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ChapterNine
One look at the startled and somewhat terrified expression on Miss Narayan’s face and Francis found himself doubting whether it had been wise to follow her to Brighton. He wondered if it had been wise to have one of his footmen, Arnold, watch her during the week so that he could keep track of her movements and any potential guests who called on her at the townhome she shared with her brother. Miss Narayan’s alarm at the sight of him made Francis wince and consider how his sudden appearance at her hotel in Brighton might be, well, a big disconcerting.
But, dammit, he was worried about her. Things had not been right with Miss Narayan at the museum on Monday evening. It rankled Francis that she would not confide in him as to what had her so distressed. Right or wrong, the anxiety she had engendered in him was enough for him to take somewhat drastic measures to ensure that she was safe. He worried that, perhaps, her brother, the arrogant young maharajakumar, was the source of Miss Narayan’s discomfiture, but as Francis stepped away from his conversation with Mr. Sloane and crossed the hotel lobby toward her, he considered if he himself might be the problem.
As soon as he reached Miss Narayan, he rejected that idea. He only wanted to help her and keep her safe.
“Miss Narayan, you look well this afternoon,” he said with a respectful bow. When he rose, he met her eyes with a warm smile.
Despite her surprise, there was affection in her return gaze. It was tinged with shades of irritation, once she got over the initial shock, but that bit of fire actually put Francis at ease. That was more like her.
A moment too late, he bowed to Miss Sloane. “Miss Sloane, it is lovely to see you again,” he said politely.
That was when he realized not only that the gentleman who had held the door for the two ladies was accompanying them, but that he was none other than Prince Petrus of Aegiria. Francis had heard of the man and seen him in London on several occasions, but he had yet to be introduced.
Miss Sloane took care of that almost immediately, which did not surprise Francis at all.
“Lord Cathraiche, how delightful to see you,” she greeted him effusively. “Have you met Prince Petrus of Aegiria?”
Francis turned to the man and nodded, offering his hand.
Prince Petrus took it, a surprising amount of excitement in his eyes as he said, “Lord Cathraiche, it is an honor to meet you at last.”
Suspicion of several varieties coursed through Francis. His immediate instinct was to wonder why the man seemed so enthusiastic about meeting him. But more than that, he was instantly wary of potential designs the man had on Miss Narayan. He was a prince, she was a princess. Perhaps this was the root of the problem and Miss Narayan’s meaning when she said it would be impossible for the two of them to be together. Had Miss Narayan come to Brighton to meet with a suitor her father had chosen for her?
Francis dismissed the idea a moment later when he caught the way Miss Sloane beamed at the prince. In his experience, ladies generally did not make doe eyes at their bosom friends’ beaux.
“Are you here on holiday for the weekend as well, Lord Cathraiche?” Prince Petrus asked, seemingly eager to engage Francis in conversation.
“I—” There was no way Francis could confess to the truth without alarming Miss Narayan more than he already had. “Yes,” he lied instead. “It seemed like the ideal weekend for it.”
Miss Narayan clearly didn’t believe a word of it. She narrowed her eyes slightly at Francis.
“I’ve just arrived myself,” Prince Petrus went on. “The business that brought me to London has reached a bit of a standstill, so I was advised to enjoy a weekend at the seaside. So far, Brighton reminds me a great deal of the capitol city of Aegiria.”
“I’ve never been to Aegiria,” Miss Sloane said, inching closer to Prince Petrus. “What is its geography like?”
Prince Petrus opened his mouth, seemingly eager to tell her. The way his eyes lit with interest as he regarded Miss Narayan’s friend eased Francis’s mind even more.
But before that flirtation could continue, their conversation was interrupted by a passel of mad children dashing toward them. The youngest girl hid in Miss Narayan’s skirts while the two slightly older boys ran in circles around them.
“Children, children, behave yourselves,” Mrs. Sloane said, looking exhausted as she and two adolescent girls approached. “Heavens! We are in a fine hotel. You cannot behave as ruffians.”
“I want to go outside, Mama,” one of the boys whined.
“Yes, I want to play in the sea,” the other said.
Francis was struck by a moment of inspiration. “Perhaps we could take them,” he said, glancing to Miss Narayan, then on to Miss Sloane and Prince Petrus.
