How to Pursue a Princess (30 page)

“That will be a relief. Thank you so much. You’ve been everything kind.”

“I’m your godmother, my dear. It’s the least I can do. Now, why don’t you take a walk about the garden? You’re looking a bit pale, no doubt because you’re in a knot of excitement awaiting Huntley’s proposal.”

“A walk would be lovely. Thank you.” Lily gave the duchess a polite curtsy, murmured her good-bye, and let herself out of the breakfast room.

The duchess listened to Lily’s footsteps fading away before she returned to her seat.

Charlotte shook out some more yarn. “That was interesting.”

“Very.” Margaret picked up her teacup. “Our hopeful bride doesn’t seem the least bit bride-like in her excitement.”

“No. She seemed resigned, as if she were being consigned to some punishment and not a joyful marriage.”

“When I first met Lily, she was quite willing to marry Huntley and fall in love. Judging by her demeanor this morning, I must wonder if perhaps the opposite has occurred: she’s fallen in love, but sadly now must marry.”

Charlotte blinked. “In love? With Huntley.”

Margaret frowned. “Charlotte, do pay attention. Why would Lily be sad if she thought she was going to marry the man she loved?”

“Ah. So she’s fallen in love with someone other than Huntley.” Lady Charlotte frowned. “That’s most unfortunate since Huntley said he’s on the verge of asking for her hand. He will be so disappointed if she refuses him.”

“Actually, he told me that he’d planned on asking
someone
to marry. Now I wonder if . . . Hmmm. Interesting.”

Lady Charlotte’s knitting needles paused. “What’s interesting?”

“Something Huntley said . . . I shall have to speak with him again, just to be certain. All I really know
for certain is that Lily is not in love with Huntley, but someone else.”

“Prince Wulfinski?”

“I can think of no other man brash enough to woo a lady right out from under the nose of a wealthy earl.” Margaret cupped her hands about her teacup.
It’s just possible that that Gypsy might have been right.

“Oh dear. Margaret, it seems to me that everything is in quite a muddle.”

“Not yet, my dear. Not yet.” Margaret set her cup back in its saucer. “But we’ve work to do. As I’ve told you before, matchmaking is not for the weak-willed.”

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
Tonight we have planned some dancing after dinner to whet the appetite of those who will be attending our splendid Butterfly Ball on Saturday. The orchestra, needing to practice for the ball, agreed to give us their services for this night, so it will be quite festive.

I hope some of the gentlemen take advantage of this opportunity.
All
of it.

When Wulf and his grandmother arrived at the castle, both the duchess and Tata Natasha were surprisingly cordial as they greeted one another. Tata even went so far as to say in a grudging voice that she liked the duchess’s feathered headdress.

Tata was also amazingly calm while they all gathered in a salon before dinner, sitting quietly as if thinking about something important. When Wulf asked what she was pondering, she’d merely admonished
him to better spend his time by talking with all of the pretty women in the room. And she didn’t once use the terms “pale” or “pasty-faced.”

Then at dinner, for once Wulf was seated close enough to Lily to hear her. Huntley still had the place of honor at her elbow, which made Wulf’s heart burn, but he refused to let it show.

He’d chosen this path; he would see it through. He’d spent another morning in the man’s company and had garnered some tidbits that might assist Lily in securing the earl’s interest. It would be like drinking poison of his own making, but he would pass this information on to her as he’d promised.
She must pick me of her own volition. She
must.

Wulf toyed with his food, absently answering the queries of the lady who’d been placed to his left. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand. He needed more time alone with Lily, to make his case one last time. But how? She’d been clear that she had no desire to make their parting more difficult.

Perhaps he could use the information he’d collected about Huntley to lure her into a meeting.
That might work.
After dinner was over and the guests had repaired to the small ballroom for dancing, he installed Tata on a settee with the other dowagers. By the time he reached the dance floor, Lily had already joined the set. “Damn it,” he muttered.

Left with nothing to do, he caught sight of Huntley standing by the refreshment table.
I can gather yet more information to tempt her to spend time with me.

He made his way to the earl’s side. “Good evening.”

