Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2) Read online

  Dressed in full court attire, Chance waited for her downstairs. His patience was rewarded when she appeared in a crimson silk gown that she had worn in London on the day when she managed to secure an interview with him in his club—a feat that few before her had managed to achieve.

  ‘You look enchanting,’ he said softly, taking her hand as she reached his position and kissing the back of it. ‘Fortunately I am wearing my sword so shall have a means of fighting off the competition.’

  She smiled up at him timidly, the reckless female who had dragged him from his bed that morning no longer looking quite so sure of herself. ‘Hardly,’ she said.

  ‘Do you find these occasions especially trying?’ he asked.

  ‘I am looking forward to hearing your Greek soprano,’ she replied, not directly answering his question. ‘And Murphy has the carriage ready. Let’s not keep the horses standing about.’

  Chance, dissatisfied with her evasiveness but unwilling to press her, helped her into her evening cape, donned his own and they left the house together.

  Amara was delighted to wake up to the welcome sight of weak sunshine, and suggested to Eva that they should take the opportunity to get a little fresh air. It was an ideal opportunity to distract her from thoughts of the evening’s engagement, which threatened an onset of nerves.

  ‘There is still a strong wind but I think that if we wait for the perfect day, we will remain indoors for the next ten years.’

  ‘I think you are right,’ Eva agreed, ‘so let’s brave it.’

  ‘I saw Claus Lykaios watching as we left here yesterday with Mr Harland,’ Amara admitted.

  ‘Yes, I saw him, too. As did your Mr Harland. Don’t allow him to worry you.’

  Amara shrugged. ‘I can’t help it. He’s spoiling everything by clinging so stubbornly. He couldn’t get anywhere near us when we were with Mr Harland though.’

  ‘Then your protector is not only decorative but useful too,’ Eva teased.

  ‘He is not mine!’ Amara protested. ‘But as to Lykaios, he has obviously found out where we are lodging, so it seems pointless hiding ourselves away. Besides, I am not afraid of him and I desperately want to see if the street entertainers we have been told about have emerged. I am determined to see the fire-eater.’

  ‘Then we shall,’ Eva replied. ‘I am sure the sea air will be beneficial, but make sure you wear a warm pelisse.’

  The ladies left the house arm in arm a short time later. Amara turned her face up to the sky but the sun, such as it was, offered little warmth.

  ‘Let’s walk close to the sea,’ Amara said, feeling a sudden rush of homesickness for the sandy beaches and warm seas of the Aegean.

  Eva was happy to oblige. Others had been tempted out of doors by a break in the weather, and they passed a lot of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen also taking the sea air. Amara was surprised by the number of gentlemen who tipped their hats to them. When she said as much to Eva, her aunt simply smiled and shook her head, as though Amara was very slow-witted.

  ‘I wish we could take a boat ride,’ Amara said. ‘Perhaps Mr Harland will be able to arrange it for us.’

  ‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’ Eva glanced at the rolling waves. ‘Not in this weather.’

  ‘You know very well that I am an excellent sailor. I wish you were too.’

  ‘As do I, my dear,’ Eva replied with feeling. ‘However, I am sure that Mr Harland will be happy to put to sea with you.’

  ‘Eva!’

  Their laughter was cut short when a man blocked their path. Amara felt a bolt of fear pass through her, although it was quickly replaced by stark determination not to be bullied, aware before she looked up into his angry face that they had been accosted by Mr Lykaios.

  ‘Go away,’ she said wearily. ‘We have nothing to say to you.’

  ‘I am responsible for your welfare,’ he said, his voice an angry hiss. ‘Your father will throw me to the dogs when he discovers what you have done.’

  ‘You mistake the matter,’ Eva replied haughtily. ‘I am responsible for Amara, not you, and I will answer to my brother. Now go away or I will summon help and have you forcibly removed.’

  Lykaios snarled and grabbed Amara’s upper arm. ‘You are coming with me!’

