How to Propose to a Prince (5 page)

The woman smiled broadly. “Oh…one of the famed Royle sisters, are you?”

“Yes, my lady. I am the youngest. By several minutes, or so my father told me.”

“He was the Prince of Wales’s personal physician.” The woman’s eyes twinkled with knowledge. She rapped on the wall of the cab and the carriage started rolling down the street.

“Yes, he was.” Elizabeth’s curiosity was piqued. “I beg you pardon, but I must ask. How do you know so much about me?”

It was almost as if her rescuer had heard her thoughts. “Because I am Miss Margaret Mercer
Elphinstone, one of Princess Charlotte’s camarilla of ladies.” She grinned a bit then. “Though most would call me one of her dearest friends and confidantes. We met once, though only briefly and not formally. You were lying on your back in front of Carlton House.”

“Oh my word. You were with Princess Charlotte the day her carriage almost ran me down,” Elizabeth said absently. Then something occurred to her. “This…this is the carriage.”

Miss Elphinstone laughed. “Yes, it is. And it has brought us together yet again.”

“And once more, in a manner, you are saving me.”

“Well, I could not allow such a lovely gown to become ruined. You told me yourself, there is not another like it.” The lady gave her a playful wink.

Elizabeth sat quietly, completely in awe of Miss Mercer Elphinstone. She was clever and amusing, and regaled her with short anecdotes of the
ton
for the few minutes it took to reach Berkeley Square.

Elizabeth was so disappointed to have to leave the lady that for a moment she thought to pretend she was disoriented and did not know where her great-aunt Prudence’s town house
was to be found. But that consideration was just a wishful fantasy.

When at last the footman opened the door, she paused. “I very much enjoyed meeting you,” she told Miss Elphinstone. “I do hope we may speak again—at the ball at Almack’s tonight, perhaps?”

“While I am certain we shall meet again, Miss Royle, we are not to attend the ball this eve. In fact, I am to return to Cranbourne Lodge at once.”

Elizabeth then noticed the folded sheet of foolscap the lady held in her hand—a letter emblazoned with the unmistakable seal of Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg. Noticing Elizabeth’s focus on the letter, Miss Elphinstone whisked it from view and surreptitiously tucked it beneath her paisley mantle.

The footman handed Elizabeth down, and the lady gently lifted the dress and had just turned to hand it to her when she stilled. “Lord above! What is
she
doing here?”

“Who?” Elizabeth whirled around, not knowing what to expect, but all she saw was Great-aunt Prudence watching them from the parlor window. She chuckled. “That is only Mrs. Winks, my great-aunt Prudence.”

“No, no, I am certain it is not.” The woman leaned forward and stared at Prudence.

“I fear you are mistaken, for that woman is indeed my great-aunt Prudence. Would you perhaps like to make her acquaintance?”

Miss Mercer Elphinstone paused for a moment or two before shaking her head. “Another time perhaps. I must away.”

The rain was coming down harder, but Elizabeth squinted through the lines of rain over her shoulder once more to be sure they were actually speaking of the same woman. But no one else was in view. She glanced around the street. Indeed, no one else was visible in all of Berkeley Square.

“Do forgive me, Miss Royle,” the lady said sheepishly. “The rain blurred my view, ’tis all. I have certainly mistaken your great-aunt for another. How silly of me.” Miss Mercer Elphinstone still looked rather shaken as she handed the gown down to Elizabeth, who stood on the wet pavers outside the carriage. “Hurry inside now, protect your gown.” With a parting smile, she allowed the footman to close the door, and at once the carriage began to roll forward.

“Thank you for your generosity,” Elizabeth called out. She bobbed a quick curtsy, then spun around and ran for the house.

The Clarendon Hotel
New Bond Street

S
umner and Prince Leopold stood before an enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror, admiring the splendor of their formal dress finery. Or rather, Sumner was admiring his appearance; Leopold was scowling at him.

Sumner turned to his left and to his right while peering critically at his reflection. “No, no. I tell you, something is not right.”

“’Tis the sash,” Prince Leopold sighed as he rolled his eyes. “I would wear a red sash for the event.”

