Protecting The Princess - Nadine Millard Page 0,3

tell your maids what to pack for you. Because if you don’t, I will.”

Harriet was so enraged by Christopher’s high-handedness that it took her a moment to process what he said, and when she did, she jumped to her feet, her daffodil skirts fluttering around her feet.

For a moment she could only glare at her brother, the only sound breaking the tense silence in his office the ticking of the ornate longcase clock in the corner.

But then, she found her voice.

“I can tell you with absolute certainty, Christopher, that I will not be going anywhere with Althea Furberg. And I will definitely not be staying with that family.”

Christopher’s eyes narrowed at Harriet’s obvious display of dislike for Althea and her snivelling family.

They were the most sinfully sycophantic people Harriet had ever met.

From her infancy, the family had grovelled at the feet of the royal family at every opportunity. And Harriet wouldn’t mind, if any of it seemed sincere.

But the Furbergs were the epitome of social climbers.

And for the last couple of years, Althea had clearly had her sights firmly set on Christopher. Nothing could mean more to the raven-haired woman, Harriet was sure, than a chance to become Queen of Aldonia.

And the worst of it was that Christopher seemed completely blind to the woman’s machinations.

If Althea were a fiery, tempestuous beauty like Lydia Charring, Harriet might be able to understand.

Alex had fallen in love with Lydia from the moment she’d burst into that drawing room at Chillington Abbey covered in leaves and twigs. Harriet had seen it, though Alex had denied it for a time. And her romantic heart had swelled as she’d watched her beloved brother and Lydia fall in love.

But this? Christopher and Althea?

Harriet despaired of the potential match.

When they’d been younger, Christopher had been just as fun-loving as Alex, though he had always been the most serious of the siblings. Understandable, given he’d been raised from birth to run the country. But the point was he had a personality!

Althea Furberg had the personality of the chair Harriet had been occupying moments ago. How the lady hadn’t bored her brother into a grave by now, Harriet didn’t know.

Christopher clearly liked the fact that Althea never said or did, or probably even thought the wrong thing. But Harriet didn’t like it for him. She loved Christopher. She wanted him to find a woman with spark, and wit, and—and the ability to form a thought that wasn’t vacuous and ingratiating.

It suited Christopher’s role as heir to the throne, this lack of any sort of interesting character, any sense of adventure in Althea Furberg. But it did not suit Harriet or what she believed Christopher needed in a wife. And she’d be damned if she’d waste weeks of her life with the Furberg family awaiting Alex’s arrival to drag her off to England.

“This conversation is over, Harriet.”

It was as though she hadn’t voiced any objection at all, Harriet thought bitterly.

“The Furbergs will arrive by the end of the week to escort you to their home. With a full guard, of course. And there you will await Alex’s arrival.”

“But—”

“Enough,” Christopher snapped, and his tone was so commanding that Harriet fell immediately silent.

She watched as he heaved his big shoulders and stepped closer to her.

“Come now, Hari,” he said, his voice calmer, regret glinting in his eyes. “You know I am only worried for your safety.”

“I know,” she sighed. Because as overbearing and even pompous as Christopher might be, he did truly care for her. Harriet knew that.

But she was mightily sick of people deciding things for her.

Her title decided the life she would live, even before she’d been born.

Her parents would decide whom she should marry. Being the only princess, Harriet’s marriage would be used as a political alliance, just as soon as Father decided he wanted one.

And her overprotective big brothers decided nearly everything else for her.

Just once, Harriet would like to do something that she decided upon.

A sudden memory flashed in her mind’s eye.

A line of regimental soldiers, not one of them with so much as a hair out of place.

And then, the rogue with the impish smile.

Harriet would just bet that a man like him wouldn’t allow anyone to decide anything for him.

She had no idea if he was still a soldier, though she doubted it. A mischievous personality didn’t exactly lend itself to army life.

Why he had popped into her mind at that moment, Harriet couldn’t have said. But the memory of him triggered a sort of rebelliousness