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“To blazes with protocol,” she said, then moderated her tone, “As you can see, there’s not much competition for my attention.”
He took a sip of champagne. “Perhaps they’re intimidated by you.”
“Because of the sedan chair?” It did look somewhat like a throne, she conceded.
“Sitting in that thing, you look terrifyingly regal.”
“You don’t seem intimidated.”
His deep blue eyes shone. “Fishing, Princess? All identities remain a mystery until midnight.”
“Wondering,” she compromised. “No law against that, is there?”
“Not unless your family chooses to make one.”
“You aren’t going to give me any clues, are you?” He had already given one when he’d mentioned Maxim so familiarly. “Are you a friend of Max’s?”
All he admitted was, “I know the prince.”
All the guests were connected by their association with the castle, either as members of the Merrisand Trust like her and Max, friends who supported the trust’s charitable work, or senior members of the royal household. “The same may be said of anyone here.”
“True enough.”
She found she liked the sensation of sparring with him. “You have me at an unfair advantage. You know who I am, but I don’t even know what to call you.”
He seemed to think for a moment. “You could try Clark.”
“Although it isn’t your real name.” She didn’t know how she knew, only that she did.
“My daughter put the idea in my head when I was getting ready this evening.”
A stab of disappointment lanced through her. So he was married with a child. She should have known. “You should be grateful she didn’t suggest something more bizarre.”
She saw the corners of his mouth lift. “Considering the alternatives the mask suggested to her, Clark was the mildest option.”
A flash of inspiration made her ask, “As in the superhero?”
He looked discomfited. “It was the association she made, however inaccurately.”
So he didn’t think of himself as a superhero. He certainly looked the part. It wasn’t hard to imagine him leaping tall buildings or rescuing maidens in distress. She really was getting fanciful tonight. He was married, remember? All the best ones were. He looked as averse to being at the ball as Giselle herself, probably because his wife wasn’t at his side. “I should circulate,” she said, aware of sounding reluctant.
He glanced at her bandaged foot peeping from beneath the pearl-studded hem of her ball gown. Velvet-covered dance slippers had been the best she could do to accommodate the bandage. “Unless you plan to tour the room from that chair, you might have some difficulty.” He crooked an arm. “I’m happy to offer my assistance.”
Provided she used a cane or other support for the time being, she could put weight on her injured foot now. And anything was better than being confined to this chair. Leaning on his strong arm was not her motivation for accepting, she assured herself. “It would be good to move around for a while, but I don’t want to impose,” she said.
“Not at all, Your Highness. As you can see, there’s hardly any competition for my attention.”
Hearing her own words turned back at her, she smiled. “I mustn’t take you away from your wife.”
What she could see of his face darkened fleetingly, then he returned her smile. “With respect, you’re fishing again. I can’t help you do your duty as our hostess unless you agree to preserve the mystery.”
Bryce had no idea what had made him approach the princess, or why he hadn’t come right out and admitted who he was. Some people might see the loss of Eden Valley as a comedown, but he regarded it as a liberation.
The next time he owned land, it would be in his own right, free of family interference. So, being an employee of the castle was a means to an end for him. But he found it hard to imagine the princess being so interested in him once she knew all about him. In spite of his vow to remain uninvolved, he was enjoying arousing her curiosity.
Arousing her might be even more of a challenge, not that he had any such intention. Although seeing her borne into the ball on the sedan chair carried by her protectors had certainly aroused him. Few women, even royalty, would have carried off such an entrance with her assurance.
During her stately progress into the ballroom, she had kept her back straight and her head high, exposing an expanse of swanlike neck. The full skirt of her strapless aquamarine gown had spilled over the runners of the chair, making it look as if she were floating on a cloud. He’d decided that he had to meet her.
She was right. He wasn’t intimidated by her position. Coming from a family with interests in two countries, he was used to dealing with officials at the highest levels. Beyond business, he didn’t usually seek them out, preferring the company of more everyday people like himself.
