The Accidental Princess (6 page)

Hannah pulled her hand away. ‘I will marry no one.’ Rising to her feet, she added, ‘Most especially not the Baron of Belgrave.’

‘It won’t be Michael Thorpe. God help me, you will
not
wed a soldier.’

The thought had never entered her mind, but at the reminder of the Lieutenant, a caress of heat erupted over her body. Sensual and rebellious, a man like Michael Thorpe would never treat her with the polite distance so typical of marriage. No, she suspected he was the sort of man who would possess her, stealing her breath away in forbidden pleasure.

Hannah shook her head. ‘Of course not.’

Plunging forward, she revealed an alternate plan. ‘Send me somewhere far away from London until the talk dies down. We have cousins elsewhere in Europe, don’t we?’

‘Germany,’ he admitted. His countenance turned grim, but she though she detected a softening in his demeanour.
Please, God, let him listen to me
, she prayed.

At that moment, the footman Phillips gave a quiet knock. ‘Forgive me, my lord, but the Baron of Belgrave has come to call upon Lady Hannah.’

The Marquess hesitated a moment before speaking. Han
nah gripped her fingers together so hard, her knuckles turned white. She shook her head, pleading with her father.

‘Give him another chance, Hannah,’ the Marquess said quietly. ‘Despite his reproachable actions, the man does come from an excellent family. He can provide you with anything you’d ever need.’

She couldn’t believe the words had come from her father’s mouth. She’d known that he cared about appearances, that upholding model behaviour was important to him. But she’d never thought it was more important than her own well-being.

‘Papa, please,’ she whispered again. ‘Don’t ask this of me.’

Her father’s face tensed, but his tone was unyielding when he spoke. ‘Tell the baron my daughter will await him in the drawing room.’

M
ichael stood at attention when Colonel Hammond entered the room. He’d been summoned to the War Office this morning, but it wasn’t the commander-in-chief who’d prepared his new orders. Instead, he’d been shown into a smaller sitting room. ‘Colonel, you asked to see me?’

‘Yes. I’m afraid there’s been a change in your assignment,’ the Colonel admitted. The senior officer’s red jacket gleamed with brass buttons, the gold epaulettes resting upon his shoulders. Michael felt ill at ease in his own slate-blue uniform, which still bore the bloodstains he hadn’t been able to wash clean.

The Colonel gestured towards a wooden chair, and Michael took a seat. ‘You won’t be returning to the front, after all.’

‘I’ve made a full recovery,’ Michael felt compelled to point out. ‘I’m ready to fight again.’

Colonel Hammond looked uncomfortable. ‘That will have to wait, I’m afraid. Though I should like to see you return to battle as well—we can always use men of your fortitude—I’m afraid the Army has other plans for you.’

An uncomfortable suspicion settled in his gut. Had the Marquess used his powers of influence so soon? He’d known
that he would probably be sent away from England, but he’d expected to return to duty.

‘What are my orders?’

The Colonel sat across from him, a large mahogany desk as a barrier between them. ‘You will accompany the ambassador from Lohenberg, the Graf von Reischor, to his homeland. He has proposed to send supplies to the Crimean Peninsula, offering aid from their country to our troops. You will assist the Commissariat by choosing what is most needed for the men.’

Michael’s hand clenched into a fist. He didn’t believe for a moment that the Graf was acting out of concern for the British troops. This was nothing but a stranger meddling in his military career, all because he’d ignored the summons. Why should he care whether or not he resembled the King of some tiny, forgotten country?

He’d given years of service to the Army, obeying orders and doing his best to keep his men alive. And with a single stroke of the pen, the Lohenberg Graf had turned his military career from a soldier into an errand boy.

‘You honour me, Colonel,’ he lied, ‘but I’m nothing but a lieutenant. Why not one of my commanding officers?’

‘The ambassador requested you. I suggested another officer as a liaison, but he insisted that it must be you, or he would reconsider the offer.’ There was a questioning note in the Colonel’s voice, but Michael gave no response. He couldn’t tell his commander why the Graf wanted him to travel to Lohenberg, when he didn’t know the man’s intent.

‘I’d rather be back with my men,’ he said quietly. ‘I owe it to them, after what happened at Balaclava.’ He’d tried to save whatever lives he could until he’d fallen, shot and bleeding on the field.

‘I understand Nolan spoke well of you and your bravery before the battle.’ The Colonel’s voice was also quiet, as though remembering those soldiers who had not returned.

He turned his attention to pouring a cup of tea. ‘While we would welcome you back on the Peninsula, Lieutenant Thorpe, this alliance is far too important. I’m afraid your orders are clear. The Graf has requested you, and it is our hope that you can convince the Lohenberg Army to join in our cause.’

Bitter silence permeated the room, and Michael rose from his seat. Damned if he was going to allow the Graf to ruin everything he’d worked for. He would go and try to convince the man to choose another officer. Then, perhaps he could rejoin what was left of the 17th Lancers.

