Chapter Thirteen
If Niki had ever doubted Freddie Hart’s commitment to watching over him, he was now convinced.
Yes, someone had managed to get into the theater and try to hurt him again, but before he could do so, he was apprehended.
Freddie had set guards along the corridor and the entrances to the other boxes, and as soon as the assassin made his move, so did Freddie’s men.
The weapon was shoved aside and the pistol shot discharged up into the ornate ceiling, showering them with plaster as the man stood with his arms pinned behind his back.
Niki felt lightheaded. He would have liked to sit down and close his eyes, but he found it impossible to show that sort of weakness in front of all these people.
And he was still alive. He had escaped another attempt on his life and survived.
But it was Roberta putting herself in such terrible danger that made him dizzy.
For him. To save him. Right now, he didn’t know whether to thank her or rage at her for taking such a risk.
She was still seated beside him, white-faced and silent.
Estelle had an arm around her and was anything but silent, her babbling washing over him without him hearing a word of it.
He wanted to take Roberta in his own arms, hold her close and never let her go, and if she had given him one sign that she would be receptive, then he would have.
But she sat, withdrawn, her head bowed, and stared at her hands.
The idea of losing her made him feel sick.
Had Roberta become more important to him than the plot against him or finding out who were the perpetrators?
To admit such a thing was terrifying—that he could feel so much for one person.
But conversely, her being in his life made him feel so much happier than he ever had been before.
“Sir? Prince Nikolai? Are you listening to me?”
It was Freddie standing before him and peering into his face with intent hazel eyes, his own face creased in an anxious frown. Niki blinked, swallowed, and forced his emotions back down where they belonged. He nodded brusquely.
“I am listening. That man…?” He looked about him for the would-be assassin and couldn’t see him. The box across from theirs was empty.
“I have taken him into custody,” Freddie said quietly.
“I will interview him, and I will need you and those close to you to see if you recognize him. Awful as this situation has been, perhaps it has a benefit. It may help us to discover whether this man acted on his own or was the pawn of a larger group.”
Niki cast his thoughts back to the moments before, but they were hazy. His impression had been of a younger man, thin, wild-eyed. Did he know him? He didn’t think so, and yet there was a niggling doubt in his mind. “I don’t believe I know him,” he said slowly, “but I am happy to take another look.”
Freddie nodded. He seemed to gather himself.
“I want to apologize, sir. I thought I had covered all possible scenarios. This man told the guard at the entrance to the box next to you that he was the son of Lord and Lady Postlethwait. He was plausible enough, and the Postlethwaits seemed to know him. They are elderly and now claim to have been mistaken. Nevertheless, I take full responsibility for this failure.”
Niki met the other man’s eyes with understanding.
Freddie was right, it was a serious breach in his plans to protect Niki, and yet as awful as this situation was, it might turn out to be lucky for them.
If they could discover through their captive who wanted him dead, then they could put a stop to this dire situation and arrest the malefactors.
Suddenly, he was very weary. “Nevertheless, I thank you.”
Freddie turned his attention to Roberta, and Estelle finally let her go. A solicitous Karl arrived to help Estelle to her feet before leading her away.
“Roberta?”
She looked up, startled. “Freddie, I…Did you…Mr. Walter, did he…” She couldn’t seem to be able to finish her sentences.
Freddie leaned closer. “It wasn’t Mr. Walter. I had Mr. Walter quietly apprehended during the intermission. Are you listening to me? Is that why you risked your life to save the prince? Please, please don’t do that again! If you were hurt, your brother would strangle me with his bare hands.”
Roberta hardly heard the last part, too focused on hearing that the assassin was not Mr. Walter.
With a shaking hand she tucked back her dark hair, which had escaped its elaborate creation and fallen into her eyes.
Niki reached to take her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. She stared at him in a dazed fashion.
“You have my heartfelt thanks,” he said quietly, “but Freddie is right. Please don’t do that again.”
Roberta nodded jerkily. “I just…I couldn’t let that man shoot you, not if I could stop him. I thought it was my fault.” Her face threatened to crumple, and she took a breath, trying to calm herself.
Niki shook his head. “You would give your life for mine? I would never ask that of you, Roberta.”
Her eyes were fixed on his, her hand trembled in his, and he couldn’t seem to look away. The idea that he might have lost her was unbearable.
