The Stolen Princess (29 page)

Callie ordered dresses in bright, brilliant colors; morning dresses in rose and green and peach. She ordered a walking dress of green and gold cambric and another in sky blue; an emerald pelisse with scarlet and white trimmings; a blue spencer with white satin frogging that quite wrung her heart, it was so beautiful.

Her favorite of all her new purchases was a scarlet cloak in fine wool with a hood and black silk velvet trim, to replace the cloak she'd left on the ship. She held the fabric up against her and examined it in the looking glass, and heard,
You look like a delicious bonbon wrapped in that red thingummy…

She flushed at the memory and was about to choose a green fabric instead, but changed her mind. She'd never worn scarlet before. Why let his words stop her? Besides, she liked feeling like a bonbon.

They bought stockings in silk and cotton; ordered new corsets and purchased chemises, petticoats, drawers, and nightgowns.

“You aren't going to buy those!” Lady Gosforth exclaimed at one point.

“Yes, why not?” Callie had selected several cotton nightgowns and one of flannel. “They will last well and be warm.”

Lady Gosforth was so shocked she could not speak for a full minute. “One doesn't buy a nightgown for warmth and durability! Not at your age, and not when you are about to become a bride!”

“I do,” Callie said firmly and bought the nightgowns she'd chosen.

Lady Gosforth gave a sniff that outdid Giselle's in scorn for the state of royalty today, but Callie didn't care.

She wanted to splurge on the sort of clothes she'd craved, but was also aware of the need to conserve them and to have as flexible a wardrobe as possible. She was having fun. And she was answerable to no one. It was a heady feeling.

T
he night before her wedding, Callie woke in the middle of the night to the sound of rain falling, pattering steadily on the window panes and gurgling down the gutters.

It wasn't the rain that had woken her. It was dreams. Dreams of kisses. Disturbing kisses that woke her in the night, hot and with her nightgown twisted around her.

It was very hard to take a kiss calmly and politely, especially the way Gabriel did it.

She wished he kissed like Rupert.

No, she didn't.

She didn't know what she wanted.

Yes, she did. But it wasn't going to happen. This was going to be a paper marriage, a maneuver, a chess strategy. As soon as Count Anton was defeated, it would be over. They would go their different ways, married but with separate lives.

Would Count Anton ever be defeated?

She slipped out of bed. She should not be dwelling on gloomy things. Just because it was night and raining didn't mean she had to be dreary, too. She pushed her feet into the too-big slippers she still had from Mrs. Barrow and shuffled to the window. Drawing back the curtains, she looked out.

The rain had softened from its initial heavy downpour. Now it continued in a steady drizzle, making constantly changing rivulets down the windowpane, trickles of water meeting and joining, then splitting again. Like people.

Gabriel would go his own way one day, too. Pure disinterested gallantry would only stretch so far.

The lights of the gas streetlamps glowed through the rain like fuzzy golden haloes glowing in the darkness. The rain dripped from the eaves, picking up the light of the gas lamps like a string of golden pearls.

She glanced at her pearls, sitting on the dressing table where she'd dropped them, and picked them up. They were so long she used to wear them wrapped around her neck several times. Such pure, perfectly graded spheres. She ran them through her fingers, admiring the luster and sheen and feel of them, and remembering.

The first time she'd worn them had been at her sixteenth birthday party. She'd worn them a few days later, at her wedding to the handsome, golden prince, the embodiment of all her lonely dreams.

She hadn't worn her pearls for years. Not since the day she'd visited Rupert in the woods.

But they were beautiful. She recalled Gabriel's words,
The pearls your father gave you for your sixteenth birthday are not for sale. They are for your daughter, or your granddaughter.

He was right, she decided. It was not Papa's fault, nor the pearls, that Rupert had not loved her. She would keep them for her future granddaughter. And in the meantime she would wear them again, starting with her wedding tomorrow, a gesture of faith in the future.

C
allie took a deep breath and stepped inside the church.

And stopped, horrified.

The church was full. Not standing-room-only full, but more than a hundred people full. Mostly sitting on the groom's side of the church.

It was supposed to be a small, private ceremony.

Now she had more than a hundred witnesses for what she was about to do. She'd been feeling sick with nerves all morning. Now she started to shake.

The music of the organ swelled. A ripple of anticipation went through the congregation and a hundred faces turned toward her.

She wanted to bolt.

“Come on, Mama.” Her son tugged her hand. Her little boy in his formal suit looked so handsome and earnest and determined. Nicky was giving the bride away.

Tibby, her bridesmaid in blue, stepped forward. “Callie, what's the matter?” she whispered.

“I can't do this, not with all these people there,” Callie whispered back.

“Why not? It is the same thing, whether there is one or a hundred people watching,” Nicky said in a reasonable voice.

Callie had to laugh. Men started young at this. Being rational when the problem was emotional. It settled her. In just such a patient voice he'd explained to her that west was where the sun set. When they were standing in the sea at midnight.