Michael bowed and offered a polite farewell to Colonel Hammond, who shook his hand afterwards and wished him well.

‘I will give your regards to the men, upon my return to Balaclava, Lieutenant. You will report to Graf von Reischor at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.’

His heart filled with anger; numb to all else, Michael gripped the Colonel’s hand and murmured another farewell.

It was becoming quite clear that Graf von Reischor believed himself to be a puppet master, jerking his strings toward a path that was not his.

As he left the War Office, Michael shoved his hands inside his pockets, only to find the tangled strand of diamonds Hannah had given him.

He slid his hands over the hard stones, feeling the chain warm beneath his fingertips. Although Hannah believed the diamonds would grant him an excuse to return to Rothburne House, that wasn’t a wise idea. The Marquess would murder him if he so much as set foot upon a blade of Rothburne grass.

It’s not your battle to fight.

He knew he shouldn’t be involved. Their lives were too distant from one another, and despite the night they’d spent in the carriage, she was better off if he left her alone. Most
likely Hannah would be all right, with her father and brothers to protect her.

The way they had on the night Belgrave took her?
his conscience reminded him. His trouble instincts were rising up again.

He expelled a foul curse and continued walking through the streets. An hour. He could spend that much time ensuring for himself that she hadn’t been dragged off by Belgrave.

Hackney cab drivers called out, offering to drive him, but he ignored them. It wasn’t such a long walk, and he didn’t have the money for it anyway.

The thin soles of his shoes were worn down, and as he continued on the walk to Rothburne House, he felt the cobbled stones more than he’d have liked. He hadn’t broken his fast this morning, and the thought of food made his stomach hurt. It didn’t help matters to see a vendor selling meat pies and iced raisin buns.

After half an hour, he finally reached Rothburne House. He recognised Lord Belgrave’s carriage waiting outside. A grim resolution took root inside him, to get rid of Belgrave.

He couldn’t approach the front entrance, however. Rothburne’s footmen would throw him out. His military uniform also made it impossible to reconnoitre without being easily noticed.

Quickly, Michael stripped off his jacket and shako, hiding the plumed military cap and outer coat beneath a trimmed boxwood hedge. Beside it, he placed his officer’s sword. He removed Hannah’s necklace from the jacket and placed it in his pocket.

Traversing the perimeter of the house, he spied an open window on the first floor. Time to discover exactly what Belgrave was up to.

Lord Belgrave’s hardened face transformed into a smile when he saw her. ‘Lady Hannah, you look lovely, as always. Well worth the wait.’ The baron bowed in greeting, and Hannah felt an unladylike sense of satisfaction at the bruises darken
ing his cheek and the bandage across his nose. No doubt the wounds were from his brawl with Lieutenant Thorpe.

Only years of training made her dip into a curtsy. She’d changed her gown three times in an effort to delay the inevitable. Only when her mother had arrived to escort her in person did she finally enter the drawing room.

Lady Rothburne sent the baron a blinding smile, gripping Hannah’s wrist so hard that the skin turned white. ‘Lord Belgrave, it was kind of you to pay a call under these…circumstances.’

‘It was my pleasure, Lady Rothburne.’

Another jerk of the wrist, and Hannah understood her mother’s silent rebuke. All right. If she had to endure this charade, so be it.

‘Lord Belgrave.’ She didn’t care how icy her tone was; the sooner she could get rid of him, the better.

‘Lady Hannah, I believe you know why I have come.’ He patted the seat beside him in an obvious invitation.

‘And I believe you know what my answer is.’ Hannah remained standing, her arms crossed. ‘Your visit was a waste of time, I am afraid.’

‘Hannah—’ Lady Rothburne implored. ‘Do be kind enough to at least listen to Lord Belgrave.’

Though she wanted to fight back, to lash out at her mother, Hannah found herself sinking into a chair. Out of habit, she fell silent, as if a shroud had fallen over her. Choking off any hint of defiance, she listened to Belgrave speak.

‘I offer my apologies for what happened the other evening,’ the baron began. ‘But, Lady Hannah, I believe it would be in your best interest to consider my offer.’ He went on to describe his different estates, both in London and Yorkshire. And of course, how much of an honour it would be to join their families together.

Hannah didn’t listen to a word of it. Did Belgrave honestly believe that she would consider him, after the abduction? And
were her parents so swept up in his money and family name that they would ignore what he’d done?

‘We are pleased that you would still consider our daughter,’ Lady Rothburne said. ‘I am sure Hannah understands the necessity of protecting her reputation.’ Brightening her smile, the Marchioness offered, ‘I have ordered a picnic basket from Cook, and you both may wish to discuss wedding plans outside in the garden. It is a lovely day, and it would allow you to become better acquainted.’

‘I would welcome the opportunity,’ Belgrave answered.

