How to Pursue a Princess (35 page)

Tata Natasha nodded. “Very bad. People will talk.”

“Exactly,” the duchess said. “If I do not leave this room with at least one engaged couple, then Huntley’s plans to marry Miss Emma might well be for naught.”

Lily blinked. “How so?”

“Huntley was not going to announce his engagement yet, was he? You said he wished it to be kept secret for now.”

“He wants to speak to her family before making an announcement.”

“Quite proper of him, for Miss Gordon’s uncle is a high stickler indeed, more priggish even than the earl, if you can believe it. If Miss Gordon’s uncle hears rumors that Huntley was attempting to attach himself to you a mere week before he comes to them to request her hand for marriage, then it is quite possible that he would withhold his approval.” The duchess regarded the unconscious man. “Sadly, I don’t believe either Huntley or Miss Gordon would marry if they couldn’t gain her family’s complete support.”

Lily pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh no.”

“So the next time you leave the door open for propriety’s sake,” the duchess said drily, “do not stage a play. For now it seems that we are in a fix.” She arched her brow at Wulf. “Well? Do you have something more constructive to add to this mess than a fist? Or are you all brawn and no brains?”

Something about the way the duchess was looking at Wulf made him pause.
What is it that you wish me to say?
He considered her words and then said thoughtfully, “As you said, we must have an engagement.”

The duchess beamed. “Exactly.”

“Then if Moya will accept me, she and I could announce our engagement tonight and people might think they were mistaken and saw me proposing to Moya instead of Huntley.”

The duchess’s eyes gleamed appreciatively. “An excellent idea.”

“There is one problem, though. I have asked Moya to marry me. I have told her I love her, too.”

“Many times,” Tata offered.

“Many, many times. But still she refuses me.”

“Does she, indeed? So you are not the problem, then.” The duchess’s gaze now fixed on Lily. “So, Lily, why do you not wish to marry this man? Is it his lack of income? The fact that he has no polish? The way he dresses like a groom?”

Lily met Wulf’s gaze, and to her surprise, she saw the duchess’s questions reflected there.

I did that to him,
she realized.
I caused him to doubt me. To doubt us. I never meant for that to happen.

She stood, forgetting everything but Wulf. “It’s not any of those things. Huntley was only comforting me because I’d just realized that I was making a mistake in marrying for anything other than love.” She took one of Wulf’s hands in hers. “I’ve been fighting loving you since the day we met—but I can’t fight what is meant to be.”

His hand tightened over hers, his eyes gleaming warmly. “We
are
meant to be, Moya. Forever.”

She smiled. “You know my family’s circumstances and why I was pursuing Huntley, and, yes, it was for all of the wrong reasons. But it wouldn’t have worked for either of us. Even before he told me about his intentions toward Emma, I’d already realized that if I couldn’t be with you, then life wasn’t worth living. I love you and—”

He caught her to him and held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. She held him just as hard, and it was as if she could feel the love pouring from him through her.

“Oh, Moya, I have longed to hear you say that,” he whispered. “Dreamed of it.”

“Pah!” Wulf’s grandmother said. “It is as if we aren’t even here. So rude.”

“I know,” the duchess agreed. “And while it’s certainly touching, it doesn’t help us with our problem.”

“I don’t understand,” Lady Charlotte said. “Miss Balfour, excuse me for intruding on your embrace with the prince, but does this mean that you will marry him? Or will not? I’m so confused.”

Her face red, Lily pulled away from Wulf, although he didn’t allow her to go far. “I’ve discovered a better answer to my problems. It’s not perfect, but it could solve my family’s difficulties.” She looked up at him. “Wulf, I wish to open a modiste’s shop. I sew all of my own gowns, and women are forever asking me where I got them. If I opened a shop on Bond Street, and you and Dahlia and Papa helped, we could make a success of it. It will be difficult at first, but if I am good enough, I can make it work.”

“Is this what you want, Moya? To own a dress shop?”

She nodded. “I love to sew. I always have.”

“Then you shall do so. You want to make dresses, you will make dresses. You want to make hats, you can make hats. You want to raise goats, then we will have more goats than anyone else in Oxenburg.”

