The Prince’s Bride (24 page)

Alexandra linked her arm through Véronique’s. “Oh, my dear sister. The first year
of marriage is often the most difficult, especially when you don’t know each other
very well, but you will both soon settle in. Give it time.”

Véronique thought of her home in France and her sister, Gabrielle, now married to
the great love of her life and living happily in the country with a child on the way.
Perhaps Robert was carving their names into a tree at this very moment and circling
them with a heart.

For the first time since her arrival here, a wave of homesickness washed over Véronique,
but she did her best to send it back out to sea.

*   *   *

Véronique took her time dressing for dinner, for she required some peace and solitude
after a full afternoon at the hospital with Alexandra.

It had been her first official function as a royal, and though she took great pride
in the work they had accomplished in addressing the need for a new hospital, she had
not relished the crowd’s intense and probing fascination with her as a person.

Eyes were trained on her constantly. Ladies whispered to one another while openly
judging her hairstyle and choice of gown, even the set of her shoulders and the length
of her strides.

Though she did her best to smile and shake hands with everyone, it had been an exhausting
experience, and she was relieved when it came time to return to the coach and drive
away.

This evening, as she stood before the cheval glass watching her maid fasten the pearl
buttons at the back of her gown, she took a moment to be grateful for her situation.
She had made a spectacular marriage and had wedded a handsome prince, and was now
a duchess living in a royal palace. In addition to all that, her husband was a wonderful
lover—

A knock sounded at her door, and Nicholas walked in. He was clean-shaven and impeccably
dressed, which was a stark contrast to his appearance earlier that morning.

“Leave us, please,” he said to the maid, who immediately scurried out.

As soon as they were alone, Véronique faced him. “What are you doing here?” Her tone
was less intimate than she’d intended.

But why? Was she worried that his warnings were coming to pass, that he could not
live up to her lofty expectations and be the faithful husband she believed he could
be?

“I wanted to see you,” he replied, striding closer and reminding her how easily she
could tumble into the tempting splendor of his good looks and impossible charm, for
he was wielding both with full force this evening.

He stood before her and held up a blue velvet drawstring bag, which he dangled before
her eyes.

“What’s this?” she asked, making no move to touch it.

“A gift.”

“What for?”

He continued to hold it suspended between them. “Can a husband not present a gift
to his wife, for no reason at all?”

Still, she did not reach for it. “Perhaps.”

His shoulders slumped in disappointment, and he lowered the velvet bag to his side.
“What is wrong, Véronique?”

“Nothing. I just—” She swallowed. “—I would like to know where you slept last night.”

There. She’d said it. She’d laid it all out.

“I didn’t sleep anywhere,” he explained as he watched her sit down on an upholstered
stool and slip on a pair of shoes. “Did you think I was with someone?”

“No, of course not,” she replied.

“But you’re lying to me,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice … see it in your eyes.
You are not sure. You think I may have betrayed you last night.”

She did her best to maintain an aura of faith in him. “No, Nicholas, that is not true.”

“I have nothing to hide,” he assured her. “If you want to know every detail, I was
with a few old friends at Wolcott’s playing cards until dawn—and winning, I might
add. Ask them if you want. They will vouch for me, though I would prefer it if you
would take me at my word.”

“Cards?” She faced him.

“Yes.” He seemed very disappointed in her, and she wanted to sink through the floor.
Then he slipped his fingers into the velvet bag and withdrew a diamond necklace. “This
is what I purchased with my winnings this morning. Do you like it?”

She stared numbly at the exquisite adornment, which was worth more than anything she’d
ever worn in her lifetime. The diamonds sparkled like exploding stars. “It’s beautiful,”
she said.

“May I put it on you?”

She laid her hand on her bare throat and let out a small laugh, for she was determined
to lighten the mood and put that disagreeable—and regrettable—conversation behind
them. “A man who offers diamonds to a lady may do anything he likes.”

