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Ted got out of the car, walking to the rear passenger door and opening it. For all the world as if he were according Hugo the respect his position required, rather than helping him with the weight of the door. Hugo climbed out of the car, ignoring the tingle of pain that reached from his chest down his left arm.
Now that she was closer, Dr Penelope Maitland didn’t seem as formidable as her old-fashioned name might lead one to suppose. She was all curves and movement, looking almost girlish in a tan jacket over a cream summer dress, creased from travelling. Her light brown hair glinted in the sunshine, and bare, tanned legs gave her the fresh, outdoorsy look of someone going on holiday.
Maybe the gorgeous Dr Penelope was a rare mistake on his father’s part. This woman looked as if she was more likely to spend her time here enjoying the pleasures of Montarino, not nagging him about his health. When her honey-coloured gaze met his, there was a spark of recognition and she smiled. A carefree kind of smile that sent tingles down his spine and allowed Hugo to believe that she didn’t have it in her to make his life difficult.
Then she stopped in front of him, letting go of her suitcase long enough for Jean-Pierre to grab it and wheel it around to the boot of the car. ‘I’m Dr Maitland. I’m told that I shouldn’t curtsey.’
Her voice was like honey but her tone was like steel. Clearly Dr Penelope wasn’t going to be quite as much of a walkover as her appearance suggested.
‘Thank you. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.’ Hugo held out his right hand, glad that the pacemaker was on the left side of his chest, and didn’t hamper the movement of his right arm. Her grip was as firm as her tone. ‘Welcome to Montarino. I’m Hugo DeLeon.’
‘Yes, I know.’ She shot him a questioning look, and Hugo wondered whether she was going to rebuke him for coming to meet her. He mumbled the usual invitation to call him Hugo, wondering if he’d get to call her Penelope. The name seemed suddenly as if it would taste sweet on his lips.
‘Please call me Nell...’
Hugo smiled his acquiescence. Nell sounded soft and sweet too, even if it was a little shorter.
‘You must be tired from your journey. We should be going...’ Hugo’s discreet gesture to Jean-Pierre prompted him to get into the car.
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Yes, we should be going. I’m surprised to see you out and about so soon.’
Her words had an edge to them. If anyone should be feeling tired she clearly expected that it should be him, and Hugo had to admit that he was surprised at the effort involved in making a simple car journey.
‘I’m grateful for the fresh air.’
At the moment, the fresh air was making his head spin. Hugo stood back from the open door of the car and she hesitated and then got in, sliding quickly across the back seat before Hugo could even think about closing the car door and walking around to get in on the other side.
All the same, he welcomed the move. On this side, the seat belt wouldn’t need to rest painfully on his left shoulder. Hugo got into the car, and Ted closed the door before he could reach for it.
‘Have you been to Montarino before?’ Hugo had years of practice with small talk.
‘No.’ Nell shook her head, regarding him thoughtfully.
‘It’s very small, only eight miles across, but very beautiful. We have one city, half a mountain and, although we have no coastline, there are some beautiful lakes.’
‘That’s nice. I’ll have to come back sometime when I’m not working. I probably won’t have much time to see them this time around.’ Her mouth was set in a firm line, and Hugo’s heart sank. Clearly there was no hope of deflecting the redoubtable Dr Penelope from her intended purpose.
* * *
Four days ago, Nell Maitland had ridden home on the night bus, after the farewell party that her colleagues at the hospital had thrown for her. It had been the ultimate failure, after months of trying to work things out with the cardiac unit’s new head of the department, and save the job that she loved so much. And now...
She was riding in a chauffeur-driven car, sitting next to a prince. It was an object lesson in how dramatically things could change in so little time.
‘I gather you have a strong tradition of attracting the best musicians.’ She smiled in response to Hugo DeLeon’s indication of the Montarino Opera House, and the car obligingly slowed to allow her a more detailed look.
‘We like to think that we can hold our own with the rest of Europe when it comes to our appreciation of the arts. You do know a little about Montarino, then?’
Anyone could use the Internet. Although Nell had to admit that the photographs didn’t do the grand building justice. Its sweeping, modern lines, rising from the tree-lined plaza that surrounded it, would have made it a landmark in the greatest of cities.
