Always a Princess (5 page)

“Well, Miss Stanhope, you’ve forgotten one thing. You were in Lady Bainbridge’s bedchamber for exactly the same reason I was. You’re every bit the thief I am.”

“I know that,” she said. “I’m not stupid.”

“Then if we each keep quiet about the other’s thievery, we’re even, wouldn’t you say?”

She lifted her chin until her nose almost met his. “No, I wouldn’t. You have a lot more to lose than I do.”

“I do believe you’ve been braiding your hair too tightly,” he said. “What on earth do I have to lose that you don’t?”

“Your good name.”

He tipped his head back and laughed outright at that, curse him. His shoulders shook for several seconds with all the hilarity, and Eve stood there and watched, gritting her teeth the whole time. Finally, finally, he stopped and looked back down at her. “Oh, that is rich. My good name. Too delicious.”

“Most people in your position value their reputation,” she countered. Actually, most people in his position valued their good reputations rather than their good behavior. They’d do anything they pleased behind closed doors. But let any breath of scandal escape the boudoir, and you’d suddenly think them paragons of rectitude for all their posturing. Yes, the nobility were obsessed with keeping up their pretense of virtue, and heaven help anyone who ran afoul of their deceptions.

“My reputation?” he repeated. “Do you have any idea what my reputation actually
is?
”

“Coming from a noble family, I presume—”

“My reputation is that I’m an annoyance, a colossal bore who takes delight in exposing my peers’ ignorance of the world at every opportunity. And there are plenty of opportunities, believe me. I despise all of them, and they despise me equally. So much for my reputation.”

“But I saw you in Lady Bainbridge’s boudoir. I can prove who you are.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And how would you do that? By exposing yourself?”

“I’d tell the constables that I’d had a change of heart and had planned to leave my thieving ways behind when I found you with the stone in your possession.” Oh, dear, that sounded weak even to her own ears. But she hadn’t planned to have to make any sort of argument at all. She’d thought that just the threat of his ruination would be enough to make him agree to pay her off.

“For the sake of argument, let’s assume the constabulary believed that pathetic little tale,” he said, grinning. Was there any way to chase that smile from his handsome face? “They’d still have two thieves—you and me. Do you have any idea what would happen to us?”

Indeed she did—lots of ideas. She’d thought about little else ever since she decided to appropriate society’s jewelry for her own needs. None of the ideas were pleasant.

“As a commoner, you might face transportation to some godforsaken place. Or the treadmill. If you were lucky, you might just end up in prison picking oakum in total isolation and silence for years and years.”

“I know that.”

“I, on the other hand,” he continued, “would be tried in the House of Lords. I’d never see the inside of a prison.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know that, too.” Cursed luck. How in heaven’s name had she managed to happen on the one aristocrat who had no concern for what the rest of his ilk thought of him?

“If my family were suitably disgraced, they might send me off to India or somewhere,” he said. “For which I’d be profoundly grateful.”

She gripped her reticule until her fingers hurt. “All right. You’ve made your point.”

He leaned toward her again. “I’d escape punishment while you languished in a cold, rat-infested prison.”

“Stop it,” she shouted. “Stop.”

“So, I think you have a great deal more to lose from this enterprise than I do, Miss Stanhope.”

Just then the door opened, and an older woman entered. Tall and elegant, she wore the trappings of wealth with obvious ease—from the silk of her morning dress to the shimmering pearls that adorned her bosom. She glanced around with the vacant look of someone who’d never had to worry about anything. When she spotted them, her eyes widened in surprise.

“Well, there you are, dear,” she said to Wesley. “I was just looking for the
Times.
Have you seen it?”

“No, Mother, I haven’t,” he replied.

How perfectly dreadful. Wesley’s mother, Lady Farnham, the earl’s wife. What would Wesley tell his mother about her—that she was a common thief who’d stopped by to blackmail him? Dear God, why had she come here?

