To Charm a Prince

Published Internationally by Lachesis Publishing Inc.

Rockland, Ontario, Canada

Copyright © 2013 Patricia Grasso

Exclusive cover © 2013 Laura Givens

Inside artwork © 2013 Giovanna Lagana

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, Lachesis Publishing Inc., is an infringement of the copyright law.

A catalogue record for the print format of this title is available from the National Library of Canada

ISBN 9781927555194

A catalogue record for the Ebook is available

from the National Library of Canada

Ebooks are available for purchase from

www.lachesispublishing.com

ISBN 9781927555187

Editor for this version: Joanna D’Angelo

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

PIP, my gentle giant. Peacemaker. Lover of cuddles, licking butter off toast, and me. You taught me never to leave my possessions lying around the house. Even metal wasn't safe with you.  Hence, my metal Timex chewed into three pieces. R.I.P.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Joanna D’Angelo (editor) and Myretta Robens (computer guru) for their long-suffering patience.

Reviews

"A Charming Regency Romance that runs on high octane" 

— Best Reviews

". . . a lively and exciting romance"

— Old Book Barn Gazette

"An enchanting prince in a fairy tale romance . . .

a simple pleasure to read"

—  Romantic Times

"Kept me up until the wee hours of the night"

—  A Romance Review

Also available

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(Douglas Series Book 1)

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Coming soon

To Catch A Countess

(Douglas Series Book 3)

TO CHARM A PRINCE

Prologue

London, Summer 1812

This damned limp ruins my appearance.

Eighteen-year-old Samantha Douglas watched herself in the cheval glass as she crossed the bedchamber. Her blue silk gown matched her eyes, and her aunt’s maid had dressed her ebony hair in an upswept fashion.

Samantha decided that she had never looked so pretty. No one would ever guess from her appearance that she hadn’t led a pampered life as a member of the Quality. She felt like a princess . . .
until she walked.

Why was I the one run over by the carriage?
Why couldn’t it have been
—?

Samantha banished that uncharitable thought. She could never wish what happened to her on anyone else.

Turning away from the mirror, Samantha tried to calm her nerves by focusing on her bedchamber. This one chamber was larger than the old cottage. She’d only been in residence at the Duke of Inverary’s for two weeks and was still unused to the opulence. She could hardly believe her deceased parents and her aunt had lived almost their entire lives with this luxury.

“Are you ready to meet society?”

Samantha turned at the sound of her younger sister’s voice. “I’m not going to the ball.”

“Are you ill?” Victoria hurried across the chamber.

“My limp prevents me from walking gracefully, never mind dancing,” Samantha said, her expression glum.

Hopping Giles . . . Hopping Giles . . . Hopping Giles.

Samantha recalled the jeering name reserved for cripples that was hurled at her since the carriage accident. Like an old friend, heartache for being different swept through her. The little girl who limped was always chosen last for games with other children. There was no reason to think the young woman who limped would be anything other than a wallflower.

“No gentleman will ask a pathetic cripple to dance,” Samantha said, unable to mask the catch of emotion in her voice.

“A slight limp does not make you a cripple,” Victoria argued. “We have more to worry about than your limp. If anyone discovers we’re frauds, we’ll never find husbands.”

“We are
not
frauds,” called Angelica, the oldest Douglas sister, walking into the bedchamber. “Father was the Earl of Melrose, and since his passing, I am the Countess of Melrose.”

“Father lost the Douglas fortune,” Victoria reminded her.

“He didn’t lose it,” Angelica corrected her. “Charles Emerson swindled him out of it.”

“We have nothing to recommend us but our wits and the Duke of Inverary’s generosity,” Samantha said. “We are pretending to be wealthy.”

Angelica waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Everyone pretends to have more than they do.”

“Aunt Roxie said you’re going to marry the marquess and become a duchess when the duke dies.” Victoria sighed. “I wonder whom Samantha and I will marry.”

“I’m not going tonight,” Samantha said.

“Get Aunt Roxie,” Angelica ordered Victoria. Then she turned to Samantha. “Why don’t you want to go? You look beautiful. Think how much fun our first ball will be.”

Samantha leveled a skeptical look on her. “All my life I’ve listened to children calling me
Hopping Giles
,” she said, unable to keep the raw pain out of her voice. “I couldn’t bear for society to whisper behind their hands about me. What gentleman will ask a cripple to dance?”

“Sister, do not let a simple limitation ruin your life.”

“That’s so easy for you to say,” Samantha replied. “No one ever had a cruel word for you. You’re beautiful, talented, and intelligent. The Marquess of Argyll adores you.”

“You have gifts, too,” Angelica said, touching her sister’s shoulder. “You are exceptionally lovely and the kindest and most charitable lady I know.”

“Gentlemen do not value kindness and charity,” Samantha told her. “Gentlemen prefer beauty and talent and intelligence.” When her sister arched a brow at her, Samantha gave her a grudging smile. “All right, gentlemen do not value intelligence in a woman so much as her beauty and talent.”