‘Only as much as I could read in the last couple of days. In between packing.’ Nell wondered whether he’d mind that she hadn’t even known where Montarino was before she’d taken this job. It had just been a name, tethered somewhere at the back of her mind, along with a lot of other places that she knew nothing about.
Hugo nodded, smiling. ‘That’s one of the best things about living here. Most people have few preconceptions, and so we have the chance to attempt to surprise our visitors.’
And it seemed that Hugo DeLeon was giving it his best shot. Nell had been told that he was a doctor as well as a prince, and that her advice would be a matter of reinforcing a message that he was already well aware of. In other words, he reckoned that the physical limits that applied to ordinary people weren’t for the likes of a prince, and he needed to be kept in check.
Nell had no idea in which direction they were supposed to be going, but she was aware that the car seemed to be taking a circuitous route past a number of notable buildings, all of which Hugo was intent on pointing out. If he thought that was going to deflect her from her purpose, he was wrong.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing the palace.’ She smiled brightly, wondering whether he’d take the hint.
‘We’re nearly there now.’ Hugo raised his voice a little. ‘Jean-Pierre...’
The driver nodded, turning smoothly onto a wide, straight boulevard and putting his foot on the gas. It seemed that everyone here responded to Hugo’s every word, which was the first challenge attached to this new appointment.
The ambassador, who had interviewed her at the embassy in London, had said little but implied a lot. He’d got her medical qualifications and the fact that she spoke French tolerably well out of the way in the first five minutes. Then he’d turned the conversation around to her patient.
‘Hugo DeLeon, Crown Prince of Montarino, can be...’ The ambassador had paused slightly before coming to a conclusion about how to describe it. ‘He can be self-willed.’
Nell had read arrogant into his words and had smiled politely. She had experience of dealing with all kinds of patients, and self-willed wasn’t a problem. Neither was arrogant.
What the ambassador hadn’t warned her about was his smile. It was polite, appropriate, and yet it seemed to hold real warmth. His high cheekbones lent a touch of class, and his shock of dark blonde hair, no doubt artfully arranged to make it appear slightly tousled, added a boyish note. Green eyes gave a hint that Hugo DeLeon was capable of some pretty serious mischief. Nell would have to watch out for those eyes.
But however handsome he was, however his smile made her stomach quiver, Nell had a job to do. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her handbag, which lay comfortingly across her knees. A man had gotten between her and her job before, and no one, not even this handsome prince, was going to do it again.
* * *
White knuckles. Hugo was used to looking for the little signs that told him what people were really thinking, and he’d noticed that Nell was clutching her handbag on her lap like some kind of defensive weapon. Despite the firm tone and the clear hints that he shouldn’t have come to the airport, there was a chink in her armour. One that he may well need to find and exploit if it turned out that the restrictions she placed on him got in the way of his current plans.
They’d driven through the grounds of the palace and the car stopped at the ceremonial entrance to allow them to get out. She gave the high, pillared archways a glance and then turned to him as the car moved smoothly away.
‘My luggage...’
‘Jean-Pierre will arrange for it to be taken up to your apartment.’ A sudden flare of panic had shown in Nell’s eyes, and Hugo almost felt sorry for her. But keeping her a little off-balance, a little over-awed was exactly what he wanted.
‘Right. Thank you.’
‘Perhaps I can show you around.’ The palace was big enough and grand enough to disorientate her even further.
‘I think that’s best left for some other time.’ She was as sweet-smelling and soft as a summer’s day, but there was no getting over the determination behind it all. ‘This...apartment. I was told that it would be next door to yours.’
‘Yes, it is.’ If Hugo had had any say in the matter, he’d have put her on the other side of the building, but he hadn’t. His father didn’t often step into his life, but when he did, he did it thoroughly.
‘With a connecting door?’
So someone had told her about that, too. Or maybe she’d asked. Hugo had rather hoped that he could just keep the connecting door closed and that it would never occur to anyone to open it.
‘Yes, that’s right. It’s generally kept locked...’ Finding the key was an easy enough matter on the rare occasions that he brought a girlfriend with him to stay at the palace for a few days, but he was sure he could just as easily lose it.
‘I imagine someone has the key. Being a doctor yourself, you’ll understand the need to have access to your patient.’
‘And I’m sure you’ll understand where your duties begin and end.’ Since the pleasantries didn’t seem to be working all that well, it was obviously time to make things clear.