There was nothing everyday about Princess Giselle de Marigny.
For one thing her golden coloring set her apart. As fair as her brother was dark, she had eyes as bright as stars, of a jewel color he didn’t have a name for. Her hair was wound into a chignon dressed with a diamond tiara. It wasn’t a huge leap to imagine the strands tumbling around her shoulders in a riot of curls. Would they feel as silky as they looked, spilling through his fingers?
Her skin was like milk, shading to creamy pink under the rim of her jeweled mask, and she had the most tantalizing mouth. Soft, quick to smile. In a less public forum, he would have been sorely tempted to taste her. Maybe more than taste. Just as well he was constrained by the crowd.
When she took his hand and got carefully to her feet, she felt as light as his daughter, thistledown in a designer gown, a child masquerading as a princess. Except that there was nothing remotely childish in the smile she gave him as she curled her hand more securely around his arm. He felt his insides cramp in response.
“People will talk, you know,” she murmured.
He crossed his free arm over his chest and covered her hand with his, telling himself it was the gentlemanly thing to do. It had nothing to do with welcoming any excuse to touch her. “Do you care, Your Highness?”
She gave a dismissive laugh. “If I let myself worry every time someone gossiped about me, I’d be a nervous wreck.”
The only tremors he could feel in her were at his touch, possibly a product of his wishful thinking. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there? Where would you like to begin?”
“My brother’s group, if you’d kindly help me over to them.”
Would Maxim recognize him and expose his identity to her? There was nothing for it but to comply. The prince was chatting amiably to a group, all masked as Bryce was. He hadn’t been at the castle long enough to recognize many people, even without masks, so he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he concentrated on Giselle’s melodious conversation as she did her royal duty as hostess. Her presence had added an unexpected fillip to an occasion he hadn’t expected to enjoy in the least.
The other guests were concerned about her, of course. Surprised to see her on her feet, Bryce gathered from their comments. “Clark kindly volunteered to help me get around,” she said in a mischievous tone.
Bryce couldn’t see Prince Maxim’s frown of puzzlement as he tried to place the newcomer, but it was in his voice as he said, “Clark?”
“My secret identity for tonight, Your Highness,” Bryce explained, feeling himself color under his own mask. Entertaining the princess was one thing. He hadn’t planned on taking the joke any further.
“He came to my rescue when everyone else neglected me,” she went on.
“The day you suffer neglect, my dear Giselle, the world comes to an end,” Maxim observed. To Bryce, he said, “Normally I can’t get near her for the men swarming around her.”
“Perhaps when I’m able to dance,” she grumbled. “Today I can barely manage a few steps without assistance.”
Maxim’s gaze went to her arm linked with Bryce’s. “You don’t seem to be suffering greatly at this moment.”
He was right, she wasn’t. Her foot throbbed, but the mystery of her benefactor’s identity provided a welcome distraction. Maxim had given no sign that he recognized her escort, so her brother wasn’t going to be much help. She would have to figure this out on her own.
Although she was consumed with curiosity about the imposing stranger, part of her wanted the mystery to continue. Behind the mask he could be any man she imagined, her Prince Charming if she so chose.
She told herself she was being capricious, but decided it couldn’t hurt for one night. Soon she would be recovered enough to return to her royal duties. Added to the affairs of the trust, and her teaching commitments at the castle school, she would have little time for fantasy.
And that reminded her.
“I must arrange a meeting with you and Eduard, while he’s still in Taures Province.”
“Could we discuss that another time?” Maxim asked mildly enough, although Bryce heard the steely undercurrent in his tone.
Giselle’s head came up. “You’ve avoided discussing it elsewhere, so you leave me little choice. Eduard returns to Valmont in two more days.”
Bryce let his glance follow Maxim’s to where a tall, dark-haired man was holding court. Eduard, Marquis of Merrisand, his prodigious memory supplied. He was so well known that no mask could conceal his identity.
Maxim made an impatient sound. “If it helps, I’ve already spoken to Eduard about your desire to be appointed Keeper of the Castle.”
