Be My Prince (25 page)

“It’s Randolph.”

Glancing back at the portrait, she wondered briefly if she should drape the linen back over it, but remembered that her husband already knew of the gift and had, according to Lord Cavanaugh, given his blessing.

She crossed to the door and let Rand in, then locked it behind him. “I was not expecting you so soon,” she said.

He began to untie his cravat as he strolled closer to the fire. “I couldn’t stay away.” Naturally, his gaze was drawn to the bed and the portrait that leaned against it.

“The Duke of Kaulbach’s gift has arrived,” she explained. “Come and see it.” She waved him over.

Together they stood before it.

“My father was right,” he said. “You bear a striking resemblance to your mother.”

“Yes, and look at that.” Alex pointed. “She is wearing the ring you gave me.”

He nodded and took hold of her hand.

“Is it safe for me to keep it in this room?” she asked. “I would mount it above the mantel.”

He glanced at the painting that now occupied that space—a landscape by a local artist of mediocre talent. “This is your personal chamber,” he said. “Of course you may hang it wherever you like.”

“It won’t incite more gossip in the household?”

“If it does, I will deal with it accordingly.” The note of confidence in his voice and the cool gleam in his eyes gave her every assurance that he would indeed block any foe. She felt a stirring of arousal at the awesome display of his authority and wondered absently if she would ever be able to look at him and not find him overwhelmingly attractive.

“For now,” he added, “let us move it to a safer location … over here against the wall where you can see it.” He picked it up as if it weighed nothing and carried it across the room. Once he had set it in place, he pulled the protective linen away and tossed the fabric over the back of a chair. “There now, that’s better. It’s quite a magnificent piece, isn’t it?”

“Yes, absolutely magnificent,” she replied in a haze of sensual yearning as she crossed to her husband and began to unbutton his waistcoat.

*   *   *

Later, when the fire was reduced to a few glowing embers in the hearth, Alexandra turned to her husband on the soft feather mattress and rested her cheek on a hand. “May I ask you something?”

He lay quietly on his back, naked and beautiful in the golden light of a single candle at the bedside, blinking up at the silk canopy. “Anything.”

“Why does Nicholas hate me so much?”

His blue eyes caught hers in a deep, penetrating gaze. “He does not hate you.”

“Yes, I believe he does. He certainly doesn’t trust me.”

Rand exhaled slowly—which she interpreted as a sign of impatience—then sat up on the edge of the bed. “Must we talk about this now?”

“Why
not
now?” she asked. “It must be dealt with, Randolph, for I do not appreciate being treated as if I were your enemy.”

He reached for his trousers and pulled them on. “I will ask him to be more gracious toward you in the future.”

“No, do not try to appease me in such a way. It is more than a simple case of poor courtly manners. He appears to find me quite detestable, and for that reason I do not trust
him.
”

Randolph turned on the bed to look at her. “Watch your tongue, Alex. I trust
no
one more than my brother.”

“No one … including me, I suppose.”

He quickly stood and fastened his trousers.

The fact that he did not reply caused a wave of anger to rise up and crest within her.

She leaned across the bed. “Tonight he accused me of seduction and deceit. You must talk to him.”

Rand pulled his shirt on over his head. “I will, but I cannot put a leash on him, Alex, for I need him to be my eyes and ears here at the palace. It is his duty to be suspicious of everyone.”

“Including his queen?”

Rand shrugged into his waistcoat and buttoned it. “Yes.”

Her mouth fell open. “What are you saying? Have you instructed him to spy on me? I thought we were past all that.”

“No, I am afraid not. You are a Tremaine by blood, and there are those who would see me dead to make you their sole sovereign, and others who would enjoy seeing
your
head roll.” He went looking for his neckcloth, which had somehow ended up on the floor under the bed.

“That is not what I heard tonight,” she said with a twinge of satisfaction while he was still on his hands and knees.

He rose to his feet. “What exactly did you hear?”

“That I have many friends at the palace, more than I know.”

“What sorts of friends?” He inclined his head with concern.

