The Trouble With Princesses (7 page)

“Oh? In what way?”

“He gambles, for one.”

“Yes, well, many gentlemen like to test lady luck. That is nothing out of the norm.”

“Except that when he does it, he cannot afford to lose.”

“You are saying he is penniless?”

“Scraping by.”

He watched as she took in that information. “I thank you for letting me know, but since I am not considering marriage to him, I can see no reason why his lack of wealth should trouble me. If I should decide on him, I have more than ample funds to keep both of us amused.”

“Ariadne, don’t do this. You will only end up getting hurt.”

Something in her expression softened. “I have been hurt before. Should I be again, I am sure I shall recover in due course.”

He considered that for a moment. Someone had hurt her. He wondered when that had happened and who had done the damage.

He glanced down, surprised to find that his hands were fisted. Deliberately, he forced his fingers open again.

“Now, if you will please excuse me, Your Highness,” she said, taking refuge in formality. “I really must go to my rooms. I am promised at the theater tonight and wish to rest.”

He could have argued further; words crowded like pebbles in his mouth that he longed to spit out. But as she said, what was the use? Her ears were closed to his exhortations.

If only he were in Rosewald. He could have her locked in the dungeons until this insanity of hers wore off. But he was in England, where everything was so annoyingly civilized—at least on the surface.

No, he would have to think of another way to keep her from bringing ruin down upon her head. Until then, he would let her believe she had won.

He could wait.

He was good at waiting.

And at winning.

Chapter Five

A
light breeze blew warm and pleasant against Ariadne’s cheeks the next morning as she rode through Hyde Park. Although there were a number of other people scattered throughout the park, the grounds were not crowded, certainly not the way they would be later in the day when the
Ton
emerged from their homes to promenade there like flocks of preening, brightly colored birds.

Having endured such scenes on more than one occasion, she much preferred this quieter alternative, where she could actually ride her horse rather than be confined to a tedious, stop-and-start walk.

At her side rode Lord Selkirk, his roan gelding an excellent match for her spirited bay mare, Persephone. The two horses were enjoying the carefree outing just as much as their owners.

She looked over at him, and he smiled at her, his teeth very white in his darkly handsome face. Grinning back, she kicked her mount into a full-blown canter, leaving Selkirk to give chase. He did, catching up easily, his skills as a horseman quite admirable. They were both laughing by the time they slowed their horses to a sedate walk.

The vigorous ride had tugged more than one pin loose from her hair. Inhaling deeply to catch her breath, she tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Oh, I’ve missed that. In the country I ride nearly every day.”

“Then the city must feel sadly confining to such an excellent horsewoman as yourself.”

“Well, my skills are no more than adequate, particularly given this sidesaddle and riding habit, but I thank you nonetheless. As for London, it has advantages the country lacks. I find I cannot complain.”

Ariadne took a moment to tuck another stray wisp of hair underneath the edge of her tall riding hat. “I must remember this stretch of park grounds in future.”

“Yes, at this hour it allows for a very tolerable bit of exercise.”

“Indeed.”

Silence fell between them, but one that was not uncomfortable.

Ariadne stole a sideways glance at Selkirk, contemplating the attractive lines of his profile. Rupert had warned her against him, but rather than taking heed, she had left her groom behind and gone out with Selkirk alone.

And she had been right to do so. In the past half hour, nothing untoward had happened. She and Selkirk were enjoying what anyone would agree was a very pleasant excursion to a very public park. Once again Rupert was exaggerating the risks.

He really ought to learn to mind his own business.

What had he imagined he was up to yesterday, chasing off all her suitors?

Except that he had not chased away Selkirk. He had left on his own terms without falling victim to Rupert’s domineering presence.

Good for Lord Selkirk.

But why was she thinking of Rupert at all? Even here the dratted man found a way to plague her. Determined to banish him from her mind completely, she turned and showered Selkirk with a brilliant smile.

