Prologue

Prologue

1802

Selina looked back and saw that her parents were still occupied with what they were doing. The Marquess of Downe was sitting on the blanket they had laid on the sand reading a book, and the marchioness was having her temples massaged by Nanny Letty.

Selina wondered if her mother ever got through the day without a headache. Then again, she was always shouting, so she was probably hurting her head with all of that. Selina’s head hurt whenever the marchioness raised her voice.

Why did she have to shout so much? It was as if her mother was too impatient for anything. It seemed to be worst when it came to her husband. Downe didn’t like it, but he kept quiet whenever Selina was around. As soon as she was gone, though, that was when the arguments started. Selina wanted to cry when she heard that. Why didn’t her parents love each other? They didn’t seem to like their spouse from what she had overheard.

At least they hadn’t argued much since coming to Brighton from Buckinghamshire. They both wanted a holiday, and it was the end of summer, so there would be fewer people crowding the beach. At the time, Selina had been eager to see the sea. There was a bit of tension between her parents, but Selina did her best to ignore it. She wanted to enjoy her holiday at the seaside.

Although, as she stood at the edge of the water and stared out at the waves lapping over each other and crashing into the sand, getting closer and closer to her shoes, Selina began to wish that she wasn’t here. The sea looked so ominous, so black and frightening. Even with the clear blue sky, the shining sun, and the gulls happily flying over the surface as they searched for fish, the sea was terrifying. Selina felt fear grip her and she couldn’t move.

This was scary. She wanted to get away, but her feet refused to move. She imagined the water touching her, hands reaching out to grab her dress, and then dragging her into the sea as Selina screamed, powerless to do anything about it.

She had to stop that. She was eight now, old enough to know that this way of thinking was irrational. And yet Selina couldn’t stop.

“Careful!”

Hands grabbed her from behind and yanked her backwards. Selina screamed and lost her balance, ending up on the sand. She looked up and saw a boy standing over her. A very tall boy, with his head blocking out the sun. He scowled at her.

“You were going to get yourself soaked like that,” he scolded. “The tide is coming in and you were standing too close to the water’s edge.”

“You didn’t need to grab me like that,” Selina shot back, sitting up and seeing that she had been pulled away from the edge of the sea. It was still creeping up the sand, though, and that made her scramble to her feet. She dusted herself off. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I tried. I called out to you at least four times before I pulled you away.” The boy put his hands on his hips. “Where are your parents? You shouldn’t be wandering around here on your own.”

Selina lifted her chin defiantly, placing her hands on her hips, mimicking his stance.

“I’m eight years old!” she declared. “I’m more than old enough to be walking around without a parent.”

“Oh, really?” The boy arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure they would be delighted to hear how you almost got swept away by the tide. They shouldn’t take their eyes off you; you’re likely to get pulled out to sea.”

Selina didn’t want to hear that. It reminded her of how she felt when she was being dragged under the water. She could already feel her throat closing up.

“I was perfectly fine,” she pouted. “I would have just ruined my shoes.”

“Think your parents can afford to replace them?”

“Well, my father is a marquess. He can easily afford anything I want.” Selina looked the older boy up and down. “How about I tell him that someone is being horrible to me and tackled me like I’m one of the boys running around the beach?”

“I’m sure your father would love to discuss that with my father, the Duke,” the boy replied with a slight smile.

Selina faltered. He was the son of a duke? Her natural instinct to cower started coming back, and she took a step back. It didn’t help that he was clearly older; he had to be at least fourteen or fifteen. Normally, whenever she interacted with boys and girls that age, they were not very nice to her. Selina was naturally wary of older children due to their behavior. Her annoyance at being grabbed and manhandled faded away rapidly.

“Forgive me,” she mumbled, unable to look him in the eye.

“For what?”

“For shouting at you.”

Selina could barely look up, so she stared at her shoes. Then she saw his shoes appear before her, and the boy ruffled her hair, digging a couple of pins into her scalp. Selina squealed and pushed his hand away.

“Ouch!”

“You don’t need to apologize. At least you’re not soaking wet.” The boy sounded amused. “I’ve been building a sandcastle a bit further up the beach. Do you want to join me, or do you want to go back to your parents?”

Selina wanted to run back to her mother and father. She was embarrassed that she had been rude to a duke’s son. But she didn’t want the boy to see her nerves. Biting her lip, she nodded.

