And now she was blushing again! Thank you, Aida is a gifted needlewoman.’ She gazed around her, made awkward as ever by compliments. ‘This is a very magnificent room. Do you receive your people here in order to overwhelm them?’
Rafiq looked quite taken aback. ‘I receive them here in pomp and state because it is what is expected of me. It is where petitions have always been heard by Princes of Bharym. To receive the Village Elders in a more modest venue would be to insult them. The intention is not to overwhelm them, as you put it, but to pay them a compliment, to demonstrate how much I value their opinions.’
‘I didn’t think of it in that way,’ Stephanie said contritely. ‘I’m a farrier’s daughter who has been raised following the drum, I’m afraid my experience of royalty is limited to my contact with you. And the Duke of Wellington, I suppose. Though he is not royalty, he believes himself to be, an opinion shared by most of his soldiers.’
‘Though not by you?’
‘His Grace does not concern himself with my opinion. With neither breeding nor beauty to recommend me, I am thankfully quite beneath his notice.’
‘I had heard he was a discerning man. Obviously he is not,’ Rafiq said. ‘You have met the great Duke of Wellington then?’
‘He has looked down his nose at me several times when consulting with Papa,’ Stephanie said, ‘but he has never spoken to me. I tended to his horse, Copenhagen, in Spain, when he was Sir Charles Vane’s mount. Where are we going?’
Rafiq had led her out of the Hall of Campaign, through a door concealed in the wooden panelling. ‘To a less overwhelming part of the palace,’ he replied, as Stephanie followed him through a narrow corridor notable for its lack of guards.
‘Oh!’
They had emerged into a courtyard surrounded by very high walls. The evening sun turned the stone mellow, casting soft shadows. There was a terrace on one wall, where a selection of cushions and low divans were set out, but the majority of the space was given over to a huge bathing pool. A wide set of shallow steps led down into the green-blue water, dappled gold by the sun.
‘The pool is fed from an underground stream,’ Rafiq said, urging her forward into the courtyard. ‘You can see in the corner there, the bubbles where it comes to the surface.’
Stephanie couldn’t resist stooping down to let the ice-cold water trickle through her hands. ‘It is lovely. Quite utterly lovely.’
* * *
Rafiq, watching the curve of her derrière, clearly revealed through the soft fabric of her new attire, agreed wholeheartedly, but refrained from saying so. Instead, he retired to the shade, seating himself on his favourite cushion and taking a glass of mint tea in order to distract himself from the beguiling vision. Her clothes were modest, loose, and actually revealed a great deal less of her figure than the gown she had worn the first night to dine with him, yet the filmy fabric clung to her like a caress, drawing attention to the soft flesh beneath. Realising that he had, despite his best intentions, been staring, Rafiq hurriedly looked away.
What was it about her that made her so difficult to resist? He had known far more beautiful women, far more experienced women, women who were accomplished in the arts of love, but none of them challenged him the way Stephanie did, and certainly none of them questioned him. They smiled at him, they fawned over him, they were pleased by him, with however little he offered, or however much. He was a prince, it was how it should be, but the reality was, now he came to think of it, not tedious exactly, but rather predictable.
Stephanie didn’t bore him. She was like no other woman he had ever met, which most likely explained her appeal. That, and the fact that she had given him hope. Now he no longer despaired, he was coming alive again. It was not surprising that he should desire the woman responsible. It was a pity that he could not act on those desires, but he could at least indulge his curiosity about her.
He poured Stephanie a glass of tea, calling to her to join him. Smiling her thanks, she sank on to the cushion opposite him. ‘This pool reminds me a little of one I saw in Italy, though the waters there were warm, fed from a hot spring.’
‘You have travelled a great deal, then? Won’t you miss that when you set up your own permanent establishment?’ Rafiq asked.
‘I doubt it. I have been fortunate enough to visit a great many countries, but travelling in the wake of the British army leaves one precious little time to enjoy the scenery. So much of the day is spent setting up bivouacs, obtaining supplies or chasing lost equipment, and maintaining what meagre household possessions one has. You would not believe the amount of hours devoted to mending uniforms and clothing and sheets and all manner of things.’
‘No, I would not,’ he answered, smiling. ‘Have you never had a permanent home?’
‘There were times—when we were encamped near Madrid, for example—when we remained in our digs long enough for them to begin to feel like home. We had a little farmhouse there which Mama was very sad to leave, but more often than not our accommodation consisted of tents.’
‘It is no wonder then, that after such an itinerant life, you desire to settle in one place,’ Rafiq said. ‘Have you a location in mind? Near Newmarket, where your skills will be in high demand? Or near relatives, perhaps? Though you did say you wished for independence. Does that mean you prefer to live in solitude?’
‘I meant financial independence,’ Stephanie replied. ‘I don’t suppose you will understand it, having been born to all this, but to a woman in my position, an income is a necessity if one is not to live beholden to others.’
‘A woman in your position,’ Rafiq mused. ‘I confess, I don’t profess to understand your position at all. You are what—twenty-five years old?’
‘Twenty-six, though I don’t see...’
‘For twenty-five years you have been beholden to your parents, as you put it. Why the sudden desire to change that? Did you quarrel with them?’
‘No, of course not. I have never—not even when—I have never quarrelled with them.’
She was shifting around on her cushion, crossing her legs, uncrossing them. Clearly, the conversation was agitating her. He ought to change the subject, but he was far too intrigued. ‘Then why the desire for change? Why make life so much harder for yourself by swapping your parents’ protection and the work that you so obviously love, for an uncertain future?’
‘I am—it is simply that I can no longer live with them,’ Stephanie replied, colouring. ‘And since I don’t wish to be married, what other option is open to me, save support myself?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you think this appointment means so much to me, Rafiq? The money is not for pretty dresses and fripperies, it’s about putting a roof over my head, food on my table, while I establish myself. Do you think that’s going to be easy?’
Before he could formulate any sort of reply, she jumped to her feet. ‘Well it’s not. It’s going to be bloody difficult! I’m going to have to be twice, three times better than any man, and I’m going to have to accept half the recompense or less. Does that sound fair to you? No, of course it’s not, but that’s how it’s going to be.’ Stephanie crossed her arms, staring at him belligerently. ‘That is why your commendation will mean so much. That is why the remuneration which you have promised me is—it is...’
Rafiq held his hands up. ‘I did not intend
