‘I’m sorry, Your Majesty. The situation is most regrettable, but I have no legal grounds to keep Miss Hamilton here.’ Ambassador Rousseau’s face was wreathed in wrinkles of consternation. His words were effectively a death knell for India. ‘In fact, I’m violating international laws while she remains here in embassy walls. She’s not a citizen of France, or Santaliana, and we have no agreement with Britain.’ He moved his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘She doesn’t even have any diplomatic immunity.’
A second ago, all had seemed hopeless. Now, fresh adrenaline coursed through Gabriel’s veins as a possible solution struck him. ‘What if she had both?’
‘Your Majesty, she has neither.’ He shook his head and looked at Gabe as though he was delusional. ‘Even if she was a citizen of Santaliana, you know as well as I that while we can provide aid for your citizens, we can’t protect someone facing a murder charge.’
‘But if she had diplomatic immunity...’
‘She doesn’t.’ There was a fragment of frustration in Rousseau’s voice now.
‘I’ll make her a diplomat of Santaliana,’ Gabe declared.
‘Your Majesty, how can she be a diplomat of your country? She’s a British citizen!’
He was right. India needed to be a citizen of Santaliana. Gabe’s fingers tapped against his thighs as he racked his brains and sought against all odds for a legal solution to this terrible mess.
‘I’ve got it,’ he announced, as the path forward became so blindingly obvious, jubilation flooded through him.
Only one course of action was possible, and he was more than willing to follow that course.
‘What if India were the Queen of Santaliana, travelling to Africa on a diplomatic mission in her role as managing director of the international humanitarian organisation, the Princess Eden Foundation?’
Rousseau threw up his hands and puffed out an outraged breath. ‘I couldn’t be party to such a lie!’
‘It doesn’t have to be a lie. She is the managing director—’
‘But she is not your queen!’
‘She will be.’ He made the statement with absolute conviction.
Rousseau’s eyes widened so much he looked like a distorted caricature of himself. ‘You’d honestly marry her?’
‘Would it make a difference if I did? Would it stop you from feeling obliged to hand her over to Mawandi if she was my wife and I granted her diplomatic status and immunity?’
The ambassador muttered something under his breath, then stroked his chin in agitation while he paced back and forward. When he spoke, it was as though he spoke to himself. ‘If Miss Hamilton was perceived by the international community to have diplomatic immunity, there would be no backlash against France for providing her with refuge here at the embassy—particularly if she was a member of the royal family of Santaliana.’ He stopped his pacing and looked up at Gabe. ‘But there are still two difficulties.’
‘Go on.’ Gabe held his breath.
‘Bagazin has never ratified the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations.’
Of course it hadn’t. Mawandi wouldn’t agree to any policy that stood to improve international relations.
‘You’re telling me that under Mawandi’s dictatorship, Bagazin doesn’t recognise legal immunity or safe passage for diplomats as set out by the charter from that convention?’ Gabe clarified.
‘Exactly. So, while diplomatic immunity would allow me to offer her protection, it wouldn’t stop President Mawandi demanding she be handed over. This is his country. He could swoop in here and force her to face trial.’
‘Trial?’ Gabe said sharply. ‘You mean sentencing.’ He needed Rousseau on his side. He needed to appeal to the French Ambassador’s humanity—his basic sense of human decency—to make whatever allowances were necessary—to find legal loopholes and make sure India had safe passage from Bagazin.
‘I agree with you.’ Rousseau sighed heavily. ‘Miss Hamilton has already been tried and convicted by the president. From what I know of him, I predict he’s determined to have her head for the death of his son. Charles was a cruel bastard who raped any appealing woman he came across, but his father condoned his behaviour. Mawandi couldn’t care less that Charles was killed in self-defence. Bagazin is not a democratic country, and in the president’s view, any woman should’ve thought herself privileged to capture the interest of his son.’
Gabe voiced his utter disgust. ‘The son obviously took after the father.’