“And?”
Bryce heard the expectancy in her tone and wondered at it. Maxim presently held the dual titles of administrator of the Merrisand Trust and Keeper of the Castle. Giselle evidently hoped to take over the latter position herself. The Keeper was responsible for overseeing most of the day-to-day running of the castle, a big job for such slender shoulders, Bryce thought.
“We agree that you’re well qualified, but Eduard is as constrained by the terms of the Merrisand Charter as I am,” Maxim stated.
She turned to Bryce. “What do you think of a charter created two hundred years ago that excludes women from the position of Keeper unless they are married?”
Bryce tried for diplomacy. “I’d have to know more about the circumstances.”
She wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “What would you like to know?”
“For example, does the restriction apply only to women?”
“Unfortunately it does,” Maxim interceded, sounding uneasy about the admission.
Bryce knew how his daughter would feel about that. Evidently the princess felt the same way. He didn’t entirely blame her. He couldn’t see the point of squandering half the world’s talents through an accident of gender. Something he had been unable to make Amanda’s maternal grandmother understand, or they might have parted on better terms. “Can’t the rules be updated?” he asked.
“According to the charter, any changes must be put to the people of Taures province in a referendum. If they vote in favor, the change takes effect five years and one day from the date of the referendum.”
Too long for Giselle to wait, he gathered when he felt her tense on his arm. “Isn’t that a touch excessive?” he asked.
“The charter’s history is complicated,” the princess said. “Perhaps you know that the Merrisand title was conferred on our ancestor as an insult, after he fell out with the reigning monarch of the period.”
Bryce searched his memory. “Merrisand being a term for a fool’s paradise in Carramer folklore.” In an effort to stir Amanda’s interest in the move, he had suggested she research the castle’s history on the Internet. She had gleefully reported the fool’s paradise connection to him, sounding as if she thought the description still fitted.
“As I understand it, the first marquis turned the tables on his brother by establishing a charitable trust to help children in need, then built this castle to fund the trust’s good works. What started out as an insult became one of the most respected names in the kingdom,” he went on.
Giselle seemed pleased with his knowledge. “Our ancestor had the five-year moratorium written into the charter to make sure the monarch couldn’t meddle easily in the trust’s affairs.”
“Those two really got along, didn’t they?”
She sneaked a glance at her brother, whose attention had been claimed by another guest. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Not a one.” After he was born his parents had tried for more children without success. Part of the reason for the intense interest his grandfather took in Bryce, he suspected. As his parents’ sole heir, he carried all of his grandfather’s expectations on his shoulders.
“Then you don’t know how fierce sibling rivalry can get.”
Although she couldn’t see it, he lifted an eyebrow. “Even among royalty?”
“We’re still human. Oh.”
He felt her sag in his grasp and reached for a chair with his free hand, spinning it around so he could ease her into it. “Perhaps you should sit the rest of the ball out, Princess.”
His hands on her arms felt so warm and confident that she wished she could spend the entire evening in his company. Not possible, of course. Her duty didn’t permit it. Emboldened because she was now part of a group, other guests had begun to drift toward her.
When her mystery man stepped back to allow them to approach, it was all she could do not to grasp his hand and hold him at her side. She wanted to know who he was and why she found him so compelling.
At midnight, when the masks came off, she would have her answers, she promised herself as she pinned a smile of greeting to her face.
Ignoring the discomfort in her foot, she welcomed her guests and made polite conversation. Chatted, smiled until her jaw ached. Ate some of the lavish supper the castle chefs had created. Listened to the music and attempted not to feel too left out of the dancing.
And hoped she wasn’t watching the clock too obviously.
Chapter Two
For the rest of the night, Bryce found it a strain being sociable. He knew why and he didn’t like it. None of the other guests at the ball had captured his interest as totally as Princess Giselle.
