To Charm a Prince (11 page)

“You look lovely in your purple gown.”

Samantha glanced sidelong at the prince. “The gown is amethyst, not purple.”

“There is no difference,” Rudolf told her. “Amethyst and purple are the same color.”

“Amethyst is a bluish violet,” Samantha corrected him. “Purple is true purple.”

“Is amethyst a false purple?”

Her irritation rising, Samantha lifted her nose into the air and turned her head to look at the passing scenery. The prince was baiting her because she hadn’t spoken to him since climbing into the coach that morning. Apparently, His Highness couldn’t bear to be ignored.

“Are you angry with me?” Rudolf asked.

Samantha sighed. “I am angry with myself,” she said, without taking her gaze off the view outside.

“Do not be angry.” Rudolf inched closer. “Your reputation was already ruined.”

Samantha snapped her head around to stare at him. Only a dead man would have missed her displeasure.

“Are you going to strike me again?” Rudolf asked, obviously feigning fear.

Samantha’s lips twitched with the urge to laugh. She gave herself a mental shake. Losing one’s virtue was no laughing matter.

“Admit it, Princess,” Rudolf said. “You enjoyed the intimacy we shared.”

“If you wanted to have fun,” Samantha told him, lifting her nose into the air, “you should have abducted my sister. Tory adores fun.”

“I did not abduct you,” the prince corrected her. “Tell me what you adore.”

Samantha gave him her sweetest smile. “I adore boring gentlemen. I adore people who keep promises. I adore being left alone when I’m not in the mood for company.”

“I apologize for bothering you.” Rudolf folded his arms across his chest, turned his head, and looked out the window.

Samantha watched him, a wave of guilt surging through her. The prince hadn’t forced her to do anything. She was the one with the weak moral character, not he.

“Rudolf?” Samantha touched his arm. When he looked at her, she said, “I apologize for my rudeness.”

“Thank you for that,” Rudolf said, covering her hand with his own, “but I should be apologizing to you. I will marry you before we return to London and save your reputation.”

“No, thank you.”

“No?” His expression mirrored his surprise.

“I cannot marry a man who only wants to save my reputation,” she told him.

“You were ready to marry Alexander Emerson,” Rudolf reminded her, sounding insulted.

“That was different.”

“Like purple and amethyst?” Rudolf asked, his tone sarcastic. “Why can you not marry me to save your reputation?”

I love you, and cannot marry you unless you love me.

Samantha refused to share her heart’s secrets with him. She had already shared her body, and that was sharing enough.

“Well?” he asked.

“Marrying Alexander Emerson would have been a mistake,” Samantha said. “I can see that now. Please, let’s postpone this discussion.”

“As you wish.”

Samantha closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the coach. Both Alexander and she had ulterior motives for wanting to marry each other. He wanted to make amends for his father. She wanted a family of her own. Neither was in love.

Prince Rudolf was another matter. He offered to marry her out of pity. She could only marry him if he loved her. Anything less would be too painful to bear.

Two hours of strained silence later, their destination came into view. Located on the shores of Loch Kindar, Sweetheart Manor lay on the outskirts of New Abbey Village. A double octagon formed an imposing approach to the manor. In the center of the first octagon stood the statue of a boar, guarding the house. The second octagon contained a lion statue with its front paw on top of the world.

The manor consisted of three attached buildings. The main house was built in early Georgian times, and the middle structure dated from the reign of William and Mary. The last and original building was erected during Tudor times.

Three footmen materialized as soon as Karl halted the coach in front of the main house. A tall, dignified-looking man who appeared to be in charge stood outside the front door.

Accepting the prince’s offered hand, Samantha stepped out of the coach and stared at the manor. She could hardly believe that she was standing outside the house where her father had been born.

Rudolf leaned close. “Let me do the talking.”

Samantha inclined her head and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. Assuming a royal attitude, she lifted her nose into the air and looked at the majordomo.

“You could have a future at Drury Lane,” Rudolf said, laughter lurking in his voice, making her smile.