‘If it weren’t for my country’s mining operation and the number of French nationals employed in that operation, there would be no embassy here. As it is, the lucrative high yield of metals from our Bagazin mines means we hold a certain political sway, but must still tread carefully with President Mawandi.’
‘I understand the French interests here. Bagazin stands to lose more than France if you threaten to pull the mining operations out of the country.’ Gabe made the hint even though he knew it was highly unlikely the ambassador would even entertain the notion.
As expected, Rousseau raised both hands and faced his palms outward in protest. ‘You ask too much, mon ami. We wouldn’t make such a heavy threat over an incident which doesn’t even involve a French citizen.’
‘It involves the queen of a close ally.’
The ambassador snorted. ‘A woman who is a queen only because of your desire to protect her.’
Gabe’s desire went much deeper than that, but it was immaterial. He wished he held an ace—some way of forcing France to make the threat of closing down their mines. Unfortunately, he didn’t. Santaliana was only a small kingdom. It benefited far more from its bilateral alliance than France did. ‘You mentioned a second problem?’
‘The matter of trial.’ The ambassador’s mouth firmed and his tone was unrelenting. ‘In a serious matter such as murder, you must be aware that it’s expected that the diplomat’s home country waive immunity so the diplomat can be tried in the country where the crime was committed. Either that, or there’d be an expectation that the diplomat’s country would prosecute the case in public interest.’
‘You’re telling me that if India leaves here as a diplomat of Santaliana, the international community will expect her to face a court hearing in Santaliana for the murder of Charles Mawandi?’
‘Exactly. There is a way to smuggle you all out of the embassy and safely out of Bagazin if you make her your wife and a diplomat, however my country would be honour-bound to demand Miss Hamilton stand before a court. Failure to do so would sour the spirit between our countries and cause international outrage.’
In his years as king, it wasn’t the first time Gabriel had walked a tightrope on international affairs. This time, however, the risk of losing his balance and falling was far more personal and there was no safety net in sight.
‘Knowing your companion will have to face court on a charge of murder at some point, are you really prepared to make her your queen—to bring such negative publicity to your country and to the House of de la Croix?’
‘Yes.’ There was no option. He would never agree to hand India over to Mawandi, and if there was too much pressure—too much political fallout, he’d damned well abdicate and Devereaux could become the king.
Gabe was amazed at how light he felt about the decision. All these years he’d put his kingdom above everything, but there was no way he’d put it above India’s safety.
‘Do you agree to have the woman who will be your queen face a court hearing upon your return to Santaliana?’
He had no choice if he wanted to get her out of Bagazin alive. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re prepared to face all the negative publicity a murder hearing and possibly a very drawn-out trial will bring to the Crown of de la Croix?’
‘Absolutely.’ All that mattered was India’s safety. ‘She’s innocent of the charge and doesn’t deserve to be handed over to Mawandi.’ He believed it with every fibre of his being.
‘Everything I’ve ever heard about you is true, Your Majesty. You’re a man of great honour who takes his responsibility for others seriously.’ The ambassador gave a half-bow. ‘If you wish to proceed, we need to act quickly. You need to be married immediately, draw up papers declaring your wife-to-be a diplomat of Santaliana, and we need to arrange for your transportation out of Bagazin within the hour.’
‘Please, make the arrangements.’
Adrenaline rushed through him. India would be safe.
India would be his wife.
His conscience pricked. India was engaged to Artarmon.
Tough. Gabe pushed that fact away, reasoning that there was no other choice. Fate had intervened. Somehow fate had driven them both into this position, and he was going to embrace the opportunity. Smothering the core fear he’d carried for so long—that he wouldn’t be able to keep a woman he loved safe—he vowed he would marry India and he’d spend every day of the rest of his life keeping her safe and making her happy. He’d make sure she never had any reason to regret that she’d married him and not Artarmon.
Now all he had to do was break the news to India.