When We Meet Again (12 page)

"Not up to the standards."

"Exactly. By the time of his death, I was king in all but title and crown. It is a dreadful thing to lose a monarch. Quite another to lose a father. " He shrugged as if it didn't matter. "He was a good ruler. A good man."

Alexei swirled the wine in his glass and watched it for a silent moment. He had not truly realized until now that he had had no time to mourn his father. Certainly there had been a state funeral, official mourning for a king. But Russia had moved far too quickly to allow any time for a son to mourn a father. Alexei's every waking moment had been spent trying to come up with a way to save his country.

"Was he a good father?" she asked softly.

"As good as a man who considers himself the father of an entire country can be to one child in particular, I think. When I was a boy, he used to let me watch from a hidden spot in the Grand Hall in the palace when he held court. Later, he and I would discuss his decisions. I see now it was a way to teach me what I needed to know not merely to rule but to rule with an eye toward both justice and the benefit of the people as a whole. They are not always one and the same you know. " He smiled with the memories of his father's lessons. "He was a man who loved his country and his people, but I never for a moment doubted he loved his son as well."

"You miss him. " It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes I do. I miss my father, I miss my king, and I miss my country. And I regret more than I can say that I shall never see either of them again. Yet, that is that way of life, Miss Effington. Greetings and partings. "

He tossed back the rest of his champagne and strode across the parlor to where Graham had placed the bottle. He refilled his glass and noted a slight unsteadiness in his hand and a rather significant thirst. Odd and most annoying. Particularly given what he had just said about weakness. Still, he couldn't recall ever speaking of such intimate matters with anyone before and had no idea why he was doing so now. Almost as if she were really the woman he would spend the rest of his days with. He drew a calming breath and turned back to her with a pleasant smile. "Now then, Miss Effington, I believe it is your turn."

Her eyes widened. "My turn for what?"

"Confessions of an intimate nature. " He raised a glass to her. "In spite of our aversion to confession, it appears I have done precisely that. It is now your turn."

She shook her head and smiled. "I think not."

"Come now, Miss Effington. Surely you can tell me something about yourself? It needn't be scandalous, I shall take any scrap of information you deign to deliver. About your family at the very least. As your fiancé, it will be expected that I know something beyond your name and the color of your eyes. It does seem to me if we are to—"

"My father"—a note of resignation sounded in her voice—"is the brother of the Duke of Roxborough, and, as you already know, Thomas, the Marquess of Helmsley, is my cousin."

"Hence our own distant familial connection."

"Very distant, " she said firmly. "To continue, Lady Smythe-Windom is my mother's sister. Clarissa, Lady Overton, is my only cousin on my mother's side of the family, the daughter of my mother's older sister. My father, however, is an Effington, which means I have three sets of aunts and uncles and a total of eight first cousins, a number of whom are married, thus providing a host of endless relations. I have two brothers and a sister. There are any number of more distant relatives by marriage—" He raised his hand. "Including myself."

"In addition, my grandfather had three brothers who left England to make their fortunes in America years ago, and today there is a rather large branch of the family there as well. No doubt producing Effingtons right and left, although I have lost notice of them. My mother would know more. I could ask her if you're curious."

"I am curious about everything pertaining to you. Miss Effington, and while I do find what you have revealed thus far to be fascinating, I admit I was hoping for something a bit more personal than an explanation of your genealogy. "

"I have no intention—"

"I am not asking for your innermost secrets. " He gazed toward the ceiling. She was not merely intelligent but stubborn. No matter, so was he. "I only wish to know you better. Not simply who your family is, who you are in name."

"My name is who I am, Your Highness. " She considered him for a moment as if assessing whether or not he was worthy of her confidence. "I am an Effington, and Effingtons are known to be honorable and outspoken and stubborn."

"No!" He gasped in feigned surprise. "I never would have suspected such a thing."

"I can certainly understand your shock. " She laughed, then sobered. "In truth, Your Highness, as odd as it sounds, it took leaving London and my family to become more like them. I know it makes no sense, but I had always felt rather, well, intimidated by my family. It was always as if I were trying to jam my foot into a shoe that simply did not fit. " She cast him a wry glance. "It's not entirely easy living up to expectations, you know."

"I may have heard that somewhere before."

"And recently, too, no doubt. " She laughed again, and the sound echoed through his veins. Most delightful. "Now then. " Her tone was abruptly brisk and not the least bit delightful. "I requested you meet me here before the others join us for dinner because there are a number of matters we should discuss."

"I believe we were in the process of discussing a number of matters."

"These matters are about the endeavor we are about to embark upon."

"Endeavor?" He laughed.

"Well, what would you call it?"

"Farce. Charade. Mockery. Sham. Trav—"

"I prefer endeavor. " She huffed. "At any rate, my aunt and I agree it would be best if no one knew I was as much an owner of the house as she."

He pulled his brows together. "Why?"

"Primarily because it would appear much better if you were a guest in the home of the widowed Lady Smythe-Windom rather than—"

"In the home of a never-married woman. Of course. " He shook his head. "You English have an absurd sense of propriety, but I shall do as you request."

"I do appreciate it. Also, I think it would be wise if no one, save those of us who already know the truth, know that our endeavor—"

"Our pretense. Our deception. Our—"

"Yes, yes all of those. " She waved his words away impatiently. "Our lie, if you prefer, as it is indeed a lie. And do keep in mind it was not my idea. Nor did I think it an especially good idea in the beginning."

"And now?"

"Now, Your Highness, I think... " She tossed back the rest of her wine, set the glass down, and smiled in a bemused way as if she couldn't believe her own words. "I think, why not? I should much rather reappear in society as the fiancée of a prince than as the pathetic subject of whispers."

