The Prince's Chambermaid

‘Well, Xaviero was too busy with affairs of state—’

‘How faithfully you defend him!’ he murmured. ‘And women are better at talking than men. Yes, he told me.’

For some stupid reason, Cathy found herself blushing. ‘He told you that?’

‘Yes.’

There was an unmistakable question in his dark gold eyes but Cathy clamped her lips tightly closed and knotted her fingers together in her lap. The last thing she wanted to do was to break down and dissolve into tears in front of the King.

‘Catherine, why are you leaving?’

She swallowed. Act normal. Stay calm. ‘Because there is no need for me to stay now that you are returned to health, Your Majesty. You have resumed your rightful place on the throne and Xaviero will soon be leaving the island.’

‘That wasn’t what I mean and you know it,’ he said.

Cathy could hear the impatience in his voice, but it wasn’t really his place to get impatient, was it? ‘Wasn’t it?’

For a moment he studied her impassive face. ‘Xaviero told me how you met,’ he said suddenly.

‘He…he did?’

‘He did. He said he was playing at being ordinary. It was something he used to do all the time when we were younger—a game he used to play.’

Cathy swallowed. A game? ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ His eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his gilded chair, the fingertips of each hand meeting to form a spire. ‘You know, most people think that the younger son always has it easy.’

He was looking at her as if he wanted her to make some kind of comment and Cathy shrugged. ‘But not when you’re royal, I suppose?’

‘No. Not when you’re royal. It’s the heir who always gets the attention. My father spent most of his time with me—instructing me about my inheritance—and Xaviero was pretty much left to his own devices. He was adored by our mother, of course.’

Casimiro paused for a moment and this time Cathy said nothing.

‘Nobody told Xaviero just how sick she was,’ he continued slowly. ‘They led him to believe that she would recover. I think it was the way they dealt with children back then—never acknowledging the darker side of life. He wasn’t even allowed to go to the funeral—it was decided that it would be too distressing for him. And after her death, my father turned all his attention on grooming me to succeed him, so that in a way it was as if Xaviero had lost both parents.’

Cathy bit her lip. ‘Why…why are you telling me all this?’

‘Because you told me about your life while I lay in a coma, Catherine…and some of those words have remained fixed in my mind—they must have done, else how would I have known them when I awoke?’ His mouth curved into a fleeting smile. ‘About your tenants and your beautiful garden in England. The same garden in which you and Xaviero used to sit on long summer evenings and drink wine from cheap glasses.’

‘But I didn’t tell you about that,’ she breathed.

‘No. Xaviero did. My brother and I have talked long and often since my recovery.’

She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand where this is going,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t you? Listen, Catherine.’ Casimiro leaned forward, the spire dismantled as he placed his palms on the desk, almost in a gesture of supplication. ‘If you were prepared to go to him. To seek his understanding and explain that you acted with undue haste in telling him you wanted to leave. If you were suitably contrite…’ there was a moment’s pause ‘…then I think he may be prepared to give you a second chance.’

Cathy froze. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I think he may be prepared to overlook your—’

‘No!’ She felt the colour blanch from her cheeks as she saw his startled expression, but suddenly she didn’t care if her interruption had been an outrageous breach of protocol. ‘I am not having this conversation,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘Has Xaviero picked you out as some sort of broker—to say to me what he hasn’t got the nerve to say himself? To ask me to make some kind of unnecessary apology in order to pander to his pride?’

‘He doesn’t know what I’m saying,’ Casimiro ground out. ‘Well, my mind is made up.’ Because a lot of people had dud childhoods in some sort of way, didn’t they? But that didn’t mean they should behave like emotional ice cubes for the rest of their lives. And deep down Cathy knew that it didn’t matter what Casimiro said. The only person who might have persuaded her to stay was his brother—and he had walked away as if her going had meant nothing to him. Because she didn’t mean anything to him. And it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough now—and time would only make it worse. The balance of love was completely unequal—and she could not imprison him in a marriage which was no longer necessary. She would be living on tenterhooks, waiting for him to tire of her—before seeking a royal mistress and leaving his grieving and unloved wife at home. She rose to her feet. ‘I’m sorry.’