The Trouble With Princesses (6 page)

Yet here she was, entertaining again.

Perhaps they were just ordinary suitors come to call. Certainly, in spite of her declaration that she did not plan to wed, she had never lacked for suitors or marriage proposals over the course of her many London Seasons.

At last count, he believed she had turned down seven—or was it eight?—perfectly reasonable offers of marriage. Although to be honest, only one had been from a fellow royal—a man so boorish and lacking in intellect that Rupert would have advised her to refuse him even if he’d been her last hope to be a wife and mother.

The round, mellow tones of her laughter drifted once more from the room, followed by a chorus of enthusiastic male replies.

He supposed he ought to continue on to the library, where he had planned to relax with a glass of wine and a good book. But even as he headed off in that direction, he couldn’t resist the temptation to find out exactly who was in the room with her and what she was doing.

Striding along the corridor, he took a detour into the drawing room.

There she sat, holding court like a queen, with a retinue of courtiers scattered around her. Emma, he noted, was nowhere to be seen; likely she had gone up to the nursery to visit the boys. Instead, an older lady’s maid sat in one corner with her head bent over some needlework, there to maintain some semblance of propriety.

Ariadne smiled at a remark made by one of the gentlemen, her green eyes alight, while the other men sought new ways to draw her attention.

Abruptly the laughter and talk halted, heads turning as one in his direction. The men rose to their feet and bowed. “Your Royal Highness,” several of them said in greeting.

He nodded, then gestured for them to resume their seats. “Carry on,” he said as he moved deeper into the room. “I merely stopped by for a sandwich and a libation. Please, pay me no mind.”

Ariadne’s smile disappeared, her gaze meeting his for a brief but significant moment. “Why, Your Highness, good afternoon. You have no need to trouble yourself making a plate here. I am sure Symms would be more than happy to send down to the kitchen for whatever you wish.”

Her voice, he noticed, was so sweet that bees could have sated themselves on its honeyed tones. “Why do I not ring for him now and he can bring you something. In the archduke’s study perhaps?”

He nearly laughed at her thinly veiled attempt to shoo him out of the room. “My thanks, Princess, but I am more than content to sample the fare I see before me.”

And truthfully, he was a bit peckish, having eaten only a late breakfast and no nuncheon that day.

He crossed to the tea tray and began to prepare a selection for himself. As he did so, he took a moment to note the identities of the other men in the room. Among them were a duke’s heir apparent, a marquess who at thirty was already losing his hair, and a distant—very distant—cousin of King George who had teeth like a horse and who ranked no higher than an ordinary mister.

As for the rest, five more in all, he was not familiar with their names, although he believed he’d seen them at various
Ton
functions. One in particular that he did remember was the dark-haired gentleman who had interrupted his conversation with Ariadne that night at the ball in order to claim a dance. He focused on the man for a long moment, knowing he’d seen him somewhere else as well.

Then it came to him. It had been at a gaming hell, an establishment he had visited strictly as a favor to a friend. As he recalled, the dark-haired lord hadn’t looked terribly happy at the time, seeing as he had been in the process of losing a rather substantial sum of money.

So what was he doing sniffing around Ariadne?

He didn’t like any of the answers that came to mind.

Letting none of this show on his face, he filled his plate with an array of small sandwiches and biscuits, then took a seat in one of the few open spaces remaining—on the sofa next to Ariadne.

Out of deference to her rank, none of the gentlemen had seated themselves beside her, leaving the sofa unoccupied except for herself. But he outranked everyone in the room, including her, which meant he could sit anywhere he liked.

He hid another smile as he sank down beside her, noticing the way her lips thinned with barely concealed annoyance. Gracefully, she shifted a couple of inches away to put more space between them.

He laid a napkin across his knee and began to eat.

He watched her silent struggle as she decided whether to offer him tea, but a lifetime of training could not be ignored, not even by Ariadne.

“Would you care for tea, Your Royal Highness?” she inquired, reaching toward the silver urn.

“Nein,”
he answered in his native Rosewaldian dialect. “A small beer would be appreciated, however.”