“No one was named specifically, but it was implied that members of your father’s government are celebrating my return.”

He immediately advanced upon her, leaned over the bed, and took hold of her chin. “What are you suggesting, Alex? That people of this court will divide into two separate factions?” She tried to pull away, but he refused to let go. His eyes burned with fury. “Are you taking pleasure in this? I certainly hope not, for when I proposed to you I did so under the assumption that a union between our two families would unite the country, not tear it apart. You are not encouraging this sort of talk, I hope.”

Realizing the implications of her statements, she quickly clarified her meaning. “No, of course not. It is just something that was said to me. That is all. I took it as a compliment and a show of support, nothing more.”

He roughly let go of her chin and removed himself from the bed. “Who said this to you?”

“Lord Cavanaugh,” she replied.

His head drew back. “Leopold?”

“Yes. He told me that his father and mine were good friends, but that the duke later pledged loyalty to your father, and that he remains ever loyal. I apologize, Randolph. I did not mean to suggest that he is a rebel, nor do I wish to incite conflict.”

He reached for his jacket and pulled it on. “I am pleased to hear that, at least.”

It was a glib reply. She doubted he believed her.

“Must you leave like this?” she asked as he strode to the door.

“My apologies, but it is very late. Good evening, Alex.”

With that, he bowed to her and walked out, and she collapsed onto the bed in frustration.

*   *   *

Randolph shut the door behind him and strode down the long red-carpeted corridor on a direct path to his brother’s bedchamber, but stopped along the way to utter a few oaths and pound a fist against the wall.

He had never imagined wearing the crown would be easy, but had not expected matters to become so bloody complicated so soon after his father’s death, thanks to a wife who could potentially undo everything he had worked so hard to achieve.

Leaning against the wall, Rand massaged his weary eyes with the heels of his hands and fought to maintain his calm. All along, since the first moment he met Alexandra, his instincts told him that she was destined to be his queen. And dammit, the white-hot desire he felt for her was overpowering. Pray God he had not made a mistake.

And what if Nicholas was right? Rand trusted his brother, perhaps more than he trusted his own mind, for he was inebriated with lust half the time, whenever he thought about bedding his new wife.

For that reason, he simply could not let down his guard. He must remain rational and practical.

Pushing away from the wall and continuing on his way, he headed to Nick’s chamber to inform him of Leopold’s private conversation with Alexandra, and to talk further about the future.

*   *   *

When the first light of dawn touched the paned windows of the queen’s chamber, Alex woke with a sick feeling in her stomach as she recalled the heated argument she’d had with Randolph the night before. Thoughts of it spun in her head like a hurricane, so she called for her first lady-in-waiting, who quickly came running.

After emptying the contents of her stomach into the washbasin in her dressing room, Alexandra wanted only to go and speak to her husband to resolve their disagreement as quickly as possible, but her first lady pleaded with her to remain in bed.

While Alex waited miserably for the palace physician to arrive, she wondered if this infirmity was some sort of punishment for her pride and lofty ambitions. Was it not enough that her husband had taken his brother’s side against hers and by now probably believed she wanted to rouse a civil war? Was it really necessary to turn her stomach into a torture chamber?

Imagine her surprise when the doctor smiled down at her and congratulated her on a job well done.

“It is my pleasure to inform you, Your Majesty,” he said, “that you are with child. Shall I be the one to inform the king, or would you prefer to deliver the happy news yourself?”

She sat up instantly with eyes wide, laughed with astonishment, then heaved forward and vomited again over the side of the bed.

Chapter Twenty-eight

The king was overjoyed, of course, at the news of his wife’s blessed condition, and that night he raised a glass in celebration at dinner.

It was a private affair for members of the royal family only, which included Alexandra, Rose, Nicholas, and Lucille, who arrived late and apologized for keeping everyone waiting.

Nicholas was as polite and warm to Alex as any brother-in-law could be, which did nothing to ease her mind, however, for she recognized a well-scripted performance when she saw one.