Huntley, who’d been much warmer to Wulf since he’d given Emma a ride to the manor house after their journey to the folly, smiled in greeting. “Wulfinski, how are you this evening?”

“Wishing there was some vodka to be had.”

Huntley grimaced. “Nasty business, that. I had it only once and it made me sick for days.”

Wulf grinned. “Your stomach is weak.”

“Or just too civilized for the disgusting stuff.”

“Like milk? I can ask for some to be sent, if you’d like.”

Huntley chuckled. “No, thank you, but if you happen to know where I could get some good scotch, I’d be forever in your debt.”

Wulf caught the attention of a footman and sent the man looking for a glass.

“Thank you.” Huntley looked at Wulf curiously. “That was quite kind of you.”

Wulf shrugged. “I dislike seeing a fellow man go without.” He moved a bit so that he could see the dance floor. Lily was dancing with Lord Stewart, an older man who was so tightly laced into his waistcoat that it looked as if it might pop open at any moment. Wulf shook his head. “I do not like these country dances of yours.”

Huntley sent him a surprised look. “You don’t dance these in Oxenburg?”

“No. We have our own country dances, but nothing so boring.” Wulf shrugged. “We do not do this
endless circling and barely touching of the hands. I like a dance where you can hold a woman, feel her.”

Huntley’s lips twitched. “I suppose the waltz did come from your area of the world.”

“
That
is a dance worth dancing. You can hold your partner in your arms, and not just wave at her from the other side of a line.”

Huntley crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, a smug expression on his face. “I suppose if you cannot think of another way to get your, er, partner in your arms, then a waltz is good enough.”

Wulf frowned. “You think I cannot get a ‘partner’ in my arms? I assure you that I can.”

“That rather depends upon the partner, doesn’t it?” Huntley’s gaze was on the dance floor, no doubt following Lily as she went down the set with her wheezing partner. “Some partners are more worth the effort than others.”

Wulf glowered. He didn’t like the way this man watched Lily, as if he alone had the right to enjoy her company.

Remember your purpose.
Wulf eyed the earl with a sour gaze. “The duchess says you have been married before.”

The earl shot him a hard look. “Though it is no concern of yours, my wife died.”

“Ah. That is very bad.” Wulf watched Huntley’s expression. “You loved her, this wife. It shows in your face.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“In Oxenburg, when men ride together, they are as brothers. We have shared much this week.”

“We are not so open here in Scotland.”

“So I’ve noticed. It is silly how men here do not speak of anything but horses and drink. I said so to Miss Emma just this morning.”

Huntley looked at Wulf. “And what did she say?”

Wulf shrugged. “Like you, she is held by conventions.”

“Conventions are a good thing.”

“They are a prison.”

Huntley laughed softly. “Only to those who don’t appreciate their value . . . and know when to set them aside.”

Aha. This might be of use.
“You sometimes set your conventions aside? This I do not believe.”

The earl continued to look amused. “Oh, I do. But only for a very,
very
good reason.”

Like a beauty with hair of red-gold and eyes the silver of a lake?
Wulf fought the urge to grab the earl by his overstarched cravat and pummel him.
Damn it, Moya, the things I do for you.

Scowling, Wulf turned to watch the dancers and realized that Emma was also in the set. “When did Miss Gordon join? I did not see her before.”

“She’s been there all along. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

When Lily was in the room, Wulf’s attention went always with her. “I was too busy wondering if Miss Balfour’s partner might pop out of his stays.”

Huntley grinned. “He’s getting very red in the face. He’ll have an apoplexy if he doesn’t take care.”

Wulf grunted his agreement.
What things will Moya wish to know about this man?
Perhaps just the normal things a woman always wanted to know: what sort of woman did Huntley prefer, rounded or thin, brunette or blond, and such.
Better to ask the important question and get it out of the way.
“So, you intend to remarry soon?”

Huntley stiffened. “That’s a very personal comment.”

“Am I wrong to ask such a thing? You are here, therefore you are seeking a wife.”

Huntley looked far from pleased, but after a moment he shrugged. “You’re not wrong, but I will ask that you say nothing more about this. I haven’t told anyone yet—well, except for one person, and I already regret that—and I wish it to be a surprise.”

