To Pleasure a Prince (30 page)

“And you, of course, always approved. Three days in one’s room is no great fun either, after all.”

“No, but I saw it as a good way to teach you that you could not speak to your future king as if he were some rogue in the street.” He drew himself up stiffly. “I could not have you going about calling me a whoreson in public.”

“Then you should have kept your damned prick in your trousers.”

“Then you would never have been born.”

That brought Marcus up short. He stared bleakly at his father.

“Marcus, I have made many mistakes in my life. But having you was not one of them. I only wish I had explained to you the situation between your father and me before I no longer had the chance.”

“What was there to explain? He was your friend before you stole his wife.”

“I did not steal her.” He sighed. “Your father simply did not care that much about the things that mattered to your mother.”

“Like status and society and—”

“Like passion. Your mother was a passionate woman, but your father was an ascetic. Passion didn’t much interest him. So when he left your mother alone for so long, she found someone else to give her what she craved.”

“He
loved
her,” Marcus said fiercely.

“In his own way, yes. But not enough to give her what she wanted from him.” He shrugged. “Books interested him. Buildings interested him. But not people.” He smiled faintly. “Except for you and Louisa. He loved the two of you. And God knows you loved him.” His voice cracked. “I envied him that, having your love and your respect. No matter how hard I tried, I could not gain it.”

The prince glanced away, his eyes going hard. “Your mother knew it, too. So she tried her damnedest to get it for me.” A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “I could have told her it was fruitless. One thing you did inherit from me is that damned Hanoverian blood. You’re as willful and stubborn and proud as my father ever was.” His gaze swung back to Marcus. “When Gillian started those damned rumors about you, why didn’t you just deny them, for God’s sake?”

“Why didn’t
you?”
Regina put in, her temper rising. “You should have stood behind your son, instead of abandoning him to the wolves.”

The prince blinked, as if he’d forgotten she was there. Then he scowled.

She didn’t care. Slipping her hand from Marcus’s, she approached the prince. “He has spent his life alone in exile because you were too much a coward to do the right thing by him. He deserved better from you.”

The prince searched her face. “Indeed he did. But I would make amends now, if I can.”

“By corrupting my sister?” Marcus snapped.

His Highness uttered a weary sigh, then slowly shook his head. “If you truly do not want her here, then I will withdraw my invitation.”

Marcus released a pent-up breath.

“But consider this,” he went on. “A few years at court will give Louisa the society polish she will need to make the sort of match she truly deserves. A love match with a man worthy of her.” His gaze met Marcus’s. “It will certainly erase any rumors that might arise as a result of my ill-thought machinations with Foxmoor.”

The prince had a good point, actually. The sense of it even reached Marcus, for she could see the battle raging on his face.

At last he sighed. “I will consider it,” Marcus said gruffly.

That he had not dismissed the suggestion out of hand was a step forward.

Relief spread over the prince’s face. “And in time, do you think you might also consider one day joining me at dinner with your wife?”

A long silence ensued, and when Regina looked at Marcus, it was to see his eyes misting. “Perhaps,” he choked out at last. “Perhaps in time.”

They left then, taking Louisa with them.

Some hours later, after Louisa had retired and they were in their bedchamber at the town house, Marcus said, “Do you think he’s right?”

“Who?” she asked as she took down her hair.

He came up behind her at the mirror. “Prinny. Do you think Louisa would benefit from being at court?”

That he could even ask such a question was astonishing. That he valued her opinion on the subject was positively thrilling.

She chose her words carefully. “She might. It would certainly teach her enough of the world to appreciate what a good match actually is.”

“Oh?” he said in a husky voice as he bent to press a kiss into her hair. “And how would you define a good match, my love?”

“One with a man who trusts you.” She rose to face him. “Respects you.” She flung her arms about his neck. “And loves you.”

“Is that all?” he said dryly.

“Not quite.” She shot him a teasing smile. “He should also have a very sturdy dungeon.”

If your charge marries well, then you have achieved your purpose, but if she marries happily, you may congratulate yourself on a job well-done.

—Miss Cicely Tremaine,
The Ideal Chaperone

H
e
still
couldn’t see a damned thing from here. Marcus rose, cradling his infant son in the crook of one arm as he crossed the terrace outside Iversley’s ballroom to approach the closed glass doors.

When Jasper drooled on his coat sleeve, Marcus chuckled. “Don’t let Uncle Byrne see you do that, my boy, or he’ll never hold you again.”

Marcus stared through the glass, then angled the two-month-old forward so he could see, too. “Look at Uncle Alec and Auntie Katherine dancing the reel. Don’t they look fine? And somewhere in there, Mama is dancing with Uncle Byrne. Poor devil. She’s on a mission to get him married these days, and he’s having none of it.”

Shifting little Jasper, he peered closer at the throng, then chuckled. “It even appears that Miss Tremaine has acquired a beau, judging from how that colonel has been dogging the old girl all evening. Seems that having her little book of advice published has raised her credit in society.”

Then he spotted his sister. “There’s Auntie Louisa, being led from the floor by some handsome fellow. No great surprise there. She has lots of handsome fellows about her, now that she’s at court.” Hard to believe it had been little more than a year since he’d stood here watching her dance with Foxmoor. “Auntie Louisa left her lofty post just to attend your christening party. What do you think of that?”

Marcus glanced smugly down at his son’s intelligent brown eyes, wispy dark hair, and blessedly average size. Not a hint of Prinny in
this
lad, to be sure.