It took enormous self-discipline to keep his glance from repeatedly straying to where she held court. The silvery peal of her laughter drew his attention like a magnet, making him pulse with desires he didn’t want to feel. Not for any woman, but especially not for someone so inappropriate.
During the move to Merrisand, Amanda had shown him an article in a magazine linking the princess with one of Carramer’s more famous exports, movie actor Robert Gaudet. He was in Hollywood at present, developing a new film project that his production company planned to make in Carramer. The article suggested that the princess’s injury was the only thing preventing her from being with him. The actor was supposedly so much in love with her that their marriage was a foregone conclusion.
The article also mentioned the princess’s many teaching and charitable activities for the Merrisand Trust and Bryce wondered how they would fit in with a Hollywood lifestyle.
He didn’t normally pay attention to such things but had been prepared to encourage anything that made Amanda happier about the move to Merrisand. He had read the article to please her, deciding that his daughter could have a worse idol than the hardworking princess.
He tried to tell himself he was glad Giselle was involved with someone. Even if she hadn’t been a princess, he had nothing to offer her, either emotionally or materially. His wife’s illness had drained him of both the capacity and the will to put himself through such torment again. And until he put his financial affairs in order, he had little to offer any woman.
The logic didn’t quench his desire to look at Giselle, and keep looking.
He thought he’d resisted the temptation fairly successfully until he became aware that his dance partner had stopped moving. He forced his attention back to her. “Is something the matter?”
“Perhaps we should dance over to the other side of the room before you get a crick in your neck from turning that way.”
He had asked the woman to dance in order to banish Giselle from his mind. Giving her name as Elaine, she obviously expected Bryce to reciprocate. When he hadn’t, she had volunteered that she was the princess’s equerry and had been away in Taures with her boss until recently.
When Bryce reminded Elaine that their identities were supposed to remain secret until midnight, she had sounded frustrated but had danced with him readily enough. “You’re new to Merrisand, aren’t you?” she commented as he swung her into a waltz.
“Very.” He knew she expected more from him, but didn’t feel inclined to elaborate. He hadn’t danced since Yvette became too ill, and was regretting the impulse to start again now. Not because Elaine wasn’t a good dancer. She was light on her feet and followed his lead easily. And behind her striking gold mask, her features hinted at attractiveness. No, he was the problem, feeling uncomfortable holding her in his arms.
Strange. He hadn’t felt that way when he assisted the princess earlier. She had fitted against his side as if she belonged there. Also missing was the tug of guilt he’d so often felt after catching himself enjoying some small pleasure. Yvette had been such a generous soul that she wouldn’t want him to feel guilty on her account, yet he hadn’t been able to dismiss the feeling.
Until this evening.
“My mind was wandering,” he told Elaine. True enough.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she murmured, matching her steps to his as he picked up the rhythm again.
“It’s nothing personal. I’m out of practice at this.” Also true.
“She is lovely, isn’t she?” Elaine said.
He didn’t insult her by pretending not to know who she meant. “Yes. Also very popular.” The crowd around Giselle had only lessened for the interval while supper was served.
“You wouldn’t be the first man at the castle to fall in love with her.”
Bryce felt his muscles tighten and made an effort to relax them. “You sound just like my daughter.”
He could almost hear Elaine’s thoughts as she added this up. Out of practice at dancing, and with a daughter. Therefore probably widowed or divorced. “How old is your daughter?”
As he heard the interest in her voice sharpen, he regretted even more asking her to dance. Then he reminded himself that he was the one using her to take his mind off the princess. “Ten, and an authority on celebrities, courtesy of her favorite magazine, Fame and Fortune.”
“I read that magazine, too. They did an article recently about the princess and Robert Gaudet.”
He nodded. “According to the writer, they’re practically engaged.”
Now who was fishing? he thought. As Giselle’s right-hand woman, Elaine could be expected to know whether there was any truth in the article. He told himself he was merely curious.
Elaine’s smile became artful. “You’d have to ask Her Highness about that.”
