had gracefully stepped around her and was already slipping into the wooden bench that gleamed from years of loving attention, Meredith swallowed and rested her fingers lightly on his hard, warm hand, quickly moving up the step.
Just as quickly, she removed her hand from his as she seated herself. “Thank you, Colonel Prescott,” she said politely. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
“Your Royal Highness.” He inclined his head as he greeted her. Barely an inch. Just enough to show his respect of her status. Just enough to let her know he was a man who really bowed to no one except perhaps the King.
And why would he? He was the Duke of Aronleigh, after all. An award of great merit bestowed on him by her father a decade earlier.
“I didn’t expect to be seated up here, either.” His big hand casually brushed aside a fold of her pale gold skirt as he sat beside her. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”
Meredith’s smile felt strained. “Thank you. Your troops are looking very smart today.” He made a soft sound. Almost of impatience, she thought. “You didn’t bring a date?”
At that, she did feel his silvery-green gaze turn her way. “I’m hardly here in a social capacity.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Are you armed to the teeth then, Colonel, beneath that dress uniform of yours? Prepared to do battle against any interlopers set on disrupting the nuptials?”
His bland expression changed not a whit. Perhaps that was what made him such an exceptional colonel. He was head of Royal and Army Intelligence, after all, and a member of the Royal Elite Team—a small group of men personally selected by the King as his closest advisers. He was no longer a mere lieutenant standing post at a spring ball. He was a powerful man in his own right.
A man who made her nerves feel as if they were being tormented by a horde of buzzing bees.
“If you are unhappy with the seating arrangement, I’d be happy to sit elsewhere,” he assured her evenly.
Meredith stifled the impulse to kick his shin. He knew she was uncomfortable sitting beside him. Since her seventeenth year, in fact, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him. And he her. Unfortunately, over the years there’d been many occasions not in the least bit social when they’d had to deal with one another.
“Not at all,” she assured him blithely. “Goodness knows how many meetings it took for the seating arrangement to be finalized.” She opened her ivory program and stared blindly at the golden script. Jean-Paul’s parents had just been seated across the wide aisle, and Meredith smiled and nodded their way. Prince Bernier, the ruler of Drogheda, was seated near them. He was Jean-Paul’s uncle, and rumor had it that Jean-Paul might become his uncle’s heir, as Bernier only had one daughter. A flighty nut who Meredith had little use for. As far as she was concerned, Bernier could do no better than Jean-Paul. He’d make a fine ruler one day.
Any minute, she knew her mother would be seated, and judging by the sudden hush that fairly echoed up to the lofty mural-painted ceilings of the cathedral, Queen Marissa was undoubtedly even now gliding down the center aisle to the accompaniment of the understated prelude.
As many times as Meredith had practiced that walk as a youth, she’d never figured out how her mother was able to accomplish it. As if she were floating, hovering an inch above the ground as she moved.
Considering the people of her country thought Queen Marissa no less than a living angel, it was an apt thought.
Only it was also a thought that led Meredith to wonder what exactly the man beside her thought. She wasn’t thrilled to be seated beside him. Was stunned, in fact, to see him at all. Because, unless it was strictly required of him in his official capacity to attend an event where any member of the royal family was to be present, he avoided it like the plague.
She closed her program and folded her hands on top of it in her lap. If the wedding hadn’t been planned in such a rush—an unheard of three weeks, actually—she supposed she might have taken the time to review the seating arrangements and been better prepared. “If not social,” she said, determined to remain pleasant, “then it must be official?”
She’d never know if he intended to answer, for her mother came into view, and everyone rose in deference to her.
Meredith sighed again. Beauty radiated from her mother in a way Meredith could never hope to emulate. It came from inside her, she was sure. And Marissa probably never had feelings of envy for a sister on the happiest day of her life.
Only Marissa had never had any sisters. She’d only had one brother, Edwin, and he’d been killed on neighboring Majorco ten years earlier.
“It’s a shame my uncle isn’t alive to be here today,” Meredith murmured as the Queen was seated in one of the two seats closest to the high altar. A uniform shuffle could be heard as everyone followed suit.
“Why?”
She looked at the colonel. Then just as quickly looked away. It was too hard to look at him without getting that infuriatingly breathless feeling inside her chest. “How can you ask that?”
“You were barely eighteen when your uncle died. How well did you even know him?”
Her lips parted. She was as much startled by his awareness of just how old she’d been as she was by his cool tone, which seemed almost a dismissal of the tragedy. “I…well, I remember him from my childhood, of course.” Her uncle Edwin had bounced her on his knee and told her tales of knights and dragon slayers. When she was a teenager, he’d been a less frequent visitor. “I was referring to my mother, in any case. He was the last of her side of the family. This is the first wedding of one of her children. I’d think you’d be more sensitive to that since you lost your only family, too.”
“My parents died long ago.”
“Twelve years.” He wasn’t the only one who had a long memory.
His gaze sharpened. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“I remember many things,” Meredith said smoothly. She also remembered the spring following his loss. When he’d succeeded in making her feel a humiliated fool on the dance floor of the Royal Spring Ball.
“How is your sister feeling?”
If he could be polite, so, certainly, could she. She could hide her agitation. Of course she could. “Megan is doing well. Quite recovered. Thank you for asking.” Her fingertips toyed with the parchment edge of the program. Only in his company had she ever had to scramble for topics of conversation. “Plans for the children’s facility at the base are going well.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Meredith’s position as the royal family’s liaison to the Royal Intelligence Institute kept her closely involved in several efforts of the world-renowned institution. One of the latest was Horizons, a child-care and activity center located on the army base in the north-central portion of Penwyck. “Will you be at the opening celebration next week?”
“No.”
She didn’t know whether it was relief or disappointment that she felt. But a rustling from the vestry heralded the entrance of Jean-Paul and his supporters as they took their place in the chancel, and she focused her attention on the men.
Behind
