How to Propose to a Prince (10 page)

“Very well, Elizabeth,” Princess Charlotte began again. “What do you think of the Leo, here?” She inclined her head toward the prince, almost as though nudging Elizabeth’s attention to him.

Mercer leaned forward in her chair, licking her lower lip in anticipation of the answer.

Elizabeth glanced at the prince. He did not meet her gaze. In fact he seemed immediately ill at ease and pushed back in his chair.

“I—I think the prince is very kind, very brave…and strong,” Elizabeth stammered.
Lud, would this night never end?

“He is very handsome, too,” Mercer added, “just like his cousin.” Mercer flashed a sly, covert grin in Princess Charlotte’s direction before looking back to Elizabeth. “Do you not agree, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth felt her eyes widen. “I…I…well, yes. He does cut a fine form.”
Where is that gunman? Here I am. Come, come shoot me now.
Anything was preferable to this torture!

The prince set his hands on the table and stood. “Will you please excuse me? I believe I must take some air.” He glanced sidelong at Elizabeth, then tipped a bow to each of the ladies before walking from the dining room.

Whitevale shot a quick, almost imperceptible scowl in Mercer’s direction. Of course, he would not deign to cast such an expression to the princess, who after all was the true cause of the prince’s uneasiness. Not Mercer at all. “Elizabeth…” He gestured in the direction of the
doorway. “I should not wish him to be alone. Would you join him, please?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I beg you, please, do not ask me to do such a thing. It is evident the prince wishes to be alone.”

Whitevale looked up at Princess Charlotte. “He may, but he was injured so recently, I shouldn’t wish to leave him to himself—and if I were to go, he would accuse me of coddling him.”

Princess Charlotte grimaced and stood. “
I
will go, then.”

Whitevale, his cousin, shook his head. “Please, allow Elizabeth, Your Royal Highness.” He grinned at her, and she giggled. “I would like to discuss the hunting in the forest with you.”

Charlotte draped her arm over the back of the chair. “Well, sir, you already know there are plenty of wild cats about.” She mouthed a silent growl and pawed the air, then giggled uproariously.

Elizabeth lifted her brow at the display. That was it. The princess had obviously partaken of the Madeira herself. La, she might as well follow the prince out into the night. Tonight’s conversation was too convoluted for such a simple miss as she to comprehend.

“Do excuse, me,” she said, rising from her chair and pushing it back beneath the table. “I believe I shall see to the prince after all. You are quite correct, Lord Whitevale, he should not be alone.”

Mercer waggled her gracefully arched eyebrows at Princess Charlotte. “And I believe I shall retire for the evening. Such a long day.” She rose, and as she passed Charlotte, squeezed the princess’s hand. “Good night.”

Mercer looped her arm around Elizabeth’s. Oddly enough, the intimate gesture felt quite natural, for Mercer had an easy way about her that made everyone feel comfortable—even, it seemed, when she was being mischievous. Together they walked toward the entry hall.

“Dear, Elizabeth,” she said as they strolled. “You are at Cranbourne Lodge for a reason, and that reason has nothing to do with me.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows drew close. “What reason might that be then, Mercer? Please, share it with me.”

“That is for you to learn,” Mercer replied as she disengaged her hold, “but the discovery of that reason will be half the fun.” As Elizabeth stood near the front door, Mercer headed for the grand staircase. “Miss Royle, do not waste
this gift. Your time is short here. Do make good use of what you have.”

“I—I…” Elizabeth struggled for the right words, but before she could seize them, Mercer had disappeared up the dark staircase.

An ancient, liveried footman opened the door for Elizabeth. She breathed in a deep, cleansing breath, then stepped into the night.

About twenty paces from the door, the prince stood in a column of blue moonlight. His back was to her and he did not seem aware anyone had come from the lodge.

Mercer was right. This was a gift. She thought she had lost him once, but Fate had gifted her with another chance.

She would not chance losing him again.

To missed opportunities. Or even to Princess Charlotte.

Confidently, Elizabeth lifted the hem of her gown from the ground and silently walked up behind him.

