Cordinas Crown Jewel (19 page)

“My mind’s full of it.” Ruthlessly she folded Del’s formal letter, set it aside. As she would, she promised herself, set thoughts of him aside. “Imagine me, studying artifacts from the Lower Paleolithic in France. Dr. Lesuer has been so generous, so forthcoming. I’ll enjoy working with his team and learning from him. But now, I’m behind schedule. Sarah Lattimer will be here in a couple hours. I believe I told you about Sarah—the shop keeper from Vermont who was so kind to me?”

“Yes, you did. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“I want her to have a spectacular time. Aunt Eve’s going to give her a tour and she’ll have a chance to meet Uncle Alex before the ladies’ tea tomorrow.”

“I need you to greet some of my personal guests with me—the Earl and Countess of Brigston and their son. They should be here within thirty minutes. I’m entertaining them in the Gold Parlor on arrival.”

“Yes, I remember.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t suppose you could have Adrienne fill in for me.”

“Your sister’s in the nursery with young Armand and the baby. I won’t keep you above fifteen minutes,” Gabriella promised.

“I’ll be there. I’ll just adjust a few things in my schedule.” She started out, came back and picked up Del’s letter. “I need to have this filed,” she murmured, and hurried away.

Exactly twenty-nine minutes later, Camilla dashed down the main staircase. Preparations for the Autumn Ball—and all the events leading up to and following it—were well under way. The
regisseur
, the palace
manager, would overlook no details. And should he, her aunt’s eagle eye would scope them out.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Eve de Cordina was Chatelaine of the palace, and a woman who stood beside her husband as he ruled the country. But she often had her own opinions about matters of state, and had her own career apart from her royal duties. Her Hamilton Company of Players was a world-renowned theatrical group and she was also a respected playwright.

Her example served to remind Camilla that with ambition, work and brains, a woman could do anything. Even be on time—barely—to meet guests when her plate was overfull.

She was nearly at the base of the steps when the man jogging up to her caught her by the shoulders. He was handsome as sin and smelled comfortably of horses.

“What’s the hurry?”

“Uncle Bennett. I didn’t even know you’d arrived.” She kissed her mother’s youngest brother on the cheek. “And already visited the stables.”

“Bry and Thadd are still out there,” he said, referring to his two young sons. “Hannah’s around here somewhere. She wanted to talk to Eve. And look at you.” He ruffled her short hair. “Very chic.”

“How was your trip to England?”

“Successful. I found the perfect mare to breed with my stallion.”

“I want to see her and all the rest of you—but later. I’m late.”

“What’s this about some American who needs a good ass-kicking?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve already seen my father.”

“On the way in from the stables. I volunteered to hold his coat.”

“I don’t think you’ll have the chance. I don’t see the ass he’d like to kick being within striking distance any time in the near future.
A bientôt.
”

“But—” Puzzled, Bennett watched her dash off. Someone had their information skewed, he mused, then began to smile as he climbed up the steps, hoping to search out his brother and harass him for details.

Knowing Reeve MacGee, Bennett doubted that Camilla’s father had the wrong data.

Camilla slowed to a dignified if brisk walk as she moved through the palace. Flowers, fresh and elaborate, speared and spilled out of vases and urns. Her heels clicked efficiently on the sparkling marble floors.

The occasional servant paused to bow or curtsy. She greeted most by name, but continued on. She hated being late.

By the time she made it to the Gold Parlor, she was. By six minutes. Because she heard the low murmur of voices, she took another moment to smooth her skirt, her hair, take a breath and fix a welcoming smile on her face.

When she stepped in, she saw her mother was already seated in one of the conversation areas, pouring tea from one of the Miessen china pots into cups for a middle-aged couple.

The woman caught her attention first. Such an intriguing look, Camilla thought. Lovely in a unique way, and casually disheveled. She wouldn’t have called the baggy tweeds fashionable, but they certainly suited the woman.

The man rose as she approached. She started to speak, to apologize for her tardiness in greeting them. Then couldn’t speak at all. He was, she thought, stunned, an older and more distinguished version of Del.

She needed to find a way to get the man off her mind, she ordered herself, when she started seeing pieces of him in dashing and dignified English earls.

