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* * *
Daniel stared down at the two items on his desk—each one a sucker-punch to the gut.
Item one—a newspaper article that featured a picture of Lady Kaitlin Derwent and Prince Frederick in close conversation under the caption: ‘On Again?’
The Duke and Duchess of Derwent entertained in lavish style and their guests included the Lycander brothers—including, of course, Lycander’s ruler, Prince Frederick, who was seen in deep conversation with Lady Kaitlin, prompting speculation that the couple might seek to rekindle their romance.
Since the split Prince Frederick has kept a low profile, and not so much as one woman has been seen on the former playboy’s arm.
Daniel stared down at the photo, scrutinised Kaitlin’s expression for the umpteenth time and still derived nothing from it.
So on to item two—a note on delicate blue paper that he could swear bore a touch of her rose scent. Fanciful idiocy of a type that occurred with depressing regularity—wherever he went there seemed to be echoes of his time with Kaitlin.
He read the note. Again.
Dear Daniel
Forgive the short notice, but I wonder if you could meet me in Barcelona this Saturday?
Given the lack of notice, if you can’t make it I will, of course, understand. I will be at the hotel where we met at six p.m.
Best wishes
Kaitlin
Best wishes—what the hell did that mean? Why did she want to meet? To tell him of her new alliance with the Prince? Why Barcelona?
The only way to find out was to go.
* * *
Lady Kaitlin Derwent, poster girl for the aristocracy, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Fairfax, stared at her reflection and wondered if...no, knew that she had run mad. There could be no other explanation for the fact that she was standing here, in this glitzy Barcelona hotel room, about to act in a way so wildly out of character that she could barely believe her presence here.
Yet it felt so right—more than that, it felt in character, like the real Kaitlin. But that didn’t prevent the rush of nerves, the pounding of her heart as she looked at the wall-mounted clock and saw that it was six o’clock. One last glance at the simple jeans and T-shirt ensemble she’d picked, after choosing and discarding countless other outfits, and then she turned, exited the room and headed down the stairs.
Entered the lobby and stopped.
There he was, and it took all her will-power not to run across the marble floor and launch herself into his arms. That wasn’t how this was going to play out—Daniel wasn’t that sort of a man.
‘Daniel.’
‘Kaitlin.’
For a timeless moment they stood and stared at each other, and a sense of imminent sadness touched her. Daniel looked wary, aloof, and not at all like a man who was happy to see her.
For a second she was tempted to abandon the plan, recalling all the reasons why it truly sucked, but then she gritted her teeth. If she didn’t do this she would regret it for the rest of her life. Or so Cora had assured her, anyway.
‘Shall we?’ he asked as he gestured to the bar.
‘Yes. Actually, no. Let’s walk. So, how have you been?’
The banality of her question was almost unbearable, but she wanted some time to absorb his presence, to look at him, to revel in his nearness even if her feelings clearly weren’t reciprocated.
‘Fine. You? You look well.’
‘I am well. That was part of what I wanted to tell you. I took your advice. I went and found myself a therapist—one recommended by the Cavershams, in fact. She has been fantastic—and apparently I’m not a lost cause.’
It had been balm for her soul to realise exactly how far she had come by herself, and to see how much further she could now go.