  ‘No, I am not.’ She kicked his shin hard and screamed at the top of her voice. Startled by her reaction, Lykaios looked confused but didn’t release her, at which point the attention they had already received from the gentlemen who’d taken to strolling in the same direction came into its own.

  ‘Is this man accosting you?’ one asked, brandishing a walking stick.

  ‘Yes!’ Eva and Amara cried in unison.

  ‘No,’ Lykaios said at the same time. ‘I am responsible for them. This is none of your affair. Be gone with you.’

  ‘Help me!’ Amara pleaded. ‘This oaf is hurting my arm.’

  The incident had drawn a crowd, all of whom were scowling at Lykaios. He glanced around, presumably realised that the mood had turned ugly and that he was outnumbered, and abruptly dropped Amara’s arm.

  ‘You have not heard the last of this,’ he said, before turning and storming off.

  ‘Are you all right, ma’am?’ one of her would-be rescuers asked.

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for your assistance,’ Eva said, taking control. ‘We are quite all right now. Come, Amara,’ she added softly, ‘the rain is starting again. Perhaps this is not such a good idea and we should return home.’

  Amara turned back meekly, her pleasure in the morning gone. ‘We will never be safe from him as long as we remain in Brighton,’ she said, sighing. ‘I am not afraid of him, but he clearly won’t let us be.’

  ‘He is worried about your father’s reaction, probably with just cause, but I cannot bring myself to care. He showed himself in his true colours just now, and before with me, and we are better off without him.’

  ‘He is probably still resentful because you rejected him, although why he supposed that you would welcome his advances in the first place is beyond me,’ Amara huffed indignantly. ‘As far as I am aware, you have never given him the least encouragement.’

  Eva smiled. ‘Your father’s patronage has assured Lykaios of a comfortable living—or at least it did until we dismissed him, which is why he is so anxious to regain control of you. He is also handsome, in his way, and accustomed to getting whatever he wants.’

  ‘And unaccustomed to rejection,’ Amara added, sniffing.

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘What shall we do? Should we remove to the pavilion after all?’

  ‘Stop fretting, my love.’ Eva linked her arm through Amara’s. ‘Your father will not know yet that we have come to Brighton—or indeed why—even though someone is sure to have written and told him. Be that as it may, communications take time. Lykaios was simply trying to reassert himself. He does not accept that his services have been dispensed with since we are mere females, and in his eyes not qualified to give him orders.’ She shuddered. ‘Insufferable man!’

  The rain had started to fall harder and they increased their pace. ‘I never was comfortable with him, but Papa insisted upon employing his services. He will now have to explain how he allowed me to disobey him.’

  ‘Feels glorious, doesn’t it?’

  Amara blinked at her aunt. ‘Defiance?’

  ‘Yes. Your father, much as we both love him, is a tyrant.’ Eva smiled. ‘There! I have said it and the hand of God did not strike me down.’

  Amara smiled. ‘I suppose he is, but then so are most Greek fathers. They expect total obedience.’

  ‘Even when their demands are unreasonable. I suppose I should not encourage you to strive for independence, but we both know what fate lies in store for you back in Athens if you behave as your father expects you to.’ Eva squeezed Amara’s arm. ‘Besides, we are having a glorious time here in England.’ She glanced up at the steadily falling rain and they both burst out laughing as they scurried back to their lodgings.

  ‘Why ar
e you such an authority on defiance?’ Amara asked, once they were back in the house and toasting their hands in front of the sparse fire. ‘What did you do to offend Papa?’

  Eva paused before responding. ‘Your father has needed to be reminded on occasion that I am not his responsibility.’ She looked away, her expression reflective. ‘There have to be some benefits to being widowed,’ she added, so softly that Amara barely caught the words. ‘I have done my duty and now reserve the right to please myself.’

  ‘That’s all well and good, and I applaud your courage, but if you are such a black sheep I wonder at Papa permitting you to accompany me here. Only imagine,’ Amara added, with a mischievous smile, ‘how easily I could be corrupted.’