The door crashed open. Auburn-haired and voluptuous, Aunt Roxie marched into the bedchamber. “What is the problem?”

“I told you,” Victoria said. “Samantha isn’t going to the ball. She—”

Aunt Roxie glared at her youngest niece, and then looked at Samantha. “Don’t sit down,” she ordered.

Samantha bolted to attention. “Why can’t I sit?”

“Your gown will wrinkle.”

“I am not attending the ball,” Samantha insisted, her expression mulish.

“What has changed your mind?” Aunt Roxie asked.

“Charles Emerson ran me over with his carriage,” Samantha said. “Should I and my deformed leg now attend a ball at his house?”

“That unfortunate accident happened long ago,” Aunt Roxie said. “He never intended to hurt you.”

“Accident or no, Emerson will pay for what he has done to the Douglases,” Angelica spoke up.

“Darling, you must put aside this ridiculous notion of being inferior,” Aunt Roxie said, ignoring her oldest niece. “You are not merely a limp. Don’t you want to meet a suitable gentleman and marry?”

“Find me a man who won’t mind that his bride is deformed,” Samantha said, “and I’ll marry him tomorrow.”

“You are
not
deformed,” Aunt Roxie insisted, her frustration apparent. “I have spent the inheritances from my three late husbands keeping you girls alive, and now the Duke of Inverary has opened his home to us. Both His Grace and I intend to secure advantageous marriages for each of you. Is this attitude of yours a poultice to my old age?”

“You are not old,” Samantha told her aunt, “and I do appreciate your sacrifice and His Grace’s generosity. Neither of you understands how daunting a task it is for me to go into society. I have none of Angelica’s blond beauty or Victoria’s free spirit.”

“You possess other gifts like a warm heart and a nurturing nature,” Aunt Roxie told her.

“Men don’t care about those things.” Samantha felt she was losing this battle to remain home for the evening. She should have feigned an illness.

“Darling, I know more about men than the three of you combined,” her aunt drawled. “Trust me, men flirt with blond beauty and free spirits but marry nurturing natures.”

“Why, thank you, Aunt Roxie,” Victoria said.

“You’ve made us feel so much better about going into society,” Angelica added.

Aunt Roxie ignored them. “Did I mention that your future husband will be in attendance tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had one of my visions,” Aunt Roxie answered. “You will marry a man who is not quite what he seems, but a prince among men, nevertheless.”

Could Aunt Roxie be correct? Her aunt had been blessed with special, otherworldly talents and knew things before they happened. Was there a gentleman capable of looking beyond her flaw?

“If Angelica is marrying the marquess and Samantha is marrying a prince among men,” Victoria said, “whom did you see for me?”

“Nobody,” her aunt snapped. “You are going to die an old maid on the shelf.”

Samantha laughed at her sister’s horrified expression. Angelica joined in her merriment.

“You think too much,” Aunt Roxie told Samantha. “Emulate Victoria who never thinks.”

“Emulate me?” Victoria echoed.

Aunt Roxie gave her youngest niece an ambiguous smile and turned to Samantha. “Lose the worry and enjoy life, darling, for tonight you will experience the most enchanting evening of your young life.”

A short time later Samantha sat beside Victoria in the ducal coach. Magnus Campbell, the Duke of Inverary, and Aunt Roxie sat across from them. The marquess had persuaded Angelica to ride in his coach.

“Remember, my darlings, do not dance more than twice with any gentleman,” Aunt Roxie instructed, as their coach halted in front of Charles Emerson’s Grosvenor Square mansion.

“We don’t need to be so particular about that old rule,” the duke said.

“I will not take chances with my nieces’ futures.”

What future?
Samantha felt her spirits sinking at the sight of the graceful, fashionably gowned women entering the Emerson mansion. Not one of them limped.
No gentleman will ask me to dance, and once I’m categorized as a wallflower, no man will even look in my direction.

The Duke of Inverary stepped down from the carriage first and assisted her aunt, her sister, and then her. Angelica and the marquess waited for them at the stairs.

“Sisters, take a good look at this house,” Angelica said, staring at the mansion.” We lived here until ten years ago.”

“I don’t remember,” Victoria said.

Instead of looking at the mansion, Samantha turned to stare at the street. “Is this where the carriage ran me over?”

“Tonight is not the time to dwell on the past,” Aunt Roxie said. “Let’s go inside.”

Samantha felt her sister’s touch on her shoulder and heard her say, “This is where it happened.”

“That day eludes my memory.”

“Emerson will pay for his crimes against you and Father,” Angelica promised.

“I hate the dirty weasel,” Victoria said.

“So do I,” Angelica added.

“No one hates him more than I,” Samantha said.

“I’m so glad that’s settled,” Aunt Roxie drawled. “Can we go inside now?”

Long forgotten memories surfaced when they walked into the foyer. Samantha remembered her parents in evening dress, kissing her good night before they went out. She could almost smell the reassuring scent of her mother’s lilac fragrance.