“Camilla, I’d like to introduce you to the Earl and Countess of Brigston. Lord and Lady Brigston, my daughter, Her Royal Highness Camilla de Cordina.”

“Lord and Lady Brigston, I apologize for not being here with my mother to welcome you to Cordina. Please, sit and be comfortable. I hope you enjoyed your trip.”

“We’re delighted to be here, Your Highness.” Alice smiled as she curtsied, then shook hands with Camilla. “As is our son. May I present Lord Delaney, Viscount Brigston.”

Her thoughts whirled as Del moved from the far window and crossed the room toward her. Her heart beat too quickly—first with the sheer joy of seeing him, and then with confusion. And lastly, with anger.

Viscount Brigston, she thought. What was this? How did the American scientist become a British
aristocrat? The nerve of him.

She inclined her head, coolly, then lifted her chin. “My Lord,” she said in a tone frigid as winter.

“Madam,” he returned, and with annoyance clear in his eyes, took her offered hand and kissed it.

*  *  *

She got through it. Camilla was too proud, and too innately well mannered not to. But the following thirty minutes were torture. She held up her part in conversation. Which was more, she thought darkly, than Del managed. He barely grumbled monosyllables, and only when directly addressed.

Why did he have to look so big and handsome and
male
? The suit and tie should have dwarfed him somehow, or tamed him by a few degrees. It did neither.

“My son,” Alice said at one point, “is delighted and grateful for your assistance in funding the Bardville Project, madam. Isn’t that right, Del?”

He shifted in his chair. “I’ve relayed my appreciation, and the team’s, to Her Highness via letters and reports.”

“Yes, I received one of your … letters just this morning, Lord Delaney.” Camilla smiled with her eyes frosted. “How odd you didn’t mention you’d be traveling, and so soon, to Cordina.”

He wouldn’t have been here if he’d had any choice, he thought. His mother had hounded him like a she-wolf and all but dragged him to the plane by his ear. “I wasn’t entirely sure my schedule would permit the trip.”

“We’re so pleased it did,” Gabriella broke in, warned by the battle-light in her daughter’s eyes. When Camilla’s temper rose too high, her tongue could be lethal. And rash. “So that we can, in some small way, repay you for the hospitality you offered Camilla in your home in Vermont. A lovely part of America, I’m told. I regret never having seen it for myself.”

It was a toss-up, Gabriella decided, who looked more shocked by her easy mention of their prior relationship, the princess or the viscount.

Both gaped at her while she sipped her tea. She thought—was nearly certain—she heard the countess muffle a squeak of laughter.

Now, she would see how long the two of them could manage to continue to behave like polite strangers.

“Camilla has developed a keen interest in your field, my lord,” Gabriella continued. “It’s always rewarding for a mother to see her child so enthusiastic.”

“And equally rewarding for a child to entertain her mother,” Camilla said with a perfectly pleasant smile—one with an edge only her mother could see. “What an … interesting surprise for you to have invited Lord Delaney and his parents without mentioning the plans to me.”

“I hoped it would be, and that you’d be pleased to offer Cordinian hospitality.” It was said lightly, but with underlying firmness.

“Of course. Nothing could please me more than repaying Lord Delaney for … everything.”

“I’m sure you’d like to rest a bit after your journey,” Gabriella said to Niles and Alice as she rose. “Camilla, perhaps you could show Lord Delaney the gardens.”

“I’m not—” Del began, then ground his teeth at his mother’s killing glare. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Gabriella laid a hand, a heavy one, on Camilla’s shoulder as she passed.

Trapped, Camilla got to her feet, braced herself as her mother breezily led Del’s parents away then turned to face him. “First, let me make it perfectly clear that I had no idea you would be here, and if I had I would have done everything possible to be absent from this welcoming party.”

“That’s clear. If I could’ve gotten out of making this trip, I would have. Believe me.”

“Second,” she continued in the same cool and mannered tone, “I have no more desire to show you the gardens than you have to see them. However, I’ve less desire to distress my mother or your parents. Ten minutes should do it. I’m sure we can tolerate each other for that length of time. My Lord,” she said in a hiss.

“Don’t start on me.” He rose as well, then found himself talking to her back as she strode to the terrace doors on the other side of the room.

