Be My Prince (17 page)

He stood before her, tall and handsome in the morning light, his strong physical presence a vivid reminder of the intimate pleasures they had shared the night before, and despite everything, she clung to the hope that one day he would love her again.

“I will speak to your stepmother now,” he said, “and make the necessary arrangements. Then I will send the coach to fetch you tomorrow evening at seven o’clock.”

“Very well.”

As he walked out the door and she imagined the first formal night of their engagement taking form at last, she had no notion that those carefully laid plans would not come to pass.

She did not know that the coach would not come for her.

Nor would there be a political assembly at the palace to announce their engagement, or any celebrations in Petersbourg.

All because of a letter that was delivered to St. James’s Palace that afternoon.

A letter that would change everything …

Chapter Eighteen

After Rand spoke to the dowager duchess about his intentions and received her blessing for his and Alexandra’s marriage, he stepped into the coach and told the driver to circle once around Hyde Park before returning to St. James’s Palace.

As soon as the door swung shut behind Rand and the vehicle rolled forward, he tipped his head back against the seat and shut his eyes while struggling to focus on what he had achieved. Not only had he committed to a marriage that would produce his future heirs, but he had also found the fabled Princess of Petersbourg and ensured that her presence on the throne beside him—as his wife—would keep her from raising another rebellion as his enemy.

Had she trapped him with this charade?

Yes, she most certainly had, but he had done the only thing he could. Not only did he maintain his honor as a gentleman, but he also would cast a strong and sturdy net over her in return.

Why, then, was his chest aching with regret?

He sat forward and bowed his head very low as he rested his elbows on his knees and lamented over the manner in which this had unfolded.

He had wanted so badly to love her. He had wanted it more than anything. His insides were pitching and rolling with frustration over the fact that when he woke up this morning he had resented her so bloody much.

But he had been burned once before. How could he be anything but bitter?

Was there really no hope for him?

Lifting his head and leaning back in the seat, he chided himself for such thoughts. He was a future king, dammit, and he had made his choice. He had done what would be best for his country and the monarchy.

It was time, therefore, to lay indecision aside. No matter what he felt, no matter how disappointed he was about this turn of events, he would do his duty. He would not dwell on the past or long for what could not be. He would do everything in his power to make this a workable marriage, and he would make love to Alexandra again as soon as they were wed, in order to produce at least one male heir.

That part, at least, would not be unpleasant, for despite all the lies and this incomprehensible agony, he still desired her with a lust that was so powerful, it made him wonder how he would ever keep his mind on the callings of his reign.

A short while later the coach arrived at the palace and Rand barely had a chance to step out before Rose and Nick hurried out the door to greet him.

“Thank heavens you’re back,” Rose said. “We received a letter this morning.”

He noted his sister’s pale complexion and red puffy eyes. “What is it?”

Nick gestured for him to join them inside. “The letter has come from John Edwards.”

Edwards was their father’s Chief of Staff at Petersbourg Palace.

Rand’s heart skittered sideways as he entered the main hall. “What does it say?”

They paused briefly while Spencer took Rand’s hat and gloves.

“Edwards wrote that Father has taken a turn for the worse,” Nick explained. “The palace physician does not believe he will last more than a fortnight. The letter was dated a week ago. We are not even sure if he still lives.”

Rand faced them both. “Then we must leave England straightaway.”

“That would be best,” Rose replied. “Whatever plans you have made must be canceled. We must try to get home before…” She couldn’t finish.

Rand pulled her into his arms. “Do not worry, Rose. All will be well. Think only of our reunion with him. Perhaps the physician is wrong. Maybe by the time we arrive, Father will be up and about, eating strawberry sugar cakes and calling us all fools for doubting his fortitude.”

Rose withdrew from Rand’s embrace and spoke bravely. “I hope so.”

He turned to Nick. “Has the regent been notified?”

