Nero's Fiddle Read Free

stay here? The house feels like her.”
    The newspaper dropped to reveal the quirk of a lip. “No. There is a cottage by the lake. I can show you if you want.” He reached out a hand for the coffee cup.
    “Yes, please.” Cara picked up the porcelain creamer. “By the way, I’ve asked her to come spend Christmas with us.”
    Nate snorted hot coffee over the morning newspaper and coughed. He tossed the stained reading material to the tablecloth.
    Cara poured cream and cast a glance at her spluttering husband. “Maybe we should have divorced. I seem to have a knack for breaking through your poker face.”
    The footman detached himself from the wallpaper and rushed forward to dab at the coffee splatters on the linen cloth, but Nate waved the servant away. “There’s nothing wrong with my poker face, woman, it’s the live mortars you lob at me over toast that cause problems for my composure.”
    Cara added sugar to her coffee and stirred. “Well, she declined anyway.”
    Nate leaned back in his chair; the steel blue gaze penetrated to the concern eating away at his wife, the one she tried to conceal from their bond. “Jackson will visit her over Christmas and make sure she’s not alone.”
    A sigh ran through her body, knowing that if anything happened, Helene would not meet her oncoming fate solo. “Good. I eventually figured out he is her little canary. Honestly, that man is like a crème brûlée.”
    Having regained his equanimity, Nate raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate on your analogy?”
    She picked up a silver spoon, and tapped her boiled egg until the shell cracked. “Smack that hard exterior and underneath he’s all warm and gooey.”
    “I am not.” A gruff voice sounded from the doorway. The large and scarred bodyguard blocked the view beyond. “Ready when you are, gov.” He nodded at Nate.
    “Are so,” Cara said. Turning in her chair, she threw her arms wide and gave him an equally wide smile. “I have a spare hug, want one?”
    Jackson uttered an oath and threw up his hands. “I don’t know what you see in that woman. I’ll be outside.” He cast a wary glance at Cara, in case she rose and pursued him, and then hurried out into the hallway.
    Nate waited until Jackson disappeared and gave a deep laugh. “Stop tormenting him. If you keep poking him with a stick don’t be surprised if he bites one day.” Rising, he gave his wayward wife a trail of kisses on the exposed nape of her neck.
    “He’s all bark.” She tilted her head to give his lips better access and laid down the gossip sheet, which no longer held her attention. The main headline speculated about the sudden and unexpected emergence of haemophilia in the royal line, threatening the life of the young prince. Cara’s focus drifted to Nate’s discarded paper, where the headline proclaimed Duke of Albany, Prince Leopold’s life in the balance. Again. She tapped a fingernail on the line of text under her hand, new threads forming in her mind.
    “Nolton said he had proof that the Duke of Kent was not Victoria’s father. Do you think it’s true, that she is illegitimate and that’s why the prince is sickly?”
    Nate straightened and placed his hands on the back of her chair. “Rumours have always circulated that John Conroy was the duchess’ lover. She wouldn’t be the first woman to keep the identity of a child’s father to herself.”
    Cara chewed her bottom lip. Had they saved Victoria from Hatshepsut’s Collar only to lose their queen to the infidelity of her mother? Was Nolton right, and Victoria was never the rightful heir to the throne? “But to do that with a royal child?”
    Nate’s lips brushed the back of her neck, distracting her train of thought. Cara raised her arms to pull his head closer as she spoke. “I am expecting Amy this morning. I have brought in reinforcements to help redecorate. Plus, she needs to escape London after the dissolution of her engagement to John Burke. Apparently, he is being