With a somewhat subdued smile, her husband moved around her to fasten the chain behind
her neck. Véronique walked to the looking glass. “It’s too much,” she said.

Was it possible for a woman to be blinded by such dazzling extravagance?

“Not for you,” he replied as he laid both hands on her shoulders.

His touch sent a wave of heat into her depths. He had been playing cards with old
friends, and he had spent his winnings on
her.

Véronique turned to face him. “I am sorry for doubting you,” she said. “You did not
deserve that, and it was wrong of me.”

His gaze fixed upon her lips, and desire sizzled through her body as he pressed his
mouth to hers. Seconds later he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

*   *   *

“Did you see the paper today?” Randolph asked Nicholas when he entered the sunlit
breakfast room.

Nicholas poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “No. Is there a
headline worth reading?”

He already knew by the tone of his brother’s voice that it was something out of the
ordinary, perhaps even shocking. It would not be the first time Randolph had thrown
a newspaper at him over the breakfast table, for Nicholas had been the subject of
many colorful headlines over the past decade. Usually they required clever maneuvering
to control the damage.

This morning, however, Randolph slid the paper across the white tablecloth and sat
back looking pleased.

Nicholas picked it up.

DUKE AND DUCHESS OF WALBRYDGE WIN HEARTS AT LOCAL ORPHANAGE

The article went on to praise Nicholas and Véronique for their recent visit to Gibson
House, where they inspected the grounds, played ball with the children, then Nicholas
gave a speech to encourage donations to the city’s oldest orphanage.

“How does it feel to be the subject of adoration for a change?” Randolph asked when
Nicholas set the paper down.

“It feels better than being the subject of scorn,” he replied, “but I don’t trust
the editors to keep it up. I’ve been a target long enough to know they can adjust
their aim in a heartbeat.”

Randolph sipped his coffee. “You are too jaded. Enjoy it for once, will you? And thank
your wife for charming everyone within a twenty-mile radius. I don’t believe she realizes
how lovely she is, and how popular she has become. They are quite fascinated by her.”

“Because she has captured and tamed the wild dog,” Nicholas finished for him.

“Yes, I suppose that is part of it, but what does it matter? The people are taken
with her, and they admire your new respectability.”

Nicholas looked up. “So I shouldn’t disappoint them, then.”

It was a loaded question, but he wanted to hear his brother’s opinion on a matter
they had not discussed since the day he arrived in Petersbourg.

“You are referring to your inheritance in France,” Randolph said.

“Yes. I need to know what you think about it. The way I see it, there are two choices:
I could quietly dispose of the property and bury the scandal, and continue to shock
the world by being faithful to my wife. Or I could confess my illegitimacy and prove
to everyone that I am—and always will be—a permanent disaster.”

“Does it matter to you what they think?” Randolph asked.

“Six months ago, I would have said no, it doesn’t matter a damn—but that was before
Véronique. Now, I find I do not want to disappoint her.”

It was an unusual concern for him—to care what a woman thought of him outside the
bedroom, long after the initial seduction and conquest had taken place. But Véronique
was different. She saw something in him—something worthwhile—and she had helped him
when he needed her. He owed her a great debt.

And he craved her body every waking moment of the day.

He suddenly felt like a man on a ledge, teetering at the mercy of the wind, which
could blow him over at any moment. He, who’d never wanted a wife, was terrified that
she would eventually discover the truth and find him lacking in all qualities that
made a man worthy of being a husband.

He was afraid he would take a wrong step and prove himself unfit for a life of matrimony.
In truth, he felt almost destined to disappoint her.

“I believe it should be your decision,” Randolph said. “So what will you do? Will
you keep d’Entremont Manor, or wash your hands of what happened in France, so that
no one ever knows?”

Nicholas experienced a flash memory of swimming naked in the lake at d’Entremont Manor
with Véronique one night at dusk. He also recalled lying beneath the stars on the
lawn overlooking the Channel the night before they departed for Petersbourg. They
had been happy there, near to her family.