"Do you not think people have forgotten your..."

"Indiscretion? Mistake?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "It was an indiscretion and a dreadful, dreadful mistake. There. Are you quite happy now?"

"Not at all. It was obvious that it was an indiscretion of some sort. After all, the word ruined was tossed about. The question is"—he studied her curiously— "precisely what kind of indiscretion."

"Your Highness, I—"

"I mean, was it a compromising position that could be easily explained away—"

"Your High—"

"Or was it something rather more explicit? Caught in the act as it were."

"Your Highness!" Her eyes widened with indignation. "I daresay—"

"No, no, Miss Effington. " He held up a hand to quiet her. "I will not ask you to elaborate. I understand your hesitation to delve into the sordid nature of your past."

"Sordid nature!" She glared.

"It was not sordid then?"

"No. " She huffed. "It was a case of incredibly poor decisions made for what seemed to be excellent reasons at the time by a woman who was not thinking as rationally as she should have been."

"The gentleman in question must have been exceptionally charming then?" He grinned. "Not unlike myself."

"Exceptionally charming indeed. You are as arrogant as I first thought. " Abruptly, she turned her back to him. "What is the color of my eyes, Your Highness?"

"Brown, " he said without hesitation. "Although brown does not do them justice. They are... the color of sable. Deep and rich and luxurious with a promise of warmth and—"

"And that will suffice."

"Did I pass your test?"

She turned back to him. "It was scarcely much of a test. You were looking at my eyes just a moment ago."

"Yes, but you were not confident that my mention of them was nothing more than idle flattery. Part of my well-practiced charms no doubt. " He stepped closer and gazed down into her eyes. "This farce will be rather more difficult, Miss Effington, if you neither trust me nor like me."

"Oh dear, Your Highness, I'm afraid you don't understand at all. " She heaved a regretful sigh. "I do like you. And therein lies the problem."

He frowned. "I see no problem."

"The entire purpose of our fraudulent engagement is to allow me to reenter society in a respectable manner. Should I throw myself into your arms or worse yet into your bed, it would ruin everything." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying there is a possibility of that?"

"Of ruining every-thing?"

"No, of throwing yourself into my arms or, better yet, into my bed?" She smiled a noncommittal smile.

Alexei stared. This Miss Effington was an interesting mix of invitation and innocence. A moment ago, Alexei would have wagered her sordid past consisted of no more than one momentary indiscretion. She just did not seem the type of woman to engage in random intimacies. Now he was not entirely sure. He smiled back. "Miss Effington, you are rather a mystery."

"Am I, Your Highness?"

"I have always enjoyed mysteries. The solving of riddles. The unraveling of puzzles. That sort of thing. " Her gaze locked with his. "Do not for a moment imagine that I shall allow unraveling of any kind."

"Ah but, Miss Effington, is that not the purpose of engagements?" His gaze slid to her lips and back to her eyes. He was near enough to kiss her. "To get to know one another better?" It would scarcely take any effort at all to lean closer, to touch his lips to hers. "To learn the secrets of the person you have chosen to spend the rest of your life with?" What would she do if he did?

"My secrets are scarcely worth learning. " Her voice was slightly lower and distinctly seductive. Did she want him to kiss her?

"Oh, I doubt that, Miss Effington. Regardless, I suspect it would be a great challenge to uncover your secrets. " His lips were a bare whisper from hers, and the scent she wore wafted around him. Inviting and quite irresistible. "I enjoy a challenge nearly as much as I relish a mystery."

"Nonetheless, Your Highness. " Her words were scarcely more than an enticing whisper. "There shall be no unraveling nor uncovering."

She did indeed want him to kiss her. He could see it in her eyes, and he was never wrong about the invitation in a lady's eyes. But whether she would allow it or not was another question. "Oh, but there will. Before this farce of ours is ended, Miss Effington, there shall be unraveling and uncovering and any number of other delights."

"Even a prince cannot overcome every challenge."

"Just as with my charms, my ability to meet a challenge does not depend on my title. You should know as well"—he slipped his arms around her and noted again what a perfect height she was for him—"that I always get what I want."

She braced her hands on his chest but neither pushed him away nor pulled out of his arms. Oh, she would most certainly allow his kiss. "Always?"

"Always. I do not permit otherwise. " He lowered his lips to meet hers and had the most remarkable feeling that this might be more important than a mere kiss. And felt as well as if he were about to tumble over a cliff into a crevasse of unknown depth and oddly welcomed the adventure of the fall.

"Alexei! Cousin!" A horribly familiar voice rang from the doorway. "What wonderful news!"

Six

If ever I see the traitorous Princess Valentina again, I shall resist the urge to strangle her with mybare hands. Which is more than she deserves.

Captain Dimitri Petrov

"I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to hear this. " A striking, dark-haired woman, a few years older than Pamela, swept into the room as if she owned it. "Even if I did have to hear it from a servant." Alexei gritted his teeth, cast Pamela an apologetic look, and released her. Pamela resisted the immediate urge—no, the need—to leap away from him as if he had suddenly burst into flames. Instead, she forced herself to step easily out of his arms, in the manner of a woman who had just been caught in an admittedly improper, but nonetheless understandable, embrace with the man she intended to marry. In truth this woman, whoever she was, had saved Pamela. Not from Alexei but from herself.

"What news would that be?" Alexei said with a resigned air.

"I tried to stop her, Your Highness. " An irate gentleman with a murderous gleam in his eye stalked after the woman. "But she is impossible."