She gently laid her hand upon his shoulder.

He turned with a bit of a start and stared into her eyes, as if he could not believe she was there. “Elizabeth,” he breathed.

Cranbourne Lodge
Norman garden

E
lizabeth
.

A rumbling like the thunder of a distant storm shook through Sumner as his gaze met Elizabeth’s glittering eyes. His hands jerked, needing to reach out, to draw her to him. His lips quivered with want of feeling the warmth of her mouth on his.

But as had always been his way, his mind tamped down his physical needs and wants. His duty steeled his body against her.

If only it could do the same with his heart.

“I wished to be alone.” Sumner took her shoulders in his hands, and though he felt her
soften and lean into him, he straightened his arms, forcing her to step back. “Please, go back inside and rejoin the others. You may tell my cousin, if it was he who sent you, that I am well and that…that I do not need a pointed reminder that my desires come second. I know my duty.” He let his hands fall away and settle at his sides.

“Know your…duty?” Elizabeth, not conceding, stepped toward him again. “I do not know what that means. Your cousin did ask me to stand with you. I came because I wished to be with you. I…I needed to be here. With you. Can’t you understand this?”

The rumbling inside of Sumner transformed from a steady tattoo to a thunderous pounding inside his chest. “Now is not the time. Please, leave me, Elizabeth.”

“Now
is
the time.” She took yet another step closer. He could feel the heat of her body as she neared. He had not the time to retreat to her movement, or maybe it was his will that was lacking.

She reached one small hand up and slowly caressed his cheek. Her right hand settled atop his heart.

Something inside of Sumner broke at that moment. He had not been prepared for her ten
derness—for her touch of true affection, that sort that fills the heart’s dark, hollow spaces like a healing salve.

Heat pricked in the backs of his eyes, surprising and shaming him at once. His duty was to Leopold. She, and what she made him feel, was a liability. One he could not afford when Leopold’s life was at stake.

He tried to tell her again, to explain, but his words burst forth harshly instead. “I have my duty.
Go!
”

She trembled against him and lurched backward a pace. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, to hurt her. His hand rose up from his side, reaching for her, but he forced it down.

Elizabeth didn’t know…she had come too close. He needed her too much.

But…his duty was to Leopold. He could not let his weakness for Elizabeth jeopardize the prince’s safety or his strategic union with Princess Charlotte.

Her eyes became glossy and wet, shining in the moonlight. Her chin quivered, but she stood strong, facing him, holding her position firm. “Do you think I have not heard that the handsome Prince Leopold is in London to secretly court Princess Charlotte? That he means to marry her?”

Sumner opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. How could he respond to this truth?

She raised a finger to him. “You call it your duty—your duty to what, Saxe-Coburg?”

He was stunned, and turned his head away from her. He couldn’t look at her. Not now, when he knew anything he would say to aid in his cause would hurt her. He looked out at the carpet of white flowers illuminated by the bright moonlight.

“Why cannot your first duty be to yourself?” she asked. There was desperateness in her voice. “I know our kiss meant something to you. And I can see by your reactions that Princess Charlotte does not.”

Sumner heard the soles of her slippers on the gravel before she reached him. Whirling around, he grabbed her and pulled her against him. He tilted her head toward his and claimed her mouth hungrily with his own.

The soft fingers of both her hands moved across his cheeks then eased back over his temples and wriggled through his thick hair.

He felt his body harden to her, felt his want of her.

Your duty
.

This singular thought revived his senses.

He caught her hands and pulled them from his hair. “Don’t you understand, Elizabeth? I have my duty.
This
cannot be.” He shook her hands in his, and then released them. “
We
cannot be!”

What he had expected her reaction to be, he did not know, but it wasn’t the smile on her face. It was not an expression of false courage. It wasn’t a plaster to prevent a gush of strangled emotions. It was a smile.

“That is where you are wrong. We can be,” she told him. “And no matter what you do, or your duty demands, we will be together.” She brought her hands to her heart and pressed them there. “I feel it—
here
…and so do you. I know you do.”

