“What do you mean by bailing me up at the Queen’s lawn party yesterday in full view of God and everyone. Do you know what kind of scandal I was barely able to avoid because of your thoughtlessness?”

My father looked up at me, his face red with fury as he sat at breakfast with his newspaper open.

“You dare to lecture me, girl?” He pointed his finger into the newspaper, almost making a hole in it from the force. “When this gossip is in the society pages?”

I snatched the paper from him to see a photograph of myself with Dom. We were dancing and looking at each other with wide smiles on our faces. It was actually a really lovely photo, but it had set alight a firestorm of speculation.

“This means nothing,” I said, tossing it aside but knowing I would be getting a visit from Jeanette sometime today. “What you did yesterday was out of line. This is not your Embassy in France where you think you are the law, this is the Palace and here you are little more than an obligated guest. How dare you cause such a scene that the Earl of Avonlea had to intervene!”

My father surged from his seat, pulling himself up to his full height in order to try and intimidate me, but his antics were as clear as a pane of glass. He knew he was in the wrong, but there was no way he would admit it, let alone admit it to me. I swear, there were sometimes that I wondered what my mother ever saw in him. He was boorish and arrogant and entirely too French, though he was a native Merveillian. He had obviously spent far too much time in the neighbouring country and I didn’t like the way it had changed him.

“You will not speak to me this way,” he growled.

“I am an adult in my own right and I will speak to you as I see fit.”

“You are my daughter and you will afford me the respect I deserve—”

“Like the respect you have shown me by continuing on this path where I end up married to the Baron? I think not.” I crossed my arms over my chest with a huff. I would not put up with this for a moment longer. My father would see that the arrangement he made on my behalf was null and void and that there was no way I would be marrying Piérre.

“You will marry the Baron and you will do it willingly or—”

“Or what? You will kidnap me from the Palace and force me to marry him? You do know that that is illegal don’t you?”

“You will do it because you are my daughter and I gave my word that this union would go ahead.”

“And that is one thing I still don’t understand…why? Why did you sign this agreement in the first place? What ever made you think I would be agreeable to it?”

“You’re my daughter and I—”

“Enough! There is more to this than meets the eye and I want to know what it is. Piérre said that Bianca and I were interchangeable in this agreement and he informed me the other night he was considering her to fulfil the pact if I did not. Now I want to know why you think you can treat your daughters as merely more than chattel!”

“He has his eyes set on Bianca?” my father asked, the colour draining from his face. He slumped to his chair and looked every one of his fifty-five years.

“Yes. Now what in the name of all that is holy, is going on? Why are you so bound and determined to fulfil an agreement that would not hold water if held up to scrutiny?”

“He can’t have Bianca. The agreement was for you and you alone.”

“So you will defend Bianca against him, but not me?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did my father really have such little regard for me?

“Of course I will defend against Bianca. The agreement was for you, not her, never her.”

“Why was there an agreement in the first place?”

My father dropped his head into his hands. “It was not long after your mother passed. I wasn’t doing well… drinking too much and gambling. We were nearly broke when the elder Baron, Jean-Claude, offered to help me out of the trouble I was in if I’d give you to his son in marriage when you came of age.”

“What!” I screeched. I couldn’t help it, so incensed was I. “You SOLD ME?” Because that is exactly what it amounted to. My father had sold me, like a piece of horseflesh, to get himself out of debt.

I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t remain in his presence knowing what he had done. I fled the room, running through the halls pellmell until I found myself in front of Dom’s office doors. I pushed through, without knocking, passed his brother who was sitting at the secretary’s desk in the outer office, and straight on through to Dom’s inner office. He jumped to his feet when he saw me and I threw myself into his arms, tears streaming down my face and hurt burning a ragged hole in my gut. His arms came around me instantly and held me close, pressing my face against his solid chest where I inhaled his, now familiar, scent.

“Can we pick this up later?” he asked whoever it was in the office with him. I hadn’t even noticed another person, my eyes had been for Dom and Dom alone. No one else could fill the gaping hole inside me that had been torn open with the knowledge that my father had treated me no better than a piece of furniture that he no longer wanted or needed.

There was a shuffling and a murmur of voices and then silence as the office door closed with a comforting thunk.

“Is this about the story in the paper?”

I burrowed further into his chest and shook my head, not yet ready to speak. I just needed the comfort that his arms provided, the solid security and safety that I felt when he held me. I needed to know that someone was on my side, that someone valued me as more than a commodity. I had always known that my father’s regard for me was less than his regard for his other daughter, less than his regard for his work and his colleagues, but I had no idea that his regard for me was so low as to be able to put an actual price on it.

