The Prince’s Bride (26 page)

Véronique swallowed over the bitter-tasting bile that rose up in her throat.

“You see?” he added. “You did not need to hear that.”

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she would have been better off not knowing. But she
would have gone mad in the process, wondering about it.

“What did you say in reply?” she asked.

“I told you, I declined.”

“Did you kiss her?”

“No.”

Véronique’s chest was heaving. Despite the fact that he swore nothing had happened,
she still wanted to break something. “Did you touch her?”

“Of course not. How could you even ask that?” Her husband regarded her steadily with
a frown from across the table. “All right … I put my hands on her to lift her off
my seat and place her on the opposite one. Then I told her to stay away from me in
the future, or I would ruin her. Are you satisfied with that, darling, or do you have
more questions?” His eyes were cold. He spoke with a knifelike edge.

Véronique labored to remain calm. “No, I do not have any more questions. Did you really
say that?”

“Yes.”

They both sat in silence, while she thought about the manner in which he had made
love to her the night before.

Perhaps he knew she was thinking of it, for he sat forward. “You
do
have one more question,” he said.

The footman appeared in the doorway, but Nicholas held up his hand. “Not yet.” The
footman quickly made himself scarce.

Véronique leaned forward. “Why did you make love to me when you came home?”

“Because you are my wife, and I desire you.”

Desire, not love.

She slowly shook her head. “Your desire for me last night was different.”

“Different…” His eyes narrowed. “I am not sure I understand.”

Véronique simply couldn’t bring herself to say that she believed he only wanted to
slake his lust, which had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Mrs. Kennedy’s
provocative offerings.

Instead she lowered her gaze. He tapped his finger on the table, while she turned
her wedding ring around on hers.

When at last he spoke, his voice was gentle. “She put me in a foul mood,” he explained.
“That is all.”

Véronique sighed heavily. “I see.”

“Would you have preferred I didn’t come to your bed at all?” he asked.

She looked up. “No, I am glad you came, but I wish you had told me the truth last
night.”

He pondered her request. “I will remember that next time.”

“Do you expect there to be a next time?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows.

Her husband sat back in his chair with a hint of a smile and a touch of his famous,
irresistible charm. “I cannot promise anything,” he replied. “I am very popular, you
know.”

Véronique picked up her napkin, crumpled it into a ball, and pitched it at him.

Later that night, he made up for his uncharacteristic haste in the bedroom by taking
his time undressing her—and showing tremendous patience and endurance as he pleasured
her generously until dawn.

She did her best to forget about Mrs. Kennedy and place her trust in her husband.

For the next fortnight, all was well. Nicholas was not accosted by any more former
lovers, nor did he take part in any card games that lasted from midnight until dawn.
Everything seemed rather perfect, in fact, and Véronique was just beginning to believe
that their success as a married couple in Petersbourg was achievable, when an unexpected
visitor arrived and upset all her hopes and wishes.

*   *   *

Two weeks before Christmas, Véronique ventured into the city proper with Alexandra
to attend an early-morning outdoor performance by Saint Peter’s Cathedral Choir.

As they drove past the shops on Lewis Avenue, she deliberated over the right gift
for Nicholas, for it was to be their first holiday season together as a married couple.
She wanted to choose something lasting and memorable.

Since they would be moving into their new home in a few days’ time, she considered
giving him a strong young Thoroughbred, for they would be living in the country and
he would likely be doing a lot of riding.

“What about a shotgun?” Alexandra suggested as the palace coach approached the concert
stage in the park. “For the spring and fall hunting parties.”

“A shotgun…” Véronique tried to imagine it. Perhaps she could learn to use it herself.
It might come in handy to frighten away all the ex-lovers. “Does he like to hunt?”
She was embarrassed to admit she did not know the answer to that question.

“Very much so.”

The coach reached the entrance to the park and rolled to a halt in front of the ornate
stone archway and iron gate, where a crowd had gathered to shake hands with Alex and
Véronique on a brief walkabout.

