the Lieutenant’s future, that not too many people believe it.’

Her face paled, and Michael tightened his hand on hers. This wasn’t her fault, and he’d not let the Graf lay the blame upon her. He held up the ring. ‘I’ve protected her reputation with this.’

‘You shouldn’t have brought her here,’ the Graf protested. ‘Her cousins are probably already wondering where we are.’

‘We’ve been gone only two days,’ Michael pointed out.

‘And do you intend to keep her with you, as your—?’

‘Don’t say it.’ Michael was about to move towards him when Hannah stepped between them.

‘It’s all right,’ she said slowly. Looking the Graf squarely in the eye, she said, ‘I have no intention of interfering with the Lieutenant’s future. I will return to my cousins’ house soon enough.’ She released his hand, taking a step away. Her face was perfectly composed, showing no trace that she felt anything.

She was right, of course. That was the proper thing to do, and Michael should never have allowed her to come with him. But the idea of her leaving him, returning to a house of strangers who would help her marry a foreigner, made him want to take her hand back again.

After he helped Hannah into the coach, Michael asked, ‘Where is Mrs Turner now?’ He’d believed she would be safe, remaining with the Graf.

‘She is staying at an inn with Lady Hannah’s maid and the other servants.’ The Graf visibly winced. ‘She was not pleased about the journey here.’

Michael didn’t doubt that. ‘Bring her to the lodge, if you would. I want to speak with her as soon as possible.’ Abigail Turner had known his mother since he was a small boy. She might be able to shed light on whether or not Mary Thorpe had ever been to Lohenberg.

The Graf nodded, though he didn’t appear enthused about the idea. ‘As you wish.’

Inside the coach, Hannah appeared shaken by the interaction. From the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze, Michael suspected she was considering leaving.

Did he want to be a part of this royal family, though he was undoubtedly the black sheep? Instinct made him consider leaving it behind. They didn’t want him—of that he had no doubt. But if he turned his back upon them, he would not see Hannah again. He was torn between a life he didn’t want and a woman he did.

The journey towards the border was a jarring, rough ride. The miles passed, and still he didn’t speak to Hannah. She was twisting the ring around her finger, deep in thought. When the afternoon sun began to drift lower in the sky, she turned to him and asked, ‘What did you think of the Prince?’

‘I think he’s afraid.’ As any man would be, when faced with an unexpected piece of the past.

‘What about you? Are you afraid of what will happen?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not the one with a kingdom to lose, sweet.’

‘He’s your brother, isn’t he?’ She looked troubled by the prediction, as though she didn’t want it to be true.

He nodded. ‘I’m probably a bastard son. They’ll want to be rid of me, for appearance’s sake.’

She shook her head, meeting his eyes with her own. ‘I don’t believe that, Michael. I saw the portrait of the King in the library. You are the very image of your father.’ Deep green eyes stared into his. ‘If anyone is a bastard son, it’s the Prince.’

H
annah stared out the window of the coach, feeling more and more uneasy about their circumstances. Now that Fürst Karl and Michael had met, she didn’t doubt that the threats would worsen.

Michael rested his wrists upon his knees, glancing outside at the forest. ‘I don’t think there can be a good outcome for me, Hannah. There’s too much at stake.’

‘But if the Kingdom rightfully belongs to you…’

‘I don’t want it,’ he admitted, shaking his head. ‘I know nothing about Lohenberg. I was brought up in England as a fishmonger’s son. I couldn’t be a Prince, even if I wanted to.’

He’d already discarded the idea; she could see it on his face. He didn’t believe he was capable of governing the people. But he was the sort of man who had seen the darker side of poverty. He would know, better than anyone, how to help those who were less fortunate.

She rested her hands upon her skirts, leaning towards him. He needed to put aside his doubts and reach for the future he deserved. ‘You could. And I think you were meant for this.’ Thinking a moment, she asked him, ‘If it weren’t for you, how many more men would have died at Balaclava?’

‘I didn’t save enough.’

‘But many more lived.’ She reached out to touch his cheek. ‘You’re a man who takes care of others. Your men. Mrs Turner.’ She forced him to look at her. ‘Me.’

‘I’m no good at it, Hannah.’ He glanced at the lavish gilt interior of the coach. ‘I don’t belong in a
Schloss
like that.’

‘And what if they are your real family? You’ll simply turn your back on them?’

A harsh laugh escaped him. ‘They turned their back on me.’

‘You don’t know that. There are a thousand things that might have happened. Give it a chance. Find out the truth.’

‘And what about you?’ he asked quietly. ‘What will you do if we find out I’m the Prince of this country?’

She stared at the ring on her hand, turning it over to hide the diamond-and-aquamarine cluster. ‘I suppose I’ll go to Germany.’

He took her hand and turned the ring back to reveal the stones. Shrugging, he said, ‘I need you to translate for me. After that, it’s your choice.’

There was no mention of wanting her there. She had hoped he would ask her to stay, to tell her that she meant something to him. But he didn’t appear to care whether or not she stayed. It battered her foolish dreams, and she berated herself for even thinking of it.