When she sailed out, he jammed his hands into his pockets and followed. It was going to be, he thought, a very long four days.

In the third floor guest wing, Alice paused at the entrance to the suite of rooms they’d been given for their stay in Cordina.

It was time, she decided, to test her impressions and instincts regarding Gabriella de Cordina.

“I wonder, ma’am, if I might have a moment of your time. In private.”

“Of course.” Gabriella had been calculating her options and considering how best to handle her guest since she’d first set eyes on the woman. In her opinion, Alice Caine preferred the direct approach. And so, when possible, did she. “We’ll use my sitting room. It’s very comfortable, very private.”

As she led Alice through the palace, to the family quarters, she spoke of the history of the building, the art collection. She kept up the polite tour chatter until they were comfortably behind closed doors in her elegant rose and blue sitting room.

“May I offer you some refreshment, Lady Brigston?”

“No, ma’am, thank you.” Alice took a seat, folded her hands. “We are, obviously, both aware of the relationship between our children, and the unfortunate way that relationship was left late last summer,” she began.

“Yes. Your son was very kind to provide my daughter with shelter.”

“I beg your pardon, but that’s nonsense. He didn’t do it out of kindness, or at least only partially. He isn’t unkind, he’s just boneheaded.”

Gabriella sat back. “Lady Brigston … Alice,” she responded warmly, pleased that her judgment about the woman had been on target. “I wasn’t certain I was doing the right thing for Camilla by inviting your family—and by not telling her of the invitation or about your son’s title. It was self-serving of me. I wanted to give her
time to search her heart, and I wanted to gauge her reaction for myself when she saw your son again. The minute I did, I knew I’d done the right thing after all.”

“You saw the way they looked at each other—well, before their backs went up.”

“Yes, I did. They love each other, and they’re both letting pride get in the way.”

“It’s more than pride with Del. He’s so much like his father. Toss him some old bones, and he can give you chapter and verse on the woman who owned them three thousand years ago. Give him a flesh and blood female, and he’s clueless. It’s not that he’s stupid, ma’am—”

“Brie,” Gabriella interrupted.

Alice took a breath, settled more comfortably in the chair. Like her son, she knew the formalities of protocol—and like her son found them mildly foolish. She was glad Her Serene Highness felt the same way. “Brie. He’s not stupid. He’s just a Caine. Through and through.”

“I don’t like to interfere in the lives of my children,” Gabriella began.

“Neither do I. Technically.”

They said nothing for a moment, then both began to smile. “Why don’t we have a small glass of brandy,” Gabriella suggested.

It helped, Alice thought, when you could see the woman your son loved in her mother’s eyes. And you liked them both. “Oh, why don’t we?”

Pleased, Gabriella rose to fetch the decanter and pour the snifters herself. “I do have an idea, which while not—technically—interfering, may help things along a bit. My sons would call it double-teaming.”

“I’m all ears.”

Ten minutes later, Alice nodded. “I like your style. Good thing, since we’re going to be in-laws.” She glanced toward the window when she heard raised voices. “That’s Del—booms like a bull when he’s mad.”

They rose together, moved out to the balcony. In tune they linked arms as they looked down on their children. “They’re arguing,” Gabriella said with emotion thickening her voice.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

“We shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

“We’re just standing here, taking some air. We can’t help it if they’re shouting at each other.”

“I suppose not.”

Even as she inched out a bit more, Gabriella heard her sitting room door open and slam shut.

“Is that jackass Caine here yet?”

Mortified, Gabriella closed her eyes, then turned back as her husband came to the open doorway. “Reeve,” she murmured.

“You must be Camilla’s father.” Delighted, Alice stepped forward, pumped his hand. “I’m the jackass’s mother. We were just pretending not to eavesdrop while they yell at each other in the garden. Care to join us?”

He stared, a tall man with silver shot black hair, as his wife began to laugh helplessly. “Well, hell,” was all he said.

*  *  *

She hadn’t intended to argue. In fact, Camilla had ordered herself not to rise to any bait he might cast. The jackass. She swept him along garden paths as if they were on a forced march, and took none of the pleasure she normally did in the scents, the textures, the charm.