The Prince's Bride Page 14

  Hope waved and promised to be back in good time. She was getting a name for being Good with Vicars. It amused her but she felt pleased with herself, too. She thought how it would make Jonas laugh and pushed the thought away at once. It was no good loving the way a man laughed if you couldn’t trust him to tell you the truth.

  Only what if Ally was right and he had told her all the important truths? When she thought about it, he’d only lied by not telling her that he was royal. But maybe being a prince was insignificant to him, like being able to ride a bicycle or not liking cheese. Maybe it was only Hope, with her fear of being the centre of attention, who thought being royal was a big deal.

  Was it possible?

  Hope was still drawing a blank with the Gothic wedding venue. So she followed Natalya’s advice and texted the problem to her friends.

  They arranged to meet for breakfast, because that was the only time Flora Deare could manage. She was staying overnight with Ally after a mysterious meeting that both Hope and Ally suspected was with her ex-boyfriend. Flora wasn’t telling. All she would say was that she had to get home to Combe St Philip to relieve her elderly grandfather’s carer.

  So they took a picnic into Green Park. That was Hope’s idea. She was missing trees. Well, that’s what she told her friends. Though she’d lived in lots of cities and never missed trees before.

  The truth was, she was missing Jonas. She wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone else, but she faced the truth herself. Ever since Ally had said the dread words “unfinished business”, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind.

  She even unblocked his number on her phone. But he didn’t call. She had a sleepless night, constantly waking, wondering what time it was in San Michele and then falling back into a half doze. Sometime before dawn she fell into an exhausted sleep, only to jerk away reaching for her phone before her eyes were properly open. And then she realized that it was the alarm clock.

  “This is ridiculous,” she shouted.

  And blocked Jonas’s number again. She needed her sleep. The job was demanding. Besides, that was the morning she, Ally and Flora were having their breakfast picnic in the park.

  They met early. The June light was golden but not yet warm, and there was still dew on the grass. So they colonized one of the park benches. Flora handed out wonderful crisp and flaky palmiers she had made herself and Ally opened a bottle of Buck’s Fizz. Hope had brought coffee from home.

  “Not in the same class,” she said ruefully, accepting pastry and fizz.

  “Who cares? It’s wet and warm,” said Ally. It sounded as if she were making an effort to be cheerful. She was looking strained, with great shadows under her eyes. But she said nothing and Hope didn’t want to grill her.

  Instead she said, “I’m getting to feel that this Gothic wedding venue is my Waterloo. Any ideas?”

  Flora knew a little about catered events and had worked in a London restaurant. She mused aloud on a couple of names but one was too large and the other was, well, “A bit S&M, to be honest,” said Flora. “More vampires and zombies than weddings, if you know what I mean. Unless they want a zombie wedding?”

  “I can’t honestly see my Aunt Cindy running a zombie wedding. She’s more three-row string of pearls and a big hat, if you know what I mean.”

  Even Ally cheered up at that. When they stopped laughing she said, “There might be some places outside London.”

  But Hope didn’t think that would run, so they stopped worrying about it and just gossiped. By that time the sun was a lot warmer.

  “Let’s move to the grass,” said Flora, packing up neatly. “I’ll have to go soon but I’d like to take my shoes off and get my feet in the grass just once before I go.”

  “I’ll get more coffee,” said Ally, jumping to her feet. “They’ll be open in Piccadilly now. What do you want, Flora? I know Hope’s an Americano, single shot.”

  Flora opted for the same and Ally strode off, dodging joggers as they laboured up the slight hill behind the eighteenth-century mansions to reach Green Park underground station.

  “Can you imagine doing that?” asked Flora, peacefully surveying the runners as she wiggled her bare toes in the grass. “Fancy going in to work all hot and sweaty. And on a beautiful day like this. Horrible.”

  “I suppose they enjoy it.” Hope studied the passers-by. “I mean that guy looks quite an athlete.”