‘But, Mother, I—’

‘Would next Tuesday morning suit, for the wedding?’ the Marchioness interrupted.

‘I am certain I can procure a special licence in time,’ Belgrave reassured her mother. ‘The archbishop will understand the need for haste.’

Say it. Tell them you’ll never marry a man like him.

Hannah gripped the edge of her chair, and finally broke in. ‘No.’

Her word came out too softly, and neither her mother, nor Lord Belgrave, seemed to notice.

‘A quiet wedding would be best,’ Belgrave suggested. ‘Don’t you think?’

‘No,’ Hannah tried again, this time louder and filled with all of her frustration. ‘I don’t think so.’

Lord Belgrave rose from his seat and came to stand beside her chair. His large fingers reached out to rest upon her shoulder. The weight of his palm was a firm reminder, not an act of comfort.

And suddenly, her mother’s discussions of how a husband would have full dominion over her body made Hannah jerk away. She couldn’t lie on her back and let a man like Belgrave do what he wished. Good wives were supposed to submit to their husbands, but, God help her, she could never let him touch her.

She didn’t know where the words came from, only that she couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘There will not be a wedding.’ Her voice shook with nerves, sounding more uncertain than she’d intended. ‘I won’t agree to it. And if you will excuse me, I intend to retire to my room.’

Her mother scurried forward to try to stop her, but Belgrave lifted his hand. ‘Forgive me, Lady Rothburne, but perhaps if I had a moment in private with Lady Hannah, I could reassure her that I have only the best of intentions.’

The Marchioness hesitated, and Hannah prayed that her mother wouldn’t dare allow such a thing.

‘Wait in Lord Rothburne’s study,’ her mother advised the baron. ‘I will speak with my daughter first.’ She gestured for Hannah to sit down, and Lord Belgrave followed a servant into her father’s study.

The grim expression on her mother’s face was not at all encouraging. Christine sat across from her, and her face held nothing but disappointment.

‘Hannah, you must know how much your father and I want what’s best for you,’ Christine began. With a tremulous smile, her mother wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘We want you to have a wonderful marriage with every comfort you could possibly want.’

‘Not with him,’ Hannah insisted. ‘Mother, I won’t do it.’

‘Is he really as awful as all that?’ her mother asked softly. ‘He’s handsome and wealthy. You got off to a terrible start, I’ll grant you that much. But couldn’t you possibly give him a chance? This isn’t only about your future. The scandal will darken your father’s good name.’

‘There must be another way.’

The Marchioness rose and drew close, putting her arms around her. ‘Talk to him, Hannah. That’s all I ask. If, after this, you still don’t wish to wed him—’ Her mother broke off, tears glistening in her eyes.

I don’t,
Hannah wanted to say. But she kept silent, knowing that to pacify her mother was the easiest way to get rid of Belgrave. ‘Very well. I’ll talk to him.’

Christine embraced her again, wiping her eyes. ‘Thank you, my dear. It won’t be so bad. You’ll see.’ Her mother took her by the hand and escorted her into the study. ‘I’ll be right here in the hall,’ she offered. With an encouraging squeeze of the hand, she stepped back into the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

It was dark inside her father’s study, with the curtains pulled shut. Hannah waited for Lord Belgrave to speak. Instead, he approached the door and closed it. Seconds later, he turned the key in the lock.

She stood immobile, stunned at his actions. What was he doing? Did he plan to assault her in her own home? Hannah’s paralysing fear suddenly transformed into rage.

‘Be thankful that I will forgive this defiance,’ Belgrave murmured. ‘You seem to be under the delusion that you have a choice in whom you wed. No other man will marry a woman who was defiled by a soldier.’

‘Lieutenant Thorpe did nothing wrong. And I’d rather be a spinster than wed you.’

She wouldn’t simply stand here and become Belgrave’s victim. Good manners weren’t going to protect her virtue, only actions.

Hannah eyed the contents of the study, dismissing the books or the large globe in one corner. Where was a medieval sword when she needed one? Or, better yet, a chastity belt.

He sent her a thin smile. ‘Once you and I are married, no one will worry about the hours you spent with the Lieutenant.’

‘It was your fault,’ she shot back. ‘All of this. And I know you’ve threatened to spread gossip about me.’

‘Only the truth,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘But if you marry me, I’ll forget all about it.’

‘Do you honestly believe I would forgive you for threatening my family’s name?’

‘How else am I to wed the daughter of a Marquess?’ he asked, his hand moving to her cheek. ‘The ends justify the means. Perhaps tomorrow you and your mother might begin shopping for your trousseau.’

That was it. Just being in the same room with Belgrave made her feel like insects were crawling over her skin. When his mouth lowered to kiss her nape, Hannah reached for the gleaming brass candlestick. Swinging hard, she struck Belgrave across the skull, while another attacker hit him with a dictionary.