Princess Annie by Linda Lael Miller Page A

match as if it were happening all over again.
    He and that woman, Miss Covington, were laughing together when Annie finally turned away.
    Dinner was an excruciating event for Annie. Phaedra, pleading a headache, did not appear at all, and Mr. Haslett accepted the news with admirable grace, murmuring that he hoped the ailment was not of a serious nature. Lucian was in a temper, and his annoyance seemed to be directed at Annie, rather than Rafael. Throughout the meal, he kept flinging sour glances in her direction.
    The worst of it, though, was seeing Miss Covington from close up. She sat at Rafael’s right, consuming all his attention, and in addition to being as beautiful as an angel, she was an engaging conversationalist as well. Her laughter chimed like fine crystal, struck lightly with a sterling spoon, and her brown eyes were luminous in the light of the candles burning in the center of the table.
    Annie forced herself to choke down some of her food, knowing that she’d be prowling in the dark kitchen later on if she didn’t, and excused herself, fleeing the dining room, barely able to keep from breaking into a dead run. She saw only a few servants as she crossed the great hall.
    Attaining the second floor, she hurried toward her room, stopping first at Phaedra’s door. After taking a few moments to catch her breath, she knocked lightly and called the princess’s name.
    When there was no answer, Annie became concerned and let herself into the chamber. “Phaedra?” she called again, peering into the darkness. The room was lit only by the glow of the fire on the hearth.
    She climbed the steps beside the tester bed, but the covers had not been disturbed. Frowning, Annie left Phaedra’s room and went into her own.
    A maid was there, lighting the lamps. A low fire crackled in the grate, and Annie could see that the blankets had been turned back on her bed.
    The woman nodded in shy acknowledgment of Annie’s presence.
    “Have you seen the princess this evening?” Annie asked, unfastening the broach at the throat of the high-necked brown silk gown she’d worn to dinner. She had wanted to offer a practical and mature image, should the opportunity to speak with Rafael about Phaedra’s marriage have presented itself. Regrettably, it hadn’t. “I thought she was suffering from a headache, but she’s not in her chamber.”
    The maid shook her head. “No, miss. But it’s Sally Jeeves, and not me, who gets the princess’s room ready at night. You might ask her about it.”
    “No,” Annie replied thoughtfully, “I’m sure it’s nothing.” She wasn’t sure at all, but she didn’t want to create an unnecessary stir among the servants. Was it possible that Phaedra had decided not to wait for Annie to talk with Rafael, but to run away instead?
    The thought made Annie shiver, despite her own adventuresome spirit. Bavia was a troubled country, on the verge of a bloody revolt, and certainly no place for a young woman to be abroad in the night, alone and helpless. Especially when that young woman was the beloved sister of the prince.
    When the maid had gone, Annie dropped her gown to the floor in a rustling heap and rifled through her wardrobe for the breeches and shirt she’d worn the night before when she had climbed out onto the parapet of the south tower. They’d been taken, probably for laundering, and Annie scowled at the discovery. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to acquire those clothes, for riding and other times when she didn’t want to be encumbered by skirts and petticoats, and she was going to be annoyed if they weren’t returned.
    She was wondering what to substitute for them when she heard an odd scrabbling sound from the terrace. She hurried out onto the balcony just in time to see Phaedra climb over the stone railing, wearing Annie’s trousers and shirt.
    The princess tossed her friend a look of mock chagrin, then bent over the rail to issue a whispered call. “You can take the ladder away now,