The Dangerous Mr. Ryder

Layer upon layer, Eva realised as the carriage rumbled over the cobbles in Lyon three days further on, she had failed to understand Jack. She should not have made that proposal; instead, she should have told him she loved him and waited for his response. She should not have demanded, she should have found some way of letting him know it was all right to propose—if he did love her. And she should never have started this without thinking through how she could compromise her way of life to fit with his.

She still could not imagine how that could be achieved. There was the Rhône, swirling past the road. The river that had almost taken her life, if it had not been for Jack. ‘Not long now,’ she said cheerfully to Freddie, and fell back into thought about compromise. But how? There was her son, her duty—and a country hundreds of miles from England.

The first sight of the castle struck Freddie dumb. Eyes wide, he stared, then, as the carriage rumbled over the bridge and began to climb the steep streets to the great gate, he darted from side to side, searching for familiar landmarks, places he could recognise.

There was a clatter of hooves and Grimstone spurred ahead, going to warn the castle of their arrival. And then they were there; guards were spilling out through the gate to line up on either side, townspeople coming running to see what was afoot.

The carriage drew up, the footman let down the step and reached to hand Eva down. ‘No.’ It was Freddie. With a dignity she did not realise her small son possessed, he said, ‘Excuse me, Mama,’ and climbed out first. Then he stood by the side of the door and held up his hand for her to take, making a little ceremony out of her appearance.

His expression as he looked at her was pure pride. Pride for himself, pride in her and a glowing pride at being home where he belonged.

Pride. Eva hung back as Philippe appeared in the gateway and walked steadily towards his nephew. Freddie started forward, almost at the run, then collected himself and walked up to his uncle.

‘Your Serene Highness, welcome home.’ The man bowed to the child and suddenly all the dignity was gone. Freddie threw his arms around his uncle’s neck.

‘Uncle Bruin! We’re back!’ He twisted round. ‘Mama, see, Uncle Bruin is well again.’

‘Yes, so he is.’ Eva came forward, both hands held out to Philippe. ‘Thank Heavens for it.’ But in the back of her mind the word lingered. Pride. Pride and honour. So important to men, so easily forgotten by women who loved them.

‘I am so sorry I left you,’ she murmured to her brother-in-law as he took her arm to take her into dinner, hours later.

‘It was the right thing. Your place was with Freddie, and by going you threw all Antoine’s calculations into disarray.’ The Regent patted her hand as he helped her to her seat next to him at the round table the family used when they dined informally alone. With Antoine gone, there was just the three of them now. Philippe’s wife had died many years before, leaving him childless.

‘You look well,’ Philippe observed as the soup was served and the footmen retired to give them privacy. ‘It may have been an odd holiday, but it has done you good to get away.’

‘For the first time in over nine years,’ Eva said. ‘Yes, it was a…change. And the long days in the open air were invigorating.’

‘I never understood why you did not go away before.’ Philippe passed her the bread.

‘Louis preferred that I did not travel,’ she began.

‘Louis has been dead almost two years,’ his brother reminded her gently. ‘You have been very obedient to all his wishes.’

Yes, she had, Eva realised. The rule that Freddie must stay in England, the rule that she did not travel. Yet Philippe was a more-than-competent Regent, it was hardly that she needed to be there all the time—only when Freddie was here in the holidays. And the rest of the time he was in England…

Compromise. Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, she could see a compromise, a plan she could lay before Jack. He might still reject it—and her. But she had to go to him, put things right somehow, even if all that meant was that he felt he could write now and again to Freddie.

‘Freddie. Philippe.’ They broke off in the middle of an intense discussion about Napoleon’s tactics at Waterloo that involved the salt cellars, a mustard pot and a bread roll, and turned to her politely. ‘Would you both mind very much if I go back to England?’

‘When?’ Philippe looked startled, but her son’s face was one big grin.

‘Tomorrow. There is something I need to do.’ She smiled back at Freddie. ‘Someone I need to see.’

Eva was apologetic to her escort. She could take Maubourg men with her on the journey back, she offered. Grimstone and his two companions must be travel weary and saddle sore.

‘No, ma’am.’ The butler-turned-bodyguard was adamant. ‘The guv’nor would expect us to stick with you, however long it takes. Where are we off to now, if I might ask, ma’am?’

‘England,’ Eva said firmly. ‘Straight back to London.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The butler managed an estimable straight face. It sat oddly with his battered pugilistic features. ‘Whatever you say, ma’am. Back to London it is, then.’

She did not leave until well on in the afternoon the next day. Partly it was because she wanted to enjoy the sight of Freddie rediscovering the castle, partly because she wanted to be completely sure that Philippe was well, but also because she was determined to retrace the route she and Jack had taken and to stay in the same inns. So, unless she was going to arrive ludicrously early at the first one, she needed to delay her departure. She was not certain what she would do when they reached the area where they had slept out under the stars, but she wou

ld deal with that when she came to it.

It was about six in the evening when the carriage, driven by a very bemused driver, deposited the Grand Duchess of Maubourg on the threshold of one of her more humble inns.

It was the same innkeeper who greeted them and he blinked a little at the sight of her again so soon, and with only servants at her back and no husband. But he did not recognise her true self this time, either, cheerfully ushering in Madame, lamenting that her esteemed husband was not travelling with her, and assuring her that the same bedchamber as last time was free. They had no other guests, he explained, directing her escort to a spacious attic room, although a hunting party was due in two days. What a fortunate occurrence that Madame could have the whole place to herself; he would light a fire in the parlour, for he was sure rain threatened and the temperature was dropping, did she not agree?