Page 25 of A Problem Princess

“The man was innocent,” Lady Agnes insisted.

“The man washanged,” Lady Bromley corrected.

General Elliott’s father had been…hanged? “For what?”

“Well, smuggling during the wars was—”

“He didn’t do it,” Agnes interrupted firmly.

“Unfortunately, all the proof—and the late Squire Daniels—said he did.”

“But all the proof—andespeciallythe late squire—was wrong.”

Cordelia stole a glance over her shoulder toward the terrace, searching for Clayton. If she ever needed to be rescued, this was certainly a time. But she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t seeanythingof the house and terrace. The ladies had steered her behind a thick grove of chestnut trees and to the edge of the lake, neatly separating her from the party. “If he didn’t do it… How can you be certain?”

“A man who was supposedly as evil as that could never have raised a son as good as Clayton,” Lady Agnes answered with certainty.

Lady Bromley sighed. “Very true.”

Cordelia certainly hoped so!

“Anyway, my dear,” Agnes reassured her, “you are in competent hands with the general. We’ve known him for years. He’s a good man, a kind soul, and deadly with a pistol.”

Cordelia mumbled, “So I’ve heard.”

“This is where we leave you.” Lady Bromley squeezed Cordelia’s hand. “Enjoy your time in England, my dear.”

“And enjoy your time with General Elliott.” Agnes winked. “I truly hope you do!” Then, as if in afterthought, she added with a shake of her finger, “But nottoomuch.”

The two ladies bustled off toward the house and the party, chattering between themselves nonstop and leaving Cordelia alone in the heart of the rambling garden.

She stared after them and rubbed at her forearm and the healing wound beneath the bandage.Good heavens!She couldn’t have said what on earth their conversation had been about, but she suddenly felt winded.

And warned.

“Hello, Princess.”

She spun around and lost her breath.

Clayton.

Nine

Clayton stepped out of the edge of the bushes where he’d been waiting for the two ladies to deliver Cordelia, just as he’d asked them to do. He’d hoped her surprised expression would melt into a smile for him, but no such luck. Instead, her chocolate-brown eyes grew impossibly bigger.

“What are you…?” Then her pink lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed as she realized what he’d done. “Youasked them to bring me here, didn’t you?”

Clayton couldn’t help but grin at being caught. “They’re my best friends’ aunties, and they’ve always taken a liking to me.”

Given their bent for all things spy-related, he’d also been able to easily recruit them to help. He’d not been able to talk privately with Cordelia since the attack, and desperate times—he glanced after the bobbing ostrich feathers and bright pink turban as they quickly beat a retreat—called for desperate measures. “We haven’t had the chance to be alone since the attack, and I wanted to speak with you.”

He’d been in her presence almost constantly since he assumed her guard, standing at the edge of the room or remaining an appropriate distance away. He’d watched her interact with cabinet ministers, members of Parliament, important businessmen, ladies of all rank and position—even the children at today’s party. He’d politely greeted her in passing and learned a great deal about her simply by observing her…as she had undoubtedly done with him, if all the times he’d caught her looking at him were any indication. But they’d not been able to have a single word in private.

Always together, never alone. She realized that, too, based on how her irritation drained visibly from her.

“I’m an unmarried princess. I’m never alone.” The smile he longed for teased at her lips but never fully blossomed. “Unless I’m with a Home Office undersecretary, it seems.”

“The palace only wants to keep you safe.”So do I.“I’m certain they feel guilty about the attack.”