“Could we explore the grounds? Perhaps walk down to the lake below the palace? We could even have breakfast there. We didn’t finish dinner last night, remember? We were too occupied satisfying other appetites.” A glimmer of amusement appeared in her eyes. “I am not complaining, I hope you realize.”
Jack suspected what she was up to; she still wanted to soothe the angry beast inside him. But he helped her to dress and donned his own clothes while she braided and pinned her hair and put on her cloak. Her fingers holding tightly to his, they negotiated the palace corridors and stairways, passing various servants who looked startled to see them wandering the halls, and even more startled by their appearance in the kitchens and their request for an alfresco breakfast to fill Jack’s knapsack.
After securing directions, they left the palace by way of the cultivated gardens and easily found the trail that descended through the woods. Bright morning sunlight drenched the mountains in gold, but the air was rather cool in the shadows of the forest.
A half hour’s walk downhill brought them to a vivid blue lake. The water was crystal clear and glittering, since the sun had just risen above the treetops. They searched along the pebbled shoreline until they found a flat rock out of the shadows and settled down to eat their breakfast.
They spoke little. The peaceful tableau was good for his soul, as was Sophie’s presence. Jack felt himself healing, his thoughts of revenge fading away.
Sophie didn’t press him for a decision then, or later when they packed up the remains of their meal and headed back to the palace.
Climbing uphill took longer. Sophie was a little breathless and his own pulse was more rapid by the time they reached the gardens. His pulse faltered, though, when he saw a man slowly approaching, recognizing the elegantly garbed figure as his father. At the sight, Jack felt himself stiffen automatically. He was also aware that Sophie moved closer to him protectively and took his hand.
They continued along the gravel path until they came face-to-face with his father. Up close, Prince Raoul did not look quite as elegant, resting his weight on a silver-handled cane, his complexion pale.
“Might I have a word with you?” he asked in a low voice.
“On what subject?” Jack replied
, giving no quarter.
“I wish … I hope to try and explain why I abandoned your mother.”
At Jack’s grim silence, Sophie spoke up quietly. “I shall leave you two to talk alone.”
“No, stay—please.” Jack tightened his fingers around hers, then inclined his head at his father, signaling his consent. This confrontation had been a long time coming, and he was finally ready.
With a curt sweep of his arm, he gestured toward the gravel path, inviting the prince to precede him. “After you, your highness.”
Instead of returning to the palace, Prince Raoul settled on a stone bench amid the roses and flowering hawthorns. He politely offered Sophie a seat beside him, but she remained standing loyally next to Jack.
“You called me weak,” the prince began in a low voice, “and you were not mistaken. When the Revolution grew bloodier, I did not dare face the wrath of my royal father by refusing his summons home. I did as he commanded—and I have regretted it every day of my life since. I did not mislead you, Jack. I grieved deeply for your mother.”
Jack kept his lips clamped shut, all his muscles rigid.
“You were also somewhat correct about my choices,” his father continued. “I could have abdicated my responsibilities and given up any claim to the throne. But I loved my country. I had sworn a solemn duty and had obligations. When you are royalty, you are not your own person. My life was not my own.”
When Jack’s fists clenched, Sophie placed a gentle hand on his arm, so he forced himself to listen to his father’s excuses.
“I swear to you, Jack, I loved Clara with as much ardor as it is possible to love. We met in Paris, where I was studying, and fell in love at first glance.” The prince’s eyes grew distant, as if he was remembering. “Those were the happiest years of my life. I could not marry her, however, for I was already promised to wed in a purely political alliance. The illicit nature of our liaison did not matter to Clara, nor did the increasing danger facing the aristocracy in France. Before I left Paris, I begged her to return to England where she would be safe, but she refused. She said her life was with me and that she wanted her son to know his father.”
“You failed miserably to protect her,” Jack ground out between his teeth.
“I know.” The prince hung his head. “The precautions I made for her safety proved utterly inadequate. Paris is many leagues from Navartania, so I did not even know for some months that Clara had perished or that you had gone missing. I lost both of you that day.… My one true love and my only child.”
Tears were seeping from his father’s eyes, Jack noted with frustration. It was hard to maintain his fury in the face of such naked contrition. Prince Raoul seemed a broken man, not the villain Jack had always painted him.
Silence reigned until the prince found the strength to compose himself. “The moment I learned the terrible news,” he explained in a rasping whisper, “I traveled to Paris to find you, against my own father’s express wishes. I learned from your mother’s friends there that your uncles had already rescued you, so I followed you to England. I badly wanted to claim you as my son, Jack. However, Lord Beaufort insisted that I had no right. He would not send you away to live in a foreign country when you had a home and family there … young cousins your own age to befriend and console you.”
Prince Raoul finally lifted his gaze to meet Jack’s. “I was persuaded to think of your best interests. When I inherited the throne many years later, I tried again, you will remember. By that time you were seventeen—nearly grown—and your heart was hardened against me. I do not blame you,” he added hurriedly upon seeing Jack’s dark expression. “I merely hoped … dreamed, that one day we could begin anew, before it was too late. I may die soon, Jack. I was injured in a hunting accident last autumn and never fully recovered.”
“Ah,” Jack murmured sardonically, “we come to the reason for your interest in our reconciliation.”
Sophie spoke for the first time. “What sort of injury was it, your highness?”
“An arrow pierced my side when one of my games-men misfired.” Prince Raoul placed a hand tentatively over his ribs and winced. “The wound turned putrid for a time before finally healing but left a scar that is still quite painful.” Dropping his hand, he continued. “My wife lived for fifteen years but she bore me no children. Naturally I worry about the succession and wish my country to have a good ruler. The crown will go to a distant cousin’s son, whom I greatly dislike. But my chief reason for wishing you as my heir is more personal. Navartania is your birthright, after all.”
“Do not pretend you are concerned for my sake.”