hours of travel followed by that awful meeting with her brother. Given how she always suffered severe motion sickness, which left her physically wrung out, logically she should be more than ready to sleep. Sadly, logic was lacking tonight, she accepted with a sigh as she pushed back the covers on her pedestal bed and reached for the light robe she’d cast over the end of her mattress before retiring.
Maybe some warm milk, the way Cookie used to make it for her back when she was a child, would help. After donning her robe, Mila headed for the servants’ stairs toward the back of the castle. Sure, she knew that all she had to do was press a button and someone would bring the milk to her, but a part of her craved the inviting warmth and aromas that permeated the castle kitchens and that were such an intrinsic part of her happier childhood memories.
Her slippers barely made a sound on the old stone stairs and, as opposed to the usual daily busyness that made the castle hum with activity during normal waking hours, the air was still and serene. She could do with some of that serenity right now.
To her surprise, the sound of voices traveled up the corridor toward her. Obviously some staff was on duty around the clock, but it was unusual for the senior household steward to still be afoot at this time of night. Mila recognized Gregor’s voice as it rumbled along the ancient stone walls. For a second she was prepared to ignore it, and the younger female voice she could barely hear murmuring in response, but her ears pricked up when she caught Thierry’s name mentioned.
Mila slowed her steps as she approached the open door of the steward’s office and listened carefully.
“And you’re certain of this?” the steward asked.
Mila was surprised Gregor’s voice sounded so stern. While the man held a position of extreme responsibility, he was well-known for his warm heart and caring nature—it was part of why the royal household ran so smoothly. His brusque tone right now seemed at odds with the person she remembered.
“Yes, sir. My second cousin assists the king of Sylvain’s private secretary. He saw the document soliciting the woman’s—” the young woman hesitated a bit before continuing “—services.”
“What does your cousin plan to do with this information he so willingly shared with you?”
“Oh, sir, he didn’t do so willingly. I mean, it wasn’t meant as gossip.”
“Then what did he mean by it?”
Mila heard the younger woman make a sound, as if holding back tears. “Oh, please, sir. I don’t want him to get into any trouble. It troubled him that the king would seek the services of a courtesan so close to his marriage, especially when it is known within the Sylvano palace that the prince is—was—saving himself for marriage.”
A courtesan? Mila’s ears buzzed, blocking out any other sound as the word reverberated in her skull. Her stomach lurched uncomfortably and she fought the nausea that swirled with a vicious and sudden twist.
A sound from the steward’s office alerted her to the movement of the people inside. She couldn’t be caught here, not like this. Mila turned back down the corridor and slipped into another office, this one dark and unoccupied. With her arms bound tight around her middle, she stared at the closed door framed by a limning of light. Her mind whirled.
Thierry had procured a professional mistress? Why would he even do such a thing? How had she misjudged him so badly? Their time together that night in New York had been wonderful, magical—and entirely chaste, without the slightest hint that he was seeking physical intimacy. It had thrilled her to think that he was staying untouched for her, just as she had done for him. None of what she’d learned about him in the hours they’d spent together made sense against what she’d just overheard.
Mila stiffened as she heard a light pair of footsteps walk briskly down the hallway—the maid, leaving Gregor’s office by the sound of it. She waited, wondering if she’d hear Gregor leaving the same way, and as she waited her mind spun again. What should she do now she had this knowledge? She couldn’t refuse to marry Thierry. That would cause upheaval on both sides of the border. And she didn’t want to, not really. But how could she consider a future with a man who was already in the process of installing a mistress in a home they were meant to share? She had toiled long and hard to make herself into a worthy wife for the man she thought he was. Had she been wrong about him all along? Was he just another ruler who treated marriage as nothing more than a facade—like so many royal marriages that had taken place in the past? Had he already given up on the idea that Mila could possibly make him happy?
Was their marriage really to be nothing more than a peace treaty between neighboring nations? Were they not to share the communion of two adults with shared hopes and dreams for the future? Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. She would not succumb to weakness in this. There had to be a way to stop him from taking a mistress, a way to somehow circumvent this. Think! she commanded herself. Here she was, well educated, astute about women’s issues and keen to do something about them, and yet, when faced with a problem all she could do was hide and then fight back tears? How clichéd, she scolded silently. Mila loosened her arms and let them drop to her sides and lifted her chin. She was a princess, it was about time she started to think and act like one.
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