“Welcome to Sweetheart Manor,” the majordomo greeted them. “I am Durwin. I assume you are the Marquess of Argyll,”—he looked at Samantha—“and you are the Marchioness of Argyll, the late earl’s daughter.”

“I am Prince Rudolf Kazanov of Russia,” Rudolf said, giving the man an easy smile. “My wife, Princess Samantha, is sister to the Marchioness of Argyll.”

Though her expression remained placid, Samantha felt surprised by the prince’s declaration. She had warned him to make no public announcement that she was his wife. Doing so made her his common-law wife, in fact.

“Welcome to Sweetheart Manor, Your Highness,” Durwin said, leading the way into the foyer where maids and footmen and cooks were lined up for inspection.

“My father was the majordomo for the late earl’s father. Several other servants have such a history with the Douglases.”

“Tradition gives a man strong roots,” the prince said.

The moderately large foyer, modest by London’s standards, was almost entirely Italian marble. On the immediate right rose a winding staircase to the upper levels. Several pieces of classical statuary poised here and there, but Samantha saw her brother-in-law’s fine touch in the silk greenery and flowers that warmed what would have been an austere foyer.

“This is Prince Rudolf Kazanov of Russia,” Durwin announced. “Princess Samantha, his wife, is one of the late earl’s daughters.”

When the Douglas servants clapped their approval, Rudolf inclined his head and said, “The marquess shows wisdom by keeping the late earl’s faithful retainers.”

“Annie and Sally, unpack Her Highness’ baggage,” Durwin instructed. “Kevin, help the prince’s man carry the baggage upstairs. The rest of you return to your duties.”

As the servants departed the foyer, the majordomo turned to the prince, saying, “I will escort you to your chamber. You will, of course, stay in the master suite.”

“Durwin, Russian royalty always keeps their own chambers,” Samantha lied, drawing a surprised look from the prince.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Samantha slipped her hand through the prince’s arm and smiled sweetly. He didn’t look especially happy. Apparently, she had foiled his plans to seduce her again.

Rudolf and Samantha followed the majordomo upstairs. He led them down a corridor toward the rear of the mansion.

“Here we are,” Durwin said, opening a door. “The marquess desired the quietest chambers overlooking the gardens.”

“The master suite was grand. Opposite the hearth, an enormous bed sported a red, velvet bedspread with gold braiding. The room was furnished with a highboy, a French chest of drawers, a leather slipper chair, a round mahogany table, and a mahogany settee with fabric upholstery. A red-and-blue Persian carpet covered the hardwood floor, and the walls had been painted a deep bottle green. Arched windows overlooked the rear gardens and pond; beyond the grounds, Loch Kindar provided a serene background.

“Is this satisfactory, Your Highness?”

Rudolf nodded. “This will do.”

Durwin walked across the bedchamber as Karl and two footmen carried the baggage into the chamber. The majordomo opened the door to the connecting chamber, saying, “And this is your chamber, Your Highness.”

The prince certainly doesn’t have far to go
, Samantha thought, walking toward the other room. She glanced at Rudolf as she passed him. He smiled at her, satisfied by the proximity of her bed to his.

Her bedchamber was almost as large as the prince’s, its color scheme done in jeweled tones. The walls had been painted red, and opposite the hearth, the canopied bed had been decorated with brilliant blue-and-gold textiles. An upholstered settee sat near the hearth, accompanied by a writing table with chair, various occasional tables, and a highboy. A red, gold, blue, and cream Persian carpet covered the oak floor.

A footman was already busy lighting a fire in the hearth. The two maids unpacked the gowns and hung them in the chamber’s adjoining dressing room.

“A lovely room,” Rudolf remarked. “Don’t you think?”

“The chamber is quite lovely,” Samantha agreed.

Durwin flicked his wrist at the maids and the footman, who instantly left the chamber. “Will there be anything else, Your Highness?”

“No, thank you,” the prince answered.

“What time do you wish to dine?”

“The journey has been long and tiring,” Rudolf answered, glancing at Samantha. “We will skip tea and dine early, say five o’clock.”

The majordomo started to turn away but then paused. “Your Highness, we didn’t expect your visit and had planned a Twelfth Night party for tomorrow night in the Tudor great hall,” Durwin said. “Would it be acceptable if—?”

