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Just what she needed. But no way could she disappoint Roberto’s expectant smile. ‘That sounds wonderful, signor—you have my utmost thanks.’
Within minutes Roberto had driven them to a boathouse, where they boarded a polished wood-panelled boat. Averting her eyes from the water, Kaitlin climbed in, aware of Daniel’s watchful gaze.
‘Have a wonderful journey. I will meet you at the hotel.’
Once Roberto had gone, Daniel questioned her. ‘Is this a problem? There are other ways of getting to the hotel.’
‘I know that.’ Ferry, bus, train... She’d researched them all. ‘But it would have been rude and provoked questions to refuse this. Anyway, I’ll be fine—it’s not as if I can fall in.’
Kaitlin perched on the cream leather seat and watched as Daniel settled opposite her. Those blue eyes held a hint of scepticism and she forced herself to lean back, though nothing could have compelled her to actually look out of the window as the boat set off.
To her relief Daniel maintained a flow of conversation, including a potted history of Venice, so all she had to do was listen.
As she focused on his voice and concentrated on memorising the facts she felt better. Perhaps more than anything his sheer presence helped—the solid, reassuring strength of him. Which didn’t make sense. The Prince had never made her feel like this. Even Gabe, her big brother, didn’t have this effect on her.
Ugh. Gritting her teeth, Kaitlin shifted ever so slightly away from him. Her treacherous body could not be so foolish as to trust in Daniel Harrington—a man she would never see again after this trip to Venice. Though perhaps in that case she might as well make use of him whilst she could—after all, the most important imperative was to get through this ride.
Eventually they neared their destination and she began to prepare for the press conference. The water taxi glided between the bright mooring poles that demarcated the hotel’s boat deck and she braced herself for the bevy of reporters standing on the wooden slats.
As she alighted her relief at feeling dry land underfoot was matched by trepidation as her finely honed publicity antennae tuned into an undercurrent. These reporters had an anticipatory air about them—which could only mean one thing.
‘They’ve got something,’ she murmured to Daniel as foreboding tickled her nerves.
Surely no one could have glimpsed that kiss?
‘So, Kaitlin, can you shed any light on why Prince Frederick has made an unannounced trip to India?’
Careful.
Her brain clicked and whirred, joined the dots and anticipated the next volley even as her lips turned up in the trademark Kaitlin smile.
‘No, that’s news to me as well.’
‘Do you think there could be a link to Sunita?’
The model and Bollywood actress known only as Sunita had been linked to Frederick, but as far as Kaitlin knew she had been one of Frederick’s many short-term liaisons with beautiful women, with nothing in particular to distinguish her from any other.
‘I really couldn’t comment on that.’
‘So there is no connection to your break-up?’
‘No.’
‘Perhaps the best person to ask that question of would be Sunita. Or even the Prince himself.’
Daniel’s interruption turned the attention to him and April Fotherington stepped forward, her eyes darting from Daniel to Kaitlin with curiosity.
‘Perhaps you’re right. So let’s discuss the past few days. How was your stay in that lovely cottage on the Caledonian Canal? I heard it was quite cosy.’
It was a shot in the dark—Kaitlin knew that—yet she also knew she had given the smallest of tell-tale flinches. Dammit—Daniel had been right. They needed to eradicate whatever signals of awkwardness they exuded.
‘I’d hardly describe a three-bedroom property, however picturesque, as “cosy”.’ Daniel’s voice held exactly the right mix of amusement and derision. ‘I know you all want to sell copy, and I get it that that means you want to believe there is an angle here, but there isn’t. Kaitlin and I want this week to be about the Caversham Foundation—so if you want a different type of story then I repeat: go and find Prince Frederick and Sunita and try your luck there.’
Outrage swirled inside Kaitlin at the realisation that he’d thrown Frederick to the wolves even as she acknowledged that it appeared to have worked. The reporters had turned their questions to the upcoming ball. So, smile in place, she answered questions about the guest list, her outfit and her shoes, all the time aware that April in particular was watching her with speculation.
Once the press had dispersed they made their way into the sanctuary of the hotel—where Kaitlin stopped short at the sight of the lobby’s sheer elegant magnificence. The pink and white chequered floor, the marble busts that lined the walls and the enormous lantern that dominated the ceiling all combined to create an opulence that inspired awe.
Two hotel staff glided towards them, one bearing a tray with two flutes of sparkling amber liquid. ‘To refresh you after the journey,’ one murmured.