  ‘Oh no, I shall leave that sort of thing to Mr Harland.’

  ‘Eva!’

  They both laughed and Amara then changed the subject.

  The afternoon passed in idle conversation and rehearsing for their evening performance. At Eva’s insistence, Amara then took an hour’s rest before preparing for her big night.

  ‘I am so glad that you chose the green figured silk,’ Eva said, admiring Amara when she walked down the stairs dressed in the new gown she’d had made in London that clung to her svelte figure and would have given Papa a conniption had he seen her in it. ‘It brings out the colour of your eyes and compliments your complexion.’

  ‘Which is probably chalk white, given my nerves,’ she replied, pleating her fingers anxiously together. ‘What in the world made me suppose I could do this?’

  ‘You will be a sensation, my love. Nerves are only to be expected, and they are a good thing. They will keep you sharp. Now, are you ready? Mr Harland will be here to collect us at any moment and it wouldn’t do to keep a prince waiting. I am sure there are rules about that sort of thing.’

  ‘And we never break rules?’

  Both ladies laughed and by the time the door knocker sounded, Amara felt fractionally more in control of herself. When Mr Harland entered the room, looking formidable, authoritative and impossibly handsome in full court regalia, his smile turned wickedly appreciative at the sight of her, bolstering her courage.

  ‘Ladies,’ he said bowing. ‘It will be my pleasure to escort you this evening.’

  Following the incident on the promenade, Claus Lykaios retired to the miserable tavern where he had taken lodgings after Amara had the temerity to dispense with his services. He pushed his way into the taproom, removing people from his path by barging into their shoulders and receiving a barrage of complaints for his incivility that he was too angry to take any notice of. He demanded a tankard of ale from the obliging barmaid whose services, he had reason to know, ran beyond pouring ale. He thanked the girl, winked at her and his pride was partially restored when her cheeks turned pink and she pouted at him, the invitation unmistakable.

  Maybe later.

  Claus retreated to a small corner table, away from the peat fire that belched smoke into the room, mixing its choking aroma with the stench of tobacco and making his eyes water. A curse on this wretched country and its damp weather! His body ached for the warmth of Greek sunshine and the compliance of God-fearing Greek women, who knew their place in the order of things and didn’t get ideas above their station.

  He took a long swallow of weak ale as he contemplated his next move. It had been a miscalculation to try and grab Amara from the street, he could see that now, but damn it, she and Eva had no authority to dismiss him, treating him like a paid lackey who was beneath their notice! Kazan had entrusted him with his daughter’s care and his life wouldn’t be worth living when he discovered where she was and why.

  Kazan had grand plans for Amara, and Claus would be blamed if even the suggestion of scandal became attached to her reputation. Kazan possessed the power to destroy everything Claus had worked for, all the effort he had put into pulling himself from the gutter and making something of himself, but matters wouldn’t reach that point. Claus was damned if he would allow a slip of a girl to get the better of him.

  It was beyond time that she and Eva both learned the meaning of obedience. Men were superior for a reason. He growled into his tankard when he thought of the manner in which Eva had so rudely rejected his advances. She had wanted him from the word go; she’d made it obvious in lots of little ways—touching his hand, smiling at him in a particular way, lingering in a room if it gave them the opportunity to be alone, siding with him against her brother when discussing Amara’s performances. There was a name and punishment for women like her, who led men on and then left them dangling. Claus dug his fingers into the back of his scalp, wincing when they made contact with the place where Amara had clouted him with a vase, leaving pieces of glass embedded in his skull.

  They would pay, both of them.

  Claus realised now that the situation called for cunning rather that brute force. He knew where the women were lodged, glad that they had decided against taking rooms at the prince’s ostentatious pavilion. Claus would never have got to them there. Instead he’d paid a few of the lowlifes he’d encountered in the streets of Brighton to find out where she was staying, aware that someone of Amara’s remarkable beauty would be incapable of fading into the background. Sure enough, he knew where they were within hours of making enquiries, despite having to pay heavily for the information.