Sumner turned to him and extended his hand. “Well then, where is it?”

Leopold begrudgingly gestured to his valet, who disappeared from the dressing chamber and returned a moment later with a crimson swath of satin.

The valet glanced up at the prince, and when His Royal Highness nodded, the slender gray-haired man stepped before Sumner. He placed the middle of the sash atop his broad shoulder, then draped one-half of the length across his back and the other across his expansive chest. The valet fastened the two ends together with an ornate military brooch of sorts, but when he could not coax the sash to drape properly, he started again. After several attempts at perfection, he removed the sash and turned to Prince Leopold. “Your Royal Highness, I am afraid I must report that the red sash is too short to be worn by…this man.”

“Too short?” Leopold looked as though he’d eaten something very sour. “Impossible. I wear the sash regularly.”

“He means it is too short for
me
.” Sumner lifted his brow mockingly. “I am sure it fits your form perfectly.”

Leopold snarled at the comment. “The other red sash then. Fetch it.” The valet bowed and silently left the chamber. “It is for state occa
sions more formal than a ball, but it should have the length required to cross your ridiculously muscled girth.”

Sumner chuckled. “Thank you, dear cousin.”

The valet returned a moment later and quickly set the sash upon Sumner. He pinned the edges together, then adjusted it across Sumner’s form. When he’d finished, the valet released a sigh of pleasure.
“Perfect.”

“Not quite. Something is still not correct.” Sumner looked down at the valet. “Were the prince attending the ball at Almack’s, is this how you would outfit him—down to the very last detail?”

“No, Your Royal—” The valet winced. “No, my lord.”

“What else then?” Sumner extended his arms to allow the valet to complete his sartorial inventory.

“I would include…medals. You are a large, imposing man. I would add many more of them.” He slipped a nervous peripheral gaze at the prince as if gauging the royal reaction to his statement.

“Oh, damn it, man, take what you need,” the prince barked. He thumped his chest. “Take these as well. Take them all. I have no doubt it
will take every one to cover
that
chest.” Prince Leopold straightened his back and the valet removed the panel of medals from his coat.

Leopold sat down in gilt chair covered with white silk striped with wide bands of indigo. He crossed one leg over the other. “You are certain Charlotte will not be in attendance? Nothing has changed?”

“No, nothing has changed since Miss Elphinstone departed with your reply.” Sumner raised his chin as the valet lifted his collar higher.

“Damnable Prinny. He learned that I am in Town, somehow, and has forbidden Charlotte to attend the ball at Almack’s this night.” Prince Leopold exhaled. “Thankfully, Mercer was able to make this known to us.”

“And that we were so quickly able to create a contingency plan.” The valet wrapped the neck cloth around Sumner’s throat, making it difficult for him to speak. “I will attend the ball in your stead, drawing the full attention of the
ton,
and whoever has taken it into his mind to see you planted.”

“Just do not gallop about as you dance. Society will believe I am the one in need of a dance master.”

“I do not gallop, Leopold. Horses gallop,” Sumner snapped.

“Exactly.” The prince cocked his left eyebrow. “I have seen you gallop across the dance floor on several occasions. Do not deny it.”

Sumner growled. “Do allow me to continue with our strategy for this evening, Leopold.”

Leopold waved a hand, giving Sumner leave to begin without being interrupted by barbs.

“Whilst I am certainly-not-galloping at Almack’s, Charlotte attempts to rendezvous with you at the appointed spot beside the Serpentine.” Sumner stilled the valet’s hands for a moment, and then looked at his cousin. “Everything has been arranged. A hackney has been hired to arrive here at half past eleven.”

“I travel in a common hackney, while you enjoy the splendor of a carriage?” Leopold’s elegant countenance revealed no emotions, but Sumner knew his cousin too well.

“It is the only way we can ensure your safety. A simple blue coat, gray breeches, and Hessians will prevent you from drawing undue attention.” Sumner shot a glance at the valet to make sure he understood his dressing instructions.

“Oh, yes, I am sure to win over Charlotte’s heart wearing such finery.” Leopold let out an uncharacteristically forlorn sigh.