“I wanted to see if that Orchid Thief has taken any more jewelry,” the woman said. “It’s simply deplorable the number of things that get stolen these days.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Eve. “It certainly is.”

“We really all must do what we can to catch that thief,” his mother said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said.

Eve took a breath and steeled herself for the worst. If he turned her in now, she could try to talk her way out of an arrest. It might not work, but she knew the risks when she started out as a criminal. She’d far prefer transportation to a penal colony than prison, but she’d endure what she had to, just as she always had.

Lady Farnham turned toward Eve, and one inquisitive eyebrow went up. “But you have a guest. I didn’t know you were entertaining, dear.”

“Actually, Mother, you did.”

“Never mind that.” Wesley’s mother waved her long fingers at him. “Tell me who this young woman is.”

Eve set her shoulders and stood where she was, glaring at him. If he was going to turn her in, why didn’t he get on with it?

“Allow me to present Princess Eugenia d’Armand,” he said.

Eve gaped at him and barely managed to keep her knees from buckling. Finally, she collected her wits enough to turn toward his mother and smile.
“Enchantée, madame.”

“Princess Eugenia, this is my mother, Lady Farnham.”

“A princess,” Lady Farnham exclaimed. “And French, too.”

“Oh, no, not French,” Eve said, finally regaining most of her senses. “Sorry to make with mistake, but French is…how you say…language of diplomat, no?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Lady Farnham said. “Although I don’t speak a word of it myself.”

Thank heaven for that, or Eve would have had to explain that she really wanted to practice her English. She hadn’t needed to use that tactic often, as very few of the English spoke anything other than their mother tongue.

“The princess is from Valdastok,” Wesley said.

Lady Farnham tapped her lips with the tip of her forefinger. “Valdastok, Valdastok. Haven’t I heard of that somewhere?”

“Our second cousin, thrice removed, is the archduke there.”

The woman’s face brightened with recognition. “Ah yes, one of those Eastern European places in the middle of some mountain range or other.”

Eve curtsied. “You know my homeland.”

“Oh, not at all, child. But Philip’s told me of it.” Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Weren’t you just there a while ago, Philip?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“I don’t recall you telling me about a princess,” his mother said. “Especially one as lovely as this one.”

“I had been for some time away in the world,” Eve said with an expansive gesture of her hands. “Perhaps my father forgot to mention me.”

“Forget to mention his own daughter?” Lady Farnham said. Her brow creased even further.

“That
is
Father’s side of the family,” Wesley added.

Lady Farnham’s frown cleared, and her features took on their earlier placid expression. “Well, there you are, then. That explains everything.”

“Just so,” Eve said.

“Welcome, Your Highness,” Lady Farnham said, her smile beaming. “Philip will see to it that your stay in England is a pleasant one, won’t you, my dear?”

“Of course,” Wesley replied.

“Oh, but that is not necessary,” Eve said hurriedly.

“Nonsense. You can’t be casting about all alone.” Lady Farnham gave another elegant gesture of her long fingers. “Philip’s a good boy. He’ll see to your every need.”

Lord, what an image. Right now, Eve’s only need was to get away and get home and muddle out where to go from here. But unfortunately, Wesley chose that exact moment to grasp her elbow, and not gently.

“In fact, I thought I’d take Her Highness on a stroll through the park,” he said. “There are some things she needs to learn, and I intend to teach them to her.”

Lady Farnham’s visage clouded again. “Things?”

“English customs—such as not visiting a gentleman unescorted. Things are done differently in Valdastok, it appears. They’ll be done properly here.”

“Silly me.” Eve tried, without success, to free her arm from his grasp. “You are too kind. I could not imposition you so.”

His grip tightened until his fingers dug into her arm through the fabric of her dress. “No imposition. I insist.”

“Have a good time, then,” Lady Farnham said.

“I intend to.” Wesley said smiling, as he propelled Eve toward the door.