Crestfallen, she chose her words carefully. ‘You’re remembering more of the language every day. You were born knowing it; it’s only a matter of time before you remember everything. You don’t need me.’

Tell me you do
, she pleaded silently.
Let me believe that last night was important to you
.

But he said nothing.

Hannah glanced outside so he couldn’t see her eyes brimming with tears. ‘The Graf was right. We shouldn’t have pretended to be married.’ Her face felt brittle, and her throat tightened in a struggle for control.

‘You want to leave,’ Michael murmured softly.

‘I want you to ask me to stay.’ The words slipped out, and she longed to take them back. ‘I know I shouldn’t have come with you here. It was wrong.’ One of the tears slipped free against her will. ‘But…I didn’t want to leave you.’

Blood rushed to her face, as she laid her confession bare before him. ‘I wanted to be with you, for however long that would be. And I don’t regret letting you share my bed.’

He moved across the coach to sit beside her. With his thumbs, he brushed the tears away. ‘If I were a better man, one who could take care of you, I wouldn’t let you go. I’d damn the consequences and force you to stay with me.’ He held her gloved hand to his face. ‘But there are people who want me dead. It might be best if you stayed with your cousins, where you can be safe.’

She shivered, rubbing her arms, though the air was still warm. ‘Is that what you want?’

He leaned in, touching his forehead to hers. She could feel the warmth of his mouth against her cheek, the hushed breath between them. The feverish burn of desire crept over her, the need to feel his body pressed close.

‘You know what I want. And there’s nothing honourable about it.’

Spirals of need threaded through her, and Hannah softened beneath the onslaught of Michael’s kiss. The sensual pressure of his mouth and tongue loosened her doubts. Without words, he was coaxing her, silencing the warnings in her head.

When he broke away, it took a moment to steady her breathing. Every memory of last night came crashing through her mind. The touch of his hands, the feeling of his body joining with hers.

She needed to be with him, even if it meant being his mistress and not his wife. And though she knew he would break her heart in the end, she would take whatever moments she could.

Michael couldn’t sleep. Though he’d been given the best room in the Graf’s hunting lodge, the soft featherbed offered nothing in the way of true comfort.

When he heard the door creaking open in the middle of the night, he reached under his pillow for the knife he’d hidden. Slowly, the footsteps drew closer. He held his breath, waiting. It was a risk, for he didn’t know who was approaching or why. It might be someone trying to kill him, or it might be a servant who’d forgotten something. But then, a servant would have knocked first.

It was risky to wait, if the assailant had a gun. He held his position for as long as he dared, while the footsteps came even nearer. There was a faint scent of faded herbs, like a lavender sachet that had been trapped in a drawer for too long. A familiar perfume, but one he couldn’t quite place.

When he sensed the person standing by his bed, he charged forward, with the knife drawn. ‘Who’s there?’ he demanded.

A woman gasped, and he reached out to turn up the lamp. The dim glow illuminated the room, revealing the presence of Abigail Turner.

‘Mrs Turner, what are you doing here?’ he demanded.

She trembled, her face white with fear. He realised he was still holding the knife, and he set it down.

‘I wanted to talk with you.’ She sat down in a nearby chair, her voice quaking. ‘Since you didn’t heed my warning, I wanted you to understand. They’re going to find me, and then I can’t say what will happen.’

She spoke as though she’d done something wrong. He half-wondered if she was having one of her spells again. ‘Find you?’

Raising her chin, she nodded. ‘I was supposed to give you to them.’ Her lower lip trembled, and she shook her head, her face tight with unshed tears. ‘But how could I let them kill you? You were a boy…just a boy.’

He was having trouble understanding what she meant. ‘Are you saying, you are from Lohenberg?’ he ventured. ‘This is your country?’

She glanced away. ‘I haven’t been back in over twenty-three years. I never wanted to return…after…what I did.’ She gripped her arms, her voice fading softer. ‘They took my husband, you see. They said if I didn’t give you over to them, they were going to kill Sebastian.’

He stared hard at her curling grey hair and her soft brown eyes, but could not tell if it was the truth she spoke. She reached out and cupped his cheeks with her hands. The tears did spill over now, and she wept openly for her loss. Michael held her hands, trying to offer her comfort, though his mind was reeling from her revelation.

Though he didn’t want to cause her more emotional pain, he needed to understand. ‘You abducted me from my family,’ he said slowly. ‘Because these men took your husband.’

She nodded. ‘I was in the Queen’s service and was one of a few women who could get close to you.’

‘Who were these men? Who hired them?’

‘I don’t know,’ she wept. ‘They came to me on All Hallows Eve. There was a masked ball that night, and everyone, even the guards, had masks.’

She wiped her tears, adding, ‘I imagine that’s how they were able to get inside the palace without anyone noticing. I was supposed to take you away from your nurse and bring you to a coach that was waiting outside. With all the other carriages for the ballroom guests, no one would notice it.’

‘How did you get past the guards?’

‘I told them I was taking you outside, to the gardens where the Queen was waiting. They believed my story and let me pass.’ She lowered her head in self-loathing. ‘They trusted me. I didn’t know until later that the hired men had put another child in your place.’

