Chapter Fourteen
Roberta rode home with Estelle clasping her hand tightly in hers. Her friend was worried about her, but she was also excited. Estelle always wore a certain look when she was wound up, and she had it now. Cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, and she couldn’t keep still no matter how she tried.
Roberta longed for some peace and quiet to settle her own feelings.
If she had known the would-be assassin was not Mr. Walter, she wondered if she would still have thrown herself in the way of death for Niki’s sake.
She didn’t think of herself as particularly brave, but when she had seen the man with the pistol and realized what was happening, she had just acted.
Flung herself into danger for the sake of the man beside her.
It had been instinctive, and she suspected if it happened again, she would do the same thing.
“Wait until word spreads!” Estelle said, barely able to keep the anticipation out of her voice. “You’ll be the toast of Holtswig, Roberta. The toast of London!”
“I don’t want to be the toast of anything,” Roberta retorted. “I just want to forget it.”
“I doubt anyone else does,” Estelle went on blithely.
“You’ll see. By the time you return from Grantham, you will have so many invitations.
Everyone will want you as their guest of honor.
” She smiled to herself. “Me too, I suspect. I will be asked to tell the story over and over again, about how my best friend saved the life of Prince Nikolai.”
Roberta sighed. “Then let us hope that something else takes their fancy.” She reminded herself that by then, the engagement might be over—if it was discovered who was threatening Niki, then there would be no reason for Freddie and his bodyguards.
Although casting off a fiancée who just saved your life might be a bit awkward.
She put a hand to her head, which was aching.
“I was sorry not to be asked to Grantham,” Estelle said disingenuously, “but now I am glad I am not going.”
“Karl won’t be there,” Roberta blurted before she thought to stop herself.
“No, he said he was staying in London.” Estelle smiled again. “He is very dashing, isn’t he? I know he’s not a legal son, but neither are you a legal daughter, Roberta, so you cannot scorn him.”
Roberta widened her eyes. “I wouldn’t scorn him! I would never think less of anyone because of their birth. It’s not as if Karl, or myself, could help it. We had no say at all, Estelle.”
Estelle was chastened. “I am sorry, Robbie. I just…this has been rather overwhelming for me.”
Roberta slumped back in her seat. “Me too.”
“It started off so agreeably too. I did enjoy myself. And now I will never know how the play ended!”
“I’m sure you will go again.”
“Yes.” Estelle’s expression turned sly. “I wonder if Karl will take me?”
Roberta considered warning her friend against putting her trust in Karl. Yes, he was charming, but he was older than Estelle and far more experienced. Despite her flirtatious ways and her bohemian family, Estelle was very much the innocent.
“Perhaps you should wait until I return to London,” she said carefully. “Then we could go to the play together.”
Estelle was quick to agree, but there was something furtive in her manner that made Roberta think she had already made up her mind. She might have said more, but at that moment, they arrived at Ashton House.
As their vehicle drew up, the front door flew open, and Antonia came running down the stairs. “Are you all right?” she cried, loud enough to wake the street, which was very unlike her. “I heard that you were shot at!”
Roberta and Estelle shared a glance. News had already spread. She was glad she was going to Grantham, until she remembered that there would be even more questions to answer once she got there.
Niki’s visit to Grantham was to go ahead, despite protests from his councillors and a terse message from Chamberlain Francis Ruess.
Unfortunately, there had been nothing learned from the would-be assassin.
As yet, he had not spoken despite inducements, but Freddie seemed certain he would eventually crack.
“He is afraid,” he said to Niki when he visited the following day to update him on events. “Whoever is in charge of the plot against you has some hold over him. He won’t give them up, and it might be due to loyalty, but it is also due to fear. I will break him eventually.”
He spoke with a confidence that was meant to reassure Niki.
But he had to wonder if even Freddie Hart could force a man to talk who refused.
Niki had been to see the man but did not recognize him.
There was something, some slight idea that he may have seen him before, but Niki could not pinpoint it, try as he might.
There had been a development in regard to the package and threatening letter.
Freddie informed him that Mr. Walter had confessed to the letter.
“Gabriel believed him to be harmless, but he should have looked at him more carefully. Evidently, Walter felt so slighted when Roberta became engaged to you that he decided to punish her. And you. The heart is another story. Walter swears he had nothing to do with it and I tend to believe him. We think it was from an abattoir and it was mere coincidence that it arrived on the same day as the letter.”
“Walter will not trouble Roberta again?”
“Don’t worry, he is locked up.”
Niki was glad to hear it.
Freddie went on to say that they were looking into the possibility that the heart had been sent by the would-be assassin, and therefore was not a threat to Roberta.
That was a relief. She was safe, at least. Niki had learned to put on a brave face, and his training from childhood rarely let him down, but imagining Roberta in danger had made it difficult for him.
The confusing thing was, he was finding it more and more challenging these days to return to his stoic self.
It was as if she had cracked his mask, and his inner emotions were leaking through.
The three months he had allowed himself for his stay in England were counting down at a rapid rate, and he found he wanted to make the most of every day he had left.
He was looking forward to the stay at Grantham, despite his chamberlain’s objections.
He would have bodyguards with him, probably more than before, but he would simply pretend they were not there.
He remembered his previous visit to the home of the Ashtons with a mix of pleasure and regret.
They were so full of life and mischief. Until he had met them, he had not realized how arid his own life was.
And yet the family’s antics and the thought of his own reputation being damaged by them had sent him fleeing from the Ashton estate.
Would he ever have married Olivia? The dowager duchess had more or less presented her granddaughter to him on a platter, but in the end, Olivia’s love for Ivo, the Duke of Northam, had triumphed.
Just as well. The last thing Niki wanted was an unwilling bride—he remembered his parents’ unhappy marriage all too well.
If he had thought of marriage for himself, he had hoped it would be comfortable and calm.
No loud arguments and doors slamming. No bitter recriminations and regrets.
He wanted something at least approaching harmony.
Would Roberta give him harmony? He smiled at the thought.
Probably not. The girl she had been on that first visit had been infuriating, yet captivating.
He had found himself drawn to her despite her stealing Leopold from him and riding the stallion so recklessly.
He had been furious about that. At the time, he had told himself he could never forgive her, but then she had apologized.
“My grandmother says I must say sorry,” she had said, watching him with guileless blue eyes.
“And are you? Sorry?” he had responded stiffly.
“Yes. I am sorry I was caught,” she’d said, with a grin.
He should have told her what he thought of that. He should have dressed her down and demanded a proper apology. But instead, he had felt his mouth give a reluctant twitch and it had been a struggle not to laugh.
Now he admitted to himself that it was Roberta who had given him the lasting memories of his stay at Grantham. Everything else was blurred by three years’ distance, but Roberta remained clear and true. There was no escaping her.