“You may let go of my arm now,” the impostor princess said, glaring up at Philip with fury in her eyes. Unbelievable. First she’d had the very bad taste to show up at his home with extortion demands. Now, after he’d rescued her from certain exposure as a fraud, she had the effrontery to act as though he was imposing on her.

“I’m not letting you go until we get a few things settled,” he said.

She stopped dead in her tracks, bringing both of them to a complete halt in the middle of one of the park’s busiest footpaths. “What’s left to settle? I did my best to threaten you, and it didn’t work.”

“And now you think I’ll just let you go away again?”

She looked at him as if he were quite stupid. “Why not?”

“Why not?” he repeated. “You’re a jewel thief.”

“No more than you are.”

“A jewel thief,” he repeated, “and a blackmailer. You brought the whole sordid business to my home, and you expect me to simply wish you a good day and send you off?”

He didn’t add that she’d fascinated him the night before. Or that by showing up today with her cheeky demands for money she’d amused him more than any woman he’d met since returning from India. From the infuriated look on her face, he got the distinct impression that complimenting her on her foolhardiness wouldn’t sit well.

“If you won’t let me go, you might at least lower your voice,” she said.

Philip glanced around and found a couple approaching them from behind. He probably had been speaking too loudly, but she wasn’t helping matters. “You might keep walking so that we don’t make a spectacle of ourselves.”

“Oh, very well,” she said. She very pointedly removed her elbow from his hand, turned and continued down the path. “Now, what is it you want from me?”

He walked beside her as she moved along briskly. He usually had to shorten his stride for women, but not for Eve Stanhope.

“You might begin by thanking me,” he said.

She gave an impudent little
ha.

“I don’t think gratitude is entirely out of order,” he said.

“Gratitude?”

“I didn’t have you arrested, for one thing,” he said. “You took quite a risk coming to me like that.”

“Life is a series of risks, Lord Wesley. At least for people like me. I do what I have to do and accept the consequences.”

“In this case, the consequences could have been quite catastrophic, Miss Stanhope. I should think you’d be grateful to be spared them.”

“Thank you,” she said, but she hardly sounded sincere. In fact, the words came out tightly, as though she had to push them past her lips.

“Not only did I save you from prison or worse, but I presented you to my mother. With her approval, your impersonation as royalty from Valdastok is secure.”

“Thank you very much,” she replied, no more pleasantly than before.

“What might have been a disaster for you turned out a triumph. Because of me.”

“Thank you very
very
much,” she said.

“Do try to contain your enthusiasm,” he said. “I doubt my poor heart can take much more of your gratitude.”

She stopped again, and she stared up at him, shielding her eyes from the late morning light with her hand. Most young ladies carried a parasol to protect themselves from the sun. Perhaps Eve Stanhope had forgotten hers when she left the house intent on blackmailing him. Or perhaps she didn’t own one.

“I’ve thanked you,” she said. “May I go now?”

“No, I’m not quite through with you.”

She huffed—another unpleasant sound—and continued walking down the path. He joined her and walked in silence for a moment as a pair of young girls and their older female companion approached. One of the girls, a chubby-cheeked thing with braids that hung over her pinafore, lifted her fingers to her mouth and giggled behind them. The other girl smiled at him shyly, and their chaperone gave him the stern sort of look society reserved for people engaged in behavior that might not be entirely proper. He smiled in return and tipped his hat. Eve Stanhope nodded her head toward them in a gesture as regal as it was insincere. The older woman herded her charges around them and continued down the path.

“Cursed sow,” Miss Stanhope said under her breath when the three of them had passed.

“That’s an overly strong reaction, don’t you think?”

“Did you see the way she looked at us?”

“Standard matronly disapproval,” he said. “She didn’t mean it as a personal affront, I’m sure.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Putting up with things one doesn’t like is part of being English, wouldn’t you say?” At least it had seemed that way to Philip ever since he’d learned he was in line to inherit the earldom and had to come home. “The Empire might just crumble if we all started enjoying ourselves.”

“Is that what you’re doing right now?” she demanded. “Enjoying yourself?”

