To Protect a Princess (Regency Royals #1) - Jess Michaels

Chapter 1

Spring 1817

The Season of 1817 would become known for a great many things in the end, but at the beginning, all of Society was buzzing about one thing: the visit from the king and his family.

But they weren’t referring to their own king, gouty and mad in his tower. Or their future king, who flitted from brothel to brothel with his demands for champagne with breakfast while his people suffered. No, the talk was about an entirely different monarch: the King of Athawick.

Such a tiny island for such a big stir, and yet Princess Ilaria, youngest sibling and only sister of the king, knew there would be stir. There was always stir when it came to her family. Their island’s situation along the trade routes of the North Sea had made them important for centuries…and precarious if she could believe her eldest brother when he spoke, eyes hollow and distant, that newly placed crown so heavy on his head.

She leaned against the railing of the ship and closed her eyes as the salt air caressed her face. Every moment took them closer to England. Closer to a few months of madness. Her brother, of course, would not remain for that entire time, but their mother was insistent that Ilaria and her second oldest brother, Remington, take a Season in London. And their mother was not one to be denied.

“Your Highness?”

Ilaria opened her eyes and squinted against the bright reflection of sunlight on the water before she turned. Her brother’s steward, Stephen Blairford, was standing there, his lips pressed in a tight, irritated line, just as they always were. She had never liked the man, not before when he served their father, not now when he served Grantham.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The king and the queen desire your presence,” he said. “Immediately.”

The way he added the last made it sound like an order. And she supposed it was, though it chafed. Here she was presumed to take precedence, but courtiers carried power. And this one knew it.

“Very well.” He motioned as if he would lead her, and she jerked away from him. “I know where the family quarters are, Blairford. Thank you.”

She walked away and, to his credit, Blairford didn’t follow. At least he knew his place that far. She made her way through the doors that led off the ship deck and through a narrow hallway to a large, ornately carved door. It was open at present, and she could hear the voices of both her brothers and her mother drifting into the hallway.

“…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 opulently decorated drawing room that was part of the royal family’s quarters on the ship taken from Athawick’s small but powerful armada. Occasionally this vessel served the family so it was finer than the rest.

“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 run 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,