“She wants to see you. Progress has already been made toward a union.”

“Now that she has retired her interest in Prince Augustus.” Leopold uncrossed his leg and leaned back in his chair. “Interesting how that bit of information found its way to the newspapers, secreted as it was.”

Sumner remained impassive. “I suppose it might have helped your petition for her favor…somewhat. As has her uncle, the Duke of Kent.”

“Is there something you are not telling me?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Leopold. Your only task is charming the princess, and I am sure you will complete this task with great ease.”

When the tall case clock in the corner tinged half past ten, the prince came to his feet. “You should be off. Draw the attention of everyone around, but do watch for your own safety, and for God’s sake do not embarrass me. Remember, no galloping.” He clipped Sumner’s chin, then snapped his fingers for the valet to follow him. “Time to don my ‘ordinary man’ costume.”

“Costumed or not, you will never be an ordinary man, Leopold,” Sumner called over his shoulder, and then turned to take one final look at himself in the mirror. He had to admit, he did look quite regal. And far more ruggedly handsome than Leopold ever had.

Before his reflection, Sumner practiced his most gallant bow. It was important to him that it be as elegant as one of Leopold’s, for tonight he planned to honor the lovely Miss Royle with such a bow before their very first dance.

“Miss Elizabeth, Lady Upperton and the gents will be comin’ around verra soon,” MacTavish, the family’s Scottish butler, warned. “Should Cherie not be dressin’ ye already?”

“In a moment.” Elizabeth straightened the woolen coverlet draped over Great-aunt Prudence’s knees. “I decided I should dress at the very last moment, so there will be no opportunity for the gown to be marred.”

“That’s my clever gel,” the old woman replied, spreading her lips into a proud smile.

Cherie appeared in the doorway, and once she had claimed Elizabeth’s attention, turned her head to peer up at the clock in the passage just as it sounded the half hour.

“I am ready, Cherie.” Elizabeth rose to start for the passage.

“Time for claret,” Great-aunt Prudence chirped excitedly as the bell ping faded from hearing at last.

“So it is,” Elizabeth replied. “MacTavish, will
you please do my aunt the honor of filling a glass of claret for her?”

“Aye, Miss Elizabeth.” Belatedly, the ancient butler decided to bow, but since his long legs were already moving across the parlor, his sincere attempt at courtesy instead appeared a clumsy trip.

Elizabeth smiled and nodded her appreciation of the gesture.

When Elizabeth entered her bedchamber a minute later, she nearly gasped at the beauty of the emerald gown Cherie had carefully laid out upon her bed. She hurried toward it when out of the corner of her eye she saw Mrs. Polkshank’s champion mouser slip into the room.

Within an instant the cat leapt into the air for the bed. Elizabeth threw her body between the cat’s claws and her emerald gown at once, willing to sacrifice her skin to protect it.

Four paws hit her back solidly, and claws sank into tender skin and held, as the marmalade feline frantically tried to keep from falling back onto the floor.

But like an angel, Cherie appeared at the bedside. She scooped her arms under the cat’s belly to support it while she removed each individual claw from Elizabeth’s stinging back.

Elizabeth could feel the threads of her walk
ing frock pulling away as Cherie worked, but it was worth the loss of her day dress if the green silk gown would be preserved.

The instant she was free of Mrs. Polkshank’s wicked cat, Elizabeth rolled from the bed. Her heart pounded inside her ribs as she hurriedly ran her hands over the gown, smoothing it as she surveyed it for any possible damage.

But there was none. None at all.

She exhaled a breath of pure relief. “Please, Cherie, take that cat to the kitchen and close the door. I cannot risk anything happening to this gown.”

Cherie dropped a quick curtsy, then disappeared from the room with the cat.

Sitting down on the bench before her dressing table, Elizabeth pressed her hands to her heart and took several deep breaths.
Lord help her.

She only had to make it to the ball. Fate would take care of the rest.