‘The ambassador outlined them, yes.’ She pressed her lips together and Hugo imagined that the British Ambassador had deployed all of the expected diplomacy in the matter. ‘The King’s letter of appointment, on the other hand, was a little less circumspect.’
Great. So his father had decided that he needed to weigh in on that as well. And even if the tiny quiver at the side of Nell’s mouth told Hugo that she was feeling over-awed and nervous, her cool gaze indicated that she wasn’t going to let that stop her from doing her job.
‘Perhaps we should talk, over some tea.’ Since deflection wasn’t working, maybe negotiation would. The next step would be outright battle, and Hugo would prefer to avoid that.
‘Yes. I think that would be a very good idea.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ud65e59a7-5521-5b05-ace0-e0fd12bf648e)
HUGO HAD OPENED the door that concealed the lift, and when she’d seen the old-fashioned gates, she’d slipped in front of him, heaving them to one side. Part of him was grateful, but a greater part decreed that as a gentleman, and her host, he should have been quicker in insisting he open the gates himself. When he motioned her ahead of him into the lift, she hovered annoyingly next to the gates, giving him no opportunity to open them when they reached the third floor.
He showed her to her apartment, leaving her alone to freshen up. That would give him at least three quarters of an hour to rest before he had to submit to another onslaught from her.
Hugo sank gratefully into the chair in his private sitting room and closed his eyes. This morning he had woken feeling invigorated, and it had only been the pain in his shoulder that had reminded him he was unable to move mountains. Wide awake, his body feeling the immediate benefit of a heart that was now paced and doing its job properly, he’d jumped at the chance of getting out of the constriction of four walls, but it had worn him out. His own advice to pacemaker patients—that they might start to feel better almost immediately but must rest and get over the operation first—would be given with a lot more certainty in the future.
Fifteen minutes later, a quiet knock sounded on the main door to the apartment and he shouted to whoever it was to come in, keeping his eyes closed. If someone was here to make the tea or fuss over him, then he’d rather they waited until he was strong enough to smilingly refuse their help.
‘How are you feeling?’ Nell’s voice made his eyes snap open.
‘Fine. Thank you.’ Hugo’s eye’s darted to the clock above the mantelpiece. Surely he hadn’t been asleep...
Apparently not. She was pink-cheeked, as if she’d just got out of the shower, and Nell had changed out of her travelling clothes and into a slim pair of dark blue trousers with a white shirt, open at the neck and buttoned at the cuffs. She looked businesslike and entirely delicious.
He shifted, wishing that the ache in his left shoulder would go away, and Nell stepped forward. Without any warning at all, she caught up one of the cushions from the sofa and bent over him.
Her scent was... It was just soap. The soap that was placed in all the guest bathrooms at the palace. But Nell made it smell intoxicating. The brush of her hair, one soft curl against his cheek, almost paralysed him.
‘Is that a little better?’ She’d placed the cushion carefully under his left arm so that it supported his shoulder.
‘Yes. A lot better, thank you.’
Nell nodded, looking around the room as if she’d mislaid something. ‘Does your apartment have a kitchen? Or do you have to send out for tea?’
‘The kitchen’s through there.’ The desire to stay where he was battled with a strong disinclination to have her make tea for him. Hugo shifted, ready for the effort of standing up, and she reached forward, her hand on his right shoulder.
‘I didn’t go to all the trouble of arranging cushions for you to spoil it all by making the tea. Stay there.’ Her voice was kindly but firm. It occurred to Hugo that if he didn’t feel so tired he might have delighted in having Nell be kind and firm with him all afternoon, and then he reminded himself that business and pleasure was a very bad mix.
He heard her clattering around in the kitchen and closed his eyes. Listening to Nell was almost as good as watching her, because he could still see her in his mind’s eye. That was another thing that was going to have to stop.
* * *
Nell found a set of mugs in the kitchen cupboard. It was a surprise, since she’d expected that a prince would drink only out of bone china, but a good one. She’d been up very early this morning and could definitely do with a decent-sized cup of tea.
She looked in the cupboard for biscuits and found a packet of chocolate digestives. Things were definitely looking up. Next to them was a packet of painkillers, wrapped around with a piece of paper with a typed chart, each dose ticked off neatly. Hugo had taken this morning’s tablets but was past due for the lunchtime ones.
