Page 23 of A Problem Princess

That show of normalcy was why she’d gone along with his scheme to oversee her guard. Oh, she shouldn’t have! She should have declined his offer and put as much distance between them as possible so he wouldn’t have any chance of uncovering her family’s secrets.

But she couldn’t help herself. He would protect her, she knew, and right now she needed all the protection she could find.

“The man who’s been assigned to head my guard,” Cordelia said offhandedly to Sophia. “General Elliott. Do you know him?”

“Not at all,” the princess muttered. “But George has taken a liking to him. No idea why.” Her frown deepened. “Do you think he’s a drunken miscreant like that horrible Brummel?”

Dear God, Cordelia hoped not! “I couldn’t say.” Although shehadnoticed that he’d not taken a single sip of his drink two nights ago. Surely, that fell in his favor.

“That’s usually what my brother sees in his cronies. The worse they are, the better he likes them.” Sophia turned to stare boldly at Clayton, not noticing at all that Cordelia wanted their conversation kept private. Or simply not caring that she did. “Makes one wonder what this man has done to earn so much attention from George so quickly, hmm?”

Yes, it did.

“And George placed him in charge of your personal guard, you say?”

“The general volunteered, and the regent agreed.” Wholeheartedly, and much to her uncle’s irritation yesterday morning when word from Carlton House reached him. Not only had her cousin the regent agreed with her decision, but he’d also insisted in glowing terms that no one could protect her better than General Elliott…and that he would give Clayton a viscountcy for his trouble.

A viscountcy! Cordelia had nearly sobbed with grief at the news.

That extraordinary gift would change everything. Clayton would never again look at her as if she were a normal woman, not as long as he knew personal rewards could be gained by attending on her. In that, she feared he’d prove no different from the other courtiers who fawned over her.

“Well, I suppose he can’t be worse than that insufferable Lord Liverpool,” Sophia continued. “As I’ve always said…”

Cordelia let out a long sigh and let her attention wander as the princess rambled on about current political affairs. Her gaze drifted around the gardens right along with it, and once more, it landed on Clayton.

She frowned as two beautiful ladies approached him and engaged him in conversation. Then her frown deepened as he smiled back at them with a casual grin that implied he knew them well.Verywell. And the way he laughed at something the raven-haired woman said, how his green eyes gleamed—

Oh, bother! Cordelia tore her gaze away, feeling like a complete goose for watching him.

What did it matter who he spoke to…or smiled at? Cordelia needed a competent guard, that was all. He would never learn about her father’s past—she would make certain of it—and in a fortnight when the royal visit ended, she’d never see him again. He held no significance for her.None whatsoever.

Or at least that was the lie she told herself as she drew in a deep breath and moved her gaze once more around the property to distract herself from him.

Truly, the gardens were beautiful. They were a perfect wild oasis in the heart of congested London, with acres and acres of trees, flower beds, and even a lake stretching out to the ends of the property. How lovely it would be to simply go for a walk across the grounds! Perhaps she could find an excuse to slip away after the party and before she had to be rushed back to her rooms to change, yet again, for the next event she was required to—

“Your Serene Highness! We must chat!”

Cordelia pulled up straight as she came face-to-face with a giant pink turban that had scurried up in front of her. She lowered her gaze to the round woman smiling broadly from underneath it and blinked. “Pardon?”

A second woman beside her wore a hat with so many feathers that it looked as if an entire ostrich was nesting on her head. When she nodded vigorously in agreement with her friend, the thing bobbed so precariously that Cordelia feared the whole construction might go tumbling to the grass.

“Oh, apologies!” the ostrich-feathered woman said. “We must be properly introduced. Sophia!” She waved a gloved hand at Princess Sophia, who was doing her best to make her own escape.

The turbaned woman snagged the royal princess by the arm and patted the back of her hand as she brought her back to them. “Sophia, do be a dear and introduce us to Her Serene Highness, will you?”

Instead of being furious for being touched or ordered about, Sophia only smiled patiently, the same way one would for a pair of eccentric relatives. “Princess Cordelia, may I introduce you to two dear old friends of my mother? Lady Agnes Sinclair, aunt to the Earl of St James—”

The turban bobbed in acknowledgement.

“And Viscountess Bromley.”

The mound of ostrich feathers followed suit. Cordelia resisted the urge to reach out to steady it.

“Ladies, Her Serene Highness Princess Cordelia of Monrovia.”

Both women lowered themselves into deep curtsies. Both turban and ostrich feathers teetered precariously.

Cordelia inclined her head. “It’s a pleasure to—”