To Wed a Wicked Prince (6 page)

“Well, I can certainly see the appeal there,” her friend agreed cautiously. “But don’t you think we should try to find out more about him?”

“I don’t know that I want to,” Livia said, surprising herself as she spoke. “I rather like not knowing what’s going to happen from one moment to the next. It’s not as if I’m contemplating spending the rest of my life with him, Ellie. It’s just an interlude. For some reason he’s interested in me, and I’m enjoying his interest. What harm can it do?”

“None, I hope.” But Aurelia was not completely convinced of that. As long as Liv kept her head, then all would be well, but while Liv was generally levelheaded, she could also go off at a tangent on occasion.

“Anyway, I’m walking with him in the park this afternoon,” Livia said, as if that closed the conversation. “May I borrow your brown velvet pelisse, the one with the gray trimming? It goes so well with my gray silk, and at least I won’t go blue with cold when the sun goes down.”

“Yes, of course,” Aurelia said readily. Until Cornelia had broken up the trio by marrying Harry Bonham, the three women had shared clothes and accessories as a matter of necessity. They’d learned that clever adjustments to a limited wardrobe could expand that wardrobe quite considerably. “And you should wear the high-crowned gray velvet hat, and the gray kid gloves.”

“Exactly so.” Livia nodded her satisfaction. “Now, could you bear to have just one vase of flowers in here? I think those golden dahlias and tawny chrysanthemums would look lovely on the pier table.”

“Yes, they would,” Aurelia agreed, getting to her feet. “It isn’t that I don’t love flowers, I do, but…”

“In moderation,” Livia finished for her. “I’m not sure how much the Russian prince knows about moderation.”

Aurelia said hesitantly, “Probably more than he lets on, Liv. I just have the impression that there might be more to him than he’s letting us see.”

Livia looked at her, her head tilted to one side, her gaze quizzical. “Isn’t that true of pretty well everyone, Ellie? If I thought what I’d seen was all there was to see of Alexander Prokov, then I would have no interest in him whatsoever.”

“You could be playing with fire.”

“I could,” Livia agreed. “And if I burn my fingers, it will be with full knowledge.”

Aurelia nodded. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I must go to Franny. I promised to take her for a walk. Are you in for luncheon?”

Livia grimaced. “Letitia Oglethorpe has inveigled me into a small ladies’ luncheon to discuss the latest on-dits.”

“For heaven’s sake, Liv…why did you accept?” Letitia was their bête noire.

“Accidentally,” Livia said with a groan. “The invitation was in a pile I was answering and I found I’d accepted it without realizing who it was from. And by then Jemmy had taken it to the post and it was too late…I could plead a headache…” She brightened momentarily, then sighed. “No, I can’t. Not if I’m going to walk in the park with the prince a few hours later. Someone’s bound to see me and mention it.”

“Well, good luck. I’m glad she didn’t invite me.”

“She would have done if she’d known you’d be back in town,” Livia pointed out. “But you could always just come.” Her smile was mischievous. “You know how delighted she’d be to see you…and just think of all the questions she’ll ask about Nell and Harry.”

“No, thank you,” Aurelia said firmly. “I’ll see you later.”

“So, tell us about Prince Prokov, Livia?” Lilly Devries leaned forward in her chair, her eyes bright with curiosity. “A most handsome man, I thought. Where did you meet him?”

“Oh, intrigue,” crowed Letitia Oglethorpe. “Is this a new man about town, Livia? I don’t know the name.”

Livia sighed. She’d guessed this would happen as soon as she’d seen that Lilly was one of the select group of ladies at Letitia’s luncheon. “I don’t really know anything about him. I met him at the duchess of Clarington’s ball the other night and danced once with him,” she said, hoping that an assumption of careless indifference to the subject might put them off pursuing it.

No such luck, of course. Letitia had an unfailing nose for sniffing out hidden morsels of gossip. “Well,
is
he handsome?” she demanded. “Handsome
and
rich?”

“I have no idea whether he has money or not,” Livia stated a little sharply. “I don’t go around asking strangers the state of their financial affairs…rather vulgar, I would have thought.”

It worked to a certain extent; Letitia pouted and turned her shoulder to Livia, demanding of Lilly instead, “Tell me about him. Where does he come from? How long has he been in town?”

Lilly threw up her hands. “I don’t know anything, Letitia, except that he’s a Russian prince and
I
at least thought him handsome. But Livia’s tastes may run to a different kind of look.” She glanced at Livia as she said this.

Livia decided it was probably best to get the subject over and done with. “He’s fair, with blue eyes…tall, quite slim, dresses well,” she said, counting the points off on her fingers. “I have the impression that he’s relatively new to London, but he hasn’t confided in me…I barely know the man.”

“Well, I shall ask Oglethorpe as soon as he comes in,” Letitia stated. “I must say, Livia, your lack of curiosity is unnatural. An eligible bachelor arrives in town and solicits your hand for a dance, and you don’t have any interest in him at all. It’s not natural, is it?” She appealed to the three other women in the salon.

“Not everyone is as inquisitive as you, Letty,” a somewhat older woman said, offering Livia a sympathetic smile.

“Maybe so, but I think it’s most ungenerous of Livia not to share her opinions,” Lady Oglethorpe declared. “Let us go into luncheon.” She rose from her chair in a swirl of orange taffeta and tucked her arm into that of Lady Devries. She led the way to the dining room, leaving the remainder of her guests to trail along in her wake.

Livia glanced at the clock as they crossed the hall. It was half past one. Another hour and a half and this torment would be over.