He seemed surprised, his dark eyes agleam with some hidden thoughts. Then he too smiled. “I was wondering, Princess, if you might allow me the opportunity to take you up in my new high perch phaeton. I recently had the pleasure of acquiring the vehicle in a game of cards.”

“How lucky for you,” she said, suppressing a frown.

Rupert had told her Selkirk was a gamester. But as she had decided before, what of it? Besides, in this instance, Selkirk had won, had he not?

“Yes, dame fortune was on my side. So what say you? Shall we take to the roads together?”

She opened her mouth, on the verge of replying, when a new rider cantered into view. She recognized the huge black stallion at once, just as she recognized the man—tall and golden-haired and unmistakably Rupert.

She bit back a curse.

What is he doing here?

But of course she knew exactly what he was doing here.

The wretch.

She wondered how long he’d been riding around in the park, searching for them.

And clearly their presence had not gone unobserved by him either, she realized, watching as he turned his horse with a silent command and steered the great stallion in their direction. The thoroughbred’s hooves ate up the distance between them as if it were nothing.

Soon, Rupert was drawing to an easy halt, while she and Selkirk did the same.

“Hello, Princess,” he said. “I trust you are well this morning.” He paused, his gaze flicking quickly over to the other man. “Snelbert.”

Ariadne caught the tiny gasp that rose in her throat, somehow managing to stay silent.

“
Selkirk
, Your Royal Highness,” Selkirk corrected with calm politeness. “And good morning.”

Rupert paused for a scant second, making no effort to acknowledge his mistake—assuming it had been a mistake—before returning his attention to her. “They said at the house you’d gone riding. I wondered if you might head this way.”

So he wasn’t even going to pretend that he hadn’t come looking for her. Well, at least he wasn’t adding liar to his list of infractions.

“Yes. Lord Selkirk kindly invited me to enjoy the park with him. It is usually quite pleasant at this hour of the morning. So few unanticipated interruptions from passing acquaintances, you see.”

Rupert’s lips twitched, clearly registering the hit. But he in no other way acknowledged any understanding of her remark.

“So true,” he replied. “I take pains to avoid the place in the afternoons. Morning is the only time one can enjoy a decent ride here. I confess that I greatly miss the forest trails in Rosewald. They are so peaceful.”

She could almost see them in her imagination. Emma had told her so much about her home country over the years that she felt as if she knew the place too, with its deep pine forests, flower-strewn valleys, and snow-covered mountaintops.

But this was not the time to lose sight of Rupert’s infraction; she wasn’t about to let him escape so easily.

“Hmm,”
she mused aloud, returning the conversation to its original topic. “And here I should have thought you would revel in the
Ton
’s afternoon promenade, given all the opportunities it presents to see and be seen.”

She waited to find out if he would take offense. Instead, his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Ah, but I can do that anytime I like. I have merely to set foot onto any London street and let the circus begin.”

And for him, she supposed, it was a circus. She’d seen the kind of response he elicited through no conceit of his own. Much as she might be loath to admit, Rupert never invited people’s fawning. It came quite naturally to those who sought his attention and patronage.

Her brows drew tight. How had he managed to turn the conversation to his own advantage when he was the one at fault?

He shifted his gaze to Selkirk. “So, you’re a horseman, are you?”

“I do my best,” Selkirk stated, “though clearly I am not as adept as yourself, Prince.”

She might have thought Selkirk was trying to be falsely ingratiating if it weren’t for the fact that Rupert was indeed an exceptional equestrian. One had only to see him ride to know that.

“May I take the opportunity to remark upon your horse?” Selkirk continued. “He’s a real beauty.”

“Yes, he’s my pride,” Rupert said with a smile, as he reached down to pat the animal’s neck. “I raised Odin from a newborn foal. I suppose I ought to have left him back home in Rosewald, but he grows fractious if I’m away too long. In other words, he starts biting the grooms.”

Clearly aware that he was the center of attention, Odin huffed out a quivering breath through his nostrils and tossed his head, his equine muscles rippling with barely harnessed strength beneath his glossy coat. Rupert controlled the spirited steed with an easy hand on the reins, not the least bit intimidated.