Michael didn’t allow a single emotion to be revealed. He struggled to keep back the surge of resentment. Mrs Turner had known about his past, all these years, and had never once said a word about it. She’d known that his parents were not his own.

But if he revealed any of his frustration now, she might slip into a fit of madness, and he’d never hear the entire truth.

Carefully, he asked, ‘What happened after you took me from my nurse?’

She continued weeping, clutching her hands together. ‘I almost gave you over to them, God forgive me. You were asleep in my arms when I got inside the coach.’ Her hand went to her middle. ‘But I had recently learned that I was expecting a child of my own. Henry.’ A mournful smile crept through her tears. ‘And I thought about how I would feel if anyone harmed my own child. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Even if it meant losing Sebastian.’

She dried her eyes, seeming to pull her thoughts together. ‘I stopped the coachman and bribed him to drive me home instead.’ Her gaze turned solemn with regret. ‘I suppose we were both having regrets.’

‘I gathered up all the money and jewels that I could, and I used it to buy our passage to London,’ she continued. ‘I kept you for a few months until I was about to give birth. It was then that I met Paul and Mary Thorpe. They were childless and they promised to take care of you and help me with my own baby.’

Mrs Turner let out a heavy sigh. ‘I was afraid of anyone finding us. I also knew I would have to live in poverty for the rest of my days. It was the only way to avoid notice.’

He’d often wondered how Mrs Turner had managed to survive, without a husband to support her. He’d always believed it was his parents’ charity.

‘Did my parents know about my past?’

She shook her head. ‘It would have made them uncomfort
able to know you were a Prince. They’d have treated you like a bit of glass, and then what sort of man would you have grown into?’

She took a deep breath, blowing her nose in the handkerchief he gave her. ‘I told them you were orphaned in Lohenberg, and that I’d promised to find a home for you. I let them raise you as they chose. But the one thing I insisted on was your education. Dear heaven, how I pestered Mary about that. I told her that you might be a fishmonger’s son, but you deserved a chance for a better future.’

‘How could they possibly have afforded my schooling?’ Michael voiced aloud. ‘I never understood it.’

‘I sold some jewels I’d kept from Lohenberg.’ She dabbed at her eyes. ‘Mary let Paul believe that she’d inherited a small sum from an aunt who died.’ She patted his cheek. ‘You needed it more than I did.’

‘What happened to your husband?’

Silent tears rolled down her face. ‘I’ve never known. I haven’t seen Sebastian since that night.’ She shivered at the memory. ‘I hoped that somehow he managed to survive. But I couldn’t write to him or ever learn what happened; otherwise they might have found you.’

The burden of her secret seemed to grow lighter, now that she had laid it before him. But Michael felt its weight suffocating him. He didn’t want a royal life, or the difficulties it would bring.

‘I sent the last of my funds to bring you back from Malta, after I learned you were wounded,’ she admitted. ‘I had hoped that both you and Henry would return.’

Michael embraced her while she wept for her son. With Abigail Turner’s confession, he could no longer deny the truth staring him in the face. He would have to confront the impostor Prince Karl, as well as the King and Queen. God help him.

Mrs Turner leaned her head on his shoulder, patting his
back. ‘I am sorry for keeping this from you, Michael. I thought the only way to save your life was to keep it a secret.’

She was asking for his forgiveness, but right now he was having trouble thinking clearly. He forced himself to give her a light squeeze, but inside, his thoughts were churning.

Mrs Turner pulled back from him. Her face still held the melancholy, but it was soon replaced by stubbornness. ‘I will go to Queen Astri in the morning and tell her everything.’

He wasn’t so certain that was a good idea. ‘We’ve already been forbidden to see the Queen. I don’t think—’

‘I was one of her ladies-in-waiting for over five years. The Queen will see me.’

‘Not if she believes you stole her only son.’

Mrs Turner’s face crumpled up with tears, as though he’d struck her across the face. But she needed to understand that any contact with the
Schloss
would mean her own imprisonment, possibly death.

‘If you try to speak with her, you’ll face punishment for what you did. The men who took your husband might find you again; they know I’m still alive. It’s too grave a risk.’

‘I have to atone for what I did. I have to bring you back to her, so she knows that I never meant to betray her.’

‘In time. I will face her first, before you.’ He crossed his arms in front of him. ‘But even if she does agree to see me, she might not believe it. There’s no proof that I am her son, except for my resemblance to the King.’

The corners of Mrs Turner’s mouth turned up. ‘You’re wrong, lad. There is proof that you are the Prince.’

He waited for her to continue, and she came up behind him. ‘You have a scar here.’ She pointed to his left leg. ‘On the back of your calf.’

Michael had seen the scar before, but he’d never remembered how he’d received it.

‘When you were two years old,’ Mrs Turner said, ‘you
loved climbing up on tables, no matter how your nurse tried to stop you. One day, you fell backwards and cut yourself on one of your toys. You cried and your mother held you while they stitched up the wound.’ Mrs Turner stretched her thumb and forefinger to show the size. ‘It’s naught more than this large. But only a few members in the palace knew about it.’