Page 17 of Eloping With The Princess
“Then he is partially responsible for my family’s death.” The words came out as a whisper. The fact that she had never known her family, that she had known nothing of their existence mere hours ago, mattered not. She still felt something harden inside of her.
“Yes,” Jason said simply.
“Then there is nothing waiting for me in Saldania, save a most certain death.”
“I’m told that most of the people in Saldania are pleased with Lord Winston. Though he was initially a part of the revolution, he has done much for the country and now leads much in the way our prime minister leads, though admittedly he has many opponents as well. There are people, particularly among the Saldanian peerage, who would prefer you on the throne, especially if you were married to the man of their choice.”
Saldania.
She rolled the word around in her head, waiting for it to conjure something in her memory, but nothing came. Would she be expected to return? To rule a nation she’d never even known existed? Certainly not. She wouldn’t even be able to locate the island on a map.
She mulled over the idea for a moment. There were people, people in the country of her birth, who wanted her on the throne. Who wanted her to rule. “So the entire country knows I survived? They all knew I was out there somewhere, and they’ve been waiting for me to return and take my place on their throne? Meanwhile I was here, in London, believing I was the bastard child of an aristocrat?” Her questions came out fast and furious.
“It is unclear, at least to me, how many people knew of your existence. I suspect you were hidden at the school in London for this precise reason,” Jason said.
When she thought of Saldania—a country she hadn’t even heard of yesterday—she felt no attachment, no pride. No sense of obligation to its people.
She shook her head, more firmly this time. “No. I will simply not do it.”
“You may not have a choice.”
“I will if they can’t find me. I’ll go into hiding.”
People might know that there was a princess who survived, but that didn’t mean they knew she was the one. She couldn’t be the only girl of the right age to bear the mark of the Saldanian royal family. Couldn’t she simply hide out in the country and pretend to be someone else? She certainly had had eighteen years of believing she wasn’t anyone special. It seemed she could continue along that path. And if her wine-stain birthmark was the only thing that identified her as the Saldanian princess, then that shouldn’t be a problem. It was hidden beneath her clothes at all times.
Jason leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He had remarkable stability despite the rocking of the carriage. She had to brace her hand against the seat to keep from shifting side to side.
“You need to understand that this plan has likely been in place since they discovered your existence,” he said. “The people behind this have gone to great lengths to see this come to fruition. They have killed people, Isabel. They tried to kill Queen Victoria. Do you truly think there is anything you can do to dissuade them? You hiding?” He shook his head. “They would find you. Our only hope is to identify them and bring them to justice.”
If Jason were right, then the people who wanted her for this political union wouldn’t give up so easily. She’d likely not even be safe if she traveled all the way to America. Not only that, but she hadn’t a pence to her name, so there was no way she’d be booking passage anywhere. She could sneak aboard a ship, but there were always stories about people who did such things and how they met a terrible demise. The headlines in all the broadsheets would read about how the penniless Princess of Saldania had been tossed overboard after being discovered stealing bread.
“If they found me and forced me to marry this man, whoever he is, then what would happen?”
He looked away from her.
“Jason, I have a right to know.”
He was quiet for a moment before answering. “First, they would put you on the throne in Saldania. I’m sure they already have enough support in Saldania for that. You would be a mere figurehead. Your husband would have the real power. After a few months, they would likely make another attempt on Victoria’s life. At the least, they would petition to revoke her Crown and grant it to the two of you,” Jason said, the muscles along his jaw tightening with each word. “But I doubt they would waste time with that. Most likely, they would simply assassinate Victoria. With her out of the way, England would need a new leader. You and your husband would be the most obvious choice.”
He was silent for a moment, giving his words time to sink in, studying her, maybe even wondering whether this plan held any appeal to her.
It did not.
“But it won’t come to that, will it?” she asked. “It must not come to that. You won’t let it.”
His lips twitched, and for an instant, she thought her answer must have pleased him, but then his expression grew serious again. “No. The Brotherhood will not allow the queen to be assassinated.”
Isabel knew Queen Victoria had an entire force of men protecting her, but she realized she had a greater opportunity here—she could protect not only Victoria herself, but the Crown of England.
She could…what did they call it? Abdicate the throne, that was it. She would turn it down. Show that Lord Protector who’d killed her family that she had no desire to take power from him. Although she knew it wasn’t that simple, Jason was right. They’d never simply let her disappear. But she refused to play a part in a plan that would kill Queen Victoria. It was treason, and she wouldn’t be a willing participant, and in truth she’d do whatever it took to avoid playing a role on any level.
Jason peered out the window, then checked his pocket watch.
“Where are we going?” she asked. She had no notion of where they were, although judging from the quiet of their surroundings, they were quite far from London.
“One of my country estates, one that isn’t well known or used much. We should be safe there while I figure out how to keep you protected long term,” Jason said.
She eyed her companion. He held the small curtain aside with one finger, watching the landscape pass as the carriage rumbled along. He was handsome, rather alarmingly so, if she were honest. From his short-cropped brown hair to his perfectly shaped aristocratic nose to his chiseled jawline to the startling cerulean of his eyes, he was the very picture of a dashing gentleman. He looked as if he belonged more in the center of a crowded ballroom than here in this tiny carriage with her.