Odin, she realized for the first time, was rather like his master—strong-willed, powerful, and dangerous when he chose to be—although to her knowledge, Rupert had never tried to bite anyone.

The stallion sauntered a few inches closer to Selkirk’s gelding and aggressively showed his teeth, causing Selkirk’s horse to step hastily back. Rupert responded by moving Odin nearer to Ariadne’s horse, Persephone, in a way that separated the two of them from the other man.

She shot Rupert a glance out of the corner of her eye, wondering if the maneuver had been deliberate on his part. But he gave no sign of anything other than polite concern over his horse’s less than friendly behavior.

“You can see what I mean about him,” Rupert said. “But he is a full-blooded stallion and used to having his own way.”

Selkirk moved his gelding another foot back, putting him well out of harm’s way. “You must have trouble finding staff who are willing to work with him.”

“It takes a skilled touch, I admit. I find with lively beasts that one wants to use enough control to keep them in line but not so much as to break their spirit. It’s the spirit that makes it all worth the effort.”

Ariadne scowled, wondering why she suddenly had the feeling he wasn’t talking solely about horses anymore. From the look on Selkirk’s face, she thought he might be wondering the same thing.

Her lips tightened, along with her gloved hands on the reins. “It’s been a pleasure running into you like this, Your Highness. Now, if you will excuse us, Lord Selkirk and I must continue on our way.”

“Yes,” Selkirk said. “I told the archduchess, your sister, that I would have the princess back in time for a late breakfast.”

Rupert regarded them, his eyes alight with sudden intrigue. “Well, if such is the case, there’s no need for you to trouble yourself riding all the way back to Lyndhurst House. I am going there myself and shall be pleased to escort Princess Ariadne home.”

Selkirk’s jaw stiffened with clear displeasure, his eyes moving to trade a look with Ariadne.

She spared him barely a glance before she set her sights on Rupert once more. “There’s no need for you to cut your ride short, Your Highness. I am sure Lord Selkirk doesn’t mind the brief journey back to Grosvenor Square.”

“No, not at all,” Selkirk said. “Lyndhurst House is on my way.”

Rupert smiled, showing his teeth in a way that reminded her of Odin. “Actually I was finished with my ride, so why do we not all return together?”

He had them cornered and he knew it. Short of being unpardonably rude, there was no choice but to agree to his plan.

She met his unrepentant gaze, then turned her horse toward home.

Chapter Six

T
wo weeks later, Ariadne walked out of Lyndhurst House, fuming as she stepped into the waiting coach.

Blasted man! He’s driving me mad!

She took a seat and leaned back against the comfortably upholstered cushions, smoothing a stray crease from the skirts of her periwinkle blue day dress. Idly she gazed out the window at the residential Mayfair street and up into the nearly cloudless sky above. Moments later, the coach jerked and they were off.

How lovely to be alone.

Or perhaps she ought to amend that sentiment.

How lovely to be without Rupert.

Lately, it seemed that everywhere she went, he was there as well. Balls, soirees, musicales, garden parties, afternoon fetes, even carriage rides and strolls around the city with one prospective gentleman or another—somehow he managed to appear at them all.

She couldn’t prove that he was following her, but she knew very well that he would never have bothered to accept a fraction of the invitations that arrived daily in his correspondence were it not for his sudden interest in tormenting her.

In fact, he was making the social hostesses of London swoon with delight, leaving more than one of them to speculate excitedly that perhaps his unprecedented socializing meant that he was considering taking an English bride, an aristocratic girl from outside the usual royal circles.

But Ariadne knew better. She knew his real game was to thwart her plan to take a lover.

What an idiot she’d been to share such a confidence with an unreasonable tyrant like him. He’d caught her in an unguarded moment, when her defenses had been down. To say nothing of the fact that his kisses had been directly responsible for muddling her brain at the time.

Since then he had not tried to repeat their embrace. He hadn’t so much as touched her except to share a single quadrille one evening at a ball.