“…how she will react…” came her mother’s voice and Ilaria stiffened. That didn’t sound positive.
She thrust her shoulders back and entered the room. “How who will react?” she asked as she pulled the door shut behind them for privacy.
Her brother, the new king of Athawick, stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room, every line of his clothing perfect, every hair in place. She could scarcely even recognize him as the brother who had ran with her through fields in Athawick a decade before, two decades. He looked stern and cross and…tired. She could see he was tired.
Her mother, Queen Giabella, sat on a settee in the middle of the room, a cup of tea perched in her fingertips. She was stunningly beautiful, no matter her years. Her thick, dark hair was only slightly touched by gray and her sharp brown eyes flitted over Ilaria from head to toe…judging, no doubt.
Her mother’s secretary, Dashiell Talbot, sat at the escritoire on one side of the room, a quill poised over a thick sheet of vellum. Ilaria’s heart sank. Unlike Grantham’s man, she adored Dashiell. He’d been working for her mother for nearly a decade and was always wonderful. But when he was about to take notes, it meant something official was happening.
Last, but certainly not least because he wouldn’t allow it, was Remington. Her second oldest brother leaned lazily against the mantel, a drink in his hand and a bored expression on his face. Remi did his best to play layabout prince, though Ilaria knew there was far more to him than just that. He arched a brow at her, held her stare.
God’s teeth, something was going on and she dreaded it down to her toes.
“You know, before you answer my question,” she said, crossing to the sideboard. “I need a drink.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “I expect that sort of thing from Remi, but you really must be more proper, especially as we enter English Society, my dear.”
Ilaria pursed her lips to keep from a sharp retort, but she still poured her drink and then crossed to stand beside Remi at the fireplace. He gave her a side glance that said multitudes.
“You called me here, Your Majesties,” she said. “And clearly it isn’t about family business in general, but about me. So what is it? How could I have possibly offended during the last day and a half on board a ship in the middle of the North Sea?”
Grantham took a step toward her. “You’ve offended no one, Ilaria. Mother and I simply believe it is…time to discuss…the…the…”
“The future,” their mother finished with a quick side glance to Dashiell at the desk. He lifted his gaze as if sensing her stare and gave a tiny nod before he went back to madly scribbling.
“The future entails us disembarking on the shores of foggy, dirty London,” Ilaria said. “And spending what will surely be a few boring months of balls and official events. I’ve agreed to attend them all in order to help you, Grantham, what else do you wish of me?”
Her mother rose from the settee and moved toward her, dark eyes locking with Ilaria’s. Now her heartrate rose, fear fluttered.
“It is time for you to be married, Ilaria,” the queen said softly, almost gently. “At twenty-five, some would say high past time and perhaps we would have pushed this issue sooner if not for your father’s illness and death. But here we are and we have been granted an opportunity by the fact that your brother has been coronated at last and the world has some interest in our family’s tour.”
“England is not the world,” Ilaria snapped.
Remi chuckled. “They believe they are. They’re certainly trying to conquer enough of it.”
“That is the material problem,” Grantham said, his gaze growing sharp as it focused on Remi. “Yes, they are land mad and resource mad. And Athawick may not have much of one, but we have plenty of the other thanks to the trade route. Generations of our family have fought and occasionally died to remain out of the Empire’s reach and I will not have that all fall apart during my watch. Ilaria, you are of an age to marry. And if you are linked to an important family of Britain, there is some thought that it will continue to protect Athawick.”
She blinked. “You are going to barter me for freedom.”
Also by Jess Michaels
The Three Mrs
The Unexpected Wife
The Defiant Wife
The Duke’s Wife
The Duke’s By-Blows
The Love of a Libertine
The Heart of a Hellion
The Matter of a Marquess
The Redemption of a Rogue
The 1797 Club
The Daring Duke
Her Favorite Duke
The Broken Duke
The Silent Duke
The Duke of Nothing
The Undercover Duke
The Duke of Hearts
The Duke Who Lied
The Duke of Desire
The Last Duke
The Scandal Sheet
The Return of Lady Jane
Stealing the Duke
Lady No Says Yes
My Fair Viscount
Guarding the Countess
The House of Pleasure
Seasons
An Affair in Winter
A Spring Deception
One Summer of Surrender
Adored in Autumn
The Wicked Woodleys
Forbidden
Deceived
Tempted
Ruined
Seduced
Fascinated
The Notorious Flynns
The Other Duke
The Scoundrel’s Lover
The Widow Wager
No Gentleman for Georgina
A Marquis for Mary
To see a complete listing of Jess Michaels’ titles, please visit:
http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/books
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Jess Michaels likes geeky stuff, Vanilla Coke Zero, anything coconut, cheese, fluffy cats, smooth cats, any cats, many dogs and people who care about the welfare of their fellow humans. She is lucky enough to be married to her favorite person in the world and lives in the heart of Dallas, TX where she's trying to eat all the amazing food in the city.
When she’s not obsessively checking her steps on Fitbit or trying out new flavors of Greek yogurt, she writes historical romances with smoking hot alpha males and sassy ladies who do anything but wait to get what they want. She has written for numerous publishers and is now fully indie and loving every moment of it (well, almost every moment).
Jess loves to hear from fans! So please feel free to contact her at [email protected].
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