A Collector of Hearts (12 page)

           
“Yes.”

           
“You’ve known it all along.”

           
“Yes.” Blake spoke as if his voice were constricted. “But
I didn’t know he was Stephens’ son. I honestly didn’t recognise him.”

           
“How did you know he was an impostor, Blake?” Before he
could answer her, the layers fell away and she saw the truth without him having
to tell her. His mother had been beautiful. It was natural that such a woman
could win the heart of a playboy prince, albeit briefly. “I take it your mother
wasn’t really a chambermaid.”

           
“She was for that summer,” said Blake. His face had
turned ashen. “My grandfather insists we all learn the business from the ground
up. I spent a summer as a bellboy a few years back. It’s so we understand what
the employees have to deal with.”

           
“Is that why you wanted to run away? Why you’ve been
running all your life, trying different things?”

           
“What do you think?”

           
“I think the reason you’ve run away from everything else
is because deep down you know what you were born to do.”

           
“For God’s sake, Caroline. Just because I’m the son of a
prince does not make me the right person to run Cariastan! It’s like I told
you, knowing that does not change the person that I am. I’ve never stuck to any
job for more than a few months.”

           
“You cared enough to come here and find out about the
impostor,” she said softly. She could see the turmoil in his face. The fear of
doing the right thing only to find out he fails the people of Cariastan.

           
“I wanted to know what his game was,” said Blake. “If he
was after the throne, I might have come forward, rather than it go to some
conman. Now I know that all he wanted was the Cariastan Heart. So no one need
ever know who I am.”

“Blake…”

“No, don’t look at me like
that, darling, please.” Blake ran his fingers through his hair. “This is
exactly why I didn’t want you to know. You think I should do the right thing.
Come forward and lead the country. But don’t you see what that means?”

           
Caroline nodded. She understood completely. “It means you
can’t be with me. That you have to find a suitable wife. Not a commoner and
most certainly not the daughter of two notorious spies.”

           
He pulled her to him and kissed her. Whether he knew it
or not, to Caroline the kiss tasted of goodbye. It tasted of their salty tears.
“Which is why no one need ever know who I am. Not even the people in Cariastan
know me. I’m just a rumour. A myth. My father’s advisors did a good job on
that.
 
My own father did a good job of
that,” he said, bitterly. “As soon as he began to realise my uncle was not
going to produce an heir, he threw my mother aside and replaced her with some
dull girl from the European nobility, whose family were so inbred that she
could not give him a child anyway. The minute I come forward, they’ll insist on
ordering my life to suit their purposes. I’ll lose all the freedom I’ve
enjoyed, including the freedom to love the woman I was meant to love. Isn’t the
Prince of Wales going through the same crisis at the moment, with Mrs Simpson?
I will not allow the Cariastan government to treat you the way she’s been
treated by the British government.”

           
“I can’t stop you from doing what’s right,” said
Caroline. “I would never forgive myself if my selfishness led to Cariastan
being destroyed, and I know deep down that’s how you feel. It would not give
you so much anguish if you didn’t know in your heart that going back there and
protecting your people from Russian or German tyranny was the right thing to
do.”

           
“I am afraid,” said a voice from the doorway, “I would
have to agree with Miss Conrad on this matter.” Count Chlomsky entered the room
and shut the door. He walked to Blake and bowed. “Your Royal Highness, I have
been looking for you for a long time. As I did not know your father, I did not
see the resemblance. But Mrs Oakengate did, at lunch today, and realised that
the impostor had made a fool of her. Your people need you, Your Royal
Highness.”

           
“You forget, both of you,” said Blake, “that they’re not
my people. Myself and my mother were expelled from the country.”

           
“That is neither here nor there,” said the Count. “The
people talk of you, you know. In the bars and taverns. They speak of you as
their saviour.
 
In the current climate,
you know as well as I do that you will be welcomed as a prodigal son. You are
everything they would want their prince to be. Charming, handsome and
intelligent. Even more so as your links with Britain mean that the government
here is willing to help you in any way possible to prevent invasion.”

           
“In return for trade links, no doubt.”

           
“Cariastan does have some rather good oil fields, as you
know.”

           
Blake went over to the sofa and sat down, putting his
head in his hands. “Are either of you going to give me any choice?” He looked
up at Caroline and her heart went out to him. She understood now what he meant
by being crushed. He had been talking about responsibility, and it was already
starting to sap his spirit.

           
“Perhaps,” she said, clutching at straws, “you need only
do it for a short time. You might be able to find a successor among your
relatives over there. There must be someone else who could take your place,
once the current problems have been solved.”

           
“What do you think, Count?” said Blake.

           
The Count shook his head, sadly. “No, Your Highness. If
there were anyone to take your place, they would have come forward by now. It
will be a lifetime role. Until you have a son.”

           
“What?
 
With some
pale, inbred girl from the European nobility? I rather think I will die
childless – unless all my children can have flaming red hair.”

           
“You know that’s not possible now,” said Caroline. “But
we could …” She stopped, remembering Count Chlomsky was in the room. Perhaps it
was just as well. She had been about to offer to be Blake’s mistress, when in
reality she knew that a clandestine relationship would destroy the love they
shared. Not only that, but the idea of knowing that he may have a family with
another woman, whilst she sat on the sidelines tore her heart to shreds. Better
to make a clean break. At least then her heart might start to mend. Continuing
an affair would only prolong the agony.

           
“No, darling. You deserve far better than that,” said
Blake, reading her mind. The Count smiled kindly, suggesting he too understood
what Caroline had been about to offer. “Very well, Count, I will do as you ask.
Especially as I know Caroline will be severely disappointed in me if I don’t,
and that I could not bear. If I can’t be anything else in life, I try to be the
man she thinks I am.”

“The man I know you are,”
said Caroline.

