Flannaghan took hold of Alesandra’s elbow to assist her up the rest of the stairs. He seemed so eager to help that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she didn’t require his assistance. If it made him happy to treat her like an old woman, she would let him.
They had reached the landing before the servant noticed the guards weren’t following. The two men had disappeared toward the back of the house. Alesandra explained that they were looking around the lower level to familiarize themselves with all of the entrances to the house and would come upstairs when they were finished.
“But why would they be interested . . .”
She didn’t let him finish. “To make it safe for us, sir.”
Flannaghan nodded, though in truth he still didn’t have any idea what she was talking about.
“Would you mind taking over my employer’s room tonight? The linens were freshly changed this morning and the other chambers aren’t ready for company. There’s only Cook and me on staff, you see, because of the difficult financial time my employer is suffering through, and I didn’t see the need to put linens on the other beds because I didn’t know we would . . .”
“You mustn’t worry so,” she interrupted. “We’ll make do, I promise.”
“It’s good of you to be so understanding. I’ll move your things into the larger guest room tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you forgetting Colin?” she asked. “I would think he’ll be irritated to find me in his bed.”
Flannaghan imagined just the opposite, and immediately blushed over his own shameful thoughts. He was still a bit shaken, he realized, and surely that was the reason he was acting like a dolt. The surprise of his guests’ arrival was not the true cause of his sorry condition, however. No, it was Princess Alesandra. She was the most wonderful woman he’d ever met. Every time he looked at her, he forgot his own thoughts. Her eyes were such a wondrous shade of blue. She had the longest, and surely the darkest, eyelashes he’d ever noticed, too, and her complexion was exquisitely pure. Only a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose marred her skin, but Flannaghan found that flaw absolutely wonderful.
He cleared his throat in an attempt to unscramble his thoughts. “I’m certain my employer won’t mind sleeping in one of the other chambers tonight. There is a good chance he won’t even come home until tomorrow morning anyway. He went back to the Emerald Shipping Company to do some paperwork, and he often ends up spending the night there. The time, you see, gets away from him.”
After giving her the explanation, Flannaghan began to tug her along the corridor. There were four rooms on the second level. The first door was wide open and both she and Flannaghan paused at the entrance.
“This is the study, Princess,” Flannaghan announced. “It’s a bit cluttered, but my employer won’t allow me to touch anything.”
Alesandra smiled. The study was more than cluttered, for there were stacks of paper everywhere. Yet it was still a warm, inviting room. A mahogany desk faced the door. There was a small hearth on the left, a brown leather chair with a matching foot rest on the right, and a beautiful burgundy and brown rug took up the space in between. Books lined the shelves on the walls, and ledgers were stacked high on the wooden file cabinet tucked in the corner.
The study was an extremely masculine room. The scents of brandy and leather filled the air. She found the aroma quite pleasant. She could even imagine herself curled up in front of a roaring fire in her robe and slippers reading the latest financial reports on her holdings.
Flannaghan tugged her along the hall. The second door was to Colin’s bedroom. He hurried ahead of her to open it.
“Is your employer in the habit of working such long hours?” Alesandra asked.
“Yes, he is,” Flannaghan answered. “He started the company several years ago with his good friend, the Marquess of St. James, and the gentlemen have had a struggle staying afloat. The competition is fierce.”
Alesandra nodded. “The Emerald Shipping Company has an excellent reputation.”
“It does?”
“Oh, yes. Colin’s father wishes he could purchase shares. It would be a sure profit for investors, but the partners won’t sell any stock.”
“They want to maintain complete control,” Flannaghan explained. He grinned then. “I heard him say just that to his father.”
She nodded, then walked into the bedroom, dismissing the topic. Flannaghan noticed the chill in the air and hurried over to the hearth to start a fire. Valena skirted her way around her mistress to light the candles on the bedside table.
Colin’s bedroom was every bit as masculine and appealing as his study. The bed faced the door. It was quite large in size and was covered with a dark chocolate brown quilt. The walls had been painted a rich beige color, an appropriate backdrop, she thought, for the beautiful pieces of mahogany wood furniture.
Two windows flanked the headboard posters and were draped with beige satin. Valena removed the ties holding the material away from the window panes so the room would be closeted from the street below.
There was a door on Alesandra’s left that led into the study, and another door on her right, next to a tall, wooden privacy screen. She walked across the chamber, pulled the door wide, and found an adjoining bedroom. The colors were identical to those of the master suite, though the bed was much smaller in size.
“This is a wonderful house,” she remarked. “Colin chose well.”
“He doesn’t own the property,” Flannaghan told her. “His agent got him a good price on the rental. We’ll have to move again at the end of the summer, when the owners return from the Americas.”
Alesandra tried to hide her smile. She doubted Colin would appreciate his servant giving away all of his financial secrets. Flannaghan was the most enthusiastic servant she’d ever encountered. He was refreshingly honest, and Alesandra liked him immensely.