Véronique took one side of the square while Alexandra moved along the other. She greeted
the people, shook hands with mothers and children, and wished everyone a happy Christmas.
The mood was relaxed and cheerful until she reached the gate and clasped hands with
someone she recognized, someone she did not wish to see …
Pierre Cuvier.

“Monsieur…” She forced a smile, so as not to appear flustered. “What brings you to
Petersbourg?”

She tried to pull her hand away, but he would not let go. He smiled that crooked sneer
she remembered all too well, and said, “I’ve been here for a fortnight, Your Royal
Highness. I came to pay my respects to my dear cousin.”

Swallowing uneasily, Véronique managed to pull her hand from his grip. “Does he know
you are here?”

“Not yet, but I am sure you will relay the information for me.” He reached into his
pocket and withdrew a sealed letter. “Happy Christmas,” he said as he held it out.

She glanced over her shoulder at the guards who were looking on. “Thank you.” Slipping
it into her fur muff, she quickly moved along.

The concert was a joyous affair that lasted a full hour, but Véronique felt anything
but joyous. Her unexpected encounter with Pierre had left her shaken. She found it
difficult to keep her eyes on the choir, for her gaze was constantly sweeping the
audience, searching for his face.

What did he want? She was desperate to read the letter, but it was addressed to her
husband and she did not wish to betray his confidence.

She would therefore wait until she returned to the palace, and would say nothing to
anyone until then. Not even the queen.

*   *   *

“He was there in the crowd?” Nicholas asked with a frown. “Were your guards nearby?”

“Yes,” she replied, “but I did not wish to arouse suspicion, so I was polite and moved
on as quickly as I could. I said nothing about it to anyone, not even Alexandra.”

Her husband beckoned for her to sit on the sofa while he broke the seal and proceeded
to read the letter.

“Good God.”

“What does it say?” Véronique sat forward on the edge of the cushion. “Please tell
me. I cannot bear the suspense.”

He finished reading and lowered the letter to his side. “He wants to be invited to
our Christmas celebrations at Walbrydge. He wants to come and stay.”

She shifted uneasily. “Is that all he wants?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt it. The problem is, he goes on and on about
how we are family now.…”

“But the king and queen will be there for Christmas, and he is…”

“A nobody?” he finished for her.

“What I was going to say,” she added, “is that he knows your secret, and if he wishes
to be presented as your cousin, he is, at heart, threatening to reveal it.”

“Yes. I believe that is the point of this,” Nicholas replied.

“You don’t think he truly is lonely, do you?” she asked. “It’s his first Christmas
without the marquis.”

He studied her countenance. “Do
you
believe that?”

She sat back. “I don’t know. I’ve always seen something sinister in his eyes, and
I will never forget how he tried to mistreat Gabrielle. If he is lonely, I will find
it very difficult to feel sorry for him.”

“He may very well be lonely,” Nicholas said, “but if he has been here for a fortnight,
he knows that my connection to d’Entremont has not been revealed publicly. He should
know better than to ask to be presented as my cousin. For God’s sake—”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He looked at the letter again. “It says here that he is staying at the Wild Rose Hotel.
I believe I shall pay him a visit.”

“Not alone, surely,” she said.

“You don’t think I can handle him?” Nicholas asked. “I broke his nose once before,
remember?”

She gave him a look. “I do remember. But what if he has a pistol? You must be careful,
Nicholas. Take a guard with you.”

Thankfully, he agreed, and nodded before leaving the room to make the necessary arrangements.

Chapter Twenty-six

The Wild Rose Hotel was located in the east end of the city, past the park and theater
district.

An unmarked palace coach took the long way around to avoid passing through Green Street,
which was known for its prostitutes and cutthroats. How the cousin of a prince could
take up residence in such a place reminded Nicholas that he was venturing into another
world outside his own.

Though he was not truly a part of his own world—for he was a bastard son, just like
Pierre. The only difference was that no one knew it.

He waited for the coach to come to a full stop before he pulled on his gloves and
straightened his cravat. The guard who had accompanied him opened the door, waited
for him to step out, then followed him into the hotel.