“But before we do anything,
Count,” said Blake, “we have to find out who’s stolen the Cariastan Heart. I am
not leaving here until I know Caroline’s name has been cleared.”

           
“Darling, you’ve got more important things to worry about
…”

           
“It’s not open to discussion,” Blake said.

Chapter Nine

“I think we can assume,”
said the Count, “that our impostor is involved in some way.” It was the early
hours of the morning, and Caroline, Blake and the Count had met up again in the
empty ballroom, to try to retrace everyone’s steps.

           
“Mrs Oakengate was sure he was standing near her when the
Heart was stolen,” said Caroline.

           
“How could she tell?” said Blake. “It was hard to know
who anyone was.”

           
“Today … or was it yesterday?” said Caroline. She rubbed
her tired eyes. “I’ve lost track of where we are. Anyway, I found a room off
the passageway.”

           
“The one with the mirrors,” said Blake.

           
“Yes, that’s right. I was sure I saw Lady Cassandra in
there. At the time I assumed it was a ghost. No, don’t laugh. I’ve been seeing
strange things at night.”

           
“But it could have been someone trying on the costume,”
said the Count.
 

           
“Exactly. Mrs Oakengate insists that she had the idea of
me dressing up as Lady Cassandra. I’ve said all along – forgive me, Count as I
know you’re fond of her – that Mrs Oakengate could not have come up with that
on her own.”

           
“I am inclined to agree, Miss Conrad. She is magnificent,
but she is also remarkably self-absorbed.”

           
Caroline smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid she is rather. But she
insists she did. That suggests to me that either she doesn’t want to admit it
wasn’t her idea or …”

           
“She’s been made to think it was her idea,” Blake said,
finishing Caroline’s sentence for her.

She nodded. “It’s easily
done. Aunt Millie does it to Uncle Jim all the time. If she wants something and
he says no, she has a way of making him think it was his idea. It’s very
clever.”

“I can’t wait to meet this
Aunt and Uncle of yours,” said Blake. “Though whether good old Uncle Jim is
going to bash me on the nose after what you’ve told him about me, I don’t
know.”

“I shan’t let him,” said
Caroline, reaching out and taking his hand. It only served to remind her that
she would soon lose him forever. “So if the impostor prince – Ronald Stephens –
remained standing near Mrs Oakengate, that must mean he has an accomplice.
Someone had to switch the lights off.”

“Yes, but then someone,
dressed as Lady Cassandra, had to steal the Heart before the lights came back
up,” said Blake. “There just wasn’t time for someone to get from the cellar to
the ballroom. I timed it. That must mean two accomplices. Has the impostor
shown a preference for anyone else this weekend? Apart from Mrs Oakengate.”

“Only that dizzy blonde
actress,” said Caroline. “The one Anna Anderson works for. I forget her name.
She was dressed as Marie Antoinette. The costume was quite elaborate too. I
don’t think she’d have had time to change into the Lady Cassandra dress. I
don’t remember seeing her when the lights went off, but that doesn’t mean
anything. I wasn’t really looking. That’s the trouble really. There were so
many people, and none of them in their normal clothes, and everyone wore a
mask. I hadn’t yet worked out who everyone was, apart from Jack Henderson and
you, Blake, being the Harlequin, and the Count being the Laughing Cavalier. I
only knew the actress was Marie Antoinette because of her stupid laugh.”

“I would gladly lock her up
for that laugh alone,” said the Count, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Did the
servants see anyone go past them to the cellar?”

“No,” said Blake. “I asked
them when I went down there.”

“But they wouldn’t have had
to go past the servants,” said Caroline. “The mirror room leads into the secret
passageway, as does mine and Mrs Oakengate’s. Someone need only go upstairs,
perhaps saying they’re going to the bathroom, and they can get down there that
way. Or any other room that we haven’t yet discovered which has a door to the
secret passage.”

“I wonder If they knew about
the mirror room leading to the secret passage before you went in there and
caught them, Caroline,” said Blake.

“What do you mean?”

“They were visiting your
bedroom at night, you said, and we assumed that’s because they wouldn’t have
got past the servants in the day time.”

“I’d forgotten about that.
Yes, perhaps the thieves only realised when they saw me. But they’d already
hooked up the Lady Cassandra plan by then. They must have, because Mrs
Oakengate needed time to order the outfit to arrive for today … yesterday, I
mean. Before the ball.”

“Plan B,” said the Count.
“You say that Lady Cassandra has visited you at night. So it is possible they
tried to sneak into your room at night, to find the Heart, and used the Lady
Cassandra outfit so that should you wake up, you would think you were being
haunted. When that did not work, because the Heart was not here yet, they
probably realised how much you looked like Lady Cassandra and managed to relate
that to Victoria Oakengate in the way you said. By making it appear that she
had thought of it. If only we could find out what was said to her and by who.”

“Yes, Plan B,” said Blake.
“That makes sense.”

“It occurs to me that
Stephens would know,” said Caroline. “After all, the impostor is his son. It
seems that Stephens was told it was meant to be a bit of fun. A joke.”

“Some joke if he knocked out
his own father,” said Blake.

“Perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps
one of his accomplices did. I wonder how much Jack Henderson was in on the
joke. What did he say when you told him the prince was an impostor?” Caroline
turned to Blake.

“I didn’t. I only told him I
was the owner’s grandson and that I would like to stay here rather than the
pub. I showed him the picture in the drawer to prove it. The one with my
grandfather. Jack couldn’t really refuse. I agreed to pretend I was a late
visitor, so that the guests wouldn’t be confused as to who their host was. That
suited my purposes because I didn’t know how much the impostor knew about
Prince Henri. To be honest with him coming here, I thought he must know
everything. It was rather a big coincidence when you think about it.”