  He was powering along away from the underground against the flow, on the outside of the path. He moved beautifully, rhythmically, as if all his joints were oiled and fresh and his feet were on springs.

  Flora studied him dispassionately. “He’s hot,” she allowed.

  But Hope was coming slowly to her feet. As if all his joints were oiled. It was Jonas. It had to be him.

  I know those thighs, she thought distractedly. And she knew that look, too, the focused, straight-ahead, I-can-get-this-done look.

  Jonas was here! Not in San Michele, with his brother the Crown Prince and his sister-in-law, the gracious Crown Princess, who’d looked as if she’d been born wearing a tiara. He was here in London.

  Looking for her?

  No. Not looking for her. He had no idea she was in England, let alone London. So he must be in London for some other purpose. And he was in the park to exercise, like all the other early morning athletes. He was staring straight ahead. He wouldn’t even see her unless she accosted him.

  Her heart turned into a ball of ice and started bouncing in time with his pounding feet.

  Was she going to accost him?

  She could just keep her head down, carry on talking to Flora and Ally when she returned and pretend that she hadn’t seen him. No one need ever know.

  But – unfinished business?

  Whatever else she might be, she wasn’t a coward.

  This was her chance to find out if Ally might be right, after all. Or just to talk to him. Maybe he was hurting as much as she was.

  She couldn’t bear that.

  Hope began to move towards the runners’ path as if she were hypnotized.

  Flora sat up. “Hope ...?”

  But Hope was already raising an arm, waving, calling out, “Jonas. Jonas.”

  The runner missed his stride, staggered forward and came to a stop. He looked round wildly.

  She ran towards him. Jonas found her. He vaulted over the guard rail and sprinted across the grass to meet her. They both stopped at the same time, two feet apart. For a crazy moment she was overwhelmed with gladness.

  Jonas found his voice first. “Hope. How are you here?” He sounded stunned.

  She didn’t know what to say, so she answered the question literally. “Having a picnic with my friends. You?”

  Jonas seemed to pull himself together. He pushed his hand through his hair in a gesture that was so familiar. Something twisted under her breastbone.

  “I’m in London on a case. And spending all my free time trying to work out how to get you to see me. Or at least start taking my calls,” he said with a rueful smile.

  Oh that smile! But he didn’t sound as if he were lying this time. And here came the memory of that last horrible scene in the statue garden, crowding in at last, too late.

  He must have sensed her withdrawal because he put out a hand. “Do I look too disreputable to meet your friends?”

  She should have said yes. She should have wished him a pleasant run and turned and gone back to Flora.

  She said, “No. They’re my two very best friends. I’ve known them forever. I’d like you to meet them.” And turned and led him back to Flora on the grass.

  By the time Ally came back with the coffees, he and Flora were getting on as if they’d known each other years. Mind you, Flora had always been a sweetheart, ready to see the best in everybody. And she didn’t know about the mystery prince in Hope’s life, unless Ally had told her.

  Jonas leaped up from the grass as soon as Ally came to a halt beside them and held out his hand to take the coffees from her. “Hi,” he
said. “Jonas Reval. I don’t suppose Hope has mentioned me?”

  “No.” Ally’s eyes were shrewd. She raised an eyebrow at Hope who found she was blushing furiously. “An acquaintance from your travels?”

  “Something like that,” Jonas said easily. “And you must be Ally Parker.”

  Hope’s head reared up. It sounded as if he already knew the name. Suddenly her old suspicious self was awake and muttering warnings in her ear.

  “You know about Ally?” she asked, her eyes narrowed and hostile.

  Jonas looked surprised. “Of course. You talked about her. Primary school together, right? And then your champion at the comprehensive. And when I was in Combe St Philip I saw an article by her in the church. In fact I’ve been trying to find a mutual friend to introduce me. It occurred to me you might be staying with her.”

  Ally’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “What were you doing in Combe St Philip?”

