To Charm a Prince (29 page)

Dropping the medallion into the pouch, Samantha placed the documents into the leather case. Then she and the velvet pouch returned to her chamber.

She was going to need her sister’s help.

Samantha slept surprisingly well that night after Victoria promised to help her the next afternoon. She rolled over in bed the following morning and smiled at the slice of bread.

Rudolf had come into her chamber while she slept and left her the bread. He cared for her and would care for her even more when she solved his problem for him. She couldn’t let him know what she was planning, though. He would never allow her to go into Montague House to face Vladimir and Olga.

After eating the bread, Samantha rose from the bed and dressed in her blue gown, the one the prince had bought for her. She thought of going downstairs to breakfast but decided against it. Seeing pity in the servants’ gazes was something she couldn’t face yet.

Samantha sat on the chaise near the hearth and waited for the hour when Victoria and she would leave. She was hungry. Perhaps her aunt or the prince would come to visit and order food sent to her.

“Tinker told me you haven’t eaten breakfast.”

Samantha turned at the sound of the prince’s voice. “Would you have Cook send something up to me?”

“Breakfast is served in the dining room.” Rudolf crossed the chamber to stand in front of her.

“I don’t want to go down there.”

“You will if you want to eat.”

“I’m never leaving this room again.”

Rudolf laughed out loud.

“I’ll probably leave sometime but not this morning,” she amended herself.

“Why don’t you want to go downstairs?” he asked.

“Everyone knows I’m a pathetic cripple,” Samantha answered, her gaze fixed on the carpet.

Rudolf knelt in front of her. “Princess, no one believes you are pathetic except yourself. The longer you put off facing people, the more difficult it will be.”

“I’ll come down for dinner.”

“You will come down now.”

Samantha knew from that implacable set to his jaw that he would not let her escape going down to the dining room. “I’m not hungry,” she lied. “I don’t think I could eat a thing.”

“The baby needs nourishment.” Rudolf held his hand out to her as he had done on the night of the Emersons’ ball. She looked into his eyes and saw the tenderness there. “Trust me, Princess.”

And she did.

Samantha looked from his dark eyes to his offered hand. Like the night of Emersons’ ball, she placed her hand in his and her trust in him.

*    *    *

“Good morning, Lady Samantha,” Tinker called when they walked into the dining room.

“Good morning,” Samantha answered, her gaze glued to the carpet lest she see the pity she knew the majordomo felt for her.

Rudolf put his arm around her and leaned close to whisper, “Are you greeting Tinker or the carpet?” He escorted her to a chair and said, “I will serve you.”

Samantha watched the prince walk to the sideboard and grab a plate. With a sigh, Samantha realized how deeply intense her love for him was. Too bad the prince didn’t love her. Who could love defective merchandise? He had a fondness for her, but he probably had a fondness for his dogs and his horses.

Rudolf looked over his shoulder. “Kippers, my lady?”

Samantha smiled through her misery and shook her head. Rudolf placed the plate on the table in front of her and then sat beside her.

She looked at the contents of the plate: a large scoop of scrambled eggs, three slices of ham, a roll accompanied by butter and strawberry jam. “I don’t think the baby’s appetite is large enough for this.”

“Stop eating when he has had enough,” Rudolf said, his eyes gleaming with humor.

“Or she,” Samantha corrected him. “Where is the
Times?”

“We don’t have the paper today.”

“We have it every day.”

“Not today.”

“I want to see that paper,” Samantha insisted. “Tinker, please bring me the
Times
.”

Samantha watched the majordomo shift his gaze to the prince and suddenly knew how insulting the gossip would be. She needed to know, though.

Rudolf stared at her for a long moment and nodded at the servant. Tinker handed the prince the paper and then left the dining room, closing the door behind himself.

Watching the majordomo leave, Samantha filled with dread. Somehow, Rudolf had signaled the servant to leave, which meant he expected her to become hysterically upset.

“That bad, huh?”

“Bad is a relative thing, Princess.”