He was on vulnerable ground just now. Any word he spoke, any forward move he made, would be wrong. And so he did what he had been trained never to do. He turned and started for the stables in retreat.

“Fate has decided,” she called after him. “You and I are meant to be together. And so it shall be.”

Sumner lengthened his strides, but he could not outpace her words.

Fate has decided.

How he wished he could believe it. How he
longed for a future with this beautiful, compassionate woman.

If only it were possible.

But he knew it was not.

He owed his very existence to Leopold’s father. He would not let the prince or his family down.

Ever.

Instead of returning directly to the lodge, Elizabeth walked deeper into the wildly overgrown Norman garden, where she found a small marble bench to sit upon. Settling her hands behind her, she leaned back and stared up at the huge, brilliant moon in the sky.

She was still smiling…for Fate had indeed decided. She and that man—that stubborn, beautiful man—were to be together. Forever.

If there had been any doubt, it disappeared the moment he grabbed her and kissed her with a passion that even now made her knees feel weak and limp, like a candle left too long in a sunny window.

Elizabeth raised a hand and touched her lips with her fingertips. Her mouth was still tender, and slightly swollen perhaps from the fervor with which he had claimed it with his own. She ran her tongue across her full lower lip.
She could still taste him a bit. She sucked her lips slightly into her mouth. Salty with just a hint of wine.

She lowered her hand and flashed a full grin at the moon. And he wanted her. That was quite evident, too.

His hardness, pressed so intimately against her, had startled her at first—until she realized just exactly what it meant he was feeling for her. Then her own body responded, heat pooling below, making her wish for things maidens should not even consider…even in the moonlight with a prince.

Leaning forward, Elizabeth rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. It would all be so easy for them both, she thought, if it wasn’t for his ardent belief in his so-called duty.

She sighed. Though she knew that their feelings of attraction would grow into love and in the end their love would blossom and prevail, she also knew that, drat it all, he truly believed he had a duty—to marry Princess Charlotte for the benefit of Saxe-Coburg and England.

Elizabeth straightened her legs and stood. She had quite a Herculean task before her.

What could she possibly propose to a prince that would convince him to marry her, a com
moner from the wilds of Cornwall…instead of a woman who would one day be Queen of England?

She wandered through the garden pondering this very question until she climbed a slight rise and came upon a labyrinth paved with crushed white oyster shells.

Elizabeth glanced up at the moon, and then at the circular labyrinth before her. It was as if the moon and ringed web of paths were mirror images of each other—with one notable difference: while she could simply stare up at the glowing celestial body and weigh different options for winning the prince in her mind, the labyrinth was meant to be walked while meditating.

And so she set one foot before the other as she pondered the question of what she could possibly do to win the prince. Around and around the turns of the huge labyrinth she paced, moving ever closer to the center and sure illumination.

At last she finally reached the core of the labyrinth. She raised her hands out to her sides and tilted her head back to catch the moonlight, patiently waiting for enlightenment—which was sure to come after walking in circles so many times that her head spun.

She drew in a hearty breath and closed her
eyes. And waited a while longer. And then a few minutes more. “Show me the way,” she whispered into the night. “Please.”

After standing there at least a quarter of an hour, her arms were aching and her muscles quivered as violently as if she’d been practicing archery all day. She let her arms fall limply to her sides.

Their destiny was fated. She’d seen it in her dreams. Felt it in his kiss. Why wouldn’t the answer come to her? She should know this. She should!

She peered up at the moon and focused on the dark marring on its glowing surface.

Suddenly, Elizabeth realized that she already knew the answer—
fate
.

Of course. It was so clear to her now!

Anything she did from this moment forward was meant to happen—because they would be married before the summer ended. She had seen it.

She whisked her hands to her mouth to squelch the laugh of realization welling up in her throat.

There was no need to worry at all.

No need to doubt that any course of action she chose would not be the right one—because it would be. It had to be.

Her every action, every word, was already fated to bring the prince to her.

Elizabeth bounced on her toes with excitement, then raced from the labyrinth and dashed toward the lodge. She had to get some sleep, after all.

She had a prince to woo in the morning.