Forbidden in Regency Society. Marguerite Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ set high into the walls, reflecting through the gold-plated iron grilles, bouncing off the teardrop crystals of the five enormous chandeliers.

      Most of the men arrayed before Jamil had served on his father’s Council, too. The majority were traditionalists, resistant to every attempt at change, with whom Jamil found himself becoming increasingly irked. If he could, he would retire the lot of them, but though he was coming to the end of his patience, the prince was not a foolish man. There were many ways to skin a goat. He would take Daar-el-Abbah into the modern world, and he would take his people with him whether they wanted to join him on the journey or not—though he preferred that they came of their own accord, just as he favoured diplomacy over warfare. This marriage now being proposed was his gesture towards appeasement, for the hand that gives is the hand that receives.

      He should sign the contract. He had every reason to sign. It made no sense to postpone the inevitable.

      So he would sign. Of course he would. Just not yet.

      Jamil threw the papers at Halim. ‘It won’t do any harm to make them wait a little longer,’ he said, getting so swiftly to his feet that the Elders were forced to throw themselves hurriedly on to their knees. ‘We don’t want them thinking they are getting too much of a bargain.’ He growled impatiently at his Council. ‘Get up! Get up!’ No matter how many times he said he no longer wished them to show their obeisance in private meetings, they continued to do so. Only Halim stood his ground, following in his wake as Jamil took the two steps down from the dais in one and strode quickly up the long length of the throne room towards the huge double doors at the end.

      ‘Highness, if I may suggest …?’

      ‘Not now.’ Jamil threw open the doors, taking the guards on the other side by surprise.

      ‘But I don’t understand, Highness. I thought we had agreed that—’

      ‘I said not now!’ Jamil exclaimed. ‘I have another matter I wish to discuss. I’ve had a most interesting letter from Lady Celia.’

      Halim hurried to keep pace as they headed along the wide corridor towards the private apartments. ‘Prince Ramiz of A’Qadiz’s English wife? What possible reason can she have for writing to you?’

      ‘Her letter concerns Linah,’ Jamil replied as they entered the courtyard around which his quarters were built.

      ‘Indeed? And what precisely does she have to say on the matter?’

      ‘She writes that she has heard I’m having some difficulty finding a female mentor up to the challenge of responding to my daughter’s quite particular needs. Lady Celia’s father is Lord Armstrong, a senior British diplomat, and she has clearly inherited his subtle way with words. What she really means is that she’s heard Linah is out of control and has run rings around every single woman in whose charge I’ve placed her.’

      Halim bristled. ‘I hardly think that your daughter’s behaviour is any business of Lady Celia’s. Nor is it, if I may be so bold, the business of A’Qadiz, or its sheikh.’

      ‘Prince Ramiz is an upstanding man and an excellent ruler who has forward-thinking views similar to my own. I would suggest, Halim, that any opportunity to bring our two kingdoms closer together is something to be encouraged rather than resented.’

      Halim bowed. ‘As ever, you make an excellent point, Highness. That is why you are a royal prince and I a mere servant.’

      ‘Spare me the false modesty, Halim, we both know you are no mere servant.’

      Jamil entered the first of the series of rooms that ran in a square round the courtyard, unfastened his formal cloak and threw it carelessly down on a divan. His head dress and scimitar followed. ‘That’s better,’ he said, running his fingers through his short crop of hair. It was auburn, inherited from his Egyptian mother. Reaching into a drawer of the large ornate desk that dominated the room, he found the letter and scanned it again.

      ‘May I ask, does Lady Celia offer a solution to our supposed problem?’ Halim asked.

      Jamil looked up from the elegantly worded missive and smiled one of his rare smiles, knowing full well that Lady Celia’s proposal would shock his Council and drive a pack of camels through the dictates of convention relating to the upbringing of Arabian princesses. Today’s Council meeting had bored him to tears, and he was sick of tradition. ‘What Lady Celia offers,’ he said, ‘is her sister.’

      ‘Her sister!’

      ‘Lady Cassandra Armstrong.’

      ‘To what purpose, precisely?’

      ‘To act as Linah’s governess. It is the perfect solution.’

      ‘Perfect!’ Halim looked appalled. ‘Perfect how? She has no knowledge of our ways—how can you possibly think an English woman capable of training the Princess Linah for her future role?’

      ‘It is precisely because she will be incapable of such a thing that she is perfect,’ Jamil replied, his smile fading. ‘A dose of English discipline and manners is exactly what Linah needs. Do not forget, the British are one of the world’s great powers, renowned for their capacity for hard work and initiative. Exposure to their culture will challenge my daughter’s cosy view of the world and her place in it. I don’t want her to become some simpering miss who passes the time while I’m finding her a husband by lolling about on divans drinking sherbet and throwing tantrums every time she doesn’t get her own way.’ Like her mother did. He did not say it, but he did not have to. Princess Karida’s tantrums were legendary. ‘I want my daughter to be able to think for herself.’

      ‘Highness!’ Shock made Halim’s soft brown eyes open wide, giving him the appearance of a startled hare. ‘Princess Linah is Daar-el-Abbah’s biggest asset; why, only the other day the Prince of—’

      ‘I won’t have my daughter labelled an asset,’ Jamil interrupted fiercely. ‘In the name of the gods, she’s not even nine years old.’

      Slightly taken aback at the force of his prince’s response, for though Jamil was a dutiful parent, he was not prone to displays of parental affection, Halim continued with a little more caution. ‘A good marriage takes time to plan, Highness, as you know yourself.’

      ‘You can forget marrying Linah off, for the present. Until she learns some manners, no sane man would take her on.’ Jamil threw himself on to the tooled leather chair that sat behind the desk. ‘Come on, Halim, you know how appallingly she can behave. I’m at my wits’ end with her. It is partly my own fault, I know, I’ve allowed her to become spoilt since she was deprived of her mother.’

      ‘But now you are to be married, the Princess Adira will fill that role, surely.’

      ‘I doubt it. In any case, you’re missing the point. I don’t want Linah to be raised in the traditional ways of an Arabian princess.’ Any more than he would wish his son to be raised in the traditions of an Arabian prince. As he had been. A shadow flitted over Jamil’s countenance as he recalled his father’s harsh methods when it came to child-rearing. No, of a certainty he would not inflict those traditions on his son.

      ‘You want her to behave like an English lady instead?’ Halim’s anxious face brought him back to the present.

      ‘Yes. If Lady Celia is an example of an English lady, that is exactly what I want. If this Lady Cassandra is anything СКАЧАТЬ