How to Pursue a Princess (6 page)

He shrugged, his chest rubbing her side in a pleasant way. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. You mentioned your men. Are you a military leader of some sort?” That would explain his boldness and overassuredness.

“You could say that.”

“Ah. Are you a corporal, then? A sergeant?”

“I am in charge.” A faint note of surprise colored his voice, as if he couldn’t believe that she would think anything else.

“You’re in charge of what? A battalion?”

He definitely looked insulted now. “I am in charge of it all.”

She blinked. “Of an entire army?”

“Yes.” He hesitated, then said in a firm voice, “I shall tell you because you will know eventually since I
plan on joining the duchess’s party. I am not a general. I am a prince.”

“A pr—” She couldn’t even say the word.

“I am a prince,” he repeated firmly, though he looked far from happy about it. “That is why her grace finds it acceptable that my grandmother and I attend her events. I had not thought to accept her invitation, for I do not like dances and such, and you English—”

She raised her brows.

“I’m sorry, you
Scots
are much too formal for me.”

“Wait. I’m still trying to grasp that you’re a prince. A real prince?”

He shrugged, his broad shoulders making his cape swing. “We have many princes in Oxenburg, for I have three brothers.”

She couldn’t wrap her mind around the thought of a roomful of princes who looked like the one carrying her: huge, broad shouldered, bulging with muscles and grinning lopsided smiles, their dark hair falling over their brows and into their green eyes. . . .
I fell off my horse and into a fairy tale.

Hope washed over her and she found herself saying in a breathless tone, “If you’re a prince, then you must be fabulously wealthy.”

He looked down at her, a question in his eyes. “Not every prince has money.”

“Some do.”

“And some do not. Sadly, I am the poorest of all my brothers.”

Her disappointment must have shown on her face,
for he regarded her with a narrow gaze. “You do not like this, Miss Lily Balfour?”

She sighed. “No, no, I don’t.”

One dark brow arched. “Why not?”

“Sadly, some of us must marry for money.” Whether it was because she was being held in his arms or because she was struggling to deal with a surprising flood of regret, it felt right to tell him the truth.

“I see.” He continued to carry her, his brow lowered. “And this is you, then? You must marry for money?”

“Yes.”

He was silent a moment more. “But what if you fall in love?”

“I have no choice.” She heard the sadness in her voice and resolutely forced herself to say in a light tone, “It’s the way of the world, isn’t it? But to be honest, I wouldn’t be looking for a wealthy husband except that I must. Our house is entailed, and my father hasn’t been very good about— Oh, it’s complicated.”

He didn’t reply, but she could tell from his grim expression that he disliked her answer. She didn’t like it much herself, for it made her sound like the veriest moneygrubbing society miss, but that’s what she’d become.

She sighed and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

He looked down at her, and to her surprise, his chin came to rest on her head.

They continued on thus for a few moments, comfort
seeping through her, the first since she’d left her home.

“Moya, I must tell you—”

She looked up. “My name is not Moya, but Lily.”

His eyes glinted with humor. “I like Moya better.”

“What does it mean?”

His gaze flickered to her hair and she grimaced. “It means ‘red,’ doesn’t it? I hate that!”

He chuckled, the sound warm in his chest. “You dislike being called Red? Why? It is what you are. Just as what I am is a prince with no fortune.” His gaze met hers. “We must accept who we are.”

She was silent a moment. “You’re dreadfully poor? You said you’d just bought a house.”

“A cottage. It has a thatched roof and one large room, but with a good fireplace. I will make stew for you. I make good stew.”

It sounded delightful; far more fun than the rides, picnics, dinner parties, and other activities the duchess had promised. “I like stew, but I’m afraid that I can’t visit your cottage. It would be improper.” Furthermore, she didn’t dare prolong her time with such a devastatingly handsome, but poor, prince. She had to save all of her feelings so that she could fall in love with the man who would save Papa.

Wulf’s brows had lowered. “But you would come to my cottage if I had a fortune,
nyet
?”

Regret flooded her and she tightened her hold about his neck. “I have no choice; I
must
marry for
money. I don’t know why I admitted that to you, but it is a sad fact of my life and I cannot pretend otherwise. My family is depending on me.”

He seemed to consider this, some of the sternness leaving his gaze. After a moment he nodded. “It is noble that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for your family.”