“Niki?” His aunt’s voice broke through the intimate moment, and he glanced about him. The noise of the audience had risen to a fever pitch, and Matilda was at his side looking shocked, clinging to Freddie’s arm as if she was too shaky to stand. “Are you all right? I thought…”
“I am unharmed,” he assured her, forcing a smile.
Then the theater manager inserted himself into the group. “Sir. Your Highness. Your Grace.” He didn’t seem to know which title to use.
Niki felt an inappropriate desire to laugh and wasn’t surprised when Roberta gave a soft giggle.
“I cannot apologize enough,” the manager went on. “This is dreadful. Dreadful.”
Niki took a breath and pulled himself together. “I want you to carry on with the play. That is what everyone has come to see.”
The manager protested, but when Niki insisted, the man seemed relieved and trotted off to do as he’d been told.
The audience would continue with their evening, but for Niki and his family, it was at an end.
Those of them still lingering in the box now turned and left under the scrutiny of the wide-eyed audience.
When they reached the stairs, Matilda took the opportunity to hug him close, barely coherent in her shock and dismay. Niki tried to brush it off, but she would not be pacified. “Mr. Hart will discover who is doing this,” she said fiercely. “It must stop, Niki, it must!”
“Indeed, it must,” Freddie interjected from behind them. “If you still trust me with your safety, sir.”
Matilda turned to him, “I am sure Niki—” she began swiftly, only to stop when she realized this was not something she should answer.
She glanced back to Niki, a flush on her cheeks, and he saw it then.
Perhaps if they had not just been involved in a life-or-death incident, his aunt would have held her feelings more closely, but she was obviously rattled.
Did his aunt love the man? A commoner?
Niki said, still watching his aunt, “Discover who did this, Mr. Hart, and I will reward you with a title.”
The words were impulsive, but the sudden glowing look in Matilda’s eyes convinced him they were the right thing to say. Her dark gaze flicked to Freddie and away again, and her blush deepened.
But Freddie wasn’t so grateful. “No, sir, really, that is not necessary. I am only doing my job, and if tonight is any indication, then not very well. I am glad you are safe, but it could have ended differently.”
“Then this will be an incentive to try even harder,” Niki said dismissively, and turned to look about him.
They had reached the foyer where his party was gathered.
“Where is Roberta?” His heart rate rose alarmingly.
He wanted her here, at his side, safe. His need for her was a visceral thing, setting his heart pounding.
He had yet to recover from the terror he had felt when she threw herself against him and the gunshot went off, and he doubted he ever would.
“She is safe, Niki,” Karl assured him. He patted his brother’s shoulder. “I sent her home in our coach to Ashton House with her friend Miss Longhurst.”
Niki nodded, suddenly so tired he could hardly stand. “We should return home too,” he said.
It was only as he sat in the borrowed coach, on his way back to his aunt’s town house, that it occurred to him that if the perpetrator was unmasked, then there would be no need for bodyguards or Freddie Hart.
And if the perpetrator was unmasked, then the fake engagement would become redundant too.
There would be no need for Roberta. They would part ways, and go on with their lives, and…
Niki found he couldn’t bear the thought of it. In the short time they had been together, she had become as important to him as the air he breathed, and he did not want to let her go.
“You are shaken, Niki,” Karl spoke from the shadows. “It was a close call.”
“Yes.”
“I trust Hart. I think he will root out this evil.”
Karl sounded serious and unlike his usual self.
It warmed Niki to know his brother was concerned, that he cared.
He was ashamed to think that he had wondered whether Karl could be behind the attempts on his life.
But if not Karl, then who? The other night he had thought it might be Tomas, but he was young and the idea that someone like Tomas could be involved in a plot to kill him was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?
It made him sick at heart to suspect people he had known all his life. Much better if it was a stranger, someone he had not been brought up to think of as his family and friends.
“Methinks Aunt Matilda is in love,” Karl said in his more normal voice. He chuckled. “It will be amusing watching her and Hart try to pretend they are mere acquaintances.”
Niki managed a smile. “Maybe it will burn itself out after the first rush of passion.”
“We shall have to see. One thing I know for sure—Tomas will be annoyed. Although it will probably do him good to take second place in Matilda’s affections. She has spoiled that boy.”
Niki hardly heard him. He was remembering how Roberta threw herself across him, protecting him with her life in a way that nearly made his heart stop.
She had said that she believed it to be her fault, that her obsessed suitor was standing there, but nevertheless, Niki felt overcome by her selfless courage.
Would he have done the same? The question was moot.
He already knew he would do anything to save her in dire circumstances. Anything.