“Yes. I sent a messenger this morning, and I have already arranged for a ship to take us across the North Sea. We will travel with the same captain who brought us here. He assured me that he will have his crew ready to depart the moment we reach the docks.”

Rand paused to consider these developments.

“I will need to inform Lady Alexandra. She has just agreed to become my wife and must therefore accompany us.”

Rose’s eyebrows lifted, and she frowned with concern. “So it is settled, then? She has accepted you?”

“Yes.”

Nick laid a hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Rand looked his brother in the eye and knew they were thinking the same thing—that Rand might return to Petersbourg to find himself king.

“Send word to the regent. Tell him I will not be able to attend the assembly tomorrow evening. Explain why, and also tell him that in my absence he may announce my engagement to Lady Alexandra and the official amalgamation of our naval fleets. You may also tell him that I shall marry Lady Alexandra on board the ship.”

“During the crossing?” Rose asked. “Good Lord, Rand! Are you sure you should rush into this so quickly? Nicholas has told me everything about her charade. She is a Tremaine! What if she is not to be trusted?”

“Leave that to me,” Rand replied. “I know what I’m doing.”

Besides, it was too late to reverse it. He had already taken her virginity, and she could be carrying his child. He couldn’t very well cut her loose and presume she would not eventually use that child to lay claim to his throne.

He and Nick had decided it would be best to keep her close …
especially
if she was not to be trusted.

“This makes no sense to me,” Rose said.

“I will explain everything to you later.” Rand turned to Nicholas. “Go and meet with the Petersbourg Ambassador today and make the necessary arrangements. And Nick…” He paused. “Do whatever it takes, for we must keep Lady Alexandra in our sights and, most importantly, within our power.”

*   *   *

“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Carmichael stood from his chair in the library. “He means to leave the country tomorrow?”

Lucille strode all the way in. “Yes! Alexandra is packing her things at this very moment. Upon my word, I’ve never heard of such a rushed marriage that was not attached to some horrendous scandal. You don’t think he has deflowered her already, do you? Good heavens.” Her eyes went wide as saucers. “In which case, we must do all we can to hasten the marriage. On land or at sea. Whatever the prince wants. Which is why I wasted not a single moment in coming to you, sir, to inform you about what has transpired.”

Carmichael said nothing for a moment while he considered the situation. Then he invited Lucille to sit down.

“At least he has proposed,” he said, tapping his finger on the armrest. “And I agree. The sooner they are legally wed, the better. Let us not worry about the extravagance of a large wedding. Even a small shipboard ceremony will suit just fine. At least this way, she will enter the country as their future queen and there will be no reversing it.”

Lucille settled herself into the soft chair opposite the desk. “She may do better than that if the king is as ill as they say. He may be gone by the time they arrive, and Randolph will wear the crown.” She wiggled her bottom on the seat and fought to suppress a hopeful grin. “Wouldn’t that be just the thing? Imagine it.”

Mr. Carmichael poured her a cup of tea. “Your Grace, though I understand your aspirations, you must make an effort not to say such things in the presence of others. Some might consider it treason, to wish for the king’s demise.”

She covered her mouth with a hand. “Good Lord, I do beg your pardon.” She accepted the dainty teacup he offered. “But please be assured I would never express myself in such a way among others. I only confess my thoughts to you because I believe we understand each other. We both want the same thing.”

He set the teapot down on the silver serving tray. “We do indeed. You have been a loyal friend through all of this, Your Grace. I couldn’t have managed any of it without you. If it weren’t for your generous support, the House of Tremaine might have disappeared completely into oblivion, but now I feel quite assured that the true monarchy will be restored.”

He raised his teacup as if to toast to her contribution, and took a small sip.

“And what will become of you, Mr. Carmichael?” she asked. “Petersbourg is your home country. Will you return to bask in the glory of your accomplishment, or will you remain here in England?”

He set down his cup and saucer and considered the matter carefully.

