Read Online Some Enchanted Evening by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online
Authors: Christina Dodd
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well, I accept that your intentions are honorable — but I won't be a guest at your ball."
Without taking his gaze from the princess, he said, "Millicent, I wish you would ride ahead and prepare a bedchamber for the princess. The queen's bedchamber would be best. It's close to yours and Prue's, and that most honored showcase will demonstrate to our guests the esteem with which we hold our royal visitor."
He was getting rid of her. Millicent understood that, but she didn't trust him not to frighten Princess Clarice away, and Millicent wanted the princess to visit. She wanted a chance to see if they could be friends. Most of all, she wanted to know if princess Clarice would continue to burrow under Robert's skin and bring him back to life.
So she sat there a moment too long, and Robert flicked a glance at her. "Millicent. Please."
That still-faced, cold-eyed soldier was back, replacing the man who showed signs of humanity, and she flinched. It hurt to see him so closed off. It hurt to know there was nothing she could do to reach him. It hurt that he reprimanded her in front of a princess, as if she were nothing to him.
Not his beloved sister, but merely a convenient housekeeper for his home. As she had been to her father. As she would be for the rest of her life. Her father had told her no one would ever care about her feelings. Her father was correct.
Hastily, before she dissolved in tears, she said, "Of course, brother. At once." Turning, she hastened toward home. Toward sanctuary.
Chapter Seven
A princess always takes care that her words are honeyed, for she may have to eat them .
— The Dowager Queen of Beaumontagne
Clarice watched Lady Millicent ride away and wished the woman showed a little more gumption — to stand up to her brother, and to stay as protection for Clarice.
Not that Clarice needed protection. She'd found herself in worse circumstances than these — really, what could Lord Hepburn do here on the road? — and gotten herself out. But it would have been easier to have Millicent as a buffer. "You hurt her feelings."
"What?" Hepburn glanced after his sister. "Don't be ridiculous. Millicent is far too sensible to —"
"Have feelings?" she flashed. "Or too ill-valued to dare show them?"
Typical male. He stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language and said, "I'm sure Millicent knows her value at MacKenzie Manor."
"I'm sure she does too."
Now he stared at her as if he heard the irony, and puzzled over it. No doubt he would dismiss her comment as normal female blather while his sister withered away into the nothingness of cowed spinster-hood.
Clarice would have to do something about that. Millicent needed help, and Clarice needed to stay away from Lord Hepburn.
Because when all was said and done, he made her uncomfortable in a way no man had ever done before, and she suspected he had his ways of enforcing his will that would make her even more uncomfortable.
Yet when she braced herself and faced him, he said only, "Come." Turning, he rode up the shady, hilly tree-lined drive toward the house.
Clarice stared at his disappearing back, then looked around at the empty road. She could ride away right now. Hepburn was a sophisticated man. He wouldn't give chase . . and even if she had overestimated his decorum, she and Blaize could outride him and that long-legged gelding he called Helios.
Probably.
But . . . she had Amy in Freya Crags, a vast need for cash, and the prospect of a robust salary if she would visit MacKenzie Manor. Hepburn was not a villain; nothing Amy had said gave her any such indication. Even if he gave Clarice a few rough moments, if he followed through on the promise in his blue eyes . . . well, she could handle him. She specialized in taking care of herself.
She turned Blaize's nose toward the drive and stopped.
Yet, obeying him now, following him now, made her feel much like a butterfly willfully fluttering into a very sticky web.
If she proceeded with
Without taking his gaze from the princess, he said, "Millicent, I wish you would ride ahead and prepare a bedchamber for the princess. The queen's bedchamber would be best. It's close to yours and Prue's, and that most honored showcase will demonstrate to our guests the esteem with which we hold our royal visitor."
He was getting rid of her. Millicent understood that, but she didn't trust him not to frighten Princess Clarice away, and Millicent wanted the princess to visit. She wanted a chance to see if they could be friends. Most of all, she wanted to know if princess Clarice would continue to burrow under Robert's skin and bring him back to life.
So she sat there a moment too long, and Robert flicked a glance at her. "Millicent. Please."
That still-faced, cold-eyed soldier was back, replacing the man who showed signs of humanity, and she flinched. It hurt to see him so closed off. It hurt to know there was nothing she could do to reach him. It hurt that he reprimanded her in front of a princess, as if she were nothing to him.
Not his beloved sister, but merely a convenient housekeeper for his home. As she had been to her father. As she would be for the rest of her life. Her father had told her no one would ever care about her feelings. Her father was correct.
Hastily, before she dissolved in tears, she said, "Of course, brother. At once." Turning, she hastened toward home. Toward sanctuary.
Chapter Seven
A princess always takes care that her words are honeyed, for she may have to eat them .
— The Dowager Queen of Beaumontagne
Clarice watched Lady Millicent ride away and wished the woman showed a little more gumption — to stand up to her brother, and to stay as protection for Clarice.
Not that Clarice needed protection. She'd found herself in worse circumstances than these — really, what could Lord Hepburn do here on the road? — and gotten herself out. But it would have been easier to have Millicent as a buffer. "You hurt her feelings."
"What?" Hepburn glanced after his sister. "Don't be ridiculous. Millicent is far too sensible to —"
"Have feelings?" she flashed. "Or too ill-valued to dare show them?"
Typical male. He stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language and said, "I'm sure Millicent knows her value at MacKenzie Manor."
"I'm sure she does too."
Now he stared at her as if he heard the irony, and puzzled over it. No doubt he would dismiss her comment as normal female blather while his sister withered away into the nothingness of cowed spinster-hood.
Clarice would have to do something about that. Millicent needed help, and Clarice needed to stay away from Lord Hepburn.
Because when all was said and done, he made her uncomfortable in a way no man had ever done before, and she suspected he had his ways of enforcing his will that would make her even more uncomfortable.
Yet when she braced herself and faced him, he said only, "Come." Turning, he rode up the shady, hilly tree-lined drive toward the house.
Clarice stared at his disappearing back, then looked around at the empty road. She could ride away right now. Hepburn was a sophisticated man. He wouldn't give chase . . and even if she had overestimated his decorum, she and Blaize could outride him and that long-legged gelding he called Helios.
Probably.
But . . . she had Amy in Freya Crags, a vast need for cash, and the prospect of a robust salary if she would visit MacKenzie Manor. Hepburn was not a villain; nothing Amy had said gave her any such indication. Even if he gave Clarice a few rough moments, if he followed through on the promise in his blue eyes . . . well, she could handle him. She specialized in taking care of herself.
She turned Blaize's nose toward the drive and stopped.
Yet, obeying him now, following him now, made her feel much like a butterfly willfully fluttering into a very sticky web.
If she proceeded with
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