“Sacrifice? I was hoping it wouldn’t feel so . . . oh, I don’t know. It’s possible that I might find someone I could care for.”

“You wish to fall in love with a rich man. As my
babushka
likes to tell me, life is not always so accommodating.”

“Yes, but it’s possible. I’ve never been in love before, so I’m a blank slate. The duchess is helping me, too, and she’s excellent at making just such matches. She’s invited several gentlemen for me to meet—”

“All wealthy.”

“Of course. She is especially hopeful of the Earl of Huntley, and so am I.” Lily looked away, not wishing to see the disappointment in his gaze yet again.

Silence reigned and she savored the warmth of his arms about her. At one time, a wealthy gentleman had seemed enough. Now, she wished she could ask for a not-wealthy prince. One like this, who carried her so gently and whose eyes gleamed with humor beneath the fall of his black hair. But it was not to be.

She bit back a strong desire to explain things to him, to tell him exactly why she needed to marry a wealthy man, but she knew it wouldn’t make any difference.
As he’d said, he was who he was, and she was who she was. There was no way for either of them to change things, even if they wished to, so it would be better for them both if they accepted those facts and continued on.

For now, though, she had these few moments. With that thought in mind, she sighed and rested her head against his broad shoulder.
This will have to be enough.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
I knew I shouldn’t have invited that prince from Oxenburg, polite or no. Lily has been here but two days and already he’s orchestrated a rescue, and the poor girl has yet to meet the Earl of Huntley. How is Huntley to match such an entrance? Damn that prince! If he weren’t so unfashionable and ill-kempt, I would be worried.

“Och, lassie, ye’ve hardly touched yer tea.” Mrs. Cairness shook her head.

“I’m sorry.” Lily allowed the housekeeper to pour her now-cold cup of tea back into the pot and refill her cup with warmer tea.

“Drink that, miss. Ye’ll feel much better.”

“Thank you.” Lily obediently sipped, her gaze drifting to the sun pouring in through the windows. She was sitting in the small salon on a settee, her legs stretched before her, a thick blanket tucked all around.
Her ankle was already much better, now that her boot was off and a pillow rested beneath her foot.

She watched the light stream into the room. It was a cozy location, especially as the guests who’d already arrived were off playing pall-mall upon the lawn and she had most of the castle to herself. Normally, she’d enjoy the peace and quiet and might even find a sewing project to busy her hands, but instead, she found herself staring morosely out the window.

Despite the prince’s plans, she didn’t get the chance to see his cottage or meet his
babushka
, for they’d only walked for a few more moments in blissful silence when his men had met them on the road, a fresh horse ready. She had the impression that Wulf hadn’t been any more pleased at the intrusion than she was, though he hadn’t said much. He’d set her on her feet, climbed upon his horse, and then lifted her before him.

The ride back had been lovely, his arm warmly resting about her waist, his broad back protecting her from the wind as they rode out of the forest. All too soon they were at Floors Castle, and he was carrying her through the huge doors and into the foyer. All bedlam had broken loose then, for the pugs had taken exception to the prince’s swinging cape, while the duchess and Lady Charlotte—called from the sitting room by the loud yapping—exclaimed in dismay and demanded that the prince immediately put Lily on the settee in the small salon.

The duchess had sent the servants scurrying as
she rapidly ordered tea, a physician, a pillow for Lily’s foot, and then efficiently herded Wulf from the room.

Lily had been sorry to see him go. Indeed, she felt sadly bereft, as if she’d left something behind . . . something important. She had to shake her head at her own silliness, even as she acknowledged that the prince was the first person she’d met since her arrival at Floors Castle who’d made her feel comfortable.
But that doesn’t matter. You’re not here for comfort; you’re here to find a husband.

She sighed and put her teacup back on the tray. “Mrs. Cairness, I think I’ve had enough now. It was delicious.”

“Her grace said ye are to drink it all, miss. If’n I were ye, I’d do as she says. She’s a determined woman, and smart, too. If’n she tol’ me t’ dance, I’d dance. If’n she tol’ me t’ jump upon one foot and toss fairy dust, I’d do it wit’oot askin’ why.” The housekeeper glanced at the door and then bent lower. “Trust me, miss. The duchess ne’er suggests ye t’ do somethin’ wit’oot a reason.”

