At His Majesty's Convenience / Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir: At His Majesty's Convenience. Jennifer Lewis

      He’d marry one of them just because it was part of his job. And she couldn’t bear to see that.

      She needed to leave tonight, before he could use his well-practiced tongue to … Thoughts of his tongue sent an involuntary shiver through her.

      Which was exactly why she needed to get out of here. And she wasn’t going to give him a chance to talk her out of it.

      Jake pushed his dessert plate forward. He’d had all the sticky sweetness he could stand for one night. With Maxi on one side and Alia on the other, each vying to tug his attention from the other, he felt exhausted. Andi knew he liked to have at least one decent conversationalist seated next to him, yet she’d followed through on her threat to stick him between two of the most troublesome vixens in Ruthenia.

      Speaking of which, where was Andi?

      He glanced around the dining room. The flickering light from the candles along the table and walls created deep shadows, but he didn’t see her. Usually she hovered close by in case he needed something.

      He summoned one of the servers. “Ulrike, have you seen Andi?”

      The quiet girl shook her head. “Would you like me to find her, sir?”

      “No, thanks, I’ll find her myself.” At least he would as soon as he could extricate himself from yet another eight-course meal. He couldn’t risk offending either of his bejeweled dinner companions with an early departure since their darling daddies were the richest and most powerful men in the region. Once things were settled, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about currying their favor, but while the economy was growing and changing and finding its feet in the world, he needed their flowing capital to oil its wheels.

      He could see how men in former eras had found it practical to marry more than one woman. They were both pretty—Maxi a sultry brunette with impressive cleavage and Alia a graceful blonde with a velvet voice—but to be completely honest he didn’t want to marry either of them.

      Carina Teitelhaus shot him a loaded glance from across the table. Her father owned a large factory complex with a lot of potential for expansion. And she didn’t hesitate to remind him of that.

      Ruthenia’s noblewomen were becoming increasingly aggressive in pursuing the role of queen. Lately he felt as if he were juggling a bevy of flaming torches and the work of keeping them all in the air was wearing on his nerves. He’d committed to choosing a bride before Independence Day next week. At the time he’d made that statement the deadline had seemed impossibly far off and none of them were sure Ruthenia itself would even still be in existence.

      Now it was right upon them, along with the necessity of choosing his wife or breaking his promise. Everyone in the room was painfully aware of each glance, every smile or laugh he dispensed in any direction. The dining table was a battlefield, with salvos firing over the silver.

      Usually he could count on Andi to soothe any ruffled feathers with careful seating placements and subtly coordinated private trysts. Tonight, though, contrary to her promise, she’d left him in the lurch.

      “Do excuse me, ladies.” He rose to his feet, avoiding all mascara-laden glances, and strode for the door.

      Andi’s absence worried him. What if she really did leave? She was the anchor that kept the palace floating peacefully in the choppy seas of a changing Ruthenia. He could give her any task and just assume it was done, without a word of prompting. Her tact and thoughtfulness were exemplary, and her organizational skills were unmatched. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

      After a short walk over the recently installed plum-colored carpets of the west hallway, he glanced into her ever-tidy office—and found it dark and empty. He frowned. She was often there in the evenings, which coincided with business hours in the U.S. and could be a busy time.

      Her laptop was on the desk, as usual. That was a good sign.

      Jake headed up the west staircase to the second floor, where most of the bedrooms were located. Andi had a large “family” bedroom rather than one of the pokey servants’ quarters on the third floor. She was family, dammit. And that meant she couldn’t pick up and leave whenever she felt like it.

      A nasty feeling gripped his gut as he approached her closed door. He knocked on the polished wood and listened for movement on the other side.

      Nothing.

      He tried the handle and to his surprise the door swung open. Curiosity tickling his nerves, he stepped inside and switched on the light. Andi’s large room was neat and free of clutter—much like her desk. It looked like a hotel room, with no personal touches added to the rather extravagant palace décor. The sight of two black suitcases—open and packed—stopped him in his tracks.

      She really was leaving.

      Adrenaline surged through him. At least she hadn’t gone yet, or the bags would be gone, too. The room smelled faintly of that subtle scent she sometimes wore, almost as if she was in the room with him.

      He glanced around. Could she be hiding from him?

      He strode across the room and tugged open the doors of the massive armoire. His breath stopped for a second and he half expected to see her crouched inside.

      Which of course she wasn’t. Her clothes were gone, though, leaving only empty hangers on the rod.

      Anger warred with deep disappointment that she intended to abandon him like this. Did their six years together mean nothing to her?

      She couldn’t leave without her suitcases. Perhaps he should take them somewhere she couldn’t find them. His room, for example.

      Unfamiliar guilt pricked him. He didn’t even like the idea of her knowing he’d entered her room uninvited, let alone taken her possessions hostage. Andi was a stickler for honesty and had kept him aboveboard more times than he cared to remember. Taking her bags just felt wrong.

      She’d said she’d leave as soon as the party was over. A woman of her word, she’d be sure to wait until the last guest was gone. As long as he found her before then, everything would be fine. He switched off the light and left the room as he’d found it.

      He scanned the east hall as he headed for the stairs, a sense of foreboding growing inside him. The packed bags were an ominous sign, but he couldn’t really believe she’d abandon Ruthenia—and him.

      “Jake, darling, we were wondering what happened to you,” Maxi called to him from the bottom of the stairs. “Colonel Von Deiter has volunteered to play piano while we dance.” She stretched out her long arm, as if inviting him to share the first dance with her.

      Since coming to Ruthenia he sometimes felt he’d stepped into a schnitzel-flavored Jane Austen story, where people waltzed around ballrooms and gossiped behind fans. He was happier in a business meeting than on a dance floor, and right now he’d much rather be dictating a letter to Andi than twirling Maxi over the parquet.

      “Have you seen Andi, my assistant?”

      “The little girl who wears her hair in a bun?”

      Jake frowned. He wasn’t sure exactly how old Andi was—mid-twenties, maybe?—but it seemed a bit rude for someone of twenty-two to call her a little girl. “She’s about five foot seven,” he said, with an arched brow. “And yes, she always wears her hair in a bun.”

      Come to think of it, he’d literally never seen her hair down, which was pretty odd after six years. A sudden violent urge to see Andi with her hair unleashed swept through him. “I’ve looked all over the palace for her, but she’s vanished into thin air.”

      Maxi shrugged. “Do come dance, darling.”

      His friend Fritz appeared behind her. “Come on, Jake. Can’t let the ladies down. Just a twirl or two. I’m sure Andi has better things to do than wait on you hand and foot.”

      “She doesn’t wait on me hand and foot. She’s a valued executive.”

      Fritz