Princess of Convenience. Marion Lennox

      Why? She didn’t know. And maybe she was being dumb. To get a European prince of the blood offside…

      Whoa, Jess. Back off.

      ‘My son didn’t mean to be offensive,’ Louise was saying and to Jess’s delight Raoul was getting a look of reproof from his mother. Hey, she’d won this round. ‘And the Alp’Azuri spinners certainly are amazing.’ Louise was animated now as if here at last was a safe subject, a subject they could indulge in where everything wasn’t raw. ‘I could take you out and introduce—’

      ‘No, Mama,’ Raoul told her. ‘You can’t go out. Not while there’s this drama. You forget.’

      His mother flushed and bit her lip. ‘No. I’m sorry.’

      ‘Are the Press hounding you?’ Jess looked from one to the other, her spurt of childish satisfaction fading. Their faces were tight with strain. She’d been so caught up in her own misery that she’d hardly noticed, but she was noticing now. There was more behind these expressions than their recent tragedy, awful as that was.

      ‘The Press are certainly hounding us,’ Raoul said heavily. ‘They’re waiting for us to leave.’

      ‘We need to leave the castle eventually,’ Louise whispered. ‘We can’t stay here indefinitely.’

      ‘Why would you want to leave?’ Jess said, astonished.

      ‘We’re a bit under siege,’ Louise said and then bit her lip and looked ruefully at her son. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I didn’t… Jess, you’re not interested in our troubles.’

      ‘Too many troubles,’ Raoul muttered. ‘None of our making. Drink your soup, Jess. Forget it.’

      But it seemed that trouble couldn’t be forgotten. Henri reentered the room almost as he said the words, and he wasn’t bearing food. He looked distressed.

      Definitely trouble.

      ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he told Raoul, ‘but your cousin, the Comte Marcel, is here. He’s been here three times today already and this time he refuses to leave.’

      ‘Of course I refuse to leave.’

      The voice was a ponderous, pompous baritone, and before Henri had time to withdraw, the dining-room door was shoved wide. Henri was shoved roughly aside. ‘This is my home from now on, man,’ the newcomer said. ‘You and my so dear relatives will just have to grow accustomed to it. Now.’

      Was it possible to take a dislike to someone on sight? Whether it was the imperiousness of his tone, the audacity of his statement or the way he’d shoved Henri, Jess’s first reaction was revulsion. She wasn’t alone in her reaction. Raoul was rising to his feet and his face was dark with anger.

      ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, shoving your way into my mother’s dining room?’ he snapped and the man’s eyes rose in supercilious reproof.

      ‘Surely you mean my dining room.’

      He was in his late fifties, short and balding, with what was left of his hair oiled flatly down over a shiny scalp. He was dressed in expensive evening wear but his clothes weren’t flattering. His stomach protruded over his sash, and nothing could disguise the flab beneath the suit.

      ‘This is my husband’s nephew, the Comte Marcel d’Apergenet,’ Louise murmured to Jess, and there was real distress in her tone now as she attempted introductions. ‘Raoul, please sit down. Jess, this is the…the new regent as of next week. Marcel, this is Jessica Devlin.’

      The man’s eyes were already sweeping the room. They flickered over Raoul with dislike, they moved past Louise with disdain and now they rested on Jess with something akin to approval.

      ‘Ha. The girl who killed Lady Sarah.’

      ‘She did not kill—’ Louise started hotly, but the man held up his hands as if to ward off attack. He even smiled.

      ‘Now, even if she did, who am I to criticise? Sarah might have been a distant relative but she wasn’t close. Are any of our family close? No. And her death destroyed your plans very neatly. But that means we need to move on. I’ve been trying for days to see the pair of you, but your damned butler refuses me admission. It’s time to face the future.’

      ‘No.’ Louise’s voice broke on a faint sob. ‘Sarah’s only been dead for six days. And Edouard’s so traumatised. Marcel, surely you mean to give us time.’

      ‘Monday’s changeover,’ the man snapped. ‘No matter who’s dead. You know the terms of the regency. I take over the castle and I take over responsibility for the child until he’s of an age to accept the crown. You left this country twenty-five years ago and you have no place here. Our politicians agree with me. They want you out of here, and the regency is mine.’

      There was a deathly silence, and then Louise seemed to brace herself. ‘My grandson stays with me,’ she said but her voice faltered as if she knew already what the response would be.

      ‘Like hell he does.’ The man smiled again, and Jessica shivered. She didn’t have a clue what was going on but the more she saw of this man the more she wanted to cringe. ‘The constitution says that the role of regent can only be held by a married man,’ he said. His tone had slowed now, as if he was speaking to a group of imbeciles. ‘The incumbent to the regency has to take over within a month of the death of the monarch, and if he can’t do it by then, then the next in line to the throne—the next married man—takes over. I therefore have complete constitutional control, including custody of the crown prince and residency of the castle. I want you out.’

      ‘Not until Monday.’ Raoul looked as if he wanted to hit someone. Badly. His hands were clenched into fists and his voice was laced with the strain of keeping himself under rigid control. ‘You get nothing until Monday. Not until the month is legally up. Meanwhile this place is our home and you have no place in it.’

      ‘The child would be better handed over immediately,’ the man snapped. ‘I have staff waiting to care for him.’

      ‘He’ll stay with me,’ Louise said with distress, but Marcel smiled still more.

      ‘Not unless there’s a constitutional change and there’s no way a constitutional change can take place without the approval of the prince regent. Which would be me. You know the rules. You tried to avoid them by a hasty marriage, but Lady Sarah’s death has ended that. The child will be raised as I decree.’ Once again his hands were raised, as if to ward off objections that might occur to them. His smile became almost a smirk. ‘You need have no fear. Every care will be taken of him.’

      ‘You mean you’ll let the government do as they want with him just as long as they keep your coffers filled.’ Raoul’s voice was barely a whisper, but there was no disguising the fury behind it. ‘You’ll destroy him, just as you and my father destroyed my brother.’

      ‘He’s such a little boy,’ Louise stammered. ‘He’s three. Marcel, you can’t take him away from his family.’

      ‘I’ll take him anywhere I want. I have that right.’

      ‘Not until Monday, you can’t.’ Raoul’s rigid control had snapped. ‘You bottom-feeding low-life, you have no right to be here and I’ll not accept your presence here a moment longer.’

      ‘You can’t—’

      ‘Watch me.’ With no more hesitation, Raoul walked steadily forward and gripped his relative’s collar in both his hands, lifting him right off the floor. He swung him around and shoved—hard.

      ‘Get your hands off me.’ Marcel’s voice was an indignant splutter.

      ‘This is our home. Until Monday you don’t have any say in who enters here.’

      ‘That’s in less than a week. This is preposterous.’ But he was out the door and still being propelled. ‘I’ll have you arrested.’