Her smile slipped. “But I would have to have a shop in Bond Street. I couldn’t sell gowns in Oxenburg—”

“Pah!” Wulf’s grandmother said. “Why not? All of Europe comes to Oxenburg for our lace and embroidered silks. Why would they not then also come to Oxenburg to buy gowns?”

Lily opened and then closed her mouth. “I don’t know. I just never thought— Lace and embroidered silks? Wulf, is this true?”

He nodded. “Lady Charlotte can tell you, for she is wearing some now.”

Lady Charlotte touched her lace collar. “Oh yes. It’s
very expensive, but worth every penny. I bought a yard of it and it cost me dearly, but the detail is exquisite.”

“It is settled, then. You shall have a shop in Oxenburg.” When Lily didn’t respond, he added, “If you want one on Bond Street, too, I shall buy you one there, as well.”

“But . . . Wulf, you can’t buy me a shop.”

“Pah!” Wulf’s grandmother said. “I cannot believe she thinks a prince cannot afford to pay for his own wife! If Wulf says he will buy you a shop, he will. Two might be excessive, but”—the grand duchess shrugged—“the funds are his to do with as he wishes.”

“Funds? But . . .” Lily looked up at Wulf. “You have ‘funds’?”

He hesitated. “Lily, my love, there is something I must tell you.”

“But . . . you said you were poor.”

“Ha!” his grandmother said. “A poor prince!”

“There are poor princes all over Europe,” the duchess pointed out.

“Not in Oxenburg.” His grandmother looked at Wulf. “Tell her. There should be no secrets.”

Wulf sighed. “Lily, I never said I was poor. I said I was poorer than my brothers, which is true.”

Lily pulled away. “You live in a
cottage
.”

“For years, women have pursued me—or rather, my bank accounts. I did not wish anyone to marry me for money, so I came here where I am unknown and bought the cottage—”

“And the manse on the hill,” his grandmother added. “It is a lovely house. Better than this one.”

The duchess stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

Lily’s attention never left Wulf. “And so your brothers . . .”

“They are very wealthy. Very, very wealthy.”

“That is true,” his grandmother said. “Meanwhile Wulf has only four houses and one hunting lodge. His brothers all have many more.”

“See?” Wulf said, a twinkle in his green eyes. “I am a very
modest
prince.”

“You—how dare you tell me—and when I was so honest with you!”

“Moya, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to trick you, but I had to know that you’d come to me for one reason only: that you loved me.”

She frowned, wanting to be angry, but her sense of fairness poked her firmly between the shoulder blades. “I suppose I didn’t really give you much choice, after I announced I had to marry a man of wealth.”

“You had no choice. Or you didn’t believe you did. But from the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me. And now, you will marry me and we will deal with these problems together, you and I.”

“Together.”

“Forever. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “Moya, I am yours no matter the circumstances.”

Her lips quivered. “You haven’t yet asked me.”

He tugged her close. “I will ask you when we are alone. I know ways to make you say yes.”

The duchess cleared her throat. “I believe that’s close enough.” She stood. “If it were me, I’d marry him just to spite him.”

“I’m willing.” Wulf grinned down at Lily. “But if you wish to be asked, then ask I shall. Lily, my love, will you marry me so that I may shower you from head to foot with gifts, hang upon your every word with breathless attention, smother you with kisses from head to toe, and—”

“—make a fool of yourself,” his grandmother added. “For the love of God, answer the man so that we may leave this room and eat. I starve.”

“I’m hungry, too,” Lady Charlotte said.

Lily had to laugh. “Yes, then. Yes, I will marry you. And we’ll talk about my modiste’s shop at another time, for I very much wish to have one.”

“Good! That is done.” The duchess walked toward the door. “And we now have our marriage to announce. If anyone saw Huntley and Miss Emma before, they will think they mistook their eyes and that it was really the prince.”

“They are both quite tall,” Lady Charlotte said helpfully.

“Very true. Dinner must be ready by now and I—Oh, we forgot Huntley. Someone call Miss Gordon. I’m sure he’d be glad to see her face on waking.”

“Most assuredly,” Lily murmured, tucking her hand into the crook of Wulf’s arm. “You really are a
wealthy
prince?”

“I have enough.”

“
Four
houses?”

