Ruby hurried on. “I know him because my father is Lord Hangleton, ambassador to Monfalcone. And he—I—” She broke off, hesitating on the words, then forced them out. “I can get in touch with my father. I can tell him everything that’s happened here. He will help you.”
“Ruby,” Alice said softly.
Ruby shook her head.
Her father had been furious with her, that day with Liverpool in the dining room. The dinner had dissolved into chaos, and the wall coverings had smelled of smoke for months until she’d ordered replacements from the milliner. After that, she’d vowed to make herself smaller, more polite, to speak nothing but pleasantries, to repeat only whatever she heard Cassandra say first. She’d done it for months until her father seemed to forget his ire.
But it was not in her nature to be silent. Not when something needed to be fixed. The princess needed their help, and Alice and Archer needed her protection, and perhaps—
It seemed to her that, here, in this moment, she could do some good. Sherefusedto let herself be daunted by the cost.
“I can write to my father,” she said. “He will be able to investigate Verdura. He has the connections, the political acumen—he can determine with whom Verdura might have schemed.”
She left the rest unspoken: that to write to her father about the princess would be to reveal to him the fact that she, Ruby, was here at Pomeroy House.
If she told her father the truth, he would make her leave.
She had gone to Cornwall because she wished for a life of independence. She had wanted to make her own choices, free from the constraints of society and the disappointment of her father.
And here she was: choosing.
Despite her effort to keep her gaze on the princess, Ruby found her eyes flickering to Malcolm. Did he understand what she was about?
She thought he did. He was watching her, all tension in his angular jaw, his eyes blue and wrenching. And if some part of her wanted to dissemble—wanted to disclaim any connection to her father, wanted to stay right here and pretend she could live like this, with him, as happy as she’d been the previous night in the tower—she couldn’t do it.
She had the power to protect him, and his crew, and Alice. And she would use it.
She looked back to the princess. “We can hide you here, keep your survival a secret until we hear back from my father.” Her voice dropped, vibrating with all her earnest hope. “I know you do not know me. But we have lived here in your home for weeks, and we have taken care of it as best we can. We have not schemed to put you in danger, Your Highness. We will not let you down.”
And then, to her surprise, Neri nodded. “I have looked into their papers,maestá, and their correspondence. Nothing has come in or out from Verdura. I have seen nothing that would suggest a plot.”
It was Tamsin who spoke up then, her dark-blue eyes fixed on Neri. “That’s why you came to Pomeroy House unannounced, isn’t it? Not to make the house ready for a royal dog—but to ensure it was safe here for the princess.”
Neri gave Tamsin an unreadable glance through his spectacles.
“Do not be absurd,” the princess said sharply. “Zenobia is most discriminating in her tastes. Of course my Neri was here for her.”
Neri turned back to the princess. “They have been good to Zenobia these last days,maestá,” he said. “And not only because she belongs to you. But because they are good to all the dogs.”
Princess Serafina inclined her head in acknowledgment, then looked away from her majordomo and out at the rest of the room. The silence stretched as she eyed them each in turn: as she weighed and measured them. Her gaze lingered on Ruby, on Archer, on Tamsin.
“I do not trust a single person on this island,” she said finally.
Ruby’s heart sank.
But the princess was not finished. “Except you, Neri. If you say that they have not schemed with Verdura, I will take you at your word.” She looked back at Ruby and gave a single nod. “I will permit you to hide me here—only for now. Until we receive word from the ambassador.”
Chapter 19
Archer managed not to flee until all of it was over: Ruby off to her own chamber with her friends, the princess satisfied, Neri armed with assurances and delicacies for hismaestáand her dog.
He made himself wait for calm waters. For reefed sails and no wind. Then he left. He took himself out the back door, stripped off his paint-smeared shirt, and poured cold water over his head, the scent of the ocean drowning out walnut oil and Ruby’s amber warmth, which still lingered somewhere on his skin.
He’d watched her, there in the parlor, with a sense of impending doom. She’d put her chin up and plunged forward like a sailor at battle, all honor and stubborn bravura. She would give herself up—give up her dream, if it meant saving the princess’s life.
And she didn’t see—
Ah God. It was his own fault, every part and parcel of it. He’d lied to her from the first. He’d made it impossible for her to know the import of what she’d done.
