The Prince's Bride (15 page)

The realization stopped her in mid-stride. She was indeed in love with him. Pain swept away any lingering doubts. A wrenching, searing ache that overwhelmed her. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. Only love could possibly hurt this much. Only knowing, even now, that he regretted their marriage could cause this much anguish. Wound this deeply.

And she’d believed he’d loved her back.

She sank down onto the bed and covered her face with her hands. How had this happened to her of all people? Jocelyn Shelton had never looked for love. Never particularly wanted love. Love played no role in the selection of a husband. No, all she’d wanted was position and wealth. There was no question of love when she’d planned to marry Alexei.

Aunt Louella would appreciate the irony.

Jocelyn had a prince after all.

Perhaps ... An odd thought struck her. She raised her head and stared unseeing across the room.

Rand had to care about her, at least a little. And not just because of any information he’d hoped to learn from her or any trap he might have set. She did tend to believe him about that if nothing else. Regardless of his intentions on the night they’d met, he was not the kind of man who would put a woman’s life, his wife’s, in danger deliberately.

No, she’d seen something wonderful in his eyes and not just in the throes of passion either. No matter what he’d lied about, or simply failed to mention, she couldn’t believe he didn’t have some affection for her. Maybe even love. His actions alone indicated that. Perhaps he hadn’t considered love any more than she had until now. Perhaps all she had to do was make him realize it.

Jocelyn stood and crossed to the window. She pulled out her spectacles, put them on, then settled in the window seat. This had become her favorite spot to consider her life. It was as if gazing out at a world sharp and distinct and serene brought her own thoughts clearly into focus.

Perhaps the way to make her husband realize his feelings was with the unwitting help of the man she’d planned to marry in the first place.

The setting sun cast a soft pink glow on the countryside.

She loved him and she was going to make him realize he loved her as well. If she was wrong, if he didn’t love her, well—she squared her shoulders—it wouldn’t make the least bit of difference. He could scarcely break her heart any more than he already had.

Randall, Viscount Beaumont, prince, spy, or whatever else the blasted man might be, was still simply a man. And no match for a Shelton woman determined to get what she wanted.

She caught sight of the stump that had served as her archery target. For this particular sport, she had no doubt of her aim or the precise location of her target.

After all, in spite of everything, she had managed to marry a prince.

“I imagine the two of you have any number of things to discuss so I shall take my leave.” Nigel got to his feet and started toward the library door. Rand and Prince Alexei rose at once.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, Uncle,” Rand said. “I merely wanted to introduce you to His Highness. We can certainly—”

“Nonsense. This is the most private room in the place. Besides, I was finished for the day.” He waved at a serving cart near his desk. “Rand, you know where the brandy is. I expect the two of you may well need it.”

“I am most grateful for your hospitality, Lord Worthington,” Prince Alexei said respectfully, and Rand’s estimation of the man grudgingly rose. “I know it must be somewhat unsettling for guests to intrude on your solitude without warning.”

“Think nothing of it.” Nigel chuckled. “Haven’t had so much fun in a long time.” He moved slowly toward the door, then stopped and pinned Rand with a considering look. “Flora tells me there was quite a commotion when His Highness arrived. Sorry I missed it. Apparently your wife did not take the revelation of your heritage well?”

The prince coughed, then smiled blandly.

“You could say that,” Rand muttered.

“I told her you were a prince.” Nigel shook his head. “And I warned you about secrets.”

“Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there at the moment,” Rand said quickly.

“Keep your head about you, boy,” Nigel said sharply. “You’ll be no good to anybody if you don’t. As for you”—he studied Alexei for a moment—“you behave yourself.”

Rand groaned to himself. Only Uncle Nigel would dare to talk that way to royalty. Regardless of Rand’s personal opinion of Alexei, he was still a prince, and the position alone deserved a modicum of respect.

Alexei’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “My dear sir, I am nothing if not well behaved.” He flashed Nigel a wicked grin. “Or at least very good.”

Nigel laughed and Alexei joined him. The kind of laugh shared by men who recognize a kindred spirit. And why not? Nigel had been just as much of a rake in his day as Alexei was now. Still, the immediate bond between the two men rankled.

A few more pleasantries were exchanged and Nigel took his leave. Rand immediately stepped to the cart and poured two glasses of brandy. He passed one to the prince, then took a healthy swallow from his own glass. There was nothing quite as good as good brandy to put life in its proper perspective.

Prince Alexei casually wandered around the edges of the vast room and inspected the books on the shelves. “Quite an impressive collection.”

