Seven
THE SUN WAS DIPPING below the horizon when Pearl finished unpacking her luggage. Miss Cherrywood and Amelia had refurbished her wardrobe completely, and Christopher didn’t hire enough staff to ask a maid to unpack for her. She had everything from hats to evening gowns and unmentionables. She couldn’t complain.
The only thing was that the bloody prince hadn’t shown himself for the entire day. He’d taken his meals in his room and disappeared after his personal valet had presented the prince’s excuses for not greeting them personally again. Apparently, he still suffered from the boat-lag due to his long journey from India.
Pearl sank into the soft bed. At least since Christopher accepted to give the ball, she’d have the chance to meet the prince. Although she didn’t have any idea how to approach the subject of her father. He could refuse to tell her anything or guess she was Pearl. Christopher would hate her. She shouldn’t care though. After this holiday finished, she wouldn’t see him again. Besides, she was supposed to reject him as a future suitor. There wasn’t any possibility they could see each other again.
An ache burned in the middle of her chest. Somehow, after the conversation they had earlier, lying to him sounded wrong. He’d made a point of liking her honesty, which was ironic, but if she told him the truth, she’d expose even Amelia, Julia, and Miss Cherrywood. Too many secrets to share.
She stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Grey clouds gathered in the sky. The dying sun ignited their bellies with a fierce red. London didn’t have these glorious sunsets. They remained hidden behind a curtain of smoke and fog. It was easy to understand why Christopher preferred the country. Even the grass shone brighter than in London.
From behind the overgrown hedgerows, Christopher appeared, heading to the house. A tall, dark-skinned man walked next to him. The blue and gold jodhpuri suit in damask fabric gave him away.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Finally, she caught a glimpse of Prince Cowasj.
Cristopher and the prince disappeared from view.
Grabbing a fistful of her skirts, she dashed to the door and put an ear on it, waiting. Footsteps and male voices echoed from the stairwell.
Christopher’s deep voice rumbled. “We can retire in my drawing room.”
“So we can discuss the details.” The fascinating Indian accent rolled off the prince’s words.
When the footfalls faded, she opened the door. Christopher and Cowasj were nowhere to be seen, but their voices drifted from the other side of the corridor.
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. Mrs Armstrong would have a fit, but she wasn’t there, was she?
After kicking her shoes off, Pearl slipped out of the room and tiptoed along the corridor. From the windows, the long shadows of the trees cast by the sunset crawled over the walls like gnarled fingers.
Yellow light limned the shut door at the end of the corridor from where Christopher’s deep tone came. Gingerly, she pressed an ear on the polished wood.
“The loss has been substantial,” Christopher said. “Some of my business partners and friends have lost thousands of pounds.”
The noise of clinking glasses filled the silence.
“I tried to avoid the catastrophe. I asked questions, demanded proof of the investments. All for nothing.” That was the prince. “Blackmoore-Smith didn’t listen.”
Pearl’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her father. She clamped a hand on her mouth to stifle a gasp.
“But his money is gone too, right?” Christopher asked.
“Well, he emptied his bank account and declared bankruptcy.”
What was he saying? Pearl fought the urge to barge into the room. Father hadn’t faked the bankruptcy. Why would he?
“Christ.” Christopher sounded strained. “The bastard.”
A few muttered words were exchanged, but she couldn’t grasp them.
“Blackmoore-Smith has only one daughter, Pearl,” the prince said.
Her pulse spiked and thumped in her ears.
“And?” Christopher asked.
“By the time I arrived here, she disappeared. She’s our only hope to recover the money.”
A tremor started in her legs. Father hadn’t told her anything about his financial troubles, and she had no idea the prince was searching for her, and she knew nothing of her father’s money. All she had was the last letter he’d sent her. She kept it in her reticule because she couldn’t bear to leave it behind.
