‘Don’t you mean my sordid, scandalous and immoral past?’ Might as well tell it like it is, he thought.
‘If you like,’ Marcus returned evenly. ‘The bigger problem is that we both know you are holding on to the crown by your fingertips. The people did not want you on the throne because of your past—so any reminder causes damage.’
‘I understand that.’
The all too familiar guilt twisted his insides—the people had wanted his brother on the throne. Axel had been born to this. He would have been the ideal ruler to bring prosperity and calm to the land after their father’s turbulent rule.
But Axel was dead and buried—victim of a car crash that should have been Frederick’s destiny. Frederick should have been in that car on his way to a State dinner; instead he’d asked Axel to step in and take his place and his big brother had—no questions asked. So Frederick had attended a party on board a glitzy yacht to celebrate a business deal...and Axel had died.
The dark secret tarnished Frederick’s soul, weighted his conscience.
And now Lycander was stuck with the black sheep of the royal line and the people were threatening to revolt. Bleak determination hardened inside him. He would keep the crown safe, whatever the cost—he owed that at least to Axel’s memory.
‘So what do you suggest?’
‘I suggest you find a new bride—someone like Lady Kaitlin. Your proposed alliance with Kaitlin was a popular one. It showed the people that you had decided to settle down with a suitable bride, that you’d changed—proof there would be no repeat of your father’s disastrous marriages.’
‘I have decided to settle down.’ To bind himself to a lifestyle he’d once sworn to avoid and the formulation of a cold-blooded alliance undertaken for the sake of the throne. ‘But Kaitlin is no longer an option—she has fallen in love with another man.’
Irritation sparked inside him. He wished Kaitlin well, but it was hard to believe that the cool, poised Lady Kaitlin had succumbed to so foolish an emotion.
‘Which is not good news for Lycander.’
Marcus resumed pacing, each stride swallowing up a metre of the marble floor, taking him past yet another portrait of one of Frederick’s ancestors.
‘Kaitlin was the perfect bride—her background is impeccable and she reminded the people of Lycander brides of the past.’
Unlike the succession of actresses, models and gold diggers Frederick’s father had married.
‘The people loved her.’
Unlike you.
The unspoken words hovered in the air between them.
‘I understand all this. But Kaitlin is history.’
‘Yes. And right now the press is focused on your history. That article zones in on your former flames—the actresses, the socialites, the models. Giselle, Mariana, Sunita... Hell, this reporter, April, even tried to track them down.’
Frederick froze.
Sunita.
Images flashed across his mind; memory reached across the chasm of tragedy.
Sunita.
Shared laughter, sheer beauty, almond-shaped eyes of a brown that veered from tawny to light, dependent on her mood. The raven sheen of her silken hair, the glow of her skin, the lissom length of her legs.
Sunita.
The woman who had left him—the woman he’d allowed to go...
Without preamble, he pulled his netbook back towards him, eyes scanning the article.
But where is Sunita now?
This is where it becomes a little mysterious.
Mere weeks after the end of her relationship with the Prince of Lycander—which, according to several sources, she ended abruptly—Sunita decided to ‘take a break’ from her highly lucrative modelling career to ‘rediscover her roots’.
This involved a move to Mumbai, where her mother reportedly hailed from. But the trail ends there, and to all intents and purposes Sunita seems to have vanished.
‘Frederick?’ Marcus’s voice pulled him from the article and he looked up to see his chief advisor’s forehead crease into a frown. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing.’ Under the sceptical gaze Frederick shrugged. ‘It just sounds unlike Sunita to give up her career.’
Sunita had been one of the most ambitious people he knew—had been defined by that ambition, had had her career aspirations and goals mapped out with well-lit beacons. The idea of her jacking it all in seemed far-fetched at best.
Marcus drummed his fingers on his thigh. ‘Could her disappearance have anything to do with you?’
‘No.’
‘What happened?’
‘We spent a few weeks together—she moved on.’
‘She moved on?’
Damn. ‘We moved on.’
‘Why?’
Keep it together. This is history. ‘She decided to call it a day as she’d garnered sufficient publicity from our connection.’
Marcus raised his eyebrows. ‘So she used you for publicity?’
‘Yes. To be fair, she was upfront about that from the start.’
More fool him for thinking she’d changed her mind as time had gone on. He’d believed their time together, the long conversations, the laughter, had meant something. Well, he’d been wrong. Sunita had been after publicity and then she’d cut and run. Yet there had been something in her expression that morning...a transitory shadow in her tawny eyes, an errant twist of her hands that had belied the glib words dropping from her lips. But he hadn’t called her on it.
Enough! The past was over and did not bear dwelling on because—as he knew with soul-wrenching certainty—it could not be changed.
Marcus’s dark blue eyes met his as he resumed pacing. ‘So weeks after this publicity stunt she disappeared off the modelling scene? That doesn’t make sense.’
It didn’t. But it had nothing to do with him. Two years ago Sunita had affected him in ways he didn’t want to remember. He’d missed her once she’d gone—an unheard-of weakness he’d knocked on the head and buried. Easy come, easy go. That was the Playboy Prince’s motto. Sunita had gone—he’d accepted it. And then, mere months after her departure, Axel had died and his life had changed for ever.
‘I’ll look into it,’ Marcus said. ‘But right now you need to focus on this list. Potential brides. A princess, a lady and a marquesa. Take your pick.’
Frederick accepted the piece of paper but didn’t so much as glance down. ‘What do you mean, “look into it”?’
‘If there is any chance of potential scandal we need to shut it down now. So I plan to find Sunita before April Fotherington or any other reporter does.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then I’ll send someone to talk to her. Or go myself.’
‘No!’ The refusal came with a vehemence that surprised him. However it had ended, his time with Sunita had marked something—his last moments of joy before catastrophe occurred, perhaps. He didn’t want her life tainted...didn’t want Marcus or his minions to find her if she didn’t want to be found.
‘It needs to be done.’ Marcus leant forward, his hands on the edge of the desk. ‘I understand you don’t like it, but you can’t take even the smallest risk that there is a scandal floating around out