  “Fact-finding,” said Jonas, promptly. “Tourism, that sort of thing.”

  His eyes invited Hope to share his amusement. But she was concentrating on something entirely different.

  “Me? Staying with her? You’ve been looking for me?”

  “Of course. You blocked my calls. What else could I do? I didn’t think you’d like it if I hired a private eye.”

  “Good call,” said Ally. She extracted the coffee cups from the cardboard holder that Jonas was still carrying and handed them round.

  Hope received hers without thanks and watched her friends. Jonas was putting himself out to be charming and Flora was responding with all her usual warmth. Something in Hope’s heart twisted and she looked away.

  She wanted to shout, “NO!”

  It hurt, like a burn. Flora was so trusting, so open-hearted. Hope wanted to get between them, to shake Jonas until his teeth rattled and he saw that he couldn’t go round pretending to be something he wasn’t to people like Flora who were exactly as they said they were. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t kind. It undermined every word he said, every gesture of apparent liking. It was a betrayal.

  She swallowed a huge lump in her throat and shut her eyes. When she opened them, she found Ally looking at her. Ally had clearly put two and two together. She pursed her lips and subjected Jonas to silent scrutiny.

  Flora was explaining Hope’s difficulties with the Gothic wedding venue and what she and Ally had already suggested.

  Jonas looked interested, just as he always did. Sexy and interested. How had she forgotten that intense concentration of his? Was it a deliberate trick? Or genuine? It was certainly flattering. Though level-headed Flora showed no signs of succumbing to, or even noticing, the flattery. And Ally was still considering him dispassionately, as if he were on trial.

  So is it only me who melts into a puddle of warm lust when he looks like that? Hope winced.

  “Sounds like you need one of those historical walking tours,” he said. “Someone who will walk you round with an old map and show you the buildings that still survive. I used to take one of those at least once a month when I first came to London. I’ll have a dig around and see whether I’ve still got any of the maps they gave me.”

  “Oh that’s a great idea,” said Flora, as sunny as always.

  Ally was more measured. “I’ve heard of those. Certainly worth giving it a go. What do you think, Hope?”

  Hope came to herself with a start. Everyone was looking at her. “I’ll think about it,” she said at random.

  “Great. I’ll sort something out,” said Jonas, easily. “Sunday suit you?”

  Hope was glad she could say truthfully, “All my weekends are busy. Sorry.” Though even to her own ears she didn’t sound sorry.

  Sweet Flora looked shocked. “She really is,” she hastened to assure Jonas. “This is the height of the wedding season and they nearly always happen at the weekend.”

  He turned that intense, interested look on Hope again. “Is that what you’re doing? Organizing weddings?”

  “Working for someone who does.” She smiled with an effort.

  “Fine. A weekday then. I’ll free up some time in my diary. Can I give you a call this morning? You can tell me when suits you.”

  There was no way out. “Thank you,” she said, as graciously as she could manage.

  Hope had never felt so conflicted in her life. It had been such a delight to catch sight of him. Her whole being had been swamped with relief and pleasure. She’d thought: we’ve got a second chance! Oh thank God, we can try again!

  And then the moment she was close to him, watching him and remembering, she felt all knotted up with mistrust and sadness and, yes, longing, until she couldn’t see straight.

  Jonas murmured, “Of course, you’ll have to unblock my calls, if you want me to help.”

  His laughing eyes challenged her to tell him to mind his own business and leave her alone. Hope had no idea why she didn’t do just that. Except that it was all too painful and she might give herself away.

  He thought it was funny. She could tell from his voice. God help her, he thought she would think it was funny too. She needed to get away before the threatening tears overwhelmed her.

  She folded her lips together and stood up. “Excuse me. I need to walk.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply. She couldn’t afford to. She headed off towards Piccadilly and the underground, where she could lose herself in the crowd of office workers and early-rising tourists. She didn’t look back.

  Behind her, she heard Ally say firmly, “Cramp. She’s a martyr to it.”

