Polly and the Prince (21 page)

She was about once more to proclaim her desire to go home, when another footman entered and spoke to the equerry.

With a look of annoyance, that gentleman announced, “His Majesty wishes to thank Miss Howard and...ah...Prince Nikolai in person.”

“But it
’s
past three o’clock,” Polly protested.

“His Majesty is…ah…celebrating.”

The officer who had been drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk, broke in. “The news came this evening that the Privy Council has denied Queen Caroline’s request to be crowned.”

The equerry frowned at him as if he thought it none of their
business just what the king was celebrating. He turned back to Polly. “I…ahem…might I suggest, ma’am, that you return His…ah…Excellency’s coat?”

She had quite forgotten that she was wearing Kolya’s coat. Clumsy with fatigue, she struggled with the buttons. He was beside her in an instant, gently pushing her fingers aside and undoing them. As he helped her take off the coat, a gasp of dismay from the equerry reminded her that under it was her painting smock. However, he
had not the nerve to ask a lady to
disrobe further and she was far too tired to bother. Dishevelled and dirty as they were, she and Kolya followed him across a corridor and into a long, elegantly furnished room.

Compared to the
greater part of the Pavilion, the king’s library was modestly decorated. Between inset bookshelves, the wall panels were light green with white floral patterns, and the ceiling was pale blue with fluffy white clouds. There was not a dragon in sight.

By
the white marble fireplace, where a fire blazed despite the warmth of the night, a lady sat with her back to them. Opposite her a vast gentleman in a crimson dressing gown with gold tasselled cord was raising his glass in a toast. His face matched his robe. As the equerry led them closer, Polly saw that the table with bottles and glasses had seen a great deal more use than the chess set on its stand between the pair. Only a single pawn had been moved.

“Miss Howard and Prince Nikolai Volkov, sir.”

Kolya bowed and Polly curtsied to the floor. As she rose, she saw that the woman was Lady Conyngham.

“Well, Prince,” said the king jovially, “we hear you have
saved us from a second Guy Fawkes.”

From the corner of her eye, Polly noted that Kolya looked blank. She would have to explain Guy Fawkes to him. He bowed again and said, “Was my pleasure, sir.”

“I’ll wager it was a pleasure, with so fair a companion. So this is your artistic protégée?” He regarded her smock with an amused twinkle. “I have your cherry tree
in bloom, Miss Howard, a delightful piece.”

“Thank you, sir,” Polly murmured, blushing and bobbing another curtsy. His Majesty might be near as big around as an elephant but he had retained the genial charm of his youth.

“It was you, I hear, ma’am, who first suspected this gunpowder plot. We are deeply indebted to you, and you shall both be properly rewarded. But you are sorely fatigued. We must not keep you longer from your rest.”

“My dear sir,” put in Lady Conyngham, patting his fat hand, “surely you wish to assure the happy couple of your blessing on their marriage.”

“Marriage?” said His Majesty, frowning as if the
word was an obscenity. Kolya looked not much better pleased.

“Prince Nikolai and Miss Howard have spent the greater part of the night alone together,” her
ladyship pointed out. “Her reputation will be ruined if they are not wed at once.”

“No!” cried Polly. “I beg you, sir, do not force us to wed. I am an artist and dedicated to my work. It is my intention to
remain single.”

“I’ll not be party to
pushing any man into marriage,” declared the king roundly, “nor any woman neither. It is by no means a desirable estate, my dear Lady Conyngham. Nor is
our realm so overrun with fine artists that it can afford to
lose any to the whims of a husband. If none know of this night’s doings, Miss Howard’s reputation will not suffer, and any who babble of it shall incur our extreme displeasure.” He glared at the equerry.

“I shall see
that it is kept quiet, sir,” said that unoffending gentleman, and hurried Polly and Kolya from the room.

Polly was too tired and bewildered to take in the
events of the next few minutes. The equerry muttered that she was lucky to have found His Majesty in an obliging humour. The officer told them not to leave Brighton for the next few days. Kolya disappeared. She was reunited with Ned and Nick, and a carriage was provided to return them to Dean House through streets shiny with rain.

