to know she was wanted for herself, loved in some small way. But her mother merely examined every inch of her face, as if to check her daughter was well—well enough to parade in front of thousands.
‘I am very happy to see to you, Claudine. Look, Henri, our daughter is finally home.’
Resisting the urge to argue that London was her home, she waited for his words...then flinched when his imperious voice caromed around the room.
‘It is about time. Good job, Lucas.’
Claudia perfected a smile that cracked her heart and looked across the opulent expanse of the room to where Henri Verbault stood with Lucas in front of a large, ornate cherrywood desk, papers in hand. Age had amplified his autocratic demeanour even as his greying hair softened the contours of his face.
‘Good morning, Father.’
‘Buenos días, Claudine.’ Steel-grey determined eyes held hers, turning liquid with something like relief. Relief that she was well, or relief that she was back to pay her dues? Who knew? He turned his attention back to Lucas, her dismissal loud and true.
‘Sit down. Take tea.’
Her mother’s voice warmed just a touch as she perched on the edge of a Gustavian carver chair, one leg demurely tucked behind the other. And with one last longing look at the door Claudia eased down onto the gold-striped sofa opposite.
Staff came and went, and there was no mistaking the questions in their eyes as they surreptitiously glanced her way. The need to reach up, touch her face just to check, was so all-consuming, she trembled with the power of it. So she folded her hands atop her lap, so tightly her fingers wept. She could feel Lucas’s intense gaze—was he thinking the same as her mother? The same as everyone in this room? That she didn’t belong. That she looked out of place.
Suddenly her mother’s voice smashed through the thin veneer. ‘The ball is Saturday next, Claudine. I shall arrange for a selection of gowns to be delivered.’
Mask rigid, her mind screamed. You can dress me up like a china doll but lavish fripperies can never veil the woman I am inside. A woman as far away from being a princess as her mother was from having a heart.
Did she feel anything? Claudia wondered. Had this picture of perfection felt anything the day she’d said Claudia wasn’t beautiful any more? The day Claudia’s nightmares had been born, and the horror that had finally sentenced her to extradition? Maybe her mother didn’t remember the terrible things she’d said, done. But Claudia would. Until the end of time.
‘Then, once you are settled and back at the palace,’ her mother continued. ‘we can discuss the future.’
Slam went her defences as they locked into place and her head jerked upright. Future? Her future was in London, where she’d built her life. ‘I have three weeks’ leave, Mother. That is all.’
‘Let us not place time restrictions on ourselves. Now you are home it is important we get to know each other once again.’
Once again? She doubted if her mother even remembered her first steps, never mind her favourite book.
‘And we have a couple of weeks to do so,’ Claudia said, her tone sharp, slicing through the room. She’d fought for years and she was never giving up her freedom.
Unfazed, her mother went on. ‘Andalina also returns tomorrow, from New York, and Luciana flies in from Singapore the day after. It will be nice for you girls to come together.’ Her voice was laced with...pleasure? ‘Show our country a united front.’
Claudia crushed her lips. Oh, of course. The reason she’d been torn away from her job saving lives and curing pain was to play happy families. Yes, she wanted to see her sisters again, but how could she possibly compare to their scandalous, famed-for-their-beauty presence?
She couldn’t. It was impossible. She almost told her mother so. But then that red river of screaming returned to sluice beneath her skin. Because she could hear Lucas making his excuses to her father, declaring his intention to leave. And she knew.
Lucas was leaving her here. Either he didn’t want her with him or... Oh, God, had her father insisted she stay here?
‘Your Royal Highness?’
And there it was. Her title. Not Just Claudia.
Discreetly she inhaled a fortifying breath, perfected serenity and looked up to where Lucas stood beside her, an enigmatic hardness to his gorgeous face. Every delicious atom of his being oozed military man dominance—his duty to king and country was in his every powerful step. Her heart throbbed. Her