Page 26 of A Problem Princess

“More likely, their concern stems from worry about almost losing a potential bride.” She turned toward a flowering bush on the edge of the lake and touched the pale peach-colored blossoms. “Sometimes,” she softly confessed, “I just want…to be left alone.”

That stung, although she surely hadn’t meant for him to take it personally. “Do you want me to go, then, and let you be alone?”

“After you went to all the trouble of having those two nice old ladies abscond with me?” A teasing gleam lit her eyes, and she gave a gentle shake of her head, which only caused her chestnut curls to show their red and gold highlights in the sunlight. “No. Please stay.” She inhaled a fortifying breath. “You wanted to speak with me. It must be important.”

“It is.”

The afternoon breeze stirred her skirt, a cream undergown covered with a layer of delicate gauze decorated with tiny pink roses. They were the exact same shade of pink as her lips and the faint flush in her cheeks. An English lady would never have left the shade without the cover of a bonnet the way Cordelia had. It was just another example of how different she was from other women he knew. He’d seen that in the way she’d greeted the children, too. When he watched her hug that last little girl, he’d not been able to hold back a grin even though he knew that type of impulsive behavior wouldn’t go over well with the English royals.

But now, he frowned. “I’ve been questioning people at the palace. Additional staff were sent from all the London palaces to work the event, so many that the master of ceremonies didn’t know everyone by sight. When your attacker arrived, he presented work orders for another footman at Kensington Palace, but he wasn’t part of the palace staff.”

Her fingers stilled against a blossom. “But he wore palace livery.”

“He took that from the other man, too. The real footman was found alive but tied, gagged, and stripped bare in a derelict shop a few streets from Kensington Palace.” Clayton kept the grislier details of the man’s condition to himself, not wanting to upset her further. Even in this, he felt the need to protect her. “I suspect your attacker followed the footman on his way to the palace, pulled him into the shop, and changed places, right down to the work orders he presented at the door of Carlton House.”

Her fingertips trembled against the flower’s petals. “Thank God he didn’t kill the footman.”

No, but he’d beaten the man so severely that he’d most likely never walk again. There was certainly no need to share that. Already, the pink color in her cheeks that had captivated him only moments ago had paled.

“But no one working that night recognized him,” he told her, “and I haven’t been able to turn up any more information about his true identity or why he would want to harm you.”Or who within the palace told him exactly where to find you.

“You’re at an impasse, then, aren’t you?” She played with the petals, focusing her attention there. Yet Clayton knew she was keenly aware of him, just as she had been all afternoon when he’d caught her taking surreptitious glances at him from across the lawn. “That’s why you wanted to speak with me.”

“Yes.”

“Because you think I might know something I’m not telling you.”

A tingle of suspicion curled up his spine, and he asked carefully, “Don’t you?”

“Nothing of significance to anyone in England.”

He knew better than to fall for that evasion, no matter how carefully delivered. “Then how about significance to someoneoutsideEngland?” He slowly brushed his hand over hers and down her warm fingers to pluck the flower from its stem. He held it out to her as a peace offering. “I’m trying to protect you. I can’t do that without your help.”

She accepted the flower and raised it to her nose. A nervous gesture, he guessed, to cover the trembling he’d felt in her fingers. He was right. She was hiding something important.

“I know.” She rubbed the flower against her lips. “But I’ve told you all I can.”

“You’ve told me almost nothing.”

Her eyes boldly locked with his. “Which is all I can.”

She was foolishly stonewalling him. Worse, she’d brought his attention to her mouth, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her sensuous lips.

“You supported my request to oversee your protection when you could have refused,” he reminded her. Dear God, was his voice truly that husky? He cleared his throat. “So I think it’s time you tell me what you know, even if you think it has no significance.” He paused. “Unless you don’t trust me.”

She absently rubbed her forearm, with its bandage skillfully hidden beneath a long glove. If Clayton didn’t know better, he never would have suspected it was there. “I trust you as much as I trust anyone in the palace.”

He winced. “That little, eh?”

There, finally, was the smile he’d been waiting to see, and when she gave it, his chest warmed the same way it had when he’d watched her interact with the children. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

When her smile faded, Clayton felt as if the sun had slipped behind a cloud.

“I know I’m little more than a political pawn for our two countries, that everything I say is reported back to the palace, my every move watched—most likely even now, with you.” She idly pulled at the petals, slowly plucking them off one by one and letting them fall to the grass at her feet. “Perhaps that’s how it should be, given recent events.” She let out a long, deep breath. “Unfortunately, that also means I can’t trust anyone who works for the Court of St James’s. I can’t even completely trust those within my own household, knowing they’re in my uncle’s employ and most likely serving as his spies.”

He smiled tightly in anticipation of her answer’s sting. “And me?”

She hesitated as she pulled free the last petal. “I haven’t decided about you yet, General.” She tilted her head to gaze up at him. “Or should I say…Viscount?”