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swept her sister up to a pair of ornate thrones. This part of the proceedings Nell and her mother had known about and had drilled Frances in thoroughly; her sister had made a very nice show of curtsying and greeting her future parents-in-law, Frederick’s parents, the ageing Prince and Princess of Lautenberg. Both monarchs had been disposed to be delighted; standing behind Frances, Nell had seen her sister’s tense shoulders ease.
    Then Frederick had led Frances to one side, and Robert had stepped forward to introduce Nell. She had duly smiled, curtsied, risen, and had exchanged the regulation greetings and observations before stepping aside to allow her parents to come forward. She would have loved to have simply melted into the crowd, but she’d known her duty. She’d unobtrusively slipped into position behind Frances, ready to lend support when next it was needed.
    But Frances had taken heart from the sincerely warm reception; as the tea service had commenced, Nell had watched her sister smile and chat with commendable spontaneity. Noting that her mother, too, was keeping a surreptitious eye on her soon-to-be-royal sibling, Nell accepted that, while she’d succeeded in avoiding Robert to that point, she couldn’t avoid him for much longer.
    Cup and saucer in hand, he’d retreated to stand by the wall a little way down the room. While he sipped, he constantly scanned the crowd, as any good organizer would. Balancing her own cup and saucer, she girded her loins and glided across to join him. Without meeting his eyes, she turned to stand beside him, to sip and survey the assembled courtiers, too.
    He spoke first. “I had no idea you were coming.”
    “I had no idea you would be here.”
    He hesitated, then asked, “Would you have come if you’d known?”
    She thought before truthfully stating, “I don’t know.”
    From the corner of her eyes, she saw his lips twist, then he set his cup on his saucer and lightly shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Water under the bridge, so to speak.”
    She felt his gaze on her face, but didn’t meet it, just nodded. “Indeed. My role here is to ensure that this wedding goes off without a hitch—at least from the bride’s side.”
    He inclined his head. “And my role is the complementary one and my purpose the same, but . . . there is a wider consideration, and that not only for me, but for us both.”
    She frowned, glanced at him. “What wider consideration?”
    Finally . Robert caught her dark violet eyes, several shades darker than her mother’s, and felt the same jolt he had years ago—nine years ago to be precise. They’d seen each other over the intervening years, in passing in the ballrooms and drawing rooms of the ton, but not since they’d parted had they been this close, or looked so directly into each other’s eyes.
    And it was all still there—that indefinable connection, the spark of an attraction that was more than just physical, that welled from deep inside, then spread beneath their skins. Nothing had changed . . . or rather, if anything, the link had grown stronger, harder, more refined, more definite, the flash of connection more compelling.
    She sensed it, too; of that he had not a single doubt. The slight hitch in her breathing, and her widening eyes, gave her away.
    Those fabulous, rich pansy eyes searched his, then she blinked, and a frown started to form, drawing down her perfectly arched dark brows, setting a faint wrinkle in the unblemished expanse of her forehead; her straight nose, delicately curved lush lips, and decidedly determined feminine chin hadn’t changed in the least.
    What had he been saying? He denied the impulse to clear his throat. “This wedding has wider political and strategic implications for our country.” He glanced briefly at the crowd in the room; no one was near enough to overhear. Although several courtiers had their eyes on Nell, eager to make her acquaintance, everyone knew he and she needed to