The Prince Who Loved Me (The Oxenburg Princes) (6 page)

With a resigned sigh, she forced her mind to the pages of her book and to the adventures of Roland, whose words now echoed in her mind with a distinct accent and a smoky-smooth tone.

Roland remembered the first time he’d laid eyes upon Lucinda, and how he’d been instantly taken by the innocence that shone from her face like a beacon on a misty shore.

What more could a man wish of a maid than purity of mind and heart?

—
The Black Duke
by Miss Mary Edgeworth

Alexsey Vitaly Grigori Romanovin, Royal Prince Menshivkov of Oxenburg, and honored guest of Sir Henry Davidson, was bored. Here he was, a man of action forced by his position to don silks and stand in a ballroom filled with preening peahens.

Alexsey bit back a growl as he surveyed the women before him. There were redheads, brunettes, and blondes. Tall ones, short ones, and middling ones. There were plump ones, thin ones, and curved ones. Some were quite attractive, some were not, and at least three of them were beautiful. But what none of them was, was
interesting
.

“Well?” Tata Natasha asked from where she stood at his elbow, her voice impatient. “Which do you wish to meet?”

Alexsey’s gaze swept the room again, lingering on this woman, then that, searching their faces for something . . . intriguing. Finally, he shrugged. “None of them.”

“Pah!” Tata Natasha pinned him with a black gaze, disapproval an almost tangible cloak on her small shoulders. “There are more than fifty well-born, beautiful women here tonight. Sir Henry assured me they were all gently raised and are well suited as potential brides. You have your pick,
durahk
. So pick!”

“Your concern for my happiness overwhelms me,” he said in a dry tone.

“You will be happy once you are married. Talk to one. Ask her to dance. You won’t know if you’ll enjoy her company until you speak with her.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “Sir Henry promised that
all
the women here possess a proper, genteel education, and are well bred—”

“So you’ve said ten times now. Please stop your infernal matchmaking. I escorted you to Tulloch Castle because you asked me to; I did not come to find a wife.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What if one finds you? What then?”

For some reason, an instant image of the fresh-faced brunette he’d met in the forest a week ago flashed through his mind. Which was a pity, for no amount of questioning had yielded her name. Though it was obvious the servants knew who she was, none of them had admitted to knowing her. It had been maddening.

Realizing his grandmother was still watching him, he gestured to the refreshment table. “Shall I procure you a glass of orgeat?”

Her expression soured. “You won’t talk about marriage.”

“
Nyet
. Not here. And not to you.”

“The day will come when you can no longer avoid the subject. You are a prince, and a prince must wed.”

“True, but that day is not today.” When that day did come, Alexsey could only hope he’d have his father’s good fortune in finding a mate. With just one glance at a lovely Gypsy maid, his father had fallen deeply, madly in love. The laws of Oxenburg hadn’t allowed marriage between the member of the royal family and a commoner, but that hadn’t stopped Alexsey’s father. Ignoring the outraged gasps and furious warnings of his advisors, he’d issued a decree allowing members of the royal family to marry anyone they wished, and then proceeded to parade his lady love before the people of his country. His plan had worked; the people of Oxenburg had fallen just as wildly in love with his beautiful, charming bride-to-be as he had. They’d welcomed the new queen with celebrations of such enthusiasm that his advisors were silenced, and the laws of Oxenburg changed forever.

One might assume that such a change would mean that the king’s sons could follow their hearts on the path to true love. One might also assume that the Grand Duchess Nikolaevna, the mother of the Gypsy-turned-queen, would encourage her grandsons to marry for love as her daughter had done.

But no.

No one was more critical of bloodlines than his Tata Natasha. A tiny woman with a fierce pride, she was more conscious of her new title, and those of others, than anyone born to the velvet. Worse, she acted more queenly than any born-to-the-throne queen Alexsey had ever met. And he’d met them all.

Tata Natasha pinched his arm.

