Hers had been a bungled, desperate attempt to hide a heinous crime, and would likely cost her life.

  Rostafan had fled when news of Lady Anastasan’s detention became known. He was caught trying to board a ship bound for the Continent. Mr. Botley-Finch had assured Sebastian he would be held until the Alucian contingent set sail.

  As for the Alucians in England, Lady Anastasan pointed to three who knew of the plot to kidnap him. Two of them were in his guard and had been paid to seize him once the ship left English shores.

  All of them were being held now, accused of high treason.

  How Caius managed to keep his head through these stunning revelations, Sebastian didn’t know. As for Sebastian, out of an abundance of caution, he’d agreed that he had to return to Helenamar at once.

  The trade agreement was very nearly complete. There was one last issue between the two countries, one that would require a legal ruling. And of course, there was the issue of his engagement.

  Caius, who had somehow managed to compose himself in a way Sebastian thought was Herculean, had suggested they proceed post-haste to an agreement with Lady Katherine Maugham and leave England as soon as possible. There was too much at risk now, too many unanswered questions, he said. “Lady Katherine is eager for the match and her father is frankly desperate to have a foothold in Alucia for trade,” Caius said in making his case.

  Sebastian decided he was not as strong as Caius. With all the turmoil around him, Sebastian could not bring himself to give consent to proceed.

  He couldn’t stop thinking of Eliza, and hadn’t stopped, even in the darkest of hours. But in the aftermath of the trauma they’d just endured, he was even more keenly aware of how important it was to keep those close whom he loved, and those he trusted even closer. He was painfully aware that Caius and Sarafina’s marriage had been arranged as was custom for the privileged class in Alucia. All those years spent in bed with a woman, and Caius had never really known her.

  “I’ll think about it,” Sebastian said.

  Caius nodded. He turned to leave, but Sebastian said, “Caius.”

  When his foreign minister turned back, Sebastian saw a glimpse of his old schoolmate—just a flash of that lad before Caius’s expression shuttered. “Perhaps we best leave the negotiations to the finance minister.”

  “To Lord Benedick? But he knows nothing of it.”

  “It’s a betrothal agreement—he is perfectly capable.”

  Caius looked shocked.

  “You’ve suffered quite a shock, my friend,” Sebastian reminded him.

  Caius’s face turned dark. “Have you lost trust in me, sir? Do you suspect me?”

  “No,” Sebastian said honestly. “I admit there are times I’ve wondered what changed between us after Oxford. If you grew distant because of something I couldn’t see. But I have always trusted you.”

  “You wondered what changed?” Caius gave a sorrowful laugh. “You became the crown prince. You became my prince, one I was sworn to protect and defend. We had gone past boyish games.”

  His answer surprised Sebastian. “Did that put an end to our friendship? I have missed it.”

  Caius studied him in a way he had not looked at Sebastian in a very long time. “I love my country, Bas,” he said quietly. It was the first time he’d called Sebastian by his nickname since they were lads. “I have worked very hard to afford you the respect you are due. That my wife has betrayed Alucia, and you, and the king—that she has betrayed me...” He paused, and swallowed hard. “I am determined to do everything in my power to set it to rights. I should rather work to finish our business here than dwell on what she has done. I beg your leave to do just that.”

  Sebastian suppressed a sigh of weariness, of the weight that every personal relationship he had must bear because of who he was. “If that is what you need to do,” he said.

  Caius bowed, turned sharply and strode from the room. But he paused at the door and glanced back. “I meant no harm,” he said stiffly. “On my word, I meant no harm.”

  Sebastian nodded. He understood Caius to mean he’d meant no harm in putting him at arm’s length all those years ago. But it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

  Caius disappeared into the hall.

  Sebastian did trust him, but his gut told him the two boyhood friends would always be a memory. After what Sarafina had done, he doubted if Caius would ever let down his guard. He wondered idly for a moment what he would do in a similar situation to Caius’s...but then remembered he had his own gut-wrenching situation.

  He sat down and picked up his pen to write the letter to Eliza he’d been trying to write all day. To explain to her what had happened. To tell her how sorry he was. But every time he put his pen to paper, his words sounded either hollow or deranged.

  Leopold appeared the next morning, obviously sent in by the Alucian officials who remained, all of them wanting to leave straightaway. “What is the matter with you?” he asked without preamble.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “We’ve come down to the last stipulation of a trade agreement that will revolutionize Alucia. All you must do is choose a bride, Bas.”

  “I know what I must do,” he said.

  Leopold sat across the desk from him, leaning forward. “Then why haven’t you? I’ve seen these women. They are appealing in their looks and their nature—”

  “I don’t love them,” Sebastian snapped.

  Leopold’s mouth gaped. “I would laugh if that weren’t so absurd. You’re not supposed to love either of them, not now. Not yet. That will come with time—”

  “You took your lessons well, Leo, as did I,” Sebastian said. He stood up and began moving restlessly about the room. “Do your duty and all will be yours. But in this, they were wrong. I love someone else. Someone entirely unsuitable according to the dictates I’ve been given. And I cannot form the words to extend an offer of marriage merely for political expediency when I love someone else.”