A noise, very much like a keening wail, escaped from my mouth and Dom pulled me closer, tightening his arms around me and guiding me over to the sofa so that we could sit. Dom continued to hold me close, rubbing my back comfortingly, soothing my sobs and murmuring nonsense phrases in a mix of English, French and Italian. I knew my uncharacteristic behaviour had to be concerning for him, worrying even, but I just needed this moment of weakness, just a short time out of time to rely on someone else, to have someone stronger than me support me.

I had not allowed myself to be weak in anyone’s presence since I had discovered Piérre’s betrayal. Since that time I had set myself the task of never being completely dependent or trusting of anyone, especially not a man. But it seemed as though even my iron-will had it’s limits. Learning that my father had sold me off to pay his debts was a humbling experience and my walls had well and truly taken a battering. I hadn’t even realised I was running to Dom until I was there and flinging myself into his arms was like second nature. And more than likely unwise.

My sobs had quietened and now I was faced with how to explain my headlong flight into his arms. I didn’t have the first notion as to how to proceed, but I knew that I could not tell him the truth. No one must ever know that I was not much more than a slave and that I had been passed over to my new master, a man I never wanted to see again but one which I had no choice but to marry. Hell. I really didn’t have a choice in the matter, not if I wanted to keep the sordid ordeal a secret. If I didn’t marry Piérre, he would either marry my sister (a completely unacceptable alternative) or he would disgrace my father by revealing the nature of the agreement they had and that had to be avoided at all cost.

“Here, now,” Dom murmured into my hair, his lips coasting over my temple, his large hand cupping the back of my head, “Do you feel like you can tell me what this is all about now?”

I took one last deep breath of the essence of Dom and straightened, wiping my eyes before looking up into his worried green ones.

“I’ll be leaving the Palace after the wedding,” I blurted out, realising the truth of it as I said the words. I would be marrying Piérre and he would never allow me to remain in the employ of the Queen. I would need to follow him back to his estate in Monaco and take up my new life as a Baroness with a man I despised.

Dom’s worried expression turned to one of consternation and confusion. “Leaving the Palace?”

I nodded. “My father has called me home and so I must tender my resignation with the Queen and leave after the wedding.”

Dom’s shook his head slowly, disbelievingly. “No,” he breathed.

I sniffed, determined not to cry again and to regain some of my composure and the famous Ice Queen persona I had carefully cultivated. “Yes,” I said, my voice stronger now as I pulled my façade around me like a cloak. “He will not be moved on the subject.”

“But Priscilla,” he pleaded with me, his eyes imploring me, “You are a grown woman, you are no longer under his authority. You have a position here and friends and…”

He broke off and I desperately wanted him to continue the sentence but feared my resolve if he did. If Dom asked me to stay for him, if he dared to ask me for more than the tenuous relationship we had at the moment, I would be hard-pressed to reject him and that would be disastrous. The only way out of the situation in which I had found myself was to do as my father wished and wed the Baron.

I moved away from Dom on the sofa and stood, distancing myself even more. The only way I could do this was to put a wall between us, to go back to the barely disguised hostility that had been our relationship prior to the last few weeks. It was the only way to stop my heart from shattering into a million pieces.

“I apologise, Lord Chancellor,” I said with a quick curtsy, “For interrupting your meeting and behaving so appallingly.”

Dom jumped to his feet and reached for me. “Priscilla, no, don’t do this—”

“I apologise, my Lord,” I said again, moving out of his reach, resurrecting the stilted formality as quickly as I could before he could worm his way through my defences once again.

I turned to leave, but Dom grabbed me by the elbow and turned me back towards him, capturing my lips in a punishing kiss. I resisted the urge to melt into him even though every cell in my body wanted to do just that. I stood stiffly, not responding, holding myself back from the oblivion I knew would come if I gave in to him and his kiss. He tore his lips away from me with a growl.

“You are determined to do this then?” he asked harshly.

“Yes, my Lord,” I said, giving him direct and determined eye contact.

“Have it your way then, Lady Beaumonde,” he said quietly and dangerously before he turned away from me. I fled the office and headed for my room without noticing anyone I passed along the way.

I prowled around my office after I heard the door slam from Priscilla’s hasty retreat. The woman was maddening and stubborn and completely unsuitable for me, but I loved her despite it all. How she could have stood there and ripped my heart out like she did with barely a shred of remorse was beyond me.

I sighed and slumped in my chair. No, that wasn’t how it had happened at all and I was misdirecting my anger. She had come to me distraught, had sought me out for comfort which only proved that she didn’t want to leave as much as I didn’t want her to go, but her father had something on her, it was the only explanation. She loved being here in the Palace and working with the Queen. She was even due to be promoted to the Queen’s assistant after the wedding, which I knew she would relish, and yet she was leaving it all for her father.

I couldn’t be angry at her, as much as she’d hurt me. I had seen how distraught she was and the Priscilla that left my office was not the one who had entered it. The Priscilla who had run from me was the same cool and austere woman who I had met in those first few days of her coming to the Palace. That was her mask, her protection, the prickly thorns of self-preservation that she showed to the world when she was threatened. What hurt the most was that she hadn’t trusted me enough to protect her.

A knock on the door disrupted my thoughts. “Enter,” I called, still pacing.

“Lord Chancellor,” Freddie’s voice garnered my attention, “Was that Lady Priscilla I saw fleeing your office?”

“My Lord,” I said, nodding my head in preference to his position and title, “Indeed it was.” I sighed gustily and shook myself to regain my composure. “Please have a seat. What can I do for you today, Lord Bingham?”

He sat and observed me over his steepled fingers, letting the silence stretch out between us. After a moment he spoke, “You can start by telling me what the devil happened in here to send Priscilla running off through the Palace like that.”

I ground my teeth to hold my temper, knowing that Freddie was just looking out for Priscilla and that he was worried that I had somehow been the cause of her distress. In any other circumstance I would’ve been grateful for his care of the woman I loved, but it piqued me that he thought I would hurt her that way.

“Her father has demanded that she return to France with him after the wedding,” I groused, my displeasure at the Ambassador plain.

“Surely she can just refuse,” he said, his eyebrow quirked in puzzlement.

“Apparently not,” I replied, “Which makes me wonder what else is going on. Priscilla wouldn’t just up and leave, she loves working here and she loves her friends and of course Alyssa. It just doesn’t make sense.”

Freddie looked at me and I felt distinctly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Lord Bingham was known as an affable chap, but I knew better. The man had built a company from the ground up and was rumoured to be worth more than the entire country of Merveille. You couldn’t achieve that without being assiduous and observant and I had long thought that Freddie cultivated his more playful persona as a way to ensure other people underestimated him. I also thought he tended to keep his cards very close to his chest, like he was doing now. He knew something and he was deciding whether to tell me or not, hopefully my patience would be rewarded.

With a slight relaxation in his posture I knew that he would share something with me, although I doubted that I would like what I was about to hear.

“It will be because of her betrothal, no doubt,” he said and I sucked in a sharp breath. Whatever I had thought he was going to say, it wasn’t that.

“Her betrothal?” I asked, my voice barely more than a harsh whisper in the silence that had followed his statement.

“An agreement between her father and the former Baron Romanov, Jean-Claude, I believe.”

“I was under the impression that she ended the betrothal.”

Freddie raised his eyebrows slightly, obviously shocked that I knew of the agreement. “That may be, but from what I overheard, neither the Ambassador nor the Baron appear to have taken her wishes into account.”

“But they can’t force her, surely,” I said, “A marriage contract made between two men without the consent of the bride would not be legally binding.”

“No,” Freddie concurred, “Which leads me to believe that you are right. Something else is going on, something that is forcing Priscilla to go ahead with the betrothal despite her aversion to it.”

I raked a hand through my hair, at a loss as to what to do or how to help Priscilla.

“Is the Ambassador in some sort of financial trouble?” I asked, grasping at straws.

“No,” Freddie said, “Not that Romanov would be of any assistance even if that were the case. He is flat broke and only has one estate to his name and that one only because it was entailed and couldn’t be liquidated with the rest of them.”

“So Romanov has something on the Ambassador and is forcing his hand.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“And up until now, Priscilla didn’t know about it. That must have been why she came to me earlier, her father must have told her what was at stake and now she feels she has no choice but to go through with it.”

“The question now remains, what is it Romanov has over the Ambassador? And is it detrimental to the Crown?”

Oh, hell. I hadn’t even thought about the problems that could arise if the Ambassador had been compromised.

“You don’t think the Queen is in danger?”

Freddie exhaled and furrowed his brow. “I don’t think so, but I’m not willing to risk it. I will speak to Benjamin and Von Bartham and we will look into the Ambassador and the young Baron and just see what we can turn up.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, fight for her.”

With that, Lord Frédéric Bingham, Earl of Avonlea, stood and took his leave, leaving me to worry about how I would once again breach Priscilla’s walls.