“So you have decided.”

“Yes.”

Wulf rubbed his chest where a weight seemed pressed upon it. “You have not yet asked her, then?”

“Not yet—and she may say no.” Huntley’s brow lowered. “One never knows with women.”

Wulf’s jaw tightened until it ached. “If I wished a woman to marry me, I would not stop asking her until she said yes.”

“Such behavior would be frowned upon here. I will ask her, and I will respect her answer. I hope, of course, that she will say yes, but . . .” Huntley’s eyes
shadowed. “She’s so difficult to read, so unlike any other woman I’ve known, always surprising me when I least expect it.”

“The women in my country expect more than a few words. They would demand proof that you wished to marry them.”

“What sort of proof?”

Wulf shrugged. “Gifts of jewelry, furs, and gold. A show of strength is appreciated, too. When my father wooed my mother, he brought her ten stallions and fought her three older brothers for the right to call her his own. He was stabbed seven times, but he did not let it stop him. They wed the very next day.”

Huntley gave a surprised laugh. “You really are a barbarian, aren’t you?”

“At least I’m no silver-laced, soft-stomached Englishman who cannot even drink vodka.”

Huntley’s smile faded. “I’m not English. I’m a Scot.”

I could easily start a fight now; I can see the anger in his eyes. But it would make Lily unhappy, so I will hold my temper.
“Which is why I find you bearable. Besides, I’ve seen you ride and I respect how you handle a horse.”

The anger in Huntley’s eyes faded. “Thank you. You’re quite competent, too.”

They watched the dancers in silence for a long moment. “She is not a very good dancer, is she? Always having to count. Never letting a man lead her as she should.” Wulf shook his head.

“Miss Gordon is a excellent dancer,” Huntley returned, an edge to his voice. “I’ve danced with her numerous times and—”

“No, no. You mistake. I speak of Miss Lily.”

“Ah, her. Yes, she is a bit awkward. She stepped on my feet twice the last time we danced, and she does try to lead. Emma allows her partner to lead, as is proper.”

“Ah! The dance is finished and now they play a waltz. Good evening, Huntley.” Wulf bowed and went to claim Lily. Though another man might already have claimed the dance, Wulf didn’t care.

•  •  •

Lily lifted her dance card to see who was listed next. She’d promised a dance to Lord Kitteringer, but was it this one or the one after—

A strong arm slipped about her waist and she was propelled toward the dance floor. She knew that powerful arm, knew the spicy, faint scent of the cologne that came from the black coat that filled her sight as she was swept into the dance.

No man so large should be such an excellent dancer. “Wulf, I’m promised to—”

“
Nyet
. You dance with me. You may dance with whoever else you wish after this.”

“But I—”

“I spoke with Huntley. I have news for you.”

She was silent, savoring the feel of his large hand engulfing hers, the warmth of his other hand where it
rested on her waist. If she closed her eyes and leaned forward, her cheek would brush his coat and—

She realized how silly she must look and she pulled away. “You mentioned Huntley?” She hoped Wulf didn’t notice how husky her voice had become.

“You do not need to know anything more about him.”

She tilted her head back so she could see Wulf’s expression. His green eyes burned as if a fire raged behind them; his mouth was set in the grimmest of lines. Her heart fluttered. “Wulf, what—”

“He will ask you to marry him. He has decided.”

Lily stumbled, almost causing them to collide with another couple.

With a curse, Wulf guided her back into the dance, his hand tightening over hers. “You do not dance so well, Moya. Even Huntley spoke of it.”

She stiffened. “I dance perfectly well. I was just surprised.” Which was untrue, for the duchess had already told her as much. But hearing the words from Wulf had sent such a sharp stab of pain through her that it had felt like a nail.
The final one in my coffin.
She tried to shake the thought, but it returned.
After I marry Huntley, it is over. My fate is sealed.

The desire to burrow into Wulf’s broad chest was almost unbearable, and to her chagrin, tears threatened. It took all of her force of mind to be able to say, “Thank you for finding that out for me.”