  Flora chimed in, “Best leave her to her walk it out, Jonas. She prefers to sort herself out on her own. Always has.”

  Thank God for friends.

  Even so, she left the park running.

  YES! She’d agreed to unblock his number. Result!

  So why didn’t he feel better about it?

  Her friends were watching him closely. He said, “I didn’t know that.”

  Flora said comfortably, “Have you known her long?”

  “Not months and years. But we spent the best part of every day together in the forest for a couple of weeks.”

  He didn’t say that it had brought them close. The women must have gathered as much from the hungry way he’d been staring at her. Yet after that crazy, wonderful chance meeting, Hope had hardly looked at him. Barely said a word to him. She hadn’t laughed once, and he loved her laugh. And she looked as tense as a spring about to snap.

  “The forest sounds nice,” said Flora. “I always think of Hope as a country girl.”

  Ally said, “Hope can do anything she puts her mind to.”

  Jonas’s head came up and his eyes narrowed. It sounded like a warning. Why should Ms Parker be warning him? Had Hope confided in her? What had she said? Did he really want to know?

  Flora looked at her watch. “Oh heavens. I need to scoot or I’ll miss my train. Where are my shoes?”

  They found her shoes and Ally said, “You go. I’ll clear up and dump the litter. Lovely to see you. Come back soon.”

  They kissed and Flora sent Jonas a smile of unshadowed friendliness before she scampered off. So it was only Ally who was sending out warnings, he thought. Interesting.

  “Let me help.” He gathered up the remnants of the picnic packaging, sorted it into cardboard and plastic piles, and flattened both and put them into a paper bag. “I’ll take it back to the office. We recycle.”

  Ally nodded. She had packed all the food and drink remains into a cool bag. He picked it up and prepared to escort her out of the park.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “My pleasure.”

  They walked up the hill towards Piccadilly. Ally was frowning but polite enough, enquiring where he worked, how long he was going to be in London.

  “Ten minutes the other side of Piccadilly. On the lap of the gods. I’m here on a sort of secondment, I suppose you’d say.”

  She looked at him quickly. “So not because of Hope?”

  “As far as
work is concerned, I stay as long as the job lasts,” he said carefully.

  She digested that. Then she said, “Be straight with me, if you please. How important is Hope in your future plans?”

  He was so astonished that for a moment he couldn’t answer.

  She gave a faint smile. “She told me a bit about what’s brought her home. I’m assuming it was you.” And added deliberately, “Your Serene Highness.”

  Jonas almost put up a hand to protect himself from a body blow. “Yes, that’s me.” It felt like pleading guilty in a court of law.

  But Ally didn’t reproach or lecture. She just nodded and stomped on in silence for a little.

  When they came in sight of the gate she stopped and said with resolution, “Has Hope said anything to you about her family?”

  “Her father? Yes.”

  “Well, that’s good.” She thought for a bit. “Look, it’s none of my business. But I’ve known her since before her father became a crook.”

  He waited. She was clearly torn.

  In the end she said, “Hope doesn’t trust anyone. Not after her father. It isn’t that she’s paranoid or anything. She just – keeps her options open. Especially with strangers.”

  Jonas stared. “But – she trusted me,” he said blankly.

  Ally just looked at him. “Quite.”

  And then he saw exactly what he’d done. Why they had sometimes felt so close and yet Hope could throw him back into the middle distance for no reason that he could understand. Why, that night on the bridge, when she put her head on his shoulder and they went back to what felt like home, had been a turning point for her. And he’d spoilt it.

  She’d told him about her father’s humiliation and her own; her adolescent sense of shame and disappointment in the father she loved; her travels to discover what she was capable of. That had taken courage to do and possibly even more courage for her to share. With him.

  And what had he shared with her? Nothing. Well, his love of nature, the forest, the birds. A little about his student life. But his family, his professional life, the stresses of family and national politics? Not a word.