“I suppose so. Why not?” And in fact, he was. The day had turned out splendidly, the sun warm but not too warm. A slight breeze played among the flowers and the leaves on the trees. And it toyed with a few stray hairs that had escaped from Miss Eve Stanhope’s coiffure, giving her a ruffled look. The sun put a positive glow to her skin, too, quite out of keeping with the pallor most women found fashionable. With enough imagination, he might even picture her in Eastern costume, dressed in flowing robes with all that ebony hair falling over her shoulders and down her back.

Indeed, the woman was difficult—obstinate and secretive—but at least she didn’t bore him. Yes, he was enjoying himself.

“And you,” he said. “Can you take no pleasure at all in my company?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “You’re not going to try kissing me again, are you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to. I don’t force myself on women.”

“The other night…” She trailed off.

“Circumstance compelled me the other night,” he said. “You seemed cooperative enough at the time, as I recall.”

“As you said, circumstance.”

More posturing on her part. She’d caught fire in his arms that night, just as he’d gone up in flames. It had truly been an extraordinary kiss, and her closeness now brought it all back to him: her sighs, the feel of her fingers at the nape of his neck, the way her tongue had shyly explored his lips, that thing she’d done with her hands. She could try to blame that on circumstance, but he knew it for what it was—female passion—demanding and surrendering all at once. An irresistible combination he might very well want to explore further and at leisure. But he didn’t have to discuss that with her now. Right now, he’d make her a business proposition and let the pleasure follow in its own time.

“Now that you’ve properly thanked me for my generosity toward you…” he began.

She huffed in disapproval.

“And very prettily, too, I must say,” he continued. “I’d like to offer you my further assistance.”

“I don’t want your assistance.”

“Miss Stanhope, you don’t strike me as a stupid woman.” She didn’t answer but only gave him the same scowl she’d so disliked from the society matron a moment before. He ought to take offense at the look, but coming from such a disreputable source, her disapproval was really rather funny. “You also don’t strike me as particularly wealthy, at least not enough to mingle in with the set that has jewelry worth stealing.”

“Some people steal things because they have to,” she said.

“With my help you can do a better job of it.”

“I’m doing just fine without your help.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You didn’t manage to steal the ruby from Lady Bainbridge, and you won’t be able to visit her again unless you have another dress to wear.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stood, speechless.

“You—and that dress—made quite an impression on everyone there. Especially the men. They’d remember it if they saw it again, and we all know that rich women don’t wear the same dress twice in one season.”

She still didn’t say anything, but the tapping of her toe spoke volumes.

“You’ll need an entire new wardrobe if you’re to continue to impersonate royalty,” he said. “I imagine you’ll need a carriage, too.”

“I have a carriage,” she said.

“Probably not something that could stand up to scrutiny.”

She put her hands on her hips and looked quite put out. “If I had those things I wouldn’t need to be stealing jewels, now would I?”

“Exactly my point,” he replied. “You need all that, and I could provide it.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why would you want to do that?”

“A number of reasons.” Most of which he wouldn’t share with her just now. For example, he wouldn’t tell her that she was the most interesting woman he’d met since returning to England. And he wouldn’t tell her that he did plan on kissing her again—with her permission, of course. Most of all, he wouldn’t tell her that he wanted to help her—to make sure she didn’t get caught and sent somewhere that would ruin her beauty and crush her spirit. She wouldn’t likely welcome anything that sounded like pity or even concern. Not the Eve Stanhope who’d confronted him in his drawing room this morning like a kitten standing up to a pack of dogs.

“I don’t like having competition,” he said finally. “I especially don’t like someone impersonating the Orchid Thief and doing a poor job of it. Really, Miss Stanhope, a daisy.”

“And I suppose you have unlimited access to orchids,” she said.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

One eyebrow went up in positive disapproval. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Where is the crime in owning orchids?” he demanded. “Why do you dislike the rich so intensely?”

