Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(19)

“I see.” She dug the spoon through her stew as if she might find the answer hidden somewhere amid the potatoes and lamb pieces. “I thought that as a protector of the Crown, you would be interested in being a protector no matter the cost.”

“Isabel, I am protecting you so that you are not forced to play a part in this traitorous plan. It is not your place to protect the queen. That is the purpose of the Brotherhood,” he said.

“Yes, but that does not negate the usefulness of the rest of us. Would you not expect a man to assist the queen if he saw her about to trip, even if he were merely a footman?” she asked.

He blinked at her, and his jaw clenched for a moment before he spoke. “That is not the same thing.”

“Protecting the sovereignty of the kingdom is every Englishman’s duty,” she said.

“Perhaps, but you are not English.”

“But if I can help—”

“You cannot help. It is the Brotherhood’s job to protect the queen, and you as well. Now you must allow me to do my job.”

He stood abruptly and made his way to the door with powerful strides. “I must tend to the horses and ensure we have fresh rides ready to leave at dawn.” He pulled on his great coat. “You’ll be safe in here.”

After he closed the door behind him, she dropped her head into her hands. That had been a colossal failure. Granted, she’d never proposed to anyone before, but she wagered that had gone about as badly as it could have. Instead of helping, it appeared she had infuriated Jason. Not to mention it had been rather humiliating.

So if he was unmarried and not betrothed, then why wouldn’t he want to marry her? Was she so undesirable? Of course, he was a viscount. There were undoubtedly legions of English girls who would be better suited to be his wife. Even though she was a princess, she certainly had not been raised as one. No, Jason had probably been wise in refusing her, even if his rejection had stung.

Whether she was humiliated or not, mattered little now. She had to do something or risk being part of the downfall of the English monarchy. She couldn’t let herself be a pawn in the machinations. Not if there was anything she could do to stop it.

True, Jason had insisted that it wasn’t her place to save the queen, but that didn’t mean she had to sit by and do nothing. Besides, if Jason had to protect her and keep her out of the hands of these villains, then that meant he wasn’t helping to protect the queen.

No, Jason might not see it, but the only solution was for her to marry someone. If not Jason, then someone else. She’d rather marry a stranger than play a role in killing the young queen. Jason was right—she wasn’t English, not truly, but she’d been raised English. If Jason wasn’t going to help her, she’d find someone who would.

She stood in front of the grainy mirror at the dressing table and patted her hair. She pinched her cheeks to pinken them before she slipped out of the room. She could find some willing participant in this inn. There had been several men when she and Jason had first arrived.

…

Jason made his way to the stables to check on the horses. He would have done so regardless, but the questions Isabel had been asking him had made him most uncomfortable. She was resourceful, he’d give her that. When faced with a nearly impossible problem, she’d come up with a clever solution, even if it would prove only temporary.

But he was not the solution. It mattered not that she’d shrewdly appealed to his sense of duty to the Crown. He certainly couldn’t tell her why he’d chosen not to get married. No one need know the truth. People could think what they would of him, but he did not deserve to be a husband.

He couldn’t blame Isabel for asking. He was near, and he had already vowed allegiance to protecting Queen Victoria. He was the logical choice. Still, her request had surprised him. In truth, much of what she’d said to him this evening had disarmed him.

Earlier in the carriage, she’d talked about knowing what it was like to discover you weren’t who you thought you were. She’d looked so lost and scared in that moment, and damned if he hadn’t agreed with her. He had nearly told her everything about his own life, the secret he’d discovered about his own identity. But his mother had always told him that it wasn’t his secret to tell. Even though it sure as hell felt as if it were very much his secret. It was, after all, entirely about him. The day he’d found out that his real father had been their stable master was forever imprinted in his mind.

But he couldn’t tell Isabel he was a bastard.

After spending entirely too much time in the stable, listening to the rain patter on the tree canopy surrounding him, he realized he’d likely wasted enough time avoiding Isabel. With any luck, she’d already be asleep, and Jason could simply take his place in the chair and wait until morning.

He stepped inside the inn, and the noise from the tavern assaulted him. Cheers and shouts ensued, and he was certain he saw someone standing on a table. Drunken fools. He made his way to the edge of the room to skirt the crowd, and then a flash of chestnut caught his attention. He turned and walked closer, to better see what was happening. Isabel was perched atop the table pointing at some of the men who encircled her.

Isabel.

What the devil was she doing down here? He wasted no time in shoving his way through the men, even though several of them were twice as wide as he was and at least a head taller. They grew them big out here in the country.