Francis half expected Mrs. Sloane—not to mention Priya and Miss Sloane—to refuse the offer. The ladies and Prince Petrus had just come in from a walk, if the pink in their cheeks and their slightly windblown appearance was any indication, and nearly all of the well-born ladies he knew would have refused to let their children wander the streets with a man they’d just met.
But instead, Mrs. Sloane pressed a hand to her heart and said, “Would you? That would be ever so kind. Charlotte, dear, and Miss Narayan, I will have you checked into your rooms right away. When you return, you can come fetch your key from me. Take Beatrice and Nancy as well,” she said, gesturing for the adolescent girls to join them. “That way, Mr. Sloane and I will have an opportunity to inquire about supper in the restaurant, and perhaps have an afternoon tipple,” she added in a whisper. “Now, run along. Make hay while the sun shines.”
Francis had a difficult time not laughing in delight at the woman. He liked her outlandish mien. Though he’d no idea how Miss Narayan’s brother had allowed his sister to go for a holiday with such a woman. It was perhaps telling that Mrs. Sloane didn’t inquire as to who Prince Petrus was, yet she was willing to foist her children off on him. Either she knew the man already, she trusted her daughter’s judgement, or she was simply a careless and silly woman. If that was the case, Francis felt even more compelled to have a care for Miss Narayan.
“Mama, you cannot simply palm the younger ones off on us,” Miss Sloane protested as her mother retreated.
“We’ve just been for a walk,” Miss Narayan sighed, eyeing Francis warily. “We’ve no need for another.”
“Nonsense,” Francis said, putting on a cheery smile and glancing around at the children—who were clearly eager to be outside. “There is no such thing as too much sunshine when one is in Brighton. Do you not agree, Prince Petrus?”
The prince was busy smiling thoughtfully at Miss Sloane, but he dragged his attention back to Francis in time to say, “I quite agree, my lord.”
Francis offered his arm to Miss Narayan. “Shall we be off, then?”
The younger children answered with shrill screams. “Yes! Yes! I want to see the ocean!”
“It’s not the ocean,” one of the adolescent girls said with a sigh. “It’s the English Channel.”
The younger ones didn’t wait for an explanation, or for the adults to lead the way. They dashed out through the hotel’s door and into the street so willy-nilly that Francis’s heart jumped, and he sped along after them, if only to make certain none of them shot into the street and were flattened by a carriage. Once Francis was able to reach them, Prince Petrus following quickly, and grasp the hands of the two boys so that they could cross the street safely, the children turned into a whirlwind of overenthusiasm as they screamed and dodged around pedestrians of all sorts to run for the entrance to the beach.
It wasn’t until their entire party had made their way down to the beach itself that Francis was able to return his attention to Miss Narayan again.
“Children are a blessing, are they not, Miss Narayan?” he asked with a wry look, his mouth twitching in one corner.
Miss Narayan still hadn’t recovered entirely from her earlier shock at seeing him. She glanced to her friend and Prince Petrus—who had rushed ahead with Beatrice and Nancy in an attempt to stop the younger children from running straight into the water—then back to Francis.
“Why are you here, Lord Cathraiche?” she asked, falling into a more sedate walk as they kept pace with the children.
Francis winced. He’d thought he would have more time to charm her before she called him out for his actions. There was no way forward but honestly.
“I was worried about you,” he confessed, matching his stride to hers. He offered his arm, but she merely raised one eyebrow and clasped her hands together in front of her. “You must admit, the way we parted on Monday night was concerning. It was clear to me you were upset and that something serious is weighing on you. As your friend, I care whether you are in danger or not. I am here to look out for you.”
Miss Narayan lowered her head, her budding irritation replaced by a guilty sort of sadness. “I appreciate your concern, my lord, but it is not yours to give and not mine to receive.”
“I thought I told you to call me Francis,” Francis said, adding a teasing smile on the off chance he could win her over.
Miss Narayan frowned at him, proving that tactic wouldn’t work. “You claim to support the right of women to determine their own lives, Lord Cathraiche,” she emphasized his title, “and yet, you seem unwilling to let me make my own decisions. You have followed me to the seaside claiming concern for me, but there is no need. I’ve simply been invited to enjoy a holiday with my dearest friend and her family.”
Francis lowered his head to stare at the sand in front of them as they walked for a moment. “You have me there, Miss Narayan. I apologize.”
“Do you know what you are apologizing for?” she asked.