After dessert, the men remained at the table to discuss politics and smoke cigars while the ladies retired to the drawing room.

Rose sat down at the pianoforte and invited Alex to help her select a piece of music. While Alex flipped through the pages, Rose watched her intently.

“May I have your permission to speak plainly about something?”

Alex’s eyes lifted. “Of course.”

“I see you are having some trouble with Nicholas, but don’t judge him too harshly. He is protective. That is all.”

“But I love your brother,” Alex explained as she lowered the pages to her side. “Why would Nicholas wish to protect him from
that
?”

“Because he remembers what happened the last time Rand gave his heart to an ambitious woman. It did not end well, it took him forever to recover.”

Alex glanced over her shoulder at Lucille, who was shuffling a deck of cards, and lowered her voice. “You are referring to his former fiancée—the lady who jilted him?”

“Correct. Rand was devastated when he discovered her infidelity.”

“He loved her very much, then.”

“Yes, though I am afraid love has turned to hate where she is concerned.”

“He has not forgiven her?”

“No, and neither has Nicholas. Nor I, for that matter. We remember all too well how she pretended to be devoted, and how Randolph suffered at the loss of her.”

Alexandra handed Rose a piece of music. “Where is she now?”

“She is married to Earl Ainsley, the wretched rake who led her astray. They spend most of their time in the country, for they were both banished from court.” Rose set the music on the stand and laid her fingers on the keys. “I sometimes wonder if she regrets her actions. Her family assured Randolph that she could be persuaded to leave the earl and go through with the wedding, but he would have none of that. He couldn’t bear to think that a woman would marry him for the sake of duty. He loved her, and he wanted to be loved in return. Is that not what we all want?”

Rose seemed especially melancholy that night, and Alexandra suspected she was lamenting her dutiful engagement to the Austrian archduke.

The gentlemen arrived just as Rose began to play a sorrowful tune, and Alex turned expectantly to face them.

*   *   *

“I wish to propose a truce,” she said privately to Nicholas, who was pouring himself a drink from the brandy tray.

He faced her with curious interest.

“I believe we both have Randolph’s best interests at heart,” she continued. “I am carrying his child now, and I assure you, all I want is a happy home and a country that is at peace. I am in love with your brother and will never do anything to jeopardize our marriage.”

Nicholas swirled his drink around. “I don’t doubt your passion,” he said, “but what if you are a dangerous addiction?”

“Dangerous?” She frowned. “I think you are confusing me with the woman he almost married but was fortunate enough to have escaped. I understand it was an ugly situation and did not end well, but I promise nothing like that will ever happen to him again.”

Nicholas said nothing for a moment. “We shall see.”

“‘We shall see’? That is the best you can do?”

He smirked gallingly as he backed away to join Randolph and Lucille at the card table.

“What will it take, then?” Alex demanded to know, stepping forward and loathing the fact that she had to prove herself to this man who thought so little of her.

“Just time,” he replied. “That is all. Now if you will excuse me…”

Alexandra watched him join Randolph for a game of whist, then wrestled with her umbrage as she went to sit with Rose at the piano.

Chapter Twenty-nine

October 2, 1814

Dressed in a newly made gown of crimson silk trimmed with gold lace, which she wore beneath the green velvet Imperial Robe of State, Alexandra took hold of her husband’s hand and stepped out of the coronation coach to a chorus of cheers from thousands of Petersbourg citizens, who had lined the streets along the procession route from the palace to the Abbey of St. Peter.

She and Randolph paused briefly to wave at the people and allow the Master and Mistress of Robes a moment to arrange their heavy velvet trains, trimmed in ermine and woven with national symbols.

When at last they proceeded up the steps to the massive front gate and entered the ancient Gothic abbey, Alexandra glanced up at the high cathedral ceiling, listened to the angelic voices of the choir that led them up the wide center aisle, and could scarcely believe all of this was happening.

Not only had she succeeded in winning the hand of the Prince of Petersbourg; she was now to be crowned queen consort, would pledge her oath to the people, and in her womb she carried an heir, quite possibly the future king.