  He’d then endured hours of standing about in the damp and cold, waiting for them to emerge. When they did so, they were in the company of that rogue Harland, and Claus had almost burst with anger. He knew Amara had spotted him too and wondered if she would be spooked into changing lodgings. Fortunately that hadn’t proven to be the case. Clearly, she thought she was untouchable. Claus curled his lip disdainfully.

  He’d show her.

  Claus had been watching their lodgings and as far as he could tell there was just an older woman, a cook and Cora, the maid, in residence, as well as the ladies who were of interest to him. He sat a little straighter, drained his tankard and called for brandy. The day had yet to dawn when a house full of women got the better of Claus Lykaios.

  He would get in there at night when they were away entertaining the prince and give them the surprise of their lives when they got home. Yes, that would work, and he looked forward to exacting revenge. Kazan would take his side when he told his employer of their disobedience; disobedience encouraged by Eva, who was supposed to protect her niece’s interests, not lead her into the path of temptation.

  He would need somewhere to keep them until Kazan arrived in his yacht to collect them. He would also need help to keep them submissive and subdued. He’d underestimated them once and wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Claus had made the acquaintance of a couple of displaced Greeks since arriving in Brighton. Men who would ask no questions and do anything for a few shillings.

  He slapped the barmaid’s behind when she delivered his brandy and sent her back to her duties. There was no time for distractions. Instead, he needed to find his Greek friends again. It was beyond time to employ their services.

  Chapter Four

  Louis sensed Miss Kazan’s nerves simply by watching the gamut of emotions that flitted across her lovely face as the carriage made its way to the pavilion through streets slick with rain. He wished there was something he could say to reassure her, suspecting that the nerves in question were not entirely attributable to concerns about her performance.

  ‘Did you manage to venture out in between the showers, ladies?’ he asked, searching for clues.

  ‘We did.’ It was Mrs Costas who answered him. ‘We had hoped to see the entertainers whom we have heard perform along the seafront, but the weather had other ideas, and we didn’t get far before we were obliged to turn back again.’

  ‘There will be entertainments aplenty this evening,’ Louis replied, concerned that Miss Kazan still seemed preoccupied; angry even. Possibly afraid. He glanced at Mrs Costas, who shook her head slightly, and Louis accepted that now was not the time to probe.

  ‘It has to stop
raining eventually,’ Louis said, inwardly groaning at the banality of the statement. Now was the time to be diverting rather than predictable.

  He lapsed into silence again, but was glad when Miss Kazan became more interested when they reached the pavilion. She leaned forward to observe the façade lit from the outside as the dull early evening weather gave way to twilight.

  ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘It looks spectacular, and daunting too.’

  ‘It’s just a building, like any other. And like all of the prince’s habitats, it isn’t finished. By the time the renovations are done, George will likely decide that he doesn’t like them and start all over. He’s rather extravagant in that regard, I’m afraid.’

  When they entered the building this time, all the stops had been pulled out and even though he had seen it many times before, even Louis was impressed by the grandeur. A footman escorted the ladies to the withdrawing room, where they could divest themselves of their outdoor garments and make final adjustments to their coiffures. Louis surrendered his own cape to a steward and waited for the ladies to rejoin him. The moment they did so, he led the way to the grand salon, already crowded with those fortunate enough to have received invitations to the prince’s summer court.

  Miss Kazan hesitated on the threshold, taking in the scene and looking even more apprehensive.

  ‘Gosh,’ she said, moistening her lips. ‘I had not expected so much…’

  ‘George never does things by halves.’ Louis squeezed her upper arm gently. ‘Don’t worry. Everyone here is already predisposed to approve of you, and the moment they hear your beautiful voice you will have won them all over.’

  Miss Kazan smiled up at him; a gesture that lit up her emerald eyes, fuelling the air with the power of her femininity. ‘Thank you for trying to make me feel better,’ she said softly.