Samantha promised herself that she would remain calm. She promised herself to adopt a humorous attitude toward her wedding day fiasco. She promised herself not to weep.

Rudolf handed her the folded newspaper. Samantha opened the newspaper, glanced at the headline, and felt her stomach lurch.

It was worse than she could ever have imagined. In bold black, the
Times
headline read,
Marriage, Russian Style.

Samantha trembled as she began to read the front page article. The reporter was surprisingly factual, ending with Princess Olga’s words that the bride was a pathetic cripple.

Humiliated almost as much as the previous day, Samantha closed her eyes. She knew one thing for certain. Weeping and wailing could not make the newspaper article disappear.

Samantha pushed the plate of food away. Resting her arms across the table, she lowered her head to hide her face. Perhaps she should disappear instead.

“I promise we will soon marry,” Rudolf said, stroking her back. “This will be forgotten.”

Samantha turned her head to look at him. “I want to go home.”

“Princess, you are home.”

“No, I want to go home where I belong.”

“You belong with me.”

“I belong at the cottage,” Samantha said. “You didn’t want to marry me. You wanted to give your baby your name.”

“Come here.” Rudolf took her hand and gently forced her onto his lap. He folded her within the circle of his embrace. “The truth is I did want to marry you. I fought my feelings because I did not want to want you.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Samantha leaned her head against his shoulder. She pressed her lips to his throat.

“Sit in the garden with the children this afternoon,” Rudolf said. “They worry about you.”

Later, alone in her chamber, Samantha sat on the chaise and stared at the gold medallion depicting Venus and her son. The door opened, admitting her sister.

Victoria stepped inside the chamber. “Do you still want to—?”

Samantha’s expression was grim. “Yes, we are going to Montague House.”

Chapter 16

“I am going to shoot them.”

Wearing a grim expression, Rudolf marched across the duke’s study to the pistol case. He opened it, grabbed a pistol, and reached for the ammunition.

The Duke of Inverary and the Marquess of Argyll turned from their business discussion when the prince barged into the study. They watched as the prince, muttering in Russian, began loading the pistol.

“Who are you going to shoot?” Robert asked.

Prince Rudolf looked at the two men as if just noticing them. “First, I am going to shoot Vladimir and Olga,” he answered. “Then I will look for that
Times
reporter.”

Robert bolted out of the chair and placed himself between the prince and the door. He held out his hand. “Give me the pistol.”

“Samantha is hurting,” Rudolf said.

“If you commit murder, Samantha will be left an unwed mother,” Robert reminded him.

Rudolf passed him the pistol. “Do you know of a good assassin?”

“You would still be the chief suspect,” Robert said, grinning.

Rudolf inclined his head. He crossed the study and dropped into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “What action do you suggest I take?”

“If you are sufficiently calmed by this afternoon,” Robert told him, “we’ll visit Montague House and apply some pressure.”

“
We
will go?”

“I insist on accompanying you,” Robert said.

“This is not your fight,” Rudolf told him.

“You are my brother,” Robert said. “Your fight is my fight.”

Rudolf could not believe how easily these men had accepted him. He had lived his entire life without anyone’s approval or support, except for his three youngest brothers.

“I accept your offer.”

*    *    *

With her cloak draped over one arm and the black velvet pouch safely hidden inside her reticule, Samantha sat on the chaise in her chamber and waited for her sister. She supposed there was nothing she could do about being the laughingstock of London. Only . . . for her entire life people had considered her a pathetic cripple and pitied her. It hurt horribly to know that all of London, from the lowest street urchin to the Regent himself, would read in the
Times
that she was a pathetic cripple.

The door opened. “Are you ready?” Victoria whispered.

Samantha cast her sister an amused look. “Tory, we aren’t thieves sneaking around in the night.”

Victoria arched a copper brow at her. “Didn’t His Highness give you orders not to leave this house without his permission or escort?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Do you have his permission?”

“No.”

Victoria gave her a jaunty smile. “Do you actually believe His Highness would consider me a proper escort?”

“I see your point,” Samantha said, crossing the chamber to the door. “We’ll need to use the servants’ stairs and keep our voices down. You lead the way. You’re much better at sneaking around than I.”

