‘In truth, the Prince Raoul hardly wants the role,’ the butler told her. ‘Since the Princess Louise separated from the old prince, she and Prince Raoul have not been permitted to come here. They’ve made their home in Paris, and lately Prince Raoul has been working overseas. But for the child’s sake, and for the country’s sake, Raoul decided to return. Lady Sarah agreed to marry him so he could take on guardianship of the child, the idea being that Her Highness would take care of her grandchild. But then Lady Sarah was killed.’
He hesitated again but then he shrugged, as if he’d decided that having gone this far, he might as well go all the way. ‘You must realise that Lady Sarah was no better than she ought to be,’ he said softly. ‘She was the prince’s cousin, and she agreed to the marriage merely for the money and prestige it would bring. Unfortunately she didn’t have the sense to stay alive to enjoy the consequences.’
There were places she didn’t want to go, Jess decided as she thought this through, and Sarah’s death was one of them. There was too much to think of here already. But the child… The little prince…
‘I haven’t seen a child here,’ Jess whispered. ‘Where is he?’
‘Edouard’s a quiet one,’ Henri told her. ‘He’s little more than three years old and he’s not very strong. He’ll be well asleep by now. And he doesn’t know his grandmother enough yet for her to spend much time with him. He’s very, very nervy.’
‘But the Princess Louise wants to keep him?’ She shook her head, bewildered. ‘Why doesn’t she know him very well? I don’t understand.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Henri said grimly, with a sideways glance at the two bowed heads. Raoul was still intent on his mother’s grief and was taking no notice-and Louise seemed to be taking nothing in. ‘But maybe it’s not so uncommon. Marriages splitting; children being raised apart. Raoul was just six years old when his parents’ marriage failed. The old prince was only interested in his heir, so Princess Louise was permitted to take her younger children away with her. But Raoul’s older brother was kept here, and Her Highness was granted no access. It’s been breaking her heart for over thirty years over the son she left behind, and, for the last three years, for the grandson she wasn’t allowed to know. And now the tragedy continues. Prince Jean-Paul grew up wild and unfettered and he died because of it. Now it seems that that Princess Louise’s grandson will grow up in the same sterile environment. The Comte Marcel is just as…devoid of morality as his cousin; his wife’s no better, and they care for nothing but themselves. The whole country knows it. Everyone here wanted Raoul to return. But now he can’t. And our little prince is lost.’
There was surging anger in the elderly man’s voice and he’d forgotten to speak in an undervoice. Unnoticed, the sobs had stopped. Louise had heard.
‘So now you know,’ she told Jess, her voice breaking in despair. ‘Sarah’s death is only a tiny fragment of our tragedy.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jess whispered and Louise’s face crumpled again.
‘I wish I’d never married into this family,’ she whispered. ‘Despite my children. My wonderful children and now my grandson.’ She broke away from Raoul and rose on feet that were decidedly unsteady. ‘I’ve let them all down and I can’t bear it.’
‘Mama…’ Raoul started but she shook her head.
‘Enough. I need my bed. Jess, I’m so sorry your first dinner up was so badly interrupted. But you’ll have to excuse me.’
‘I’ll take you,’ Raoul told her but once again she shook her head.
‘No. You stay and take care of Jess. Henri, can you escort me upstairs? I think…I may need your arm.’
‘Certainly, Ma’am,’ Henri said.
This was a long-standing friendship, Jess realised. It was not just a mistress-servant relationship. Henri moved forward and took the support of Louise from Raoul. The two silver heads moved together in mutual distress and together they left the room.
Jess was left staring after them.
With Raoul.
There was a long silence. An awful silence. Jess could think of nothing to say.
Finally she caught herself. She had no place here in these people’s troubles. They were in distress. She needed to leave.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll leave first thing in the morning. I’m only adding to your troubles by staying.’
‘You’re not adding to our troubles.’ She saw Raoul almost visibly stiffen, moving on. ‘It’s me who’s sorry,’ he told her. ‘We invite you to dinner, and here our soup’s cold and Henri’s gone. I’ll try and find someone to bring something more.’
She looked at him, appraising. He’d missed out on his dinner, too, she thought. Food. When she was in deep trouble she remembered kindly people forcing her to eat and she knew that sometimes it helped.
‘Could we give the servants a miss?’ she told him. ‘You show me a kitchen and I’ll feed myself.’
‘What?’ He almost sounded astonished.
‘You do have kitchens in palaces?’ she said in an attempt to keep it light. ‘You have toasters and bread and butter? And marmalade? I’m particularly partial to marmalade.’
He stared some more-and then the corners of his mouth twisted in a crooked smile as he realised what she was doing. She was doing her best to convert tragedy to the domestic.
‘I’d imagine so,’ he managed. ‘I’ve never investigated.’
‘You live here and you’ve never investigated the kitchen? You don’t even know if there’s marmalade?’
‘I’ve only been here for two weeks,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘I came to prepare for the wedding. After that I was going straight back to…to work.’
‘With your bride?’
‘Sarah was a bride of convenience,’ he said stiffly, his smile disappearing altogether. ‘It was a business proposition. I had no intention of staying here.’
A business proposition. She stared at his face and there was nothing there to show what he was thinking. Just the cold words: a business proposition. And then he was leaving. Leaving his mother with the child? Leaving his bride?
Running?
‘Were you afraid to stay?’
Why had she said that? It had just slipped out and it was unfair. She knew it as soon as she had said it and she bit her lip in distress. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just…’
‘If you meant was I leaving the care of my nephew to my mother, maybe I was,’ he told her. ‘But my mother wants to be here. I don’t.’
She was puzzled. ‘Even if you’d become regent? Wouldn’t that be a cool thing to be? A real royal?’
‘I intended to take care of the business side of the job from a distance. I’m certainly not interested in the ceremonial duties.’ He shrugged. ‘So no, it wouldn’t be cool. Not that it matters. I’m no longer in line for the job.’
Trouble slammed back with a capital T-and Jess took a deep breath and decided the only option here was to return to what she knew.
Food. Marmalade.
She actually was hungry, and she bet this man was, too.
‘So let’s find the kitchen,’ she suggested. ‘Do you really not know if there’s marmalade?’
‘No, I…’
‘You’ve been in a castle for two weeks and not explored?’
‘Why would I want to explore?’
‘Why would you not?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘A real live palace. A royal residence. I’ll bet you run to six types of marmalade, Your Highness.’ She smiled at him, teasing, trying to elicit his smile again. There was so much going on in this man’s life that light-hearted banter seemed the only way to go. ‘You know, I’ll bet you have a whole team of cooks lined up in the galley, ready with the next eleven courses of our twelve-course feast.’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ he told her, ‘but, if you recall, we’ve given the servants the night off. My mother was desperate for a little quiet, and thus we had only Henri. And I’m not Your Highness. I’m Raoul.’
‘So Henri’s been cooking-Raoul.’
It was odd calling him Raoul. There was a barrier between them that she seemed to be stepping over every