He flicked a glance her way. “Stop that.”

“You were not listening. I was pointing out the beauties in this crowd and you were staring at the opposite wall as if you were in hell.”

“Is there whiskey in this hell? If so, I’d gladly— Tata, stop that. Pinching my arm will not encourage me to listen. In fact, it has quite the opposite effect.”

“You are fortunate to be here. Otherwise, you would still be in Oxenburg with that—”

“Don’t!” Alexsey scowled. “It’s always the same with you: you spend too much time trying to order my life, and I need no such help. I know what I want.”
And at the moment what I want is a few hours under a tree with a certain bespectacled, round-cheeked housemaid.
He’d visited her reading spot every day but she’d never reappeared; she had disappeared like the morning mist. He could find another woman, he supposed, but he doubted he would find one as tempting.

Tata Natasha clicked her tongue, a contrite look in her gaze. “Come, Alexsey. Do not look so troubled.”

He didn’t trust her for one moment, and just lifted a brow in her direction.

She scowled. “You have an affinity for the most unsuitable women. Why will you never select a woman of noble birth?”

“I enjoy women who challenge me, who do not whine when they get damp or must sit in the dirt.”

“And that is why you like the Romany women so much? Because they do not ‘whine’?”

“They are very independent and have such spirit.” He twinkled down at her. “The truth is, I wish to find a woman like you, Tata Natasha. One who always surprises and never takes no for an answer.”

Her expression softened, and she said grudgingly, “There are not many women like me, even among my people.”

“There are more there than here.” He nodded toward the ballroom. “Beside you, these women are colorless.”

“You are too particular in your tastes.” Her wrinkled fingers touched the heavy gold rope necklace that hung about her neck, one of many. With a practiced twist, she pulled it free. There, swinging from it like a heavy pendulum, was his grandfather’s
kaltso
, heavy with gold, the ruby flashing a deep red.

Alexsey’s hands curled into fists. “The
kaltso
should be mine.”

“You will get it when you’ve earned it.” Her voice cracked sharply. “You’ve romanticized our people, Alexsey. I sometimes think that will keep you from being a good
voivode
.”

“Try me, old woman.
Dyet wished it; you know he did.”

“You know as well as I do that your grandfather would wish you to prove yourself
.
” She clutched the ring, her fingers caging it as if it were alive. “I will recommend you to the council only when you’ve proven you’re mature of mind, settled in your ways, and capable of leading a people of vast complexity.”

“I know the Romany, Tata Natasha. I’ve stayed in their tents, shared their food—”

“Yes, yes. And slept with their women.” She sent him a sour look. “A great many of them, from what I’ve heard.”

“Nonsense. You exaggerate, though I admit they are appealing. They are unfettered, free, and passionate.”

“If you wish to be their leader, you cannot sweep through the women like a scythe through grass.”

“Give me the
kaltso
and I’ll never sleep with another.”

She fingered the ruby ring, her dark gaze searching his face.

He didn’t flinch.

After a moment, she snorted. “I don’t believe you.” She tucked the ring away.

Alexsey’s jaw tightened. “You know I am what’s best for our people. Other than you, no one in our family understands the Romany the way I do.”

“And what would you do if you became the
voivode
?”

“I’d build permanent camps.”

“The Romany would never stay in one place.”

“I don’t expect them to. They leave every spring and come back each fall. I would never change that, but I’d give them permanent camps on the river in Oxenburg—snug, safe wooden structures where they could live through the winter. It would keep them warm, dispel the damp that is so harmful to the old, and let them repair their caravans and tents for their spring journey. During the winters I’d provide schools for the young, and bring a doctor to consult with their healers.”

“You think a doctor could teach something to a Romany healer? Ha!”

“They could learn from one another if someone but gave them the chance,” he said quietly.

She didn’t look convinced. “You would never get them to agree to such changes. They are people of the wind and have no wish to be walled in.”