A
URELIA WAS RETURNING FROM A
walk in the park with Franny when Livia stepped down from the hackney carriage that had brought her back to Cavendish Square.

“Aunt Liv…Aunt Liv, we’ve been in the park,” the little girl shouted. “We fed the ducks.” She tugged on her mother’s hand, prancing on tiptoe in her eagerness to reach Livia.

“How was it?” Aurelia called, as she obeyed her daughter’s insistent tugs and hurried across the road, clutching Franny’s hand tightly. The child had a habit of shooting off on frolics of her own if not firmly tethered.

“Ghastly,” Livia said, pressing her hands to her temples. “It will teach me not to hurry when I’m answering invitations. I can’t think how I missed the card. Guess what the main topic of conversation was?” She bent to kiss Franny, whose chattering monologue continued unabated.

“Prince Prokov,” Aurelia hazarded.

“Spot on.” Livia turned to the steps to the front door. “Are you coming in?”

“Yes, I think I’ve probably succeeded in tiring Franny sufficiently to take an afternoon nap.” Aurelia, still holding Franny firmly by the hand, followed Livia up to the door and they waited the usual interminable time before Morecombe opened the door.

The heady scent of the flowers hit them as they stepped into the hall. “I’m guessing you didn’t mention the prince’s inordinately extravagant gift,” Aurelia said, releasing Franny’s hand and picking her way past an ornamental shrub that seemed to have thrown out tendrils, since it was carefully positioned on one side of the front door. Franny, shrieking with delight, ran from one display to another, like a bee sipping nectar.

“You guess right,” Livia agreed above the child’s excited babble. “Can you imagine what the gossips would make of it?” She shook her head with a grimace.

“If he continues to pay you attention, though, it will get out,” Aurelia warned her. “You are prepared for that?”

“Yes, but as long as the attention’s within bounds, it’ll be no more than the usual gossip,” Livia said, making her way to the stairs. “Talking of which, I’d better get ready for our jaunt in the park. That will stir some tongues certainly.”

“But it’s a perfectly respectable jaunt,” Aurelia said with a soft laugh. “Not like the florist’s shop. By the way, I left the brown velvet pelisse on your bed.”

“Thank you, you’re a love.” Livia hurried upstairs.

Half an hour later Livia examined her image in the cheval glass in her bedchamber and decided that if she wished to make a favorable impression on the Russian prince, then she was certainly going to succeed. The brown velvet pelisse had a richly luxuriant glow to it that set off her black curls, and the gray fur trimming brought out a faint bluish tint to her gray eyes. The high-crowned gray velvet hat gave her height and an air of elegance, nicely matched by gray buttoned boots and long gray kid gloves.

With a nod of satisfaction she headed downstairs to get Ellie’s opinion. “So, will I do?” she asked as she whisked into the parlor.

Aurelia turned from the secretaire, laying down her pen. “Oh, yes,” she said at once. “Very soignée, Liv. Very elegant.”

“Whom are you writing to?”

“Nell. I was wondering whether she and Harry had decided to come back to London before Christmas. She hadn’t made up her mind when I left Ringwood the other day.”

“I can’t wait to see her…well, all of them.” Livia perched on the arm of the sofa, arranging her skirts around her. “It seems ages since they eloped and her letters have been few and far between.”

“That’s the fault of the mail service,” Aurelia pointed out. “And if you’d seen Harry’s house way up in the Highlands you’d see the difficulties. Isolated is certainly the word for it.”

“I suppose so,” Livia agreed. “And it’s what Harry wanted. Long enough out of the social circuit for the old scandal about his wife’s death to die in the gossip mill. His instincts were right. It was on everyone’s tongue for a few weeks after he married Nell, but no one ever mentions it now. I doubt it’ll rear its head once they’re back in town.

“But still,” she added reflectively, “six months is a long time…the children will have grown out of recognition. Thank goodness Stevie didn’t suffer any lasting effects from the kidnapping.”

“No, he doesn’t really seem to remember much about it at all,” Aurelia said. “It was over so quickly, of course, and I think Nigel did try to reassure him throughout the ordeal that it was all going to be all right in the end.”

Livia looked a little skeptical. “How is Cousin Nigel these days?”

“A reformed character.” Aurelia shook her head. “I don’t understand what could have possessed him to gamble so high and get into so much trouble. He’s not a fool.”

“No, but he’s young,” Livia said. “And he was running with such a wild, fast set, all much plumper in the pocket than he is. It’s hard to acknowledge that you can’t keep up.”

“True enough,” her friend agreed. “Anyway, Nigel’s back at Oxford, apparently concentrating so intently on his studies that his tutors are now worried he’ll go into a decline. Isn’t that absurd?”

Livia laughed and then turned at the sound of the door knocker. “Ah, that will be my escort to the park.” She jumped up. “Everything in order?”

Aurelia looked her over and nodded. “Absolutely perfect. You look enchanting.”

“Well, thank you kindly, ma’am.” Livia dropped a mock curtsy and went to the door as the knocker sounded again. “I’d better open the door.”

She hurried across the hall, waving away Morecombe, who shuffled slowly from the kitchen. “It’s all right, Morecombe, I’ll get it.” She pulled open the front door. “Good afternoon, Prince Prokov.”

“Good afternoon, Livia…and please would you drop this prince nonsense,” he said, sweeping his hat in a flourishing bow. “It grows irksome.” He straightened and continued before she could summon the words to respond to this. “Ah, you’re not dressed for riding. Enchanting though you look.”

“You said nothing about riding,” Livia protested, taking in his immaculate buckskin riding britches, pristine white stock, and gleaming boots. “I thought we were going to walk. Besides, I don’t have a horse