“Do not cancel your celebration because of us,” Rudolf interrupted.

Durwin smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Do you have a key for that door?” Samantha asked.

“A key?” the majordomo echoed in confusion.

“Samantha, my love. . .” The prince’s voice held a warning note.

“Never mind.” She waved the majordomo away. “You may leave.”

Samantha turned to the prince as soon as the door shut behind the majordomo. From the expression on his face, she knew he was displeased with her.

“Do nothing to embarrass me or yourself in front of the servants,” Rudolf ordered in a stern voice.

Samantha inclined her head. “I would like to rest now.”

Instead of leaving, Rudolf stepped closer. With a smile on his lips, he reached out and cupped her cheek. “Do not deprive me of hope,” he said. “Hope may be all I have.”

“Who knows, Your Highness?” Samantha returned his smile, thinking how charming he could be. “Miracles happen every day.”

“I certainly hope so. Do you want to rest or tour the estate?”

“Both.”

“Rest now,” Rudolf said. “There will be time to explore tomorrow. Turn around, and l will unbutton your gown.”

Samantha showed him her back. Within seconds, the prince unfastened her buttons, and she felt him running a finger up the bare skin of her back. He pushed aside the heavy mass of her ebony hair and planted a kiss on the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

Samantha refused to succumb to her desires. She whirled around, ready for battle, but the prince merely smiled and stepped back apace.

“Pleasant dreams.” The door clicked shut behind him.

Samantha disrobed and hanged her amethyst gown in the dressing room. Wearing only her chemise, she crossed the chamber to the bed and climbed between the coverlet and the sheets.

My father’s ancestral home
, Samantha thought in wonder leaning back against the pillow. Her father had been born and passed his childhood here. Which chamber had been his? What had his life been like? Too bad they hadn’t had the money to move here. On the other hand, she shouldn’t forget that her brother-in-law had renovated and refurbished the manor. Who knew what it had looked like after all those years of neglect?

Samantha glanced toward the door connecting her chamber to the prince’s. She wished circumstances had been different, but there was no use in thinking about what could never be. Willing herself to relax, Samantha closed her eyes. Within minutes, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Three hours later, Samantha stood in the dressing room and considered what to wear. Finally, she decided on the sky blue silk with the long, loose sleeves. The color matched her eyes, or so the prince had said.

Why was she tormenting herself? No matter what she wore, her clothing could never change the circumstances that kept the prince and her apart. He was a royal and could never marry her, even if he wanted it.

Dressed except for her buttons, Samantha grabbed the gown’s matching cashmere shawl. She knocked on the connecting door and waited.

Instead of calling out to enter, Rudolf opened the door and flashed her a smile. He looked heartbreakingly handsome in his black waistcoat and breeches.

“Welcome to my chamber,” Rudolf said, stepping aside so she could enter.

Samantha pointed to the back of her gown. “Would you please button me?”

“I would love to button your gown,” Rudolf said in a voice suggesting intimacy.

“You like to tease me, don’t you?”

“In more ways than you can imagine,” Rudolf answered, fastening her buttons. He lifted the shawl out of her hand and wrapped it around her shoulders.

*    *    *

Located on the ground floor, the dining room was small by London standards. Its doors and floor were oak, the walls painted red and decorated with portraits. A red-and-blue carpet covered the floor beneath the mahogany dining table, which had seating for only twenty. A crystal-and-gold chandelier provided light along with the fire in the hearth and the candles on the table and sideboard.

Durwin greeted them at the door and escorted them to the table. “Your Highness,” he said deferentially, pulling out the chair at the head of the table.

Turning to Samantha, Durwin said, “Please follow me, Your Highness.” Then he proceeded to walk the length of the table, intending to deposit her at the other end.

“Durwin, are you stealing my wife?” Rudolf called.

“I beg your pardon?” the majordomo said.

Samantha flicked a glance at the two footmen who stood at attention near the sideboard. From their expressions, she expected the two men to explode with laughter.

“If you put my wife at the other end of the table, I will not be able to admire her beauty while I dine,”