“I could if I were the named
voivode
, as Grandfather was.”

Her expression softened. “Your Dyet Nikki was an exceptional
lidir
.”

“I would never presume to say I could do as good of a job as he. He had much more knowledge of the people, how to pull them together, despite their independent spirit—but I would try, Tata. And I wouldn’t stop trying until I had improved their lives.”

“Improve? You judge—”

“I do not judge, but neither do I pretend all is well when it’s not. I am a realist, not a romantic as you seem to think. I love the Romany, true, but I know their shortcomings. I am not blind to their flaws. They can be far too quickly swayed by gold.”

“Perhaps you see them clearly enough,” she admitted, her tone grudging. “But it does not change my mind. For now, the
kaltso
stays with me, around my neck, where your grandfather placed it.”

“
Bozhy moj
, what must I do?”

She clutched his arm and leaned forward. “Marry a woman of good breeding, someone who will settle those restless ways of yours, and have sons to carry our family name.”

“How do you know I’ll have sons? You only had a daughter.”

She sniffed. “Aye, but she has produced four fine strapping sons. She has good, strong blood, she does.
My
blood.”

Despite his vexation, he had to grin. “You take credit for far too much, Tata Natasha.”

A twinkle lit her black eyes. “Perhaps.” She patted his arm and released him. “You must let me help you, Alexsey. Last year you were this close”—she held up her finger and thumb, with almost no space between them—“to making a
proskchek
a member of our family.”

He stiffened. “I can’t believe you’d use such a word.”

Tata waved a hand. “I say what I see.”

“You know nothing. I spent a lovely few weeks in the company of a nubile young dancer—”

“A
proskchek
.”

“I never planned to make her a member of our family, and you know it. I had tired of her long before you even knew of her existence.”

“Humph. I heard you were mad for her.”

“I have never been mad for any woman.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpened, a look of true curiosity crossing her face. “
Nyet?”

“I think I am not cut of the same cloth as Father, who fell deeply in love at one glance.” He shrugged. “I do not have that capacity.”

“Which is fortunate for all of us, considering the low company you keep,” she muttered.

Alexsey raised a brow. “Stop consigning me to the devil for being a man.” He smiled at her. “If I could find a woman with your spirit, I would marry her today.”

“Pah! Don’t try to charm me. I am immune to compliments.”

He laughed and bent to kiss her cheek. “Then I won’t say another word. In fact— Ah! I see someone I’ve been waiting to speak with. If you will excuse me, Tata.”

“Who is it?” She stood on her tiptoes. “Is she lovely? Tell me who she is and I’ll ask Sir Henry to introduce you.”

“
Nyet.
I have been waiting for Viscount Strathmoor. Though he is of good birth, even you would not wish me to marry him, for he is very short and has the devil of a temper. Now excuse me. And no more matchmaking, please. It is wearing.” He kissed her hand and then left, ignoring her frown as he made his way across the room to Strath.

Alexsey had known the viscount for more than ten years. Strath’s sharp wit always made him laugh, and if there was one thing he could use right now, it was a laugh.

Aware he was being surveyed from head to foot by every woman present as he crossed the room, Alexsey eyed them all back. They stared, measured, and—sadly for them—hoped. There were several beauties among them, but none possessed anything that tantalized him. His Roza would outshine them all.

He’d liked that she was innocent and exotic at the same time, curved and welcoming. A man could sink into bed with such a woman and not rise for a week. He suspected she possessed the same innate natural passion as the Romany. Perhaps it was that which had drawn him to the beauty in the woods?

“I cannot believe it.” Strathmoor stood before Alexsey, a glass in each hand. “All these beauties parading by, and you’re making no effort to speak to a one. Are you ill, brother?”

Alexsey gladly accepted the proffered glass from his friend. Small and quick like a sparrow, Strath made up for his lack of height with his humorous outlook and generous spirit. Alexsey took a sip of the drink he’d been handed. “What ambrosia is this?”