Be My Prince (8 page)

The audience rose to their feet just then and began to cheer and applaud. As Alex stood to join them, she looked up at the box where the prince and princess were stepping elegantly into view.

Randolph was dressed in his impressive scarlet regalia, while Rose wore a sparkling tiara and a gown of ivory and gold silk. They were a striking couple, impossibly good-looking. It was no wonder the people of Petersbourg accepted them as monarchs. They certainly carried off the role with grace and aplomb.

As the applause died down and the audience took their seats, Alexandra struggled with her pride—a dark and bitter monster inside of her.

Or perhaps it was not pride but jealousy. She could not pretend to be immune to the anger she felt from the loss of her family and position and the obvious rise of these people who had seized their crowns through the use of military force and murder. The idea of marrying this flagrant usurper was not an easy one to swallow, yet it was a price she had deemed worth paying. It was a sacrifice that would rightfully reestablish her father’s descendants as sovereigns.

As she sat down and the lights in the theater were extinguished, she tried not to think about her wedding night with a man she did not love. Then something drew her eyes to the box overhead.

Nicholas.
He entered—looking incredibly handsome in his formal evening attire. He sat down behind his brother but did not look at the stage as the curtains finally drew apart. Instead, he looked down at Alexandra, as if he had already ascertained where she was seated and did not need to search.

Something inside her melted like butter on a hot stove, and all that existed in that heated moment of connection was the beautiful man in the theater box, who had written her a most intimate and passionate love letter.

Then the play began, and she turned her attention to the stage.

*   *   *

When the curtains closed for intermission, Alex and Lucille followed the crowd out to the reception area. They barely had a moment to breathe before Mr. Carmichael approached.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” he said. “I trust you are enjoying the performance?”

“Very much so, Mr. Carmichael,” Lucille replied. “And you?”

Alex cleared her throat as she glanced down at the ruby ring on his forefinger and the fine silk coat he wore. He was a handsome older man—tall, slim, and very distinguished. He carried himself with the arrogance of a royal, though he did not possess a title, other than that of former secretary to the late King of Petersbourg.

“And what is your impression of the production, Lady Alexandra?” He took the opportunity to look her over from head to foot, while she struggled to remember her stepmother’s advice about being grateful for what he had done for her all those years ago—smuggling her away from danger and arranging for her secret adoption by an English duke.

“The costumes and set decorations are extraordinary,” she replied, “and the characters are intriguing, though not entirely realistic.”

He regarded her with some amusement. “You are a critic, I see.”

“Not always.”

Other theater patrons mingled about, conversed, and laughed.

“And how is the situation progressing with the prince?” Carmichael quietly asked.

“Very well,” she replied. “We have enjoyed many pleasant encounters this week.”

“He singled her out at the park the other day,” Lucille helpfully added. “She was the only young lady he chose to escort along the path. They walked alone for quite some time.”

Carmichael raised a brow. “That is excellent news, but I see you have not yet spoken to him this evening.”

“Not yet,” Alexandra replied, “but it is not easy to engage a man in conversation when he is over our heads in a private theater box and we are seated below.”

She felt her stepmother’s irate gaze shoot toward her like a slap across the cheek.

“Prince Nicholas has indicated, however,” Lucille quickly added, “that his brother will seek us out this evening. I expect he will enter the lobby at any moment.”

Carmichael glanced over his shoulder. “Be careful around the brother. He is a known libertine and an irresponsible rake. He takes advantage of his status as a royal, and has a reputation for misusing the ladies. You should not associate yourself with him too closely.”

This unexpected warning from Alexandra’s benefactor was like a knife in her heart, for though she was committed to her duty, she
had
developed feelings for Nicholas, however foolish they may be, and felt a passionate need to defend him.

“To the contrary, he has been very kind to us,” she argued. “He escorted us personally to the park that day, and has assured me of his support in my quest to be considered as a worthy candidate for Randolph, who relies on his brother’s judgment and advice.”