Mama and Lady Sylvia greeted her with tears of relief, but dazed as she was she could not help noticing that a greater share of Sylvia’s care was lavished on Ned. It was good to have Mama there, helping her undress, tutting over her smock, putting her nightgown over her head, and tucking her up in bed as if she were a little child again.

At last she was alone. All she could think of was that she had had a chance to marry Kolya and had rejected it. She loved him and wanted him, but she could not bear that he should be forced to wed
her.

Chapter 18

None the worse for wear, Nick thudded into Ned’s chamber at
noon, set a steaming pitcher on the washstand, and flung back the
curtains to reveal the first wet day in months.

“
I
’ve
come to lend a hand,” he
announced. “How are you feeling?”

“In prime twig.” Despite the throbbing ache in his shoulder and the dismal weather outside, Ned was filled with joyful anticipation.

“You’re to breakfast in bed. Mother’s orders.”

As Nick helped him wash his face and hands and comb his hair, Ned tried to subdue his hopes. Lady Sylvia had been grateful for his rescue of Winnie and solicitous of the injury received in her service, but he must certainly have imagined anything more. A gently bred, bashful young widow could not have kissed his cheek, let alone called him her dear.

All his tender thoughts vanished when Nick approached him with shaving brush and razor.

“Not on your life!”

“I shaved the fellows I fagged for at Winchester,” said Nick, injured. “I’ll be shaving myself soon.” He dabbed hopefully at
his upper lip.

“Send for a barber. He’ll be here by the
time I’m ready to dress.”

“All right, but you’re going to regret it.” Grinning mischievously, he opened the door, stepped outside, and said, “He’s decent, sort of. I’ll take that teapot, it’s heavy.”

Bearing a tray, Lady Sylvia glided into the room, her eyes lowered, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks with rose. Ned felt his stubbled chin and silently cursed his brother for not warning him. Still grinning, Nick set the teapot on a small table, took the tray from her ladyship and set it on Ned’s lap, and moved a straight chair to the bedside.

“Pray be seated, ma’am,” he requested with a sweeping bow, then headed for the door, which he closed firmly behind him.

Ned’s gaze was on her face, but he had a distinct impression that
his wretched younger brother had glanced back and winked on his way out of the room.

“I’ll pour you some tea,” said Sylvia hurriedly, taking the cup and saucer from the tray. At the
table, her back to him, she added, “I...I thought you might need some help eating.”

“I do,” he said softly, though he hadn’t looked to see
what was on his plate.

Still not meeting his eyes, she brought the cup of tea and set it on his tray. She sat down in the chair Nick had placed for her and leaned forward to cut up the cold sirloin. The tray wobbled.

“You can’t do it from there
.
Come and sit here.” Ned patted the
side of the bed.

Fiery faced she obeyed, but he caught her hand before she could return to knife and fork.

“I’m not really hungry. Sylvia, tell me if I am presuming— I can’t help myself. Our stations are so very unequal, but I have never met another woman like you. I love you, and I want to take care of you. Will you be my wife?”

At
last she met his urgent gaze and he read love and need glowing in her
brown eyes. Modest, bashful Lady Sylvia leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth.

The tray tilted, the tea spilled, and a steady drip soaked the sheets. Neither Sylvia nor Ned noticed.

* * * *

Some time later, a soft but determined tapping on the door recalled them to the world. Sylvia jumped up, snatched up her cap and sped to the mirror on the dresser to smooth her hair.

“Who is
there?” Ned called.

“It’s just us, sir.” Winnie tugged Annette into the room. “Have you finished your breakfast? Nick said you’re going to marry Mama.” She marched to the bedside and confronted him. “What we want to know is, will you please be our papa, too?”

“If you think I shall suit, I shall be delighted,” he said gravely.

“Oh yes, you will suit. We like you, don’t we, Annette?”

Her solemn sister nodded.

“Then come and give me a kiss, girls, to seal the bargain.” Beaming, Winnie started to scramble onto the bed, then stopped with a gasp. “You’ve spilled your tea,” she whispered. “Mama will be cross.”

“Then don’t let’s tell her,” he whispered back. Over the two small, golden heads, he saw his beloved examining a wet
patch on her
gown in dismay. Catching her eye, he
blew her a kiss. She returned it with a blush as she hurried off to
change out of the incriminating garment.

Ned leaned back against his pillows with a sigh of contentment and allowed his two new daughters to feed him his breakfast.