“Five. Tata forgot one. And the hunting lodge. I will show them to you.” He led Lily to the dining hall. “Now, tell me more about these gowns you wish to make. I am the poorest of my brothers, after all, and if we could open enough modiste shops, we could overcome their wealth, which would be most delicious revenge for all of the teasing I’ve endured over the years. . . .”

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
I will never again include insects as decorations. While the release of the butterflies into the gardens at the onset of the ball caused the collective gasp of delight I’d envisioned, the creatures quickly lost their appeal. Who knew butterflies like to
cling
? And cling they did, to gowns and hair and glasses of orgeat. They landed in plates of cake, and one poor thing even caught on fire from straying too close to a candle and then chased Lady Lansdowne about a gardenia bush before thankfully expiring.

But the worst part of the evening was, sadly, my beloved pugs. Although they were adorably dressed as butterflies—thanks, I later learned, to Miss Balfour’s skillful needle—they had no compunction in seeing the masses of butterflies as some sort of game, which involved snapping at the nearest insect and eating it. And so they scrambled about, trying to eat all of the butterflies they could,
while dressed like butterflies themselves. The entire scene had a macabre, cannibalistic feel to it. . . .

Early in the wee hours of the morning, Lady Charlotte had just settled her nightcap upon her head when a knock came at her door. Recognizing the duchess’s brisk rap, she hopped from bed and hurried to the door.

The duchess swept into the room, a vision in her deep blue dressing gown, belted with a white sash, her red wig still pinned atop her head. “Ah, I was afraid you’d be abed.”

Charlotte kept herself from glancing longingly at her bed. “No, no. I was just sitting by the fire. Would you like to join me?”

Margaret took a chair by the fireplace and Charlotte did the same. “My mind was too full to sleep.”

“It was quite an eventful evening,” Charlotte agreed.

“The poor pugs are quite worn-out.”

“And full. They must have eaten twenty or thirty butterflies apiece.”

Margaret shuddered. “Please do not remind me.”

“I’m sorry I mentioned it.” Lady Charlotte plopped her feet on a low stool that faced the fire, smiling when the duchess followed suit. “At least Miss Balfour’s engagement to the prince drew the proper response. Everyone was quite aflutter over it.”

“Aflutter?” Margaret threw up a hand. “
Must
you keep bringing up those damned butterflies?”

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said meekly. While the butterflies hadn’t elevated the ball to the fairy tale–like event they’d wished, she’d been quite fascinated with the entire thing.
Such beautiful creatures and yet so dangerous. Who would have thought?

“About the prince and Miss Balfour.” The duchess sighed, a note of contentment in her tone. “Such a lovely announcement. No one could doubt they were deeply in love.”

Charlotte smiled at the satisfaction in Margaret’s voice. “So they are.” It had been a lovely moment, hopefully one that the guests would remember more vividly than the butterfly debacle. “Everyone is talking about how you did it yet again, bringing about a magnificent match under your roof.”

Margaret sighed happily. “I know. It would have been nice if we could have announced Huntley and Miss Gordon’s good news, too, but they refused.”

“The world will know soon enough.” Charlotte wiggled her toes at the crackling fire. A moment later she said, “I hope you don’t mind if I ask a question. One that’s been vexing me for quite some time.”

“Yes?”

“It’s about Lord Kirk, who made that horrid loan with Lily’s father.”

Margaret’s smile grew sly. “Ah, yes. Lord Kirk.”

“He’s one of your godsons.” The duchess had too many godchildren to count, but as Charlotte wrote most of the duchess’s correspondence, she knew them all, perhaps better than the duchess.

“Kirk’s one of the first children I agreed to be a godmother to,” Margaret said thoughtfully. “His mother was a very dear friend of mine. It’s a pity he was injured. His life has not been happy.”

Lord Kirk had once been a startlingly handsome man, but a horrid accident had left him scarred and reclusive. The man rarely ventured out, so it had been a surprise to see his carriage in the duchess’s drive several months ago. “He is quite abrupt.”

“He has no manners at all,” Margaret agreed. “We’ll have to work on that. If we’re given the chance, of course.”

“Margaret, you’re up to something. It’s a bit odd that Kirk should visit you, and then, shortly thereafter, Miss Balfour should arrive in desperate need of funds because of Lord Kirk’s sudden actions.”