The memories continued.…

He thought of the afternoon he spent with her father patching up a hole in the plaster
ceiling of Véronique’s childhood bedchamber, which Mrs. Montagne wanted to convert
into a sewing room, so that she could make little shirts and dresses for her future
grandchildren.

How could Nicholas wash his hands of such a life? It was a very different world, and
he did not wish to let it go.

“I do not know what I will do,” he replied, “but I am certain of one thing. I would
die before I dragged Véronique into a scandal. She doesn’t deserve it, nor does her
family. They believe I rescued them from the very depths of dishonor and despair,
and I suppose I did. I do not wish to drag them back down again.”

Randolph considered all of that. “You asked me what I thought, and I will tell you
now. I believe it is the right decision to keep Mother’s infidelity a secret. I don’t
see what good could come of revealing it now, after all these years. Lord d’Entremont
is gone—therefore, he has no hold over you, nor can he be a true father to you. Your
life is here in Petersbourg. You are my brother. Nothing will ever change that.”

Nicholas stood up and paced around the room. He stopped to look up at the portrait
of his parents over the mantel, and wished there were a way to understand the decisions
his mother had made.

His father, King Frederick, had been an intimidating man, and it was not surprising
that she had obeyed his command and returned to her post as his queen. At the same
time, Nicholas suspected she would have returned regardless, out of a sense of duty
and a love for Randolph.

His brother was right. What good could come of smearing all their names and endangering
the future stability of the country, when it had taken so long to achieve peace and
see people satisfied with their new monarchy?

He turned to his brother. “Let us not speak of this again. We will continue to move
forward, and I will do my best to stay out of trouble.”

With that, he took his leave.

Chapter Twenty-four

For a full month, Nicholas was as devoted as any husband could be. He spent the majority
of his evenings at home, dining either privately with his wife by the fire, or with
the king and queen in the formal dining room.

If there were no official functions at the palace, he and Véronique went out to the
theater or attended political assemblies and private parties with friends, who were
generous in helping Véronique settle into her new role as Duchess of Walbrydge.

The Walbrydge property, located near the western border of Petersbourg, was undergoing
substantial renovations and was scheduled to be ready in time for Christmas. Nicholas
and Véronique traveled there regularly to inspect the changes and make decisions about
paint colors and fabrics. They happily anticipated the moment they could inhabit the
premises at last, and turn it into a real home.

Thankfully, Véronique was less anxious about certain outside influences. There were
blessedly few incidents with other women. Perhaps, she thought, all the lovers from
Nicholas’s past had been reading the newspapers and had finally accepted the fact
that all hope was lost, for the prince was now a changed man. Everyone who saw him
in the presence of his wife commented on it incessantly and on one particular night,
she overheard the following conversation while sipping claret behind a tall potted
tree fern:

“I always knew he’d grow into his responsibilities one day,” the Earl of Mulgrave
said at the Autumn Ball for Charity.

“Indeed,” Bishop Canfield replied. “I daresay he’d make as good a king as his older
brother. We are fortunate to have such fine family men in the palace representing
our postwar interests.”

“A child should be on the way soon,” the Countess of Mulgrave added. “Do you see the
way Nicholas obsesses over his wife? He is very protective, and cannot take his eyes
off her.”

“One can hardly blame him,” the earl said. “She is as beautiful, charming, and hospitable
as they come. She would make a fine queen, too.”

“Pity she’s French, though,” the countess mentioned. “It would have been nice for
the prince to marry a local girl.”

“Perhaps that was part of the duchess’s allure,” the earl said. “It’s a fresh start
for him, and Lord knows he needed it. From what I’ve heard, her family despised Bonaparte.
They are devout Royalists in every way and they support King Louis.”

“That is excellent news,” the bishop commented.

The headline in the paper the following day was as flattering as the gossip in the
private parlors and ballrooms.