At fifteen minutes before the hour, she descended the staircase. Her long copper hair was swept up at the sides and pinned with dozens of sparkling brilliants, while the rest of her locks tumbled down her back. Somehow, against the vibrant color of the emerald gown,
her hair did not appear as garishly red as it normally did. Tonight she actually felt…beautiful.

The emerald silk gown was like air on her body, and even when coupled with her dew-thin chemise, she felt almost as if she wore nothing at all. The thought brought a flush of color into her cheeks as she entered the parlor, where Lady Upperton, Great-aunt Prudence, and the Old Rakes of Marylebone waited for her.

There was a communal intake of breath as the group beheld her for the first time in her gown. A jolt of pure happiness whisked through her, because their reaction gave her hope that the prince would exhibit a similar response when she entered the ballroom at Almack’s an hour hence.

A barely stifled sob slipped from Great-aunt Prudence’s mouth. “So, so beautiful,” she whispered, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She raised her wrinkled hands to Elizabeth, beckoning her to her chair.

Elizabeth lifted the short train of her ball gown over her wrist and rushed to her great-aunt’s side. “Dear Prudence, do not cry. Tonight promises to be one of the happiest occasions of my life. I am certain of this. I only wish you could be with me to share it and make my hap
piness complete.” She leaned close and Great-aunt Prudence kissed her cheek.

“The claret!” Lady Upperton squealed. “Mrs. Winks, your claret!”

Elizabeth looked down and saw to her horror that Great-aunt Prudence had dropped her crystal of claret on the floor.

Oh, lud, not the gown!
She lurched backward, arms spread wide. She could not seem to catch her breath.

“Missed.” Great-aunt Prudence was smiling. “It missed.”

Elizabeth looked down and saw that the wine had indeed splattered on the carpet and the momentum had sent a flourished spray of red wine along the left leg of the mantel.

But somehow, by the saints, Great-aunt Prudence was correct. Not a single drop had touched her emerald gown.

Elizabeth released her pent breath, and then smiled at Prudence. Her great-aunt laughed with delight, a deep throaty laugh that in a moment had everyone in the parlor holding their sides as they laughed along with her.

Lord Lotharian took Elizabeth’s hand and placed it on his arm. “I have never beheld a more beautiful woman in all my years, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks filled with warmth. “Tonight I will take you at your word, my lord.” She tipped her head and looked up at him through her thick lashes. “Though I have my suspicions that you have shared the very same sentiment with half the ladies in London.”

“Touché, my dear.” Lotharian grinned. “But I do not exaggerate. I swear to you, no one will be able to overlook your beauty this night.”

“I agree,” echoed Lilywhite. “Perhaps a certain young man might swell with emotion at the sight of our girl and make an offer this very night.”

Elizabeth flushed. “I only hope the prince remembers me.”

“Oh, I was not referring to the prince, Elizabeth,” Lilywhite said, “I meant—”

“Let us not delay any longer,” Lotharian interjected, cutting off Lilywhite’s next words. “The carriages await. Shall we?” He raised a large hand and gestured toward the passage. Everyone in the party bade Great-aunt Prudence good night and one by one they headed for the front door.

They had all reached the passage when Elizabeth noticed that Lord Gallantine was not among them. She turned and peered back into the parlor.

Cherie brushed past her as she hurried into the parlor, knelt beside the burst of wetness on the carpet and began to dab at the stain.

There, the overtall viscount with the auburn wig stood fixed in his spot. His gaunt face twisted into an expression of horror as he stared at the stain on the carpet and the bloodlike trails of red dripping down the mantelpiece. “We cannot leave with claret on the floor. It won’t do. It won’t!” he sputtered.

“Missed,” Aunt Prudence repeated to Lord Gallantine, and then again to Cherie. “It missed.”

Cherie looked up at the old woman, then nodded her head and smiled.

“Lord Gallantine, Cherie will see to the spill,” Elizabeth said. “She is very skilled, and when we return, I am sure there will be no sign of the claret having ever been on the carpet or on the mantel.” She raised a hand and gestured to him. “Come now, we do not wish to arrive late. The doors will be closed promptly at eleven.” She rose up on her toes and whispered in his ear. “And I do believe you promised to introduce me to someone
special
.”