“My wise, wonderful son,” she said and bent and kissed him on the forehead. He bore it manfully, then tucked her hand firmly in the crook of his arm and led her down the aisle.

He was happy for her to marry Gabriel, he'd told her when she'd first broached the matter with him. He'd thought about it for several minutes and then declared that Mr. Renfrew would make a very good stepfather.

His words had shocked her. She'd taken pains to explain that it didn't mean anything, that it was just a formality, just a way of stopping Count Anton's petition. Like a chess maneuver.

Nicky was very good at chess, she was certain he understood what she was telling him. He nodded seriously all through her careful explanation, and he thought about it for a few moments afterward. And then his intense little face had lit up, and he'd made his decision: he approved.

So here she was, marrying Gabriel Renfrew. He stood at the altar waiting for her, tall and solemn and unbelievably handsome, devouring her with his eyes; the sort of man who could steal a girl's heart if she wasn't careful.

Callie was determined to be careful.

She looked at the faces of the congregation as she passed.

On the groom's side of the church the only person she recognized was Mr. Nash Renfrew, who stood there with a tall, unsmiling man. He stared at her with coldly assessing Renfrew eyes; Gabriel's estranged brother the earl, no doubt.

She was curious about the few who were sitting on the bride's side, and as she reached their pews they turned to look at her. She felt a lump in her throat as she saw their faces. Mr. Ramsey, Mr. Ripton, and Mr. Delaney stood together, the groom's best friends, claiming the bride as part of their family. In the pew behind them stood Mr. and Mrs. Barrow, dressed in their Sunday best, Mrs. Barrow in a magnificent straw hat lavishly trimmed with flowers. She beamed at Callie and burst into tears. Barrow produced a handkerchief and handed it to her, and Mrs. Barrow leaned against him and sighed gustily at the bride. How wonderful it must be to have a marriage like that, to love for a lifetime.

A woman in a magnificent purple turban turned: it was Lady Gosforth, clutching a wisp of lace to her eye and beaming at Callie. She looked as proud and as happy as if she were Callie's own mother.

Sitting with her was a group of other ladies, Lady Gosforth's circle of intimate friends. She recognized their faces. She'd met them once or twice in the last few days. She couldn't even remember their names.

And yet, here they were, these ladies, pillars of the
ton
, come to see her married, sitting on her side of the church, and smiling, moist-eyed, at the bride as if she weren't some stranger with no family, but one of their own.

Callie managed a misty smile back. Her eyes blurred with tears. Such kindness…Such kindness…

And then they were at the end of the aisle and he stood there, Gabriel Renfrew, hand outstretched, watching her, waiting to claim her hand.

His gaze caressed her, then he looked at her son and gave him a small nod of approval. Nicky's chest puffed out proudly as he bowed and stepped back.

More tears prickled at her lashes. Gabriel would make a very good stepfather. But it could not to be. Her future, eventually, was back in Zindaria, as mother to the prince. He had property and friends and family here.

Behind him stood his brother Harry, his best man, looking somber. He had the Renfrew eyes, too, except his were gray, like the earl's. Harry caught Nicky's eye and winked. Callie felt a rush of gratitude at the easy acceptance these men had given Nicky.

Gabriel took her trembling hand in his and they stepped forward to be married. His hand was warm and a little damp. She glanced at him. Surely he was not nervous, too?

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together…”

Her thoughts drifted.

“First, it was ordained for the procreation of children…”

Children. There would be no children of this union. A paper marriage. Paper children.

“Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication…”

She stared at the hand that held hers so firmly, his large thumb rubbing back and forth across her skin.

She heard Gabriel saying his vows, “…To have and to hold…to love and to cherish…”

She didn't want to listen. Paper vows, false promises.

And then it was her turn to repeat after the minister: “I, Caroline Serena Louise, take thee, Gabriel Edward Fitz-paine Renfrew, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to”—mumble—“cherish, and to”—mumble—“till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The minister looked at her and frowned. She'd mumbled the love and obey bits so they were quite unintelligible.

She gave Gabriel a rueful glance. His lips were tight. She'd warned him she wasn't going to promise to love and obey him. She took her promises seriously. Even paper vows.

Fulfilling a promise to love a husband had broken her heart once; she wasn't going to do it again. Especially not for a chess-maneuver wedding.

It wasn't her fault that a hundred people were there to see her embarrass her new husband. She hadn't intended anyone except Gabriel and the minister to hear. She hoped they hadn't; she'd spoken all her vows in a soft voice.

The minister looked a silent query at Gabriel.

He gave a terse shake of his head, and the minister gave a small shrug and continued. He finished the ceremony quickly. Callie was so relieved she almost missed “You may kiss the bride.”

Gabriel turned toward her and for the longest moment stared at her with an odd, intense expression. Then he lifted her clear off her feet and kissed her full on the mouth in front of everyone. It was a proud, possessive kiss, a public claiming, a promise.