When Nick came to help him dress, he was too happy to issue a stern reprimand at the
premature disclosure to Winnie and Annette, though he did grumble.

Nick grinned. “I reckoned it would give
you a shove in the right direction if you hadn’t yet got down to business.”

“I trust you said nothing to Mother and Polly!”

“Do you take me for a complete buffle-head? I even swore the
girls to secrecy,” he said virtuously. “Besides, Polly’s still a-bed. Mother says she’s to stay there all day to recover from her ordeal.”

“Poor Poll. I’ll break the news to Mother and then I’ll go and see
her.”

The barber came to shave
him, then Ned went downstairs. Mrs. Howard was
aux anges
when
she heard of his betrothal.

“An earl’s daughter!” she marvelled. “And such a dear girl. Why, she could not have been kinder last night, when we were so worried, if I had been her own mother.” She carried on in this vein for some time, then changed course. “Ned, what is this I hear about Mr. Volkov turning out to

be a prince? If he has been trifling with our Polly’s affections, you must call him to account.”

“It’s true he is a prince, Mother, but he is still penniless.”

“Oh dear, what a dreadful coil! They were locked in together all night. What will people say?”

“
We
must hope they will say that the king was saved from a horrid fate and forget the manner of his rescue. Have you talked to Polly about it?”

“I tried, but all she will say is that the prince behaved with perfect propriety and that she wants to go home. But I cannot go home now, indeed I cannot, or people will think I am snubbing dear Sylvia.”

Ned soothed her and went up to see Polly in her green-and-white chamber. She was sitting up in bed, looking perfectly healthy and perfectly miserable. For want of any better subject, she was sketching the candlestick and pile of books on her bedside table.

Seeing his sling, she said, “Is your shoulder still painful? Poor Ned.”

“I don’t need sympathy.” He could not help beaming with joy as he perched on the edge of her bed. “Sylvia has consented to marry me.”

“My dear, I’m delighted!” Her pleasure was unfeigned, but he noticed a wistful look in her eyes. “You could not have chosen better, and I know you will make her
happy.”

“I mean to, I promise you. I wish I knew a way to do the same for you. I fear you have set your heart on the unattainable.”

Her lips quivered but she spoke with tolerable composure. “I want to go home. I know you will not wish to leave Sylvia so soon, but surely Mama can go with me.”

He explained their mother’s fear of appearing to slight his betrothed. “Besides, if you both leave I cannot stay in the house, and Sylvia needs my support. We must inform her family, and she dreads their reaction.”

“Yet she’s willing to face it for your sake. You have won a true
treasure. Very well, I’ll stay, but please, Ned, I cannot see
him!
”

“Of course you need not.” Ned’s suspicions were aroused. Despite what she had told Mrs. Howard, was it possible Kolya had made improper advances? “Do you want to tell me why?
You’re the most independent of sisters, but I’m still responsible for you. I hope you know you can always count on me.”

“I know.” She laid down her sketch book and reached for his good hand. “You need not feel obliged to defend me, for he
was perfectly gentlemanly. But pray do not press me, I don’t care to speak of it.”

At that
moment the maid knocked and came in. “Beg pardon for interrupting, miss, but His Highness has called and he’s asking to see you.”

Polly clutched Ned’s hand.

“Thank you, Jill,” he said, “I will come down. My sister is not receiving callers today.” He kissed Polly’s cheek and followed the
maid out of the room. “Are my mother and Lady Sylvia with Mr. Volkov? Prince Nikolai, I mean.”

“He did say to tell as Mr. Volkov was calling, sir. No, my lady and Mrs. Howard are writing letters in the
sitting room. The gentleman’s in the drawing room.”

The
gentleman was pacing the length of the drawing room, back and forth like a caged wolf, when Ned went in. He turned eagerly at the sound of the
door closing.

“How are…” His voice died away in disappointment when he saw who had entered. “How are you, Ned? The shoulder is painful still?”

“Yes, but I care nothing for it. Lady Sylvia has done me the honour of consenting to be my wife.”

Unsurprised, Kolya strode forward and gripped Ned’s good hand. “My dear fellow,
pozdravlayu vas.
I congratulate most heartily.”

“You will not mention it to anyone. It’s not yet been announced.”