The Princess & the Pea (44 page)

For one stunned moment she stared, speechless. Shock washed across her face. She jerked her hands from his and stepped back sharply. "Don't be absurd!"

"Absurd?" Wasn't this what she really wanted?

"Absurd! Insane! Ridiculous! I cannot believe you would even suggest such a thing!"

"But I thought—"

"Obviously you have done what you have so often accused me of doing. You didn't think at all." She stepped closer and glared into his eyes. "Think now, Jared. This is your home, your heritage. You belong here. You would not be happy anywhere else."

"What about your happiness?" he said softly.

Her expression eased. "I would be happy anywhere with you."

At once a weight lifted from his shoulders, and he realized how very much he did not want to leave. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "Then we shall stay."

She nodded happily. "And you shall still work on your dreams, and my money will restore the estate and—"

"No," he said firmly.

She gazed at him with surprise. "Whyever not?"

He groaned at the words he was about to say. "Because, my love, a man should not marry for wealth. He should have to make his own fortune."

"Jared!" She grinned with pleasure. "I am impressed. Obviously I have already been an excellent influence on you."

He quirked a brow. "Obviously." He shook his head. "It will certainly not be easy, but we will continue to sell off the family heirlooms and hopefully, someday—"

"Someday," her eyes sparkled, "we'll have a motorcar in front of every manor house and cottage in England."

He laughed. "God help the British." He bent to touch his lips to hers, then abruptly stopped. "I do feel, though, that I am asking you to give up a great deal for me, and I have little to offer you in return."

"Jared," she chided. "you offer me love."

"Indeed, still... I simply wish there was something more I could give you. One thing I could sacrifice for you."

"You do mean that, don't you?" There was astonishment in her eyes.

"I do," he said solemnly.

"Very well," her words were measured and thoughtful, "in that case, if you are certain?"

"I am." He nodded.

"I should very much ..." Her eyes twinkled, and the corners of her lips quirked upward"... like to be the proud owner of my very own ... automobile."

"My automobile?" he said, shocked by the very thought.

"Indeed." She bobbed her head. "It is the one thing you can offer me that would mean something."

"It is technically half Quentin's, you know," he said hopefully.

"Quentin will not care."

"My automobile." Surrender crept through him.

"Your automobile." Even the teasing light in her eye could not vanquish the sinking sensation in his stomach. He shrugged. "Then, my love, it's yours."

"Thank you." She snaked her arms around his neck. "Kiss me. Jared. and then." she grinned. "I'll take you for a drive."

He laughed and his lips met hers, and he knew for now and forever he would drive off into the sunset with this American princess who could hold her own with everyone from scoundrels to interfering mothers. And he further knew, and perhaps had always known, or possibly just hoped, that the true test, the final challenge, the real pea beneath the mattress ... was love.

"I think you're being ridiculous," Emily glared at Quentin. "Why, there is no reason on earth why women are not just as capable as men of handling such a craft."

"It's far too dangerous for a woman," Quentin said loftily. "And altogether improper."

"For goodness sakes, Quentin, it's 1905, and your ideas of what is proper and improper for women are positively antiquated."

"I think I tend to agree with him, my dear," Jared said dryly. "Although I will admit I was once wrong about the abilities of women to drive motorcars, this device is a far different matter."

"Jared." Emily turned her ire to her brother-in-law. Cece laughed to herself and continued past the knot of friends and family arguing the virtues and dangers of that fascinating new invention, the flying machine.

The scent of roasting beef drifted on the wind. Since that first party a decade earlier, this evening of outdoor entertainment had become an annual tradition at Graystone Castle.

Odd how life turned out. She'd always thought she was the adventurous one. the one to climb mountains and conquer frontiers. But, in truth, it was Emily who ultimately slashed through the years with high spirit and a reckless disregard for what was expected and proper. The family had been stunned when she'd fled to Paris to seriously try her hand at painting. Then there had been her disastrous, though thankfully short, marriage to the person the family had only referred to as "that dreadful man." Perhaps, at long last, she and Quentin would now find each other. Quentin had never married, and Cece always suspected Emily was the reason why.

Dear Quentin. He had not taken well to the demands of producing motorcars, selling his share of the company to Jared within the first year of operation. There still wasn't a Graystone Motor Car in every driveway in England, but it was the country's favorite.

She nodded to old friends and new acquaintances and made her way around the grounds, checking, as any good hostess would, on the enjoyment of her guests. Perhaps she was more nostalgic this year because it was a milestone of sorts. In the past few months Jared had reimbursed Robert for all the funds he had poured into the castle and estate. He had further paid back Cece's father for the loan he'd insisted they accept when Jared refused any sort of dowry. Today the Earl of Graystone's financial footing was as sound as the Bank of England itself

Cece waved to her parents, chatting with neighbors. On hand for the party this year, their visit here was a brief stop on their way to see the pyramids of Egypt. They traveled a great deal these days.

Olivia and Robert had left just moments earlier. The couple lived in the mansion in London, sharing it with the rest of the family when Parliament was in session. And rumors were ripe in the City that Robert could become the next prime minister. Still, if there was one thing she'd learned through the years, London gossip was more often wrong than right.

Cece spotted Lady Millicent engaged in enraptured conversation with an older gentleman and grinned. Would he be husband number four?

Her own life was exceedingly dull in comparison to her sister's. Oh, certainly she kept an active hand in the business. And she was one of the founders and directors of the Ladies Motoring Society. Politics occupied more and more of her time, with Jared's increasing interest in Parliament. And then there were the children. Two girls and a boy were a handful, even with the help of a governess. Cece chuckled. Perhaps her life wasn't so dull after all.

She paused, and her satisfied gaze skimmed the manicured lawns, carefully groomed gardens and the crowd of partygoers. She rarely thought about Nellie Bly these days. Cece had taken a far different path than she'd orginally expected, but it had led her to a life she wouldn't trade for a page-one byline. A good life, filled with joy and laughter and love.

She studied the brown paper-wrapped parcel she still clutched in her hand with idle curiosity. Olivia had given it to her. along with a twinkle in her eye and a warning that she would need it with children of her own. Cece never would have dreamed how well she and her mother-in-law got along. Of course, Olivia had her own life to live these days.

Cece ripped off the wrapping and stared at a worn, threadbare copy of children's fairy tales. A faded blue ribbon dangled from a page somewhere near the center of the book. The volume seemed to fall open naturally at the page it marked, and she smiled.

It was "The Princess and the Pea."

Her gaze fell to the final lines. Hans Christian Andersen had ended his tale with the words, "and this is a true story." But beneath the printed lines someone, no doubt Olivia, had added her own ending.

Cece laughed aloud. Whoever would have thought, back in the last years of the last century, that the mother so determined to ensure that the woman who would carry her family name into the future be worthy of the honor, would have penned her own ending to their story. In Olivia's still strong, decisive hand, the flourishing script swept across the page.

"And they lived happily ever after."

There was indeed a race from Paris to Bordeaux and back in June of 1895. The round-trip course stretched 732 miles. Emile Lavassor won the race in just over 48 hours, a remarkable feat. However, a race in Britain that year would have been difficult, if not impossible. It wasn't until November 1896 that the law requiring that a man waving a red flag walk in front of an automobile was repealed. That prompted the first London-to-Brighton run with thirty-five motorcars. The run is still held today on the first Sunday in November. Attracting hundreds of cars, it's restricted to those built before 1905.

Also in 1895, nine American heiresses married British lords.

Not all of them lived happily ever after.

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