Nicholas had requested that his guard wear plain clothes that afternoon, and he, too,
had dressed casually so as not to arouse attention.

He tossed a few coins onto the innkeeper’s desk and asked about Monsieur Cuvier. A
few minutes later he was climbing the creaky staircase, venturing down the dark narrow
corridor, and tapping a knuckle on the door of room 6.

The noisy creak of the bed inside and the heavy tap of footsteps across the floor
alerted the guard, who stood behind Nicholas. The man reached for his pistol, but
Nicholas raised a hand to calm him. “Let us keep our cards close to our chest for
the time being.”

The door opened, and Nicholas locked eyes with the man who had been his kidnapper
and his jailer. The man who was eventually revealed to be his half cousin by blood.

Pierre blinked a few times in surprise, then peered at the guard and bowed with a
flourish as he stepped aside. “Welcome, Your Highness. Won’t you come in?”

Nicholas spoke quietly to the guard. “Wait downstairs.” Then he followed Pierre into
the room and looked around.

Pierre spread his arms wide. “As you can see, it’s not a room fit for a king or a
prince, but I am neither, so I apologize for the lack of luxury. I am sure it’s not
what you are accustomed to.”

“It matters not.” Nicholas kept his eyes fixed on Pierre’s. “I read your letter.”

“Excellent!” he replied. “So we will enjoy a happy family Christmas together, then?
I shall look forward to it. In fact, I have already been to your new home. I drove
past it last week and stopped to compliment the builders on their impressive work.
Just between you and me, however, I don’t think it compares to d’Entremont Manor.
It doesn’t have the same … regal style. It’s rather dark and depressing. Too much
heavy stone. What is
your
opinion?”

Nicholas breathed deeply and counted to ten. “What do you want, Pierre? Why are you
here?”

Pierre’s eyebrows lifted innocently. “I thought I made it clear. I want to spend Christmas
with my family. Unless that is a problem for you and the duchess.”

“You know very well it is a problem.”

Pierre sighed. “Ah, yes, because your countrymen are not yet aware of your mother’s …
holiday
in France all those years ago.”

A flashing spark burned in Nicholas’s retinas, and before he could consider a more
diplomatic response, his feet carried him fast across the room. He wrapped his hand
around Pierre’s throat and pinned him up against the wall. “I will ask you one more
time, Cuvier. What do you want?”

The whites of Pierre’s eyes flared as he gasped for air and kicked his heel against
the wall in protest. “D’Entremont Manor,” he rasped.

Nicholas frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I want the manor house and all the property that goes with it,” he explained while
the veins at his forehead bulged repulsively and his cheeks turned red.

Nicholas released him and backed away. Pierre dropped to his knees, panting.

“What are your terms?” Nicholas demanded.

Raising a hand to beg for a few seconds’ reprieve, Pierre eventually rose to his feet.
“I want what should have been mine from the beginning. Give me back my home, and I
will never breathe a word of our association to anyone. I won’t reveal how your duchess
committed a crime by drugging and kidnapping you, nor will I expose your mother as
the whore that she was.”

Nicholas clenched his hands into fists to resist knocking Pierre’s head off, and backed
away. “If I refuse?”

“Then I will spill everything to the newspapers, which would be a terrible shame for
you and your pretty wife, who are so beloved by the people.” He paused. “Do you really
need d’Entremont Manor? Surely you have enough. You have
everything.
Must you be so greedy?”

Greed was the last thing on Nicholas’s mind at the moment. His chest constricted when
he imagined the truth about his mother reaching the newspapers, not to mention the
scandalous circumstances of how he and Véronique came to be married. What would the
world say if they knew about the laudanum, the captivity, her pregnant sister, and
all the rest of it? Some might call for Véronique’s arrest. Their reputations would
be ruined.

He wanted overwhelmingly to barrel all his weight into Pierre and beat the man senseless.

“Are you forgetting that you, too, were involved in my kidnapping?” he said. “You
committed a crime against me, sir, and I could have you arrested, or worse.”