“No one shall ever call
you
a dragon, my boy. If they do, your papa shall breathe fire at them till they run off.” He smiled. “If your mama doesn’t get to the poor unfortunate first and slice him to ribbons with her sharp tongue.”

“Who are you accusing of having a sharp tongue?” demanded a female voice close by.

“Uh-oh,” Marcus said to his son, “here’s the lady now. Mum’s the word, my boy.”

“Very funny,” Regina grumbled. “And what are you doing out here skulking about with him in the dark, anyway?”

Marcus smiled. “The point of having this affair at Iversley’s was to keep it from being a strain on you so soon after Jasper was born. Yet you were fussing over the poor boy so much, I knew you wouldn’t take even a moment to enjoy yourself unless I whisked him out of your arms.” He cast her a chastening glance. “Not that it did any good. I’m sure once I was gone, you started lecturing poor Byrne over his marital state. When you were supposed to be dancing.”

“I
was
dancing.” Her eyes lit with mischief. “And if I happened to let slip a few words about the advantages of matrimony, I was merely making polite conversation. I’m sure he didn’t even realize what I was doing.”

Marcus snorted, then bent his head to his son’s. “Don’t worry, my boy. When the time comes for you to look for a wife, I’ll keep your mother well occupied elsewhere.”

Regina glided up to stand beside him and stare adoringly at their son. “Don’t you trust me to choose a proper wife for our darling Jasper?”

“Not for one minute. Between you and Katherine and Louisa, the only girl to pass inspection would be some milksop maid pure as the driven snow, who would bore him to tears.”

She sniffed. “I suppose
you
would have him marry a fast, unmannerly hoyden who’ll break his heart.”

“I’d have him marry a woman like his mother.” Marcus leaned over to kiss her cheek. “It certainly seems to be working well for me.”

Mollified, Regina cast him a smile. “When did you turn into such a flatterer?”

“When the woman I fell in love with told me she wouldn’t let me court her unless I behaved like a gentleman.”

“Clever woman.”

He chuckled. “Clever woman indeed. I heard from Cicely that you were reading Shakespeare only this morning.”

Regina screwed up her brow. “Bumbling through, more like. But I am doing much better. I got through the whole of one play this week. Now that you’ve come back to town from Castlemaine, I might just coax you into reading the next play
to
me.” A coy smile touched her lips. “Unless you’re planning to take us all home again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of whisking you from London during the season.”

She walked her fingers up his coat sleeve. “Ah, but there are certain advantages to being at Castlemaine. More privacy.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “A bigger bed.”

He grinned. “Very tempting, dearling. Unfortunately, I promised Louisa that you and I would dine at Carlton House this week.”

She eyed him closely. “You mean, you promised the prince you would let him see our son.”

“I can never get anything past you. You’re right, of course.”

“Just as I was right about Louisa going to court?”

“I suppose,” he grumbled.

Regina punched his arm playfully. “Admit it, you big lout. Serving as Princess Charlotte’s lady-in-waiting has been good for her. It’s given her a certain polish and style.”

He sighed. “Yes, it has. Although she still hasn’t married anyone.”

“She will. It’s better for her to take her time about it, rather than accepting the first proposal that comes her way.” Her eyes gleamed up at him. “That’s what I did, after all, and it certainly seems to be working well for me.”

When he answered her with a warm smile that brought a dreamy expression to her face, it was all he could do not to take his wife out behind the bushes.

“I have a suggestion, darling,” she murmured, in that silky voice that still made his blood race and his heart pound. Opening the glass doors, she stepped through and then turned to offer him a come-hither glance. “Why don’t we give Jasper to one of his many doting relations and have a dance of our own?”

He stood there a moment with his son in his arms and the dark night behind him, staring at the woman he loved more than life.

Everything was different now. No more lurking in the shadows. No more hiding in caves. No more banishment.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said hoarsely.

Then the Dragon Viscount followed his wife into the light.

Readers have probably guessed by now that Regina’s difficulties with reading stemmed from her being dyslexic. Dyslexia takes a variety of forms—I chose the most common for my story. In my research, I learned that some people with dyslexia learn better if taught using tactile methods, so that’s why I focused on that for Regina.

The details about Princess Charlotte are all true—her father did broker an engagement between her and the Prince of Orange, but later, in the summer of the year when my book is set, she fell for another man, Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, and ended her engagement to the Prince of Orange. She married Prince Leopold in 1816, only to die tragically in childbirth a little over a year later.

Lady Draker was loosely based on two of Prinny’s married mistresses among the nobility, although neither woman possessed my character’s cruel nature. The first lady, the Viscountess Melbourne, was reputed to have borne the prince a son, George Lamb, during her four-year stint as Prinny’s mistress.

The second lady was the Marchioness of Hertford, whose husband looked the other way for twelve years while she and Prinny carried on their affair. Prinny was chummy with the marquis, frequently visited the Hertford estate in Warwickshire, and later became quite friendly with their son—who was definitely not
his
son, however, since he was born when Prinny was only fifteen.

Although the most famous poem entitled “La Belle Dame Sans Merci” is by John Keats, it hadn’t yet been written at the time my story took place. But since Keats based his poem on a Chaucer translation of an Alain Chartier poem (at the time of the Regency, it was believed to be a Chaucer original), I was still able to use the phrase.

The lines “Golden slumbers kiss your eyes/Smiles awake you when you rise” are not original to the Beatles; they came from a Thomas Dekker poem, a common lullaby in England. In fact, the liner notes to
Abbey Road
credit him.