The Worthington library was one of the few rooms in the castle with wood paneling as opposed to the stone walls found elsewhere. Shelves of books reached from the floor upward to a height unreachable by any means other than a ladder. As a boy, Rand had often wondered precisely what volumes were housed so close to heaven and so far out of reach of man. Again today, as he had as a child, he vowed to himself someday to climb to the top shelves to discover what treasures might be hidden there.

“Nigel is exceedingly fond of books as was his father and, I gather, any number of earlier earls.” Rand studied the prince’s perusal of the volumes and wondered when the man would bring up the true reason for his unexpected appearance. Rand was impatient with idle conversation, yet reluctant to move toward anything more significant. Let the prince make the first move.

Prince Alexei swirled the brandy in his glass and glanced at Rand. “You don’t like me very much, do you, cousin?”

“I scarcely think that’s of any importance, Your Highness.” Rand shrugged.

“Probably not.” Alexei moved to one of two comfortable, upholstered chairs positioned before Nigel’s desk and sank into it. “Still, I find it rather curious.”

“Do you? Why?”

“In spite of our family ties, we hadn’t met until my arrival here in England and we’ve had nothing more than a single, brief conversation since.” The prince narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know me well enough to like or dislike me, yet your opinion is obvious.”

The accuracy of the statement was unsettling. The prince was right, of course. Rand had little on which to base his immediate dislike of the man, yet there it was. Still, he’d always prided himself on being fair-minded. “I do apologize, Your Highness, I—”

“Please, call me Alexei,” the prince said with an impatient sigh. “Regardless of your acknowledgment of our connection we are indeed cousins and I do relish those moments when I can be a mere relation rather than the heir to the throne.
However, I shall make you a bargain.”

“Oh?”

“If you call me Alexei, I will try not call you
cousin.”
He grinned. “You obviously hold no fondness for that particular title.”

Rand bit back a smile. “My family, my friends, call me Rand.”

“Excellent. And do sit down.” Alexei waved at the other chair. “It’s bad enough to have you glowering at me without you towering over me as well.”

Rand raised a brow. “I was not aware I was glowering.”

“You have glowered since the moment we met. It’s quite annoying.”

“My apologies.” Rand settled into the second chair.

“Accepted.” Alexei took a thoughtful sip. “I must say, I am surprised to find you here rather than at Beaumont Abbey. As your grandmother is no longer living, I would not have expected you to come to Worthington.”

“Nor would anyone else, which was precisely the idea.” Rand raised a shoulder in an offhand shrug. “Outside of a handful of acquaintances, few people are aware of the close nature of my relationship with Lord Worthington.”

“I certainly had no idea. And my information is usually so accurate,” Alexei murmured.

“Your information?”

“Surely you of all people understand the necessity of knowing all there is to know about a situation before venturing into it.”

“And what situation would that be?” Rand said carefully. “My information is also usually quite accurate, and I understood the purpose of your visit to England is nothing more significant than attendance at a symbolic ceremony.”

“Ceremonies are convenient, are they not? State functions, events, celebrations ... weddings.”

Rand’s own wedding flashed through his mind and with it thoughts of his lovely wife, who was no doubt at this very moment planning her widowhood.
“Convenient
is not the word I would choose.”

“Perhaps not.” Alexei chuckled. “However, this particular occasion provided me with a reason to come to England and the opportunity to at last make your acquaintance. It is always best to know those who might wish to usurp your position.”

“I have no interest—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Alexei sighed. “I do hope my information on that matter was accurate as well?”

“Understand this, Alexei, I am an Englishman. This is my country, my home, and here is where my loyalties lie. I have no desire to claim any title or position that might be mine through a quirk of heredity. You needn’t worry yourself about any intentions on my part.”

“Still”—Alexei considered him thoughtfully— “circumstances can change. As can attitudes.”

“Not mine,” Rand said firmly. He sat back and studied his cousin. “Is that why you requested my assistance? To determine for yourself my interest in the crown?”

“You do get to the point, cousin—excuse me, Rand—and I will be candid as well.” Alexei blew a long breath. “I was not aware of any specific plot when I first asked your government to assign you to investigate, although admittedly plots and conspiracies in Avalonia blossom on a regular basis. Usually, whenever it looks as though the crown might pass to the next in line. Conspiracies and reason are as much a tradition as the ceremonies of state.”

“I had heard that your father was ill. My condolences.”

“He had improved somewhat when I left.” Alexei fell silent for a moment, then drew a deep breath. “I don’t know how much you know about the country of your ancestors, so permit me to expound for a moment.”