He had to admire her discretion, although he couldn’t help wondering who else her reticence was serving. As long as Giselle was committed to the actor, Bryce was wasting his time fantasizing about her. Especially when there was a lovely, available woman much closer to hand. Or so he could imagine Elaine wanting him to think.
Maybe she was right. He had worried for some time that Amanda was suffering for lack of a mother’s influence. He had tried to compensate by letting her spend time with her maternal grandmother, until he became aware that Babette was spoiling her hopelessly.
He thought he understood his mother-in-law’s motives. Having lost her daughter, she was afraid of losing Amanda, too. Bryce hadn’t been able to make her see that being overly indulgent wouldn’t help.
When Babette and Lyle Monroe learned that he was taking Amanda away from Nuee, they had acted as if he was taking their child away instead of their granddaughter. Provoked by their example, Amanda had accused him of ruining her life. She still had bouts of difficult behavior, too many for his peace of mind sometimes. He hoped that by removing her from her grandparents’ influence, he would eventually make her understand that his decision had been for her good.
The dance ended and he thanked Elaine. On impulse, he asked, “Would you like some champagne?”
Under her mask she looked flushed, whether with the dancing, or at his offer, he didn’t know. Had she expected him to desert her the moment the music stopped? He wasn’t proud of having considered the idea.
“Champagne would be lovely, thank you.”
He signaled to a passing waiter and lifted two flutes from his tray, gave one to her and toasted her with his own. “Thank you for your patience.” It was more than he deserved.
She drank the toast without comment. “Will I see you again?”
He couldn’t bring himself to promise anything while his gaze kept being pulled on invisible strings to where Giselle sat among her admirers.
Among a crowd of glittering people, she seemed to glow. Everything about her, from her crowned head to her slippered feet, shone with a brilliance that threatened to dazzle him. The mask prevented him from seeing all of her face but he had seen her picture often enough to know that her skin was flawless and porcelain toned, her opalescent gaze deep enough for a man to drown in.
He felt desire stirring, and warning bells rang in his brain. It didn’t escape him that her lack of availability might be the reason he felt so strongly attracted to her. Coward, he told himself. Fixating on a woman he couldn’t have was one way to avoid getting back into a game he had sworn he had given up two years before.
He hauled in a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something noncommittal to Elaine, but she spoke first. “It’s almost midnight. I should see if the princess needs me for anything.” She replaced the champagne glass on a waiter’s tray. “Thanks for the dance.”
Bryce inclined his head in agreement. “Thank you, Elaine. I’ll see you around the castle.”
But she was already weaving her way through the crowd to Giselle’s side. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him.
Elaine was exactly the sort of woman he should be interested in, he told himself. She was attractive, with a good sense of humor and the patience of a saint to put up with his inattention tonight, and she was obviously interested in him. She had even shown an interest in Amanda. What more did he need?
Fireworks, that’s what. Candlelit dinners. Nights on satin sheets. The whole romantic ball of wax. The kind he’d known with Yvette, when they were starry-eyed with the wonder of love and the joy of their beautiful girl child.
At first they hadn’t known anything was wrong, blaming the demands of a young child on Yvette’s constant feeling of lethargy. When it persisted, she’d consulted doctor after doctor, being referred to one specialist after another. None could say with certainty why stray proteins were cluttering up her blood, and what it meant.
Not that a precise diagnosis would have made much difference. Over the years, despite valiant efforts at treatment, she had grown progressively weaker until she had begged him to make the doctors stop trying. Contrarily, once they did, she had rallied, giving him a glimmer of hope that she might recover against all odds.
When she started to spiral down again, he had sought out alternative therapies, from vitamin treatments to people who could supposedly heal by touch, anything and everything. For a short time her condition would seem to improve, only to continue once more on her inexorable downward path.
Even then, they had managed to snatch happiness from despair. Yvette had never been one for self-pity, and she had loved romance. He remembered bringing her a single Carramer orchid, a perfect specimen in a vivid cerulean hue that reflected her eyes. They had filled with tears of pleasure at the sight of the bloom.