Her gaze met his, her lips parting as if she longed to make some retort. Instead, she nodded toward a footman who waited in a far corner.

“
A beer
for His Royal Highness,” she informed the servant.

The man gave a smart bow, then departed.

She turned back to her retinue of admirers, smiling widely at them even as she strove to ignore Rupert. “So, gentlemen,” she said, “if I remember correctly, Lord Norling was just about to tell us about the most amusing wagers currently being laid at the clubs. Pray do continue, my lord.”

Norling, the marquess, cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably at Rupert before speaking. “Yes, well, I seem to recall one about Viscount Hertsly. He bet his friend that he could shovel . . .” He frowned, his words trailing away as if reconsidering. “Well, no, maybe not that one.”

He paused, running a hand over his thinning pate. “There’s another tale, highly droll . . . It concerns eels, but—” He broke off again, shooting another unsettled glance at Rupert.

Rupert said nothing. He just sat calmly eating his snack.

“Yes, well, again, not really suitable for ladies, Princess.”

“Oh, pray do share, my lord,” she entreated. “You have us all most intrigued, myself in particular.”

Norling stuck a finger inside his cravat as if it had suddenly decided to strangle him.

“Yes, Norling,” Rupert drawled. “By all means, regale us with your tales that are, by your own admission, wholly unsuitable for the ears of ladies.”

The marquess’s face paled and he shot to his feet. “A-another time perhaps. I am dreadfully sorry, but I just recalled that I am promised at my solicitor’s office in fifteen minutes. I shall have to hurry to make it across Town.” He bowed awkwardly. “A pleasure as always, Your Highness. Prince.”

And then he was gone.

Several other of the gentlemen suddenly remembered appointments of their own and began making their excuses as well. A veritable exodus ensued as they hurried out the door.

Rupert’s beer arrived. He sipped it as he watched the byplay, finding Ariadne’s gentlemen callers as entertaining as a production on Drury Lane.

Ten minutes later, only two remained—the king’s horse-toothed cousin, who sat cramming his mouth full of biscuits, and the dark-haired lord. The latter looked amused and relaxed, one arm draped over the back of his chair. With leisurely ease, he rose to his feet and strolled forward.

“Princess,” he said, “I too ought to depart. As one of the first to pay you a call, I have no wish to overstay my welcome.”

“Not at all, Lord Selkirk. You may stay and visit as long as you wish.”

Selkirk smiled. “You make a tempting offer, but I really must go. What time shall I come for you tomorrow? Does nine o’clock sound agreeable?”

Ariadne extended a hand. “Most agreeable. I look forward to the occasion.”

Selkirk made her an elegant bow. Then he turned. “Come along, Bartsby,” he told the king’s cousin. “I believe you have made deep enough inroads into the tea tray for one afternoon.”

Bartsby made a huffing noise that couldn’t be understood past the food in his mouth. Hastily he swallowed; then he too rose to his feet.

“Your Highness,” Selkirk said to Ariadne. “Your Royal Highness,” he added to Rupert.

Rupert lifted a brow and drank more beer.

Bartsby made a pair of darting bows, then followed the other man from the room.

Sudden quiet descended.

Ariadne glanced over at the lady’s maid, who sat with her head bent inconspicuously over her sewing. “Jones,” she said.

The woman looked up.

“I believe it is past time for your tea. Why do you not go ahead and take it now while you have no pressing duties?”

The lady’s maid hesitated briefly, then secured her needle into her sewing. “Yes, Your Highness. As you wish.” She cast a quick glance between Ariadne and Rupert, then gathered her belongings and left the room.

The moment they were alone, Ariadne rounded on him. “What exactly do you think you’re about, coming in here like that?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent. You know exactly what. You deliberately decided to disrupt my afternoon.”

“That is an awful lot of
d
’s for one sentence. Perhaps you ought to rephrase.”

Her green eyes flashed fire. “Don’t be flippant. You came in here specifically to chase away my gentlemen callers and you know it.”

“Is that what I was doing?” he drawled. “As I recollect, I stopped in for a sandwich. They’re quite good, by the way. Would you care for one?”