“You don’t say.” Mr. Carmichael regarded her with surprise. “Did he tell you this himself?”

“He has been very helpful,” Lucille added.

“He most certainly has,” Alexandra said.

Carmichael said nothing for a moment, but she saw a muscle flick at his jaw.

“You seem displeased,” she said.

“That is because you will not heed my advice.”

She swallowed over the sudden impulse to say something she might later regret. Instead, she responded in a calm voice, “Rest assured that I know exactly what I am doing, sir, and I must demand your cooperation. Please keep your distance while I perform the necessary tasks.”

The crowd fell silent all around them, and Alex leaned to peer around Mr. Carmichael’s tall frame, which was blocking her view of the stairs.

“The royal family has just descended from the theater box,” Alex said. “You must leave us now.”

Carmichael had no choice but to back away, where he soon melted into the crowd.

“You were very rude to him,” Lucille scolded. “What did I tell you about treating him with the respect and gratitude he deserves?”

Alexandra faced her stepmother. “I was not rude, but I will not be treated like his pawn.”

Her stepmother raised her chin defensively.

Alexandra continued, “Please tell Mr. Carmichael not to distract me like this in public again, or he will soon find himself on the outside of this arrangement.”

Lucille grabbed hold of her arm. “It is you and I who will find ourselves on the outside, if he withdraws his financial support.”

Alex wrenched her arm away and immediately turned toward Randolph. “Your Royal Highness.” She greeted him with a curtsy.

He offered his gloved hand to help her rise. “Lady Alexandra. What a pleasure to see you. Are you enjoying the performance?”

“Yes, it is breathtaking,” she replied.

Princess Rose approached as well. “Good evening.”

Alex studied her briefly. “Good evening, Your Royal Highness. How lovely you look. That color is most becoming on you.”

Rose smiled. “And may I return the compliment? What a pretty shade of blue.”

Nicholas joined them at that moment and Alex swallowed over a cumbersome knot of confusion, for she had come into this believing herself capable of ruthlessness. The news about her family had given rise to an inner ambition she had never known before.

But now she was battling a potent wave of self-doubt and uncertainty. One moment she felt as formidable as a steel sword, and the next, when she locked eyes with Prince Nicholas, she burned with desire and was tempted to throw everything aside for passion and desire.

They shared a brief look, and she wondered if he knew her defenses were weakening. There had been no communication between them since the letter. She had not replied, nor had he come to call for any reason.

His brother turned to her. “I have it on good authority that you will be attending the ball at Almack’s tomorrow evening, Lady Alexandra. Would it be too forward of me to take this opportunity to request the honor of a dance?”

“It would not be forward at all,” she replied. “I would be most pleased to accept.”

An awkward silence ensued. Nicholas quickly filled it by turning to the princess. “And Rose, would it be too forward of me to request the honor of a dance with you tomorrow evening?”

She laughed. “Of course not, dear brother. I will look forward to it.”

Everyone smiled and nodded politely; then the bell rang to indicate the end of intermission.

Nicholas turned to Lucille. “Your Grace, I will have the coach brought around to the front of the theater following the last curtain call. If you would be so kind as to meet me here, I will escort you and Lady Alexandra home.”

He intended to see them home? But she thought … she thought …

Oh God, she couldn’t think.

“How generous of you, sir.” Lucille and Alex curtsied to the royals, and they all made their way back into the theater.

*   *   *

“My word,” Lucille said irritably as a young man in a shabby jacket pushed by. “What is the world coming to when one must attend the theater with merchants and solicitors?”

Alexandra turned as she felt a warm hand cup her gloved elbow.

“The coach is waiting for us,” Nicholas said in her ear. Then he offered his arm to her stepmother. “Your Grace, may I assist you to the vehicle?”

Alexandra had never seen the dowager blush before, which only confirmed the inconceivable level of his charm.

“Will Prince Randolph be joining us?” Lucille asked as they reached the vehicle.