“All right, but not for too long. Nanny Letty will wonder where I am.”

“Can you see them around here?”

Selina looked and spied her family further up the beach. They weren’t looking her way; her father was still absorbed with his book and her mother was still having her temples massaged. Selina pointed.

“That’s them.”

“And I’m right here.” The boy pointed to a nearby mound of sand. “Do you want to help me, or shall I escort you back?”

“I’ll help you,” Selina said quickly. “I like building.”

“Oh?”

Selina nodded shyly. She had building blocks at home, and she played more with those than most of her other toys, including her dolls and the toys her mother wanted her to play with. The marchioness got frustrated whenever she saw her daughter not playing as she was supposed to.

Her husband told her to stop fussing and Selina would find them interesting eventually, but Selina didn’t want to. Having them pushed into her was not likely to get her focused in another direction. Building was more fascinating for her.

“Come on, then.” The boy beckoned her to follow her. “You can help me with this.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He tilted his head to one side. “I know I might have scared you just now getting you away from the water, but I’m not that bad. I promise.”

Selina didn’t know about that, but she was more thinking about the fact that she was playing with a duke’s son, an older boy. And he was being kind to her, something she was surprised about. Selina wanted to hang around him and be able to boast to her friends that she had played with a duke’s son. He was bigger than her, and that scared her.

But he seemed to be making an effort. Selina decided that was enough.

She joined him at the mound and watched as the boy crouched and began to scoop sand up into his hands.

“What are you planning on making?” she asked. “What sort of sandcastle?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe a mott and bailey castle.”

“Mott and bailey?” Selina frowned. “What’s that?”

“It’s a castle up on high ground with a moat around it.” He pointed at the hole he was digging around the mound. “This is going to be the moat. I’ll bring the water up from the sea and fill it in once I’ve done the castle itself.”

“But you haven’t got a bucket.” Selina looked around. “How are you going to get water?”

“Maybe I’ll wait for the tide to come in and the water will fill it in then. Although I’ll have gone back to our house by then, so I won’t be able to see it.”

Selina began to pick up sand, bunching it into her hands, and placing it on the top of the mound, shaping it into a turret. Then she began to delicately carve it out, sticking her tongue out as she did. It wasn’t that bad, but it was better than a ball of sand.

At least it distracted her from the sea, which was lapping away not far off from where they were now.

#

Christopher watched the little girl as she created the turrets on the top of his makeshift castle. It wasn’t actually that bad. She had a general idea of what went into building a castle, and she seemed to be very focused on it. It was like she had almost forgotten that he was there.

When he had seen her at the edge of the sea, Christopher had been worried. With the gown she was wearing, it only took a little water to make it heavy enough to drag her in. The slightest distraction was enough to be fatal.

Her nanny should have been watching her if the parents weren’t, but from what Christopher saw when the girl pointed, she was busy with the mother. It looked odd doing that on a beach, but Christopher wasn’t about to make a judgment over something that wasn’t his business. It was not his family, so he was staying quiet.

His father always told him to keep out of things that other families got involved in. He was still a child and too young to deal with any of it. Christopher was fifteen and wanted to object to that, but he knew that his father and mother wouldn’t listen to him until he came of age. Fifteen-year-olds didn’t have the life experience.

Maybe he didn’t have that, but he was certainly observant. The parents of the little girl didn’t seem to care. They were in their own worlds and not paying attention to their child. If they had been watching, they would have noticed that she could have gotten hurt.

Christopher bit his tongue and leave it be. While he wasn’t keen on playing with someone much younger than him, she couldn’t be older than eight years old, but it made him feel like he was doing something to help.

And she could build. She was quickly finishing the turret, and it looked good. Christopher was impressed.

“You’re good,” he remarked.

The little girl smiled shyly.

“Thank you.”

“You know what castles look like?”

“I have lessons with my governess. We’ve learned about castles, and I’ve seen pictures.” She beamed at him. “I really like the look of castles. They were such huge fortresses and protected those inside from invasion.”

“Not all of them,” Christopher pointed out. “But there are several that are still standing and look like they’re as sturdy as ever, despite having been built nearly eight hundred years ago.”

“Ever since…” she frowned as she tried to remember. “The Battle of Hastings? Is that right? King…William?”

“Not bad. That’s him. He brought over the ideas from France, where he lived, and soon we had castles everywhere.”