Her lips grew tight. “No, I would not care for one.
Ooh
, you can be insufferable sometimes. I don’t know how Emma abides you.”

“She’s my sister. She doesn’t have a choice.”

Ariadne glared at him and he gazed steadily back. Abruptly, she blew out a breath and rolled her eyes skyward, her lips twitching ever so slightly, as if she were fighting the urge to laugh.

He remembered how they’d felt, those lips, and wondered what she would do if he leaned over and kissed her now. But such passion, however pleasurable, was not to be repeated, he reminded himself. There would be no more lessons of that sort, since hopefully she had learned hers that night in the study. As for himself . . .

Far more dispirited by the realization than he had any right to be, he consoled himself in his beer.

“In regard to your accusation that I came to shoo away your gentlemen callers,” he continued, “I would remind you that if said gentlemen possessed any steel in their spines, they would not have been so easily scattered.”

“Mayhap not, but then, you are unfairly intimidating when you wish to be. You are a future king, you know.”

“True.” He took another swallow of beer, then set the glass aside. “So why is it that my supposed powers of intimidation never seem to work on you?”

A little smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Ah well, that comes from my being of royal blood and knowing that underneath that formidable exterior of yours you are still just a man. An extraordinary one, but a man just the same.”

“Extraordinary,
hmm
?” Leaning back, he played his fingers slowly over the silk on the back of the sofa. “I believe that is the first compliment I have ever had from you.”

Her eyes turned intensely green; then she looked away, busying herself with the tea tray. “Yes, well, do not get used to it. You have already made your opinion clear on the subject of my private life. I will thank you not to interfere in it any further.”

So she didn’t like his interference, did she? Well, he would stop when he decided he was done and not a minute before. “I would have no cause to intercede in your affairs were it not for the lack of wisdom you have so recently displayed.”

“Lack of wisdom?” She held up a hand. “We are finished with this conversation, Your Royal Highness. You may leave.”

He chuckled and reached for another sandwich; the chicken and watercress was especially delicious.

“Fine,” she declared after a moment. “
I
shall depart.”

“Sit,” he commanded. Reaching over, he caught hold of her wrist to keep her where she was.

She arched a reproachful brow. “Manhandling me again?”

“No,” he said, making no effort to release her. “Just keeping you in your place, that’s all.”

“As I said before, you are insufferable.”

He laughed and finished his sandwich. Only then did he let her go.

“Stay,” he warned, not certain she wouldn’t bolt off the sofa.

“I am not one of your trained spaniels.”

“No. They are much better behaved. Now, before you fly into the boughs completely, ease my mind and tell me that you have put aside this nonsensical notion of yours and that today’s gentlemen callers were suitors vying for your hand in marriage.”

“I could tell you that, but then I would have to lie. I don’t like to lie.”

“Ariadne,”
he said on a growl, “I thought surely after the other night—”

“That you would scare me off? Not a bit, Your Royal Highness. You will find that I am made of far sterner stuff than that.”

“Stuff is right, since your head is full of stuff and nonsense on this subject.”

“Now you are insulting me. I really must leave before I say something I will forever regret.”

“Oh, don’t hold back on my account. We are better friends than that, I should think.”

“Is that what we are? I have to confess I had never thought of us as such.”

He tipped his head to concede her point. “Then as my sister’s friend, pray continue.”

“What is the use? We shall never agree. Just let me be, Rupert. I ask nothing more.”

And that is exactly what I should do,
he realized.
It is her life to ruin or not as she chooses.

“So you and that man, the one who mentioned an outing tomorrow. Where is he taking you?”

She frowned, clearly suspicious. “Lord Selkirk. We are going riding in the park. And no, I haven’t decided to take him as my lover, if that is what you are wondering.”

“Good God, I should hope not. I trust you are taking a groom? It is far too early to be out alone with such a man.”

“There are plenty of people in the park at that hour, so I shall be perfectly safe.” She paused. “What do you mean by
such a man
?”

“Perhaps you are not aware, but Selkirk has something of an unsavory reputation.”