“I’ll move your things into the adjoining room tomorrow,” Flannaghan called out when he noticed she was looking into the other chamber. He turned back to the hearth, tossed another log on the budding fire, and then stood up. He brushed his hands on the sides of his pant legs. “These two rooms are the larger bed chambers,” he explained. “The other two on this floor are quite small. There’s a lock on the door,” he added with a nod.
The dark-haired guard named Raymond knocked on the door. Alesandra hurried over to the entrance and listened to his whispered explanation.
“Raymond has just explained that one of the windows in the salon below has a broken latch. He would like your permission to repair it.”
“Do you mean now?” Flannaghan asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “Raymond’s a worrier,” she added. “He won’t rest until the house is secure.”
She didn’t wait for the servant’s permission but nodded to the guard, giving him her approval. Valena had already unpacked her mistress’s sleeping gown and wrapper. Alesandra turned to help just as Valena let out a loud yawn.
“Valena, go and get your sleep. Tomorrow will be time enough to unpack the rest of my things.”
The maid bowed low to her mistress. Flannaghan hurried forward. He suggested the maid take the last room along the corridor. It was the smallest of the chambers, he explained, but the bed was quite comfortable and the room was really rather cozy. He was certain Valena would find it suitable. After bidding Alesandra good night, he escorted the maid down the hall to help get her settled.
Alesandra fell asleep a scant thirty minutes later. As was her usual habit, she slept quite soundly for several hours, but promptly at two o’clock in the morning she awakened. She hadn’t been able to sleep a full night through since returning to England, and she’d gotten used to the condition. She put on her robe, added another log to the fire, and then got back into bed with her satchel of papers. She would read her broker’s report on the current financial status of Lloyd’s of London first, and if that didn’t make her sleepy, she’d make a new chart of her own holdings.
A loud commo
tion coming from below the stairs interrupted her concentration. She recognized Flannaghan’s voice and assumed from the frantic edge to his tone that he was trying to soothe his employer’s temper.
Curiosity got the better of her. Alesandra put on her slippers, tightened the belt around her robe, and went to the landing. She stood in the darkness of the shadows, but the foyer below her was ablaze with candlelight. She let out a little sigh when she saw how Raymond and Stefan were blocking Colin’s way. He was turned away from her, but Raymond happened to look up and spot her. She immediately motioned for him to leave. He nudged his companion back to his station, bowed to Colin, and then left the foyer.
Flannaghan didn’t notice the guards’ departure. He didn’t notice Alesandra either. He never would have gone on and on if he’d known she was standing there listening to his every word.
“She’s just what I imagined a real princess would be,” he told his employer, his voice reeking with grating enthusiasm. “She has hair the color of midnight, and it’s full of soft curls that seem to float around her shoulders. Her eyes are blue, but a shade of blue I’ve never seen before. They’re so brilliant and clear. And you’re certain to tower over her. Why even I find myself feeling like a giant, a bumbling one at that, when she’s looking directly up at me. She has freckles, milord.” Flannaghan paused long enough to take a breath. “She’s really wonderful.”
Colin wasn’t paying much attention to the servant’s remarks about the princess. He had been about to put his fist into one of the strangers blocking his way and then toss both men back into the street when Flannaghan had come running down the stairs to explain that the men came from the Duke of Williamshire. Colin had let go of the bigger of the two men and was now once again sorting through the stack of papers in his hands, looking for the report his partner had completed. He hoped to God he hadn’t left the thing at the office, for he was determined to transfer the numbers into the ledgers before he went to bed.
Colin was in a foul mood. He was actually a little disappointed that his butler had interfered. A good fistfight might have helped him get rid of some of his frustration.
He finally found the missing sheet just as Flannaghan started in again.
“Princess Alesandra is on the thin side, yet I couldn’t help but notice how shapely her figure is.”
“Enough,” Colin ordered, his voice soft, yet commanding.
The servant immediately stopped his litany of Princess Alesandra’s considerable attributes. His disappointment was apparent in his crestfallen expression. He’d only just warmed to his topic and knew he could have gone on and on for at least another twenty minutes. Why, he hadn’t even mentioned her smile yet, or the regal way she held herself. . . .
“All right, Flannaghan,” Colin began, interrupting his servant’s thoughts. “Let’s try to get to the bottom of this. A princess just decided to take up residence with us? Is that correct?”
“Yes, milord.”
“Why?”
“Why what, milord?”
Colin sighed. “Why do you suppose . . .”
“It isn’t my place to suppose,” Flannaghan interrupted.
“When has that ever stopped you?”
Flannaghan grinned. He acted as though he’d just been given a compliment.
Colin yawned. Lord, he was tired. He wasn’t in the mood to put up with company tonight. He was exhausted from too many long hours working on the company books, frustrated because he couldn’t make the damn numbers add up to enough of a profit and extremely weary fighting all the competition. It seemed to him that every other day a new shipping company opened its doors for business.
Added to his financial worries were his own aches and pains. His left leg, injured in a sea mishap several years ago, was throbbing painfully now, and all he wanted to do was get into his bed with a hot brandy.
He wasn’t going to give in to his fatigue. There was still work to be done before he went to bed. He tossed Flannaghan his cloak, placed his cane in the umbrella stand, and put the papers he’d been carrying on the side table.
“Milord, would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”
“I’ll have a brandy in the study,” he replied. “Why are you calling me your lord? You’ve been given permission to call me Colin.”
“But that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before we had a real princess living with us,” Flannaghan explained. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to call you Colin now. Would you prefer I call you Sir Hallbrook?” he asked, using Colin’s knighted title.
“I would prefer Colin.”
“But I have explained, milord, it simply won’t do.”
Colin laughed. Flannaghan had sounded pompous. He was acting more and more like his brother’s butler, Sterns, and Colin really shouldn’t have been at all surprised. Sterns was Flannaghan’s uncle and had installed the young man in Colin’s household to begin his seasoning.
“You’re becoming as arrogant as your uncle,” Colin remarked.
“It’s good of you to say so, milord.”
Colin laughed again. Then he shook his head at his servant. “Let’s get back to the princess, shall we? Why is she here?”
“She didn’t confide in me,” Flannaghan explained. “And I thought it would be improper for me to ask.”
“So you just let her in?”
“She arrived with a note from your father.”
They had finally gotten to the end of the maze. “Where is this note?”
“I put it in the salon . . . or was it the dining room?”
“Go and find the thing,” Colin ordered. “Perhaps his note will explain why the woman has two thugs with her.”
“They’re her guards, milord,” Flannaghan explained, his tone defensive. “Your father sent them with her,” he added with a nod. “And a princess would not travel with thugs.”
The expression on Flannaghan’s face was almost comical in his awe of the woman. The princess had certainly dazzled the impressionable servant.
The butler went running into the salon in search of the note. Colin blew out the candles on the table, picked up his papers, and then turned to the steps.
He finally understood the reason for Princess Alesandra’s arrival. His father was behind the scheme of course. His matchmaking attempts were becoming more outrageous, and Colin wasn’t in the mood to put up with yet another one of his games.
He was halfway up the steps before he spotted her. The banister saved him from disgrace. Colin was certain he would have fallen backward if he hadn’t had a firm grasp on the railing.
Flannaghan hadn’t exaggerated. She did look like a princess. A beautiful one. Her hair floated around her shoulders and it really did look as dark as midnight. She was dressed in white, and, Lord, at first sight, she appeared to be a vision the gods had sent to test his determination.
He failed the test. Although he gave it his best effort, he was still powerless to control his own physical reaction to her.
His father had certainly outdone himself this time. Colin would have to remember to compliment him on his latest choice—after he’d sent her packing, of course.
They stood staring at each other for a long minute. She kept waiting for him to speak to her. He kept waiting for her to explain her presence to him.
Alesandra was the first to give in. She moved forward until she stood close to the top step, bowed her head, and then said, “Good evening, Colin. It’s good to see you again.”
Her voice was wonderfully appealing. Colin tried to concentrate on what she had just said. It was ridiculously difficult.
“Again?” he asked. Lord, he sounded gruff.
“Yes, we met when I was just a little girl. You called me a brat.”
That remark forced a reluctant smile from him. He had no memory of the encounter, however. “And were you a brat?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered. “I’m told I kicked you—several times, in fact—but that was a very long tim
e ago. I’ve grown up since then and I don’t believe the nickname is appropriate now. I haven’t kicked anyone in years.”
Colin leaned against the banister so that he could take some of the weight off his injured leg. “Where did we meet?”
“At your father’s home in the country,” she explained. “My parents and I were visiting and you were home from Oxford at the time. Your brother had just graduated.”
Colin still didn’t remember her. That didn’t surprise him. His parents were always entertaining houseguests and he’d barely paid any attention to any of them. Most, he recalled, were down on their luck, and his father, kindhearted to a fault, took anyone begging assistance into his home.
Her hands were demurely folded together and she appeared to be very relaxed. Yet Colin noticed how white her fingers were and knew she was actually gripping them together in either fear or nervousness. She wasn’t quite as serene as she would have him believe. Her vulnerability was suddenly very apparent to him, and he found himself trying to find a way to put her at ease.
“Where are your parents now?” he asked.
“My father died when I was eleven years old,” she answered. “Mother died the following summer. Sir, would you like me to help you collect your papers?” she added in a rush, hoping to change the subject.
“What papers?”
Her smile was enchanting. “The ones you dropped.”
He looked down and saw his papers lining the steps. He felt like a complete idiot standing there with his hand grasping air. He grinned over his own preoccupation. He really wasn’t any better than his butler, he thought to himself, and Flannaghan had an acceptable excuse for his besotted behavior. He was young, inexperienced, and simply didn’t know better.
Colin should have known better, however. He was much older than his servant, in both years and experience. But he was overly weary tonight, he reminded himself, and surely that was the reason he was acting like a simpleton.
Besides, she was one hell of a beauty. He let out a sigh. “I’ll get the papers later,” he told her. “Exactly why are you here, Princess Alesandra?” he asked bluntly.