“I like history,” the girl admitted, her cheeks going a little pink as she picked up more sand. “But Mother says that I shouldn’t be that interested in history. I should focus more on sewing and poetry. I can’t sew, and my poetry is awful. I love to read, but I’m not good at writing stories.”

“Neither am I. We can’t be good at everything.” Christopher leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. “My favorite subject was art. I wanted to be an artist when I was your age. But Father said that I wasn’t allowed to become one. I’m the heir, so I can’t do something like that.”

“But do you still like art?” she asked.

“I do. I sketch sometimes.”

“Can I see?”

Christopher shook his head.

“I don’t show it to anyone. I draw just for me.”

“Not even for your parents? They might like them.”

“If you ever meet them, you’ll understand why.” Christopher stopped building the moat and watched as the girl built another tower. “Do you know the stories of the princess locked up in the tower?”

“I’ve had a few read to me. But I don’t like them.”

“Why not?”

She made a face.

“Waiting around for someone to do something. It makes her feel weak and incapable of doing anything, like she’s not able to do something for herself when people need her.”

Christopher raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t heard that before.

“You’ve given it a lot of thought, haven’t you?”

“Why would you lock a princess into a tower? It just proves that you’re a bad person.” She stopped building, looking quite animated. “She’s the daughter of the king, so she is supposed to be strong and courageous. Just because she’s a girl and not a boy doesn’t mean she’s immediately considered weak.”

Christopher peered at her curiously. She sounded adamant about it. And she did have a point, although trying to argue that point would result in her getting ignored and called a silly girl. Christopher didn’t think it was silly at all. In fact, it was rather articulate for a young child.

“So, you think that princesses are meant to be strong?” he asked. “That they can overcome adversity?”

“Advers…what’s that word?”

“Overcoming obstacles that get in the way. Something like that. Do you think princesses can do that?”

“Of course.” She nodded confidently. “They’re children of kings and queens. They’re raised to be strong. Just like princes.”

“Princes are normally strong, anyway. They have to grow up and become kings, eventually.”

She peered at him in a way that made Christopher feel a little uncomfortable.

“Do you think you could be a prince?” she asked. “Do you think you’re strong?”

“I…I like to think I am.” Christopher cleared his throat and attempted to steer it away from him. “I am not afraid of the water, after all.”

Something flashed behind her eyes. Interesting. Was she taking that as a challenge? Then she walked past him towards the water’s edge. Confused, Christopher scrambled to his feet and hurried after her. What was she doing?

She went to the water and, after a moment’s hesitation, stepped on the wet sand. Christopher was about to grab her and pull her away, but the waves lapped over her shoes. He watched as she moved a little further into the water until it was up to her ankles.

“What on earth are you doing?” He hurried after her, his shoes splashing water everywhere, and he grabbed her arm. “Why are you trying to walk into the sea?”

“If I’m a princess, then I’m meant to be strong, aren’t I?” She looked up at him with such dark blue eyes that he was momentarily left reeling. “Then I can conquer my fear of the sea, right?”

“But not at the expense of your own life!” Christopher led her back onto the dry sand. “What are your parents going to say about your wet shoes? The edge of your dress is wet as well!”

She kept those eyes on him, and Christopher felt like he wanted to squirm.

“If you’re a strong prince, then I’m a strong princess,” she declared. “You would prefer to marry a strong princess, wouldn’t you?”

That was so out of place that Christopher couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“Lady Selina!”

Christopher turned. The nanny was hurrying towards them, grabbing her skirts to keep herself from tripping over and landing face first in the sand. Selina beamed at her.

“I’m not scared of the water, Nanny Letty! I’m a strong princess!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Nanny Letty reached them, looking shocked at her state. “Your shoes! They’re brand new! And your stockings, too!”

“I’m not scared.”

“You need to come back with me right now. You shouldn’t wander off like that.” Nanny Letty gave Christopher a brisk nod. “Forgive my charge. She shouldn’t be bothering anyone else.”

“She was no bother at all,” Christopher replied.

He wasn’t sure if the nanny heard him, though, because she was hustling little Selina away. The girl looked over her shoulder at him, and then those blue-black eyes were gone, her black curls bouncing around her head as she was led back up the beach. Christopher watched her go, wondering what had just happened in the last few minutes. It felt like so much had occurred in such a short space of time.

Lady Selina, for such a young age, was an interesting child.