It shook her, to have him kiss her like that, so unguardedly, with passion, in a church, in front of a hundred witnesses.

It was supposed to be a paper wedding.

Wasn't it?

A
fter the wedding, in a move that surprised the groom as well as the bride, everyone present was invited back to Alverleigh House for a wedding breakfast—even though it was already early evening. Everyone except the bride, the groom, and the groom's best man, his brother Harry, had known about it. It turned out that Lady Gosforth, the earl of Alverleigh, and his brother Nash Renfrew had organized the whole day. Between them they'd managed to entice some of the most influential people in London to the wedding.

Nash had explained to Callie why: the more important people who could put pressure on the government to deny Count Anton's claim, the better.

The day had been full of surprises and Callie was resigned to it. There had been a complete takeover of her small, private ceremony and there was nothing she could do. Besides, it was all for Nicky's benefit, so who could argue or resist such wonderful kindness?

Several times she caught herself wishing it could all be real. She stomped on those thoughts.

Gabe and Harry were furious with the earl for taking over and hosting the reception. “Typical high-handed arrogance,” Gabe fumed to Nash. “Tell him I won't be patronized by him and I'm damned if I'll dance to his tune.”

“It's a peace offering, Gabriel,” Nash told him. “An apology for past wrongs.”

“I don't need his—”

“It's a public declaration of support for your wife. Everyone in the church will be there to meet the princess.”

Gabe shut his mouth and glared at Nash. Damned slippery diplomat. He'd said the one thing that could stop Gabe from snubbing the earl publicly.

He glanced at Harry, who shrugged. “No choice, Gabe. You know it. Outflanked and outgunned.” He turned to Nash and said, “But that doesn't mean that I have to go.”

Gabe grabbed him hard by the elbow. “Oh yes, you do, dammit, Harry. If I have to swallow my pride, so do you.”

Harry made to pull away, but then he met Gabe's eye, sighed, and accepted his fate.

I
t was quite late by the time the last of the wedding guests left Alverleigh House. The servants had cleared up and melted discreetly away. Now there just remained Gabe's friends, his brothers, and Aunt Maude. Miss Tibthorpe and Ethan had taken the little boys back to Aunt Maude's sometime earlier. Gabe looked at his bride. She was looking distinctly sleepy. He rose and held out his hand to her. “Shall we depart, my dear?”

“No, Gabriel,” his aunt interrupted. “You two are staying here. You have the house to yourselves; the servants have been given the evening off, but will be back by morning. Marcus has lent you the house for the week—in fact for as long as you need it.”

“What?” Gabe looked around for the earl. Apart from a formal greeting and a stiff thank you for his support of his wife, Gabe had barely exchanged a word with his oldest brother.

Nash said, “He's already gone. He's like Father was; hates town, prefers to be at Alverleigh. But he made arrangements for you to stay. And I do think it's an excellent idea. Give it out that you two have gone on your honeymoon.”

“What do you mean give it out,” said Aunt Maude. “They
are
on their honeymoon.”

“I meant instead of traveling out of town,” Nash corrected himself smoothly. “The princess will not want to leave her son.”

“No,” Callie said. “I won't leave Nicky behind.”

“Nonsense, you need a few days alone with your new husband,” Aunt Maude declared. “This is perfect. You are just around the corner from your son and he's perfectly safe with me: Miss Tibthorpe and Mr. Delaney are with him constantly. Besides, there is no place for a child on a honeymoon. Children usually come afterward.”

“But—”

But there was no stopping his aunt in full flight. “I've had all of Callie's things removed to the rose bedroom upstairs, left at the top of the stairs, my dear. The entire house has been redecorated since you were here last, so there can be no unpleasant associations for you, Gabriel. Your things are here, too. Accept it graciously, my boy, and we shall be off.” She surged to her feet, kissed him on the cheek, embraced Callie warmly, and swept out.

Gabe swallowed his objections. More than anything else he wanted to be alone with his reluctant bride and begin the tantalizing process of seducing her, but he could see from her face that she was uncomfortable about being alone with him. The slightest excuse and she'd be back at his aunt's and there was no possibility of seduction in that situation. He just wished it didn't have to be at Alverleigh House, the home of his lonely early years.

Still, he could make happier memories…

He and Callie walked to the front hall hand in hand, and farewelled their well-wishers. He grasped her hand firmly. He wouldn't put it past her to run after them and jump in the carriage. She was trembling again.

Just before he left Nash told Gabe, “I shall notify the officials concerned that the princess is now an English citizen. That should clog up the works nicely. Oh, and I let fall a few hints this evening that you were off to Brighton on your honeymoon, and the child was going with you. Thought a red herring or two would help draw any interested parties away, at least until Aunt Maude's party.”

Gabe nodded. It was good strategy. He held out his hand to his brother. “I want to thank you for everything you've done for my wife. You're a good man, Nash, and I owe you an apology for—”