Protecting The Princess - Nadine Millard Page 0,5

remotely adventurous, she had learned.

So being alone now, she wouldn’t draw much, if any attention. She hoped.

By the time she was missed, she planned to be as far from the palace as possible.

Harriet had no doubt that her actions would be viewed as careless, immature, and downright dangerous.

But she had meant what she’d said to Christopher the other day; she had no intention of putting herself in danger.

Equally though, she had no intention staying with the ghastly Furbergs.

And she certainly had no intention of forcing Alex to take her to Chillington Abbey so she could be underfoot and in the way whilst he tried to enjoy his new family.

Ever since Alex and Lydia had married, and Christopher had taken up more royal duties, Harriet had felt—dispensable.

With no real purpose and no real responsibility, she felt decidedly on the outskirts of her own life.

Knowing that Lydia and Alex would be forced to host her while they were trying to find their footing as new parents and a new family unit was humiliating.

Not only that, but it would serve to remind Harriet just how alone she really was in the world.

And it wasn’t as though she could talk about such feelings. She could only imagine how breathtakingly spoiled she would sound should she confess to someone that her life of wealth and pampered privilege was unsatisfying. Lonely, even.

And so, here she was. Outside the palace, dressed in her least luxurious clothing and a cloak stolen from the servants’ quarters.

She’d return it, of course, Harriet thought uncomfortably. Just as soon as she’d given Christopher enough time to solve the mystery.

She’d even buy a new, fur-trimmed one for whomever she’d stolen from.

And it wasn’t as though she’d left whichever maid was a victim of her thievery empty-handed. She’d left a cloak of her own there.

The trundling sound of a coach interrupted Harriet’s guilty thoughts, and she looked up to see the mail coach making its way slowly to the inn she stood awkwardly in front of.

She had worn her biggest bonnet so that her face would be hidden. She didn’t think anyone would pay much attention to a young serving girl travelling alone but didn’t want to take any chances either.

The coach drew to a halt, and the driver jumped down, shouting about a thirty-minute wait time.

Thirty minutes? Drat. Harriet thought.

She didn’t have thirty minutes.

If Christopher found her note sooner than Harriet hoped, he’d send a hundred soldiers chasing after her.

Probably lock her in the tower, too, for good measure.

And yet, what choice did she have?

She couldn’t very well walk to the Winter Palace. Travelling by coach, especially public coach, would take days.

Walking would be impossible.

Especially given the fact that she’d had to pack every sort of supply she’d been able to steal from the kitchens in the last couple of days, and she now had two stuffed valises and no way of carrying them.

Sneaking out this morning on one of the gigs Alex had left behind had been hard enough.

She only hoped that someone would come and rescue the horses she’d stolen sooner rather than later.

The temptation to take them all the way to the palace in Gant had been nearly overwhelming, but it was far too conspicuous. The guard would catch her before she’d even left the capital. No, she had to travel by public coach.

Harriet wasn’t stupid enough to stay at the Winter Palace, of course.

But there was an old, disused woodcutters’ cottage in the wilderness that bordered the grounds, and there she intended to stay until Christopher stopped trying to get rid of her, and until the danger to her family had passed.

Nobody, not even her ladies-in-waiting, knew of Harriet’s plans to travel there, so it was unlikely that anyone else would be able to find her.

In her youth, Harriet had spent weeks using the cottage as her own, personal hideout. No one ever seemed to know about it, no one ever seemed to go there but her. And she’d kept it a secret, even from Alex.

She didn’t know who had owned it or why it was disused. It had sat there, hidden and vacant for as long as she could remember.

A babbling stream provided fresh, clean water from the mountains, and though she’d never spent time there when the ground wasn’t thick with snow, she was fairly confident that firewood would be available in abundance.

She would be just fine, Harriet told herself. Even though she’d never before been alone nor had to fend for herself, she would be fine.

Harriet