  Leopold’s brows rose to his hairline. “Is she a chambermaid?”

  It wasn’t unheard of. Sebastian shook his head. “Miss Eliza Tricklebank.”

  Leopold stared at him in confusion for a moment. “The woman who ordered you from her house? The judge’s daughter?”

  Sebastian sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Je. Her.”

  Leopold stared at him for a very long time. But his expression changed to a smile.

  “Don’t laugh,” Sebastian warned him. “It pains me enough as it is.”

  “Why her?” Leopold asked. “There are two women groomed for someone like you, who would be pleasing companions and versed in the ways of a queen—”

  “Because she has not been groomed for me,” Sebastian said bitterly. “Because she shows me the least bit of deference of anyone! Because she is honest, and she speaks her mind, and she sees me as an equal, Leo, and not her lord and not her purse. I am not her path to riches and privilege. I’d wager those things haven’t entered her mind. She speaks to me of things no one ever speaks to me. She is a passionate lover, she is full of laughter, she is...” He put his hands on his waist and bit his tongue.

  She was everything, that was what. Everything he’d ever wanted, even if he hadn’t known it. Everything he could not have. Or couldn’t he? It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t been able to write that letter because something else was teasing his thoughts. He suddenly knew what he needed to do. “I need to determine a way I can offer for her,” he said quietly.

  His brother was very still for several moments. He stood from his chair. “Don’t be ridiculous. She has neither connection nor pedigree. Can you imagine the hue and cry if you returned with an offer for a judge’s daughter, someone who brings nothing to our table?”

  “She can bring an heir,” Sebastian said. “Isn’t that the most important thing?”

  “You’re not thinking clearly,” Leopold said. “You’ve been through quite a lot, Bas. Losing Matous, discovering the plot against you. But you can’t marry this woman. There is no way for you to address the things she is lacking.”

  Sebastian waved him off. “She lacks nothing but a name,” he muttered. The moment those words left his mouth, an absurd idea clicked in his head. She needed a name. She needed a proper name. One that suggested influence. How to do that? “She must have a name,” he said to Leopold. “A title.”

  Leopold stared at him. “How in hell can you manage that?”

  “I don’t know,” Sebastian said. “But I will think of something.”

  Leopold sighed. “There is no time left, Bas. You sail at week’s end.”

  “That gives me a few days, does it not?”

  Leopold sighed and shook his head. “You are headed for disaster. Everything you have worked so hard to achieve will be lost because you’ve lost your mind.”

  Sebastian didn’t argue with him. He knew how ridiculous he sounded. But it was all that he had, a last grasp at happiness, and damn it if he wasn’t going to take it.

  He began to think how, but every idea ended at a dead end.

  Sebastian’s bad humor followed him through the night and into the next morning. He thought only of Eliza, his gut twisted with the agony of knowing she’d wonder what had happened to him, why he’d never come. She’d surely heard the news by now, and maybe she understood. But it wasn’t enough.

  He could get a letter to her, that wasn’t the issue. What was at issue was his paralysis in writing it. His inability to speak his heart in a way that would soothe her. I love you, thank you for that. He sounded like a grandfather on his deathbed. I love you, I can’t live without you, and yet I must. That sounded like a weak man with no autonomy. I love you, but you can bring nothing to Alucia. That was the honest truth, but it was harsh.

  His misery pressed against the feelings of love that still stirred in him and left him bleary-eyed. How to give her a name?

  The idea came to him in the middle of a fitful sleep.

  He summoned Leopold and Caius the next morning. “I have an idea that will finish the trade agreement and the betrothal at the same time.”

  “What?” Leopold asked.

  “I will make Miss Eliza Tricklebank part of the final trade agreement.”

  Leopold and Anastasan exchanged a look. “Are you honestly suggesting that you trade England for a woman?” Leopold shook his head. “Bloody hell, Bas.”

  “At least hear what I have to say,” Sebastian urged him. “There is one last item that is set to go before an English court, is there not? It must be determined if a tariff on Alucian iron ore can be reduced. Do you see?”

  “No,” Leopold said flatly.

  “If I may, Your Highness,” Caius said, and to Leopold, he explained, “One of the Members of Parliament has suggested that a proposed tariff in the agreement is prohibitive in its nature. Others think it is not prohibitive but generates much needed revenue. It must be looked at by a judge before Parliament will consider it. It is scheduled to go before a judge on the morrow.”

  Caius understood him, and that gave Sebastian a wild surge of hope.

  “What of it?” Leopold asked. “What has that to do with Miss Tricklebank?”

  “I will ask that it go before her father, Justice Tricklebank. If he rules favorably—and we have every reason to believe any judge would, as the proposed tariff is quite prohibitive—I would insist that for his participation in this important trade agreement, he be given an appropriate title. A reward, so to speak.”

  Leopold looked at Caius. “That is madness.”