Victoria opened the door a crack and peered into the corridor. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, the two sisters hurried toward the far end of the corridor and the servants’ stairs. It was on this type of occasion that Samantha especially wished she didn’t limp.

Reaching the ground level, Victoria led the way through the kitchen. “Just passing through,” she called to the startled servants.

“Excuse us, please,” Samantha added with an apologetic smile.

Outside in the garden, Samantha and Victoria hugged the house with their backs lest someone spy them from a window. They reached the safety of the alley and walked the short distance to Park Lane.

Victoria waved at a passing hackney coach, which stopped for them. Samantha climbed inside first, followed by her sister, who ordered the driver, “Bond Street, please.”

“I don’t believe I have the constitution for this type of activity,” Samantha whispered.

“Leave everything to me,” Victoria said, patting her hand. “I thrive on excitement.”

A short time later, the coach started down Bond Street. Victoria leaned forward and told the driver, “Stop at the first jeweler’s.”

When the coach stopped, Samantha started to open her reticule to pay the man, but Victoria stilled her hand. “We are only making this one stop and then going to Montague House,” Victoria told the driver. “Would you consider waiting for us? Our errand may take some time.”

“I’ve all the time in the world if you’ve the money to pay me,” the man said.

Victoria smiled. “Indeed, we do.”

Opening the door, Victoria stepped down from the coach and then turned to help Samantha. “His Highness won’t be happy if I let you fall.”

Samantha laughed nervously. “His Highness won’t be happy if he discovers I’ve left the house.”

“Don’t worry,” Victoria said, slipping her arm through Samantha’s. “He’ll never find out.”

“Why did you ask the driver to wait?” Samantha asked.

Victoria gave her a pointed look. “You don’t want to be seen hailing a hackney on Bond Street, do you? Someone would tell Rudolf.”

Samantha paled at the thought of what Rudolf would do. When thwarted, the prince possessed a formidable temper. She knew from experience how sharp his tongue could be. He would probably lock her up and throw the key away if he knew.

“What would I do without you?” Samantha asked.

Victoria smiled. “Not very well, I’m afraid.”

Thankfully, the exclusive jewelry shop was empty at that hour of the day. Wearing an ingratiating smile, the proprietor greeted them. “May I be of service, ladies?”

“We certainly hope so,” Victoria said, taking charge. “Tell him what you need, sister.”

Samantha reached into her reticule for the black velvet pouch with the Kazanov Venus. She handed it to him. “I need a replica made of this piece. You see, the woman is the goddess Venus holding her son’s hand.”

The jeweler examined the piece thoroughly and carefully. He rubbed his finger across the raised goddess and her son. Finally, he looked at them. “I could do the job for you.”

“How long will it take?” Samantha asked.

The jeweler shrugged. “A week or two.”

“We have only one hour,” Victoria said.

“This is a life or death emergency,” Samantha added.

The jeweler shook his head. “No one could complete this job in an hour.”

Victoria narrowed her gaze on him. “Do you have a gold medallion approximately the same size?”

The jeweler nodded. “I believe so.”

“Do you have any gold replicas of Venus and Cupid that would fit on the gold medallion?” Victoria asked him.

“Possibly. I could look.”

“I don’t understand,” Samantha said. “What are you thinking?”

“He could lift Venus from one piece, Cupid from another piece, and then glue them to a gold medallion similar in size to this,” Victoria answered.

Samantha smiled. “Sister, you are so wonderfully clever.”

“I know.”

“You realize, of course, that you would be required to purchase the other pieces,” the jeweler told them.

“Money is no object,” Victoria announced.

Lightened by one thousand pounds, Samantha and Victoria left the jeweler’s an hour later and climbed into the coach. The Venus replica was wrapped inside a white velvet pouch inside Samantha’s reticule.

“Montague House,” Victoria called to the driver.

A short time later, the coach halted in front of Montague House. Samantha glanced at the mansion and remembered the night she had come here before fleeing to Scotland.