He was clearly overdoing things. And her letter of appointment had spelled out exactly what she was supposed to do in response to that likely eventuality. She had to make sure that he took the rest he needed.
She put the tea things on a tray and walked quietly into the sitting room. Large and filled with light, the furniture was stylish but comfortable, allowing the baroque fireplace and the gilded mirror above it to take precedence. Hugo seemed to be dozing, but when she put the tray down, moving a small side table next to his chair, he opened his eyes.
‘This is...quite unnecessary.’ He seemed quite devoted to the idea that there was nothing wrong with him.
‘And these?’ She raised an eyebrow, putting a glass of water and his tablets down next to him. ‘Pain’s generally the body’s way of hinting that you should slow down a bit.’
‘I thought I’d take them when I got back.’ He seemed to be watching her every move as he downed the tablets in one, then took some sips of water. ‘Please. Sit down. We really must talk.’
It was almost a relief. It seemed that Hugo wanted to make their relationship clear as much as she did, and it was a grey area that Nell was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with. She put his tea on the table next to him and sat down on the sofa, reaching for her cup.
‘The first thing I need to say is that your job here is strictly confidential.’ Nell took a breath to protest that she knew all about doctor-patient confidentiality and he silenced her with a flash of his green eyes. ‘More so than usual. I don’t want anyone to know what your role is here or that I’m your patient.’
Nell felt her heart beat a little faster. ‘Is there a reason for that?’
‘Yes, there is. A very good reason.’
‘I’d like to know what that reason is, please.’ She injected as much firmness into her voice as she could.
Hugo smiled suddenly. If he was unused to anyone questioning his decisions, it didn’t seem to bother him all that much. ‘I imagine you’ve done your homework and that you know I’ve been working very hard in the last few years to raise awareness about heart disease and promote early treatment.’
‘I know that you’re the patron of a charity that has done a lot of work in the field...’ How much work Hugo had personally done hadn’t been made clear in the article she’d read.
For a moment, it seemed that finally she’d managed to offend him. And then he smiled. ‘I’m a doctor and it’s my mission. You have a mission?’
‘Yes. I suppose I do.’
‘Then you’ll understand the compelling nature of it. Weakness on my part can only undermine the message I’m trying to give.’
Nell swallowed hard, trying to clear the rapidly growing lump in her throat. ‘Or...it might be seen as a strength. That you understand...’
‘My job is to make things happen. And I’ll freely admit that I’m a prime example of someone who hasn’t followed the most basic advice and sought help at the first signs of any problem with my heart. Which is inexcusable, since I have a very clear understanding of what those signs are.’
So he couldn’t allow himself this. In Hugo’s mind, his illness gave him feet of clay. Nell might disagree, but it was his decision.
‘What you choose to share about your own medical issues is entirely up to you. Of course, I’ll say nothing.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you. I see from your CV that you’ve taken an interest in the psychological aspects of recovery from heart disease.’
Something about his tone gave Nell the impression that this irritated him. ‘Yes, that’s right. I did a module on the psychology of recovery at medical school, and when I decided to specialise in cardiac medicine, it seemed very relevant. I co-authored a study on patients’ post-operative experiences, in partnership with doctors from five other hospitals.’
‘I’d be interested in reading it.’ He turned the corners of his mouth down, and Nell felt her muscles in her stomach twist. Maybe he’d decided that questioning whether he needed a doctor wasn’t enough, and that he’d take a leaf from her ex-boss’s book and undermine her by questioning her professional ability.
She stared at him, wordlessly, and Hugo smiled suddenly. ‘I’d be interested to know which category of patient I fall into.’
That charm again. That smile, which seemed calculated to make Nell’s head spin and throw her off guard. ‘Psychology isn’t a matter of putting people into boxes, it’s a way of understanding what’s there. I’m sure you know that already.’
Perhaps she should mention that understanding exactly why Hugo was so desperate to pretend that there was nothing wrong with him would be a good start in getting him on the road to recovery. Or maybe she should wait until Hugo was ready to voice that idea for himself, even if scraping through the layers of charm and getting him to admit to anything seemed likely to be a long process.
‘Yes, I do. And please forgive me if my welcome has fallen short of expectations. Your presence here wasn’t my choice, it’s my father who thinks I need a minder.’