  Sebastian was determined. It was his only hope, no matter how far-fetched it sounded, even to his own ears. “If he is given a title, his daughter, is by rights, Lady Eliza Trickebank. She is the daughter of a Queen’s Bench justice, Lord Tricklebank.”

  “What does this solve?” Leopold angrily demanded. “Her connections, her ability to provide some gain is still absent! And who, precisely, would convince the queen to elevate this judge to baron? How in God’s name does any of this serve you?”

  “Mr. Braeburn of Norfolk is very keen to import the ore,” Caius calmly explained. “He is very keen to see the tariff reduced. It happens his maternal grandmother hails from Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, the birthplace of Prince Albert. Prince Albert and Mr. Braeburn are favorably acquainted, according to Mr. Botley-Finch.”

  “So favorably acquainted that he would make Tricklebank a baron?” Sebastian asked.

  “Does it matter?” Leopold scoffed. “Everyone knows the queen and her husband have very little sway with Parliament.”

  “In some things, that is true,” Caius agreed. “But it is also true that most men seek to please the queen in ways that do not interfere with the designs of men.”

  Meaning, Sebastian understood, that they would grant her this leave to name a judge baron as long as the agreement was signed with the reduced tariffs. It was nothing to them if Tricklebank was made a baron. Their profit was what mattered.

  “How can this be achieved?” Sebastian asked Caius.

  “Given what happened here at Kensington, the English would like to see us depart, and sooner rather than later. There is a certain amount of exposure as long as you are here on their soil, Your Highness—frankly, they fear being pulled into war or another altercation with the Weslorians. They likely will make these concessions that have nothing to do with them as long as the agreement is signed. I need your leave to arrange a few things.”

  Leopold groaned.

  Caius ignored him. “I can arrange this. I am confident I can do this.”

  “Bas, please, this is foolishness,” Leopold begged him. “This stunt could destroy everything you have worked to achieve here. You are to arrange a betrothal to a woman with influence. A match that can be manipulated if necessary. Make your offer for one of the women who have been vetted and be done with it. Our father will never agree to this match.”

  Sebastian looked at Caius. Caius’s expression was fierce. He needed to do this. For his prince. Perhaps for his old friend. Whatever his reasons, for the first time in days, a small sliver of hope snaked into Sebastian’s heart. “I have negotiated an advantageous trade agreement, one that will benefit Alucia for generations to come. As for my marriage? I will take my chances. Go,” he said to Caius.

  Caius left the room.

  Leopold looked at him in disbelief. “God help you if it falls apart, Bas. God help you.”

  “Je, God help me,” Sebastian agreed.

  He waited until Leopold had left the room, then removed the watch from his pocket and rubbed his thumb over the engraving. He wasn’t very confident that Caius could actually make this happen for him. Men who had responsibilities to their constituencies would not agree to such foolery, and this was a very thin reason to give a man a title. And yet, he hoped harder than he’d ever hoped for anything in his life.

  He looked down at the letter he’d been trying to write and stared at the words he’d written. Like the other letters he’d attempted before this, he wadded it up and carried it across the room to the fire and tossed it in, watching the edges blacken and curl until the whole thing was ash.

  He couldn’t bring himself to write words that would break his heart, or hers. And he couldn’t bring himself to leave her behind. He was clinging to a very small hope that Caius could accomplish the impossible.

  The door opened behind him. He turned; Patro bowed. “Your Highness. I am informed that a coach will arrive in an hour. You are to dine with members of the Conservative Party at the home of Sir Robert Peel. Shall I send in Egius?”

  “Je,” Sebastian said, and steeled himself for another luncheon of trying to look detached and unconcerned when his heart and head were raging with want.

  He needed Eliza to bear with him. He absently moved his thumb over the engraving of the watch and looked down at the Latin script. He suddenly did have something to say to her. He returned to his desk, picked up his pen and dashed off his note. Before he could change his mind, he called for Patro.

  “Deliver this to 34 Bedford Square,” he said, and went into his dressing room to prepare for the luncheon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Ships flying the Alucian flags are being provisioned for the journey home. Many predict the ships will set sail at midnight on the fourteenth of this month. Aboard the ship will be two cloth merchants destined for the Helenamar markets. Silk cloth from Alucia should be available next autumn.

  No one can ascertain if a bridal suite has been set aside on any of the ships, but clouds of hope still abound in salons across Mayfair. In a few salons, it is heard that there is relief that their daughter will not be involved in a murderous scandal before she’s said her marital vows. A very few salons.

  —Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies

  ELIZA WAS WEARY unto death of people asking her if she was all right. “I’m fine,” she’d say, sometimes as much as three times a day.

  Her family meant well, she knew that they did. Poppy and Margaret meant well with their sad eyes and whispers behind Eliza’s back. The butcher meant well, too, particularly as Mr. and Mrs. Thompkins had no notion of what had happened to Eliza in the last few weeks. She told them she was fatigued.

  She tried to keep her thoughts occupied by working on her clocks. She sometimes took as many as two apart a day, then put them back together.