“They’re stupid and petty, and they think they’re superior when what they really are is lucky in choosing their parents.”

Oddly enough, he’d thought exactly the same—at least of the nobility in England. But coming from her it sounded so much more insulting, especially because she no doubt included him in her analysis. “That’s not true of all of them…all of us.”

“Name an exception.”

Me, for one,
he might have said, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear her reaction to that. “My parents. And my brother was a wonderful man.”

“I’ll take you at your word on that.”

“Thank you.”
I think.
“Now, will you agree to allow me to help you?”

She lifted her chin and looked into his face—the perfect picture of defiance. “No one
helps
me.”

“Very well.” He took a breath and then another. “Will you agree to be my partner?”

“Let me understand this,” she said. “You’ll buy me dresses and loan me your carriage.”

“Not exactly. We’ll go to parties together in my carriage.”

“And what will you take in exchange?” she asked.

“One half of the proceeds of our larceny.”

“And the cost of the dresses will come out of your half?” she asked, looking at him as if he’d become unhinged.

Perhaps he had. Here he was, staring into the face of a woman who was pretending to be someone she wasn’t in order to steal jewels she had no right to, and he was begging her permission to help her do it. “As you pointed out, I don’t need money.”

“Then what is it you do need?”

Excitement. Freedom. Any number of things that would make him sound like a spoiled child to her. But there was one thing she might understand.

“As the heir to an earldom, I’ll have to choose a wife soon,” he said. “All of society knows that.”

“You can’t mean to marry the princess of a country that doesn’t have a princess, can you?”

“Of course not. But if it appeared that I was courting you, all the husband-hunting young ladies and their mothers might leave me alone. At least for a while.”

She greeted that with some skepticism, if he could read the cold light in her eyes correctly. “So, you’d want me to accept your advances. At least publicly.”

“They wouldn’t be very amorous advances. You’ve remarked yourself on how stifling society is.”

“No stolen kisses?” she asked. “No passionate embraces behind the potted palms?”

In fact, he’d like something exactly like that, although he’d take great care not to be interrupted. But he wasn’t going to admit that to her. “Nothing like that. Just enough intimacy—within the bounds of good taste—to convince my family and any young ladies with designs on me that I’m taken. You could manage that much, couldn’t you?”

She appeared to consider the possibility as she nibbled on her bottom lip in a most provocative manner. “No more than that?”

“No more.”

“Very well, then,” she said, extending her hand to be shaken. “I accept.”

He took her hand in his and held it, marveling at how such a delicate thing could belong to such an obstinate woman. He could probably crush her fingers without meaning to. Good God. If he weren’t careful he’d end up out of his head with protective feelings for this preposterous female.

“Lord Wesley,” she said after a moment.

“Yes, Miss Stanhope.”

“I’ve agreed to your bargain. You may release my hand now.”

“Quite.” He did release her hand and immediately missed the warmth of her glove against his palm. He’d been much too long in England if a woman’s glove could hold him so in thrall. He cleared his throat. “Well, then. There are a few details we should discuss.”

She cocked her head and studied him. “Such as…?”

“Your dresses, for one. You’ll need to have several made up. My mother uses a Madame LeGrand in Mayfair, do you know her?”

“I’ve heard of her,” Miss Stanhope said. “You’d want me to go there?”

“You have some objection?”

“She’s the most expensive dressmaker in London.”

“As you said, I have plenty of money.”

She looked at him as if he’d gone quite mad. Perhaps he had, but confounding her was such confounded fun. “A princess ought to be dressed for the part. Especially a princess with whom I’m keeping company.”

She shrugged. “It’s your half of the money.”

“Have Madame make you several gowns in various colors. Maybe one in green satin to match your eyes.”

Those green eyes wouldn’t meet his as she gazed quickly away and a blush crept over her cheeks. “All right.”

“And the bodices,” he said, “have them made—how shall I put this?—a bit more conservative than the dress you were wearing at Lady Bainbridge’s.”