He leaned forward. “We are a tiny kingdom, maintaining a tenuous presence between the greater powers of Prussia, Russia, and Austria. We cling to our independence through a precarious mix of alliances, treaties, and goodwill. It is a balance that we have maintained for the last few centuries, but I cannot predict what the future may bring. Yet the threat to the stability of my country does not, at the moment, come from without but from within.

“We are not an unhappy people for the most part. In general the standard of the lives of the population is probably better than here in England. Controversy and insurrection in Avalonia do not come from the people.” He chuckled in a humorless manner. “No, it is the royal family that is its own worst enemy.”

“Once again, Alexei, you have nothing to fear from me on that account.”

“And that, my dear cousin, is both a blessing and a pity. Avalonia could make good use of a man of your caliber. Not on the throne of course.” Alexei lifted his glass in a wry salute.

Rand returned the toast, then drew a long swallow of the liquor. If nothing else, it seemed the prince had the best interests of his country at heart. Perhaps he had misjudged Alexei. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“However, should you ever wish to return to Avalonia and acknowledge your position as a prince, it would be of great benefit to your country.”

“
Your
country, not mine.”

“In spite of our obvious distrust of one another, I suspect we would do rather better as allies than enemies. You could be of great assistance.”

Alexei paused as if deciding how much to say. “At the present time I suspect any immediate threat comes from the Princess Valentina. She too is a cousin, next in line for the throne after my brother and sister and a step before you in succession. Her father was King Frederick’s youngest son, your grandmother’s brother. She is overly ambitious, quite lovely, and far too clever for a woman. There is nothing more dangerous than a beautiful woman with intelligence and ambition.”

“No doubt,” Rand murmured.

“Whatever you have stumbled upon, I suspect her fair hand is involved. Although, without proof...” Alexei shrugged. “Did I mention she was clever?”

Rand nodded. “Regardless, you don’t seem worried.”

“I’m not.” Alexei laughed. “I am well used to countering Valentina’s efforts. I sincerely doubt my life is in danger, merely my crown.”

“If there was not a particular plot you were aware of, although there obviously is one now”—Rand chose his words with care—“why did you request my help? After all, I have been away from this sort of work for a few years now. I’ve done little more than tend to my estate and my uncle’s affairs. And your own sources tell you I have no interest in the crown.”

“It was an indulgence, nothing more. As there is some kind of conspiracy afoot after all, it seems my indulgence was a blessing.” Alexei sipped his brandy in a far too casual manner. “You represent a third branch of the direct line of descent in the royal family. Given that, do you doubt why I wanted to meet you for myself?”

Rand studied him for a long, thoughtful moment. “Actually, Alexei, I do.”

Alexei laughed. “You are as clever as I’d heard. Very well then, Rand, I have not been entirely honest.”

Rand raised a brow. “Imagine my surprise.”

“With my father’s health in question it is entirely possible I will ascend to the throne within the year.” A shadow passed across Alexei’s face. “Valentina and her supporters have taken the opportunity to sow seeds of unrest. For the most part, my father has ruled wisely but he is not infallible and has made enemies. As have I.”

His gaze met Rand’s. “I need a means to pull my country together before it is too late. To engage the hearts and minds of the people and rally their support behind my father and myself before there is no choice left but bloodshed. I am looking for a symbol. Of the monarchy and the country, of tradition and history, of prophecy and legend. And of the future.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me vague, legendary symbols are exceedingly hard to find.”

“You are right on one count—this is exceedingly hard to find but it is not in the least bit vague.” Alexei’s gaze searched Rand’s. “I am looking for the heavens.”

Rand smiled. “And the moon and the stars, no doubt.”

“Exactly.” Alexei sipped his brandy. “The legendary Heavens of Avalonia. The moon, the sun, and the stars.”

Rand pulled his brows together and stared. “I gather you’re not referring to a celestial configuration?”

“Not at all. The Heavens of Avalonia are a set of rare and precious jewels representing the sun, the moon, and the stars, or points of the compass. They were set in a wide gold cuff and traditionally worn by the queen or the eldest princess. The moon is a large opal, the sun a ruby matching in size, and the four smaller stars are diamonds.”

Rand let out a low whistle. “They must be worth a fortune.”

“You could say a king’s ransom. In fact, I think they once might have been a king’s ransom.” Alexei studied him intently. “You’ve never heard of them?”

“No.” Rand shook his head. “I gather they’re missing.”

“They have been lost for half a century. They vanished during the last major political upheaval, fifty-two years ago to be precise. The Heavens disappeared at approximately the same time—”