“I will travel home to Petersbourg,” he replied. “And I will make it my own personal goal to keep an eye on our girl. She may find the new city to be a challenge in many ways. If she seeks advice, I shall be only too happy to oblige.”

“You are very kind.” Lucille set her own cup down as well. “I hesitate to confess it, sir, but I shall miss our frequent meetings to discuss my stepdaughter’s future. It has become such a wonderful source of stimulation in my life. I daresay I have not felt so happy or useful in a great many years.”

He leaned forward, reached for her gloved hand, and kissed the back of it. “You, in turn, have been my shining light, Lucille. Without you, none of this would have been possible. How will I ever repay you?”

She regarded him shrewdly. “Mr. Carmichael, what a shameless flatterer you are.”

“Please call me Nigel.” He leaned back in his chair with a smile and crossed one leg over the other.

“When exactly will you arrive in Petersbourg?” she asked, casually raising an eyebrow.

He tapped a finger on the armrest. “I shall board the first ship to leave London, directly behind yours.”

She glanced up at the ceiling. “Would it not be more efficient to gain passage on the same ship? I can provide details if you like. The captain is a close neighbor of ours.”

He leaned forward and touched her knee. “As I said before, Lucille, you are my shining light. What did I ever do to deserve such a woman as you in my corner?”

She gave a coy grin. “Oh, Mr. Carmichael … or rather,
Nigel.
How could we ever leave England without you?”

PART III

Where a Tempestuous Journey Begins

Chapter Nineteen

Alexandra stepped over the threshold of her private cabin aboard the
Abigail
and glanced about at the modest furnishings—the narrow bunk against the wall, her trunks that carried all of her possessions from London, stacked and secured. The rest of her things from her home in Wales would arrive at a later date when her sisters made the crossing to join her.

A small, high window provided only a measure of light, for the glass panes were coated in a film of powdery salt and the Thames was cloaked in a bank of fog.

When she had boarded the ship, the captain informed her that they would set sail within the hour, and she had done her best to reply cheerfully, while deep down she was uneasy about setting sail into the vast unknown with a man who still believed she had trapped him into matrimony.

A prince she had once vowed never to love.

The wedding was scheduled to take place that evening at seven o’clock in the captain’s quarters—a conspicuously private event for the future king of a small but powerful European nation.

Though it was her nation, too, she reminded herself as she tossed her reticule onto the bunk and sat down. She would therefore make no apologies for the web of lies she had spun in order to secure her place on the throne. Nor would she ever again doubt her true destiny, for occasionally fate had a way of stepping in to intervene when a person hesitated or began to take a wrong turn. Hadn’t that just been proven to her in more ways than one?

Footsteps tapped down the companionway just then. She stood up and in the next moment found herself curtsying to her future husband.

Wearing a dark brown square-cut tailcoat and fawn breeches with black boots and a high shirt collar and cravat, he filled the open cabin doorway with an almost debilitating force of charisma.

“I am pleased to see you arrived safely,” he said. “I hope your quarters are adequate.” He glanced around to examine the situation.

“Perfectly so,” she replied.

Their gazes locked and held for an intense moment while Alex considered rushing forward and pressing her lips to his—for no other reason but to remind him of what they had done together a few nights before.

The compulsion passed, however, as he ducked his head under the bulkhead to enter the cabin.

She waited for him to say something that might breach the emotional distance that had swelled between them, but he maintained a casual indifference.

“It’s not quite the prestigious royal wedding you expected, is it?” he said.

“It doesn’t matter where we are wed,” she replied. “Remember I was quite willing to join you in your coach two days ago and dash off to Scotland to be married over an anvil by a blacksmith.”

It was the whole truth—the honest reality of her heart—and she wished he would believe it.

Then slowly he moved across the plank floor toward her.

She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. All she could do was try to comprehend the desire she felt when his hand cupped the side of her neck and his thumb graced her earlobe.