Imogen walked into her sitting room and halted. “Who let you in here?”

Ingram smirked from where he lounged on a chair by the fire. “Now is that any way to speak to your future husband? I thought we should have a nice, cosy chat.”

Imogen gave him a patently false smile. “What a charming idea. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Ingram sat upright. “Just so you know, the door’s locked.”

She stared at him, then breathed through gritted teeth. “Again, such charm. I do hope I’m allowed to visit my own privy.”

Ingram grimaced and flapped a hand at the other door in the room. “You have no refinement.”

She bobbed a curtsey he was too arrogant to recognise as mocking and made for her inner bedchamber door, praying no one had interfered with those locks.

She closed and bolted the door, then hurried across the room. The latch to the twin of her suite opened, and she slipped through with a breath of thanks to the benevolent spirits.

She crossed again and fumbled the latch into Arden’s study. He was there, at the desk. She caught herself on a relieved sob and flew to him.

He stood as she ran and wrapped an arm around her waist. “What’s wrong?”

She gripped his tunic. “Someone let Ingram into my rooms, then locked the corridor door. He says he thought we should have a ‘nice, cosy chat’.”

Arden smiled grimly. “And so we shall.”

He took her hand and led her back the way she came. They walked back into her sitting room to find Ingram as she’d left him. His smirk vanished when his older half-brother stalked towards him. “What are you doing here?”

He switched his gaze to Imogen. “You dirty little slut.”

Imogen grabbed Arden’s arm. “You can’t kill him yet.”

Arden’s smile was evil. “Not yet, he has information I want, and Father’s fond of him. But later, I am going to hurt him.”

They sat together on the sofa opposite Ingram, who was now bolt upright and sweating, Imogen tucked securely under one of Arden’s arms.

Just in time, the corridor door thunked open and Imogen’s maid scurried in. “You see, Your Grace, Your Majesty…”

She saw the couple on the sofa and paled.

Imogen’s father and King Leopold stood inside the door, frowning at the tableau. The Duke said. “You said my daughter was cavorting with the youngest prince. This does not appear to be the case.”

Arden tipped his head back. “You did notice, Sir, that your so-helpful maid found it necessary to unlock the door to gain access.”

The King frowned. “So you wished to be private.”

Arden gave his father a sardonic look. “If I wanted to be private, I’d lock the door from the inside.”