Lily sighed as the housekeeper poured yet more tea into her cup. “I shall float away, but fine. I’ll drink more tea.”

“Good,” came the duchess’s voice from the doorway. She entered with a rustle of blue silk overlaid with pink lace, her bright blue eyes twinkling. Behind her trotted the six Roxburghe pugs, wheezing and snorting as they tried to keep up. The duchess stopped at
the end of the settee, and one of the pugs jumped into Lily’s lap.

She laughed and patted the little dog, who grinned, his tongue hanging out one side. “And who are you?” she asked the dog.

Lady Charlotte, who’d followed the dogs into the room, her knitting basket at her side, smiled. “That’s Feenie. He’s a cuddler.”

Lily patted the dog. “He’s certainly friendly.”

The duchess sank into an empty chair opposite Lily, while Lady Charlotte followed suit, the remaining pugs dropping in various spots on the rug.

“Poor Miss Balfour!” Lady Charlotte shook her head, her lace cap flopping over her ears. “How is your ankle?”

“It’s fine. It barely aches, and I feel silly for taking up the entire settee. I’m sure that if I just walked around, it would feel better immediately.”

“You may walk once the doctor has seen it,” the duchess said serenely. She glanced at the housekeeper. “Pray pour Miss Balfour more tea. It will flush the bad humors from her system.”

Lily managed to swallow her protest as she caught the housekeeper’s knowing gaze. The teacup was refilled yet again and Lily took it with a murmur of thanks.

“Mrs. Cairness, could you bring another tea tray?” her grace asked. “Lady Charlotte and I haven’t had time to take tea, what with all of the other guests arriving,
and then our concern when Miss Balfour went missing, and, oh dear, all manner of things.”

“Yes, yer grace.” The housekeeper dipped a curtsy and bustled out.

The duchess regarded Lily with a smile. “I daresay a young woman of high spirits like yourself is tired of being coddled, eh, Miss Balfour?”

“Yes. I’m not comfortable just sitting about.” She eyed Lady Charlotte’s knitting with a feeling akin to jealousy. Maybe Lily could send home for some cloth, or perhaps the housekeeper might have some odds and ends she’d be willing to part with.
If I had a project, even a small, simple one, it would make me feel much more at home.

The duchess tsked. “I am so sorry you were given such an unruly mount. It is unconscionable, and I had a word with my head groom about it.”

“Oh no! Truly, it was not the groom’s fault, nor the horse’s. I’m not a confident rider and I allowed myself to get distracted. The fault is all mine.”

“It’s the groom’s duty to ascertain your skill and then to choose a mount within those parameters. The groom did not do so. It will not happen again.”

Lily wished to protest yet more, but the duchess’s sharp tone effectively closed the conversation. Lily forced a smile. She should never have gone on that ride. All it had accomplished was to get her tossed to the ground, cause a groom to receive an ill-deserved dressing-down from the duchess, and place Lily
directly in the arms of an arrogantly sure-of-himself prince, whose absence was making her feel even more bereft and lonely.

Her grace picked up a particularly fat, graying pug and placed it in her lap, where it grunted happily. “I hope the prince treated you courteously.”

“Of course he did.” Lily was certain her face was as red as the pillow under her ankle. “He was very gentlemanly.” Except for plying her with enough compliments to make her feel oddly light-headed, and carrying her with such ease that she’d almost wished he’d never reached Floors.

The duchess sniffed. “I had some reservations about inviting Prince Wulfinski to my house party, but I can do little about it now, especially since we owe him some courtesies for assisting you.”

“I’m sorry my accident has caused you such distress,” Lily said sharply.

The duchess didn’t seem to notice Lily’s irritation. “It’s regrettable. And while you say the prince behaved himself, I can’t help but think that his attitude in striding into the house as if he’d saved the world from an invasion—well, I won’t stand for such theatrics.”

Lily blinked. “But all he did was carry me into the house.”

“Now, now.” The duchess patted Lily’s hand where it was fisted on her knee. “I’m sure you wish to speak in defense of your rescuer, but I cannot feel that his attitude was totally appropriate. Sadly, the prince
isn’t staying under my roof, so I have no control over his actions when he’s not here. But when he
is
here, I shall expect his behavior to be exemplary.”