“I am afraid not, Your Grace. He is invited to Carlton House to discuss matters of state with the regent. I will be joining them there as well after I deliver you safely to your destination.” He handed her up into the coach.

He then held out a hand to Alexandra. She slid her fingers across his open palm and relished the brief moment of contact.

Settling herself comfortably inside the cozy interior, she waited for him to join them, but he merely stuck his head inside the door to ensure they were both seated.

“Are you not coming with us?” she blurted out, then regretted it immediately, for she had revealed too much.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I have forgotten something inside. If you will wait but a moment, I promise I will return.”

With that, he closed the door behind him, and Alexandra sat back with relief. She worked hard to slow her breathing and smiled to herself—for he was coming right back—then felt the watchful eye of her stepmother examining her movements and expressions.

“Mr. Carmichael was right about one thing,” Lucille said, adjusting her cape around her shoulders. “That man
is
dangerous.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Alexandra asked.

“Did you see the way he looked at me when he helped me into the coach? He is too charming for his own good. It’s no wonder he has a reputation with the ladies. He knows how to flaunt his looks.”

Somewhat relieved that her stepmother was not referring to her own response to him, Alex chuckled softly. “Let us be honest, Mama. I saw you blush. You quite enjoyed it.”

“Well, that is neither here nor there,” she haughtily replied. “What matters is your reputation. You mustn’t let that man charm you. Remember your objectives.” She was quiet for a long moment while they waited. “I don’t like him,” she said.

“Why?”

“I just told you why. He is a danger to you. I can feel it. He may pretend to be aiding you, but I would not be surprised to learn it is nothing but a cunning ploy bent on seduction. Heaven knows how many women he is encouraging. Promising them a good word delivered to his brother if they will toss a few favors in
his
direction…”

“Oh, Mama, now you’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” She wiggled self-importantly on the seat. “He is far too handsome. Try not to look at him during the ride home. Think only of Randolph.”

Alexandra squeezed at her reticule. “I could say the same to you.”

Just then, the coach bounced under Nicholas’s weight as he climbed onto the iron step, pounded on the side of the vehicle to signal the driver, and swung inside.

“My apologies, ladies.” He took a seat across from Alex.

The coach lurched forward and they rolled on in silence toward Grosvenor Square.

Alexandra kept her eyes downcast for the first few minutes, for her stepmother was right about one thing. It was not easy to look at him without falling under his spell. Even Lucille had fallen victim to it, by her own admission.

Eventually, Alexandra could resist temptation no longer and found herself taking a slow perusal of his legs, which were gorgeously muscular beneath his dark trousers.

“Are you looking forward to the ball at Almack’s tomorrow evening?” she asked before she had a chance to consider the ramifications of such a question or how it would appear to her stepmother.

His gaze traveled from the dark window glass to Alexandra’s face, and he tilted his head to the side as if studying her with some curiosity. “Yes, I am.”

It was a perfect opportunity for him to request a dance with her, as his brother had done at the theater, but he simply added, “And I am sure it will be a most enjoyable evening.”

He looked out the window again and said nothing more.

Disappointment pooled in her belly, but she had no right to moan about anything, for she had rejected him quite blatantly a number of times and he had given his word in the letter that he would say nothing more about their previous intimacies.

She should be relieved that he was treating her with indifference, but to her utter dismay, she was dissatisfied.

Then his eyes turned to hers. “Perhaps you would honor me with a dance as well, Lady Alexandra.”

And just like that, the world came alive again and her heart swelled with relief.

God in heaven, what did this mean?

“I would be delighted,” she replied.

They gazed at each other across the dimly lit interior, and suddenly her future was not so clear after all. What she thought was most important to her—the crown that belonged to her family—suddenly seemed less vital. Her heart was pointed in quite another direction this evening, and it felt astonishingly liberating to finally admit to it.

They continued to gaze at each other in the flickering lamplight, and she knew without a doubt that he still wanted her, though he was trying very hard not to. As was she.