THE PRINCESS PUT out her hand, offering it to Jack Morgan as he stepped away from the Range Rover.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” she said.

“Please, call me Jack, Your Highness,” Morgan answered, feeling himself bow on instinct.

“Let’s take a walk, Jack. De Villiers tells me that you’re the person I need to speak to.”

Morgan looked to De Villiers, surprised that such praise would come from the Colonel. De Villiers’ face gave nothing away, nor did he move to follow as Princess Caroline led Morgan away from the courtyard.

“It’s too nice a day to be inside,” she explained as they entered a walled garden. Bright red strawberries clung to the planters. “Try one,” she insisted.

Morgan raised his eyebrows as he bit down on the fruit and the juice hit his tongue. With food in his mouth, he had the excuse he needed to keep it shut—introductions to a mission always worked better when he let the client do the talking. Nothing brought out the little details as well as just keeping quiet and allowing the other person to fill the dead space.

“This place belongs to a friend of mine,” Caroline offered up against the silence. “Aside from my security detail, there aren’t many people who know that I come here. I like it. It’s quiet and it’s close enough to London that I can sneak off here for some peace without it being noticed. I hope you know how to keep a secret, Jack.”

Morgan nodded, but said nothing.

Princess Caroline smiled. “You don’t say much.”

“It’s not every day I meet a princess, Your Highness.”

Her smile grew, but from insight, not flattery. “I think it’s more that you like to let your clients do the talking, to see what they may let slip.”

Morgan couldn’t help but grin. She was smart.

“I like to read about crime, and detectives,” the Princess admitted, her smile then falling. “I didn’t ever think that I’d be needing one.”

Morgan held his tongue and waited. She gathered herself, and he noticed the briefest trace of sadness pass across her face, and something else: fear.

“I need you to find someone for me, Jack. A dear friend of mine. She’s missing, and I need her found. Her name is Sophie Edwards.”

“Are the police looking for her?” Morgan asked, knowing the answer before her reply.

“No,” Caroline said.

Morgan knew that he would not be standing here if they were. More than that, he was certain that Princess Caroline’s fear was an indication that this was more than a simple missing-person case. Where there are complications, people tend to want to avoid the shining beam of the law.

“De Villiers said there’s a scandal to avoid,” he said bluntly. “It’s easier to avoid if I know what it is.”

“He shouldn’t have told you that,” she whispered after a moment.

“I’d have been back on the jet if he hadn’t.”

Princess Caroline nodded, but instead of talking, she walked toward the far door of the walled garden. Morgan followed, and they stepped out into the woodland that butted against the house. Shafts of warm sunlight cut their way through the canopy.

“Do you believe in second chances, Jack?” she asked, her eyes on the path that wound ahead through the trees.

“I do,” he answered, his eyes to the trail’s flanks—some fifty meters away, armed men moved parallel to the royal who was third in line to the British throne. They were her deadly shadow. The guardians who protected her at all times.

“There are things in Sophie’s past—things in her life—that should not be public knowledge,” she explained. “I live life under a microscope, Jack, because I was born into it. I wouldn’t change that. But for Sophie? She hasn’t lived with it. She hasn’t trained for it.”

“And what are these things in Sophie’s past?” Morgan asked.

She walked on in silence for a few moments before giving her answer. “Sophie is a young woman who’s lived her life, and in doing so—like all people—she’s made some bad decisions.”

Suddenly she stopped. She turned to face Morgan, her expression earnest. “She doesn’t deserve to have those bad decisions made public as a consequence of being my friend. Do you understand, Jack?”

Morgan did. He also understood that those under the closest scrutiny became guilty of the sins of their company, and guilt by association was never more magnified than in the scandal-hungry media of the twenty-first century. Morgan knew that Princess Caroline was a reflection of the time she had been born into—a people’s royal who connected to the country on all levels, leading a life that seemed as close to their own as was possible, given her position—but the same machine that had built her reputation could savage her overnight.

Caroline read his thoughts. “It’s in the country’s interest that the monarchy avoids scandal, Jack. We’re the benchmark. The example. I should be someone whom people look up to.”

“And you’re not?” Morgan asked directly.

It was a long time before she replied.

“I’m human, Mr. Morgan. De Villiers will give you everything you need. I hope to see you again soon.”

She turned away from him then and continued to walk further into the woodland. Out in the trees, her armed shadows moved with her.

“I didn’t say I’d take the job,” Morgan said to her back.

“You didn’t need to,” Princess Caroline replied without breaking step. “Your eyes did. You should learn to be a better liar, Jack.”

Morgan said nothing, because she was right.

He would take the job.

He would find Sophie Edwards.