Page 19 of Crowned For The King's Secret

Stoic silence. Victoria was sick to the brim with it. Reminding her of all those times Bruce had pretended to listen, to be sympathetic. Undermining her sense of self, her confidence. She wanted toscreamat everyone’s condescension and yet she had Nic on her hip, and every shred of the emotion that wanted to spill out she had to turn inwards. It simply rioted around inside her instead.

‘Right. Well, ifHis Majestywas going to employ a nanny, I’d expect it to be discussed with me, given I’m themother. Since he seems to have missed that step, let’s do it now. Where is he?’

She’d test the theory that she wasn’t a prisoner here. She stormed up to the door of the suite and flung it open.

‘Do you want to go and visit Daddy, darling?’ she said to Nic in an excited voice. They’d both been dragged here because Sandro seemed to have finally found some kind of fatherly feelings, no matter what he said about risk and danger.

‘Da!’

That was as good an encouragement as any from her son.

‘Right, let’s go!’

She bounced him on her hip, absorbing the ache of her muscles as he giggled. The security detail outside her room simply looked at her in their noncommittal kind of way as she stepped outside.

‘Where’s His Majesty?’ she asked them. ‘We need to talk.’

They said nothing, and her heart rate picked up. She took a deep breath. Time to be brave and step into the void.

‘Well, I’m going to find him.’

She began to walk, with the security detail and Isadora trailing behind. In truth she had no real idea how she was going to locate Sandro, but she had some inkling of the way they’d come through long halls when she’d first entered the palace.

‘Isadora?’ she said.

The woman moved beside her, stride long and confident. More like the security guards than a nanny. ‘Yes, Lady Astill?’

‘Oh, none of that. I’m sure Sandro meant us to begreatfriends. Please call me Victoria. You said you were here to help, so help with something I’m sure you can answer. Where is he?’

Isadora glanced sideways at the men who followed along in this ridiculous entourage.

‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll start calling out for him like I’m looking for some lost puppy. Trust me when I say that there isnothingbeneath me right now. If I’m to be treated like an errant child instead of an adult, then I’m happy to start acting like one. I’m sure it’ll entertain Nic no end seeing his mummy being silly.’

The woman stared at her with assessing brown eyes, as if she was coming to some decision. ‘I believe, Victoria, that His Majesty is in his office.’

A win. Small, but she’d take it. Vic gave Isadora a smile. Her first true smile in days. Isadora returned it, though her smile might have been wry and resigned, rather than truly happy.

‘Well, then,’ she said, to herself more than anyone else. ‘Let’s go.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SANDRO’SADVISERSARGUEDamongst themselves. He’d assembled seven of his most trusted confidants for this meeting, as around Victoria he recognised that he had little perspective. She claimed not to know what was going on, yet the cold, hard evidence sat in a dossier in the top drawer of his desk. Could there be something in what she said? He didn’t know, though the doubts began creeping in. Whispers that she was an innocent in all this. That he’d made a mistake. He shut them down.

When similar whispers had come to his father’s ears about his half-brother, Sandro’s godparents and guardians told him his father had ignored them. Accepted denials that the man and his wife were plotting to take the throne. Anyone involved with that blighted branch of his family needed to be treated with scepticism. So he sat back, silent, absorbing the conversations about how to solve the problem that was Victoria Astill.

‘Pay her off. She can leave the child here and go.’

‘Money isn’t the issue. She has enough of her own to keep her comfortably wealthy for life.’

‘Then what does she want? Power?’

‘He could have promised her marriage, the throne as consort to a regent. It’s not like she entirely lacks respectability. She’s the daughter of a duke, the sister of a duke, the widow of an earl. Her pedigree is good, and she was bred for the role.’

Sandro stilled. Something about those comments caused a revolt deep inside. ‘Lady Astill isnotone of my polo ponies whose breeding is vital.’

He didn’t know why he took such offence. It was as if some instinct deep inside shouted that Victoria was more than that. So much more.

‘With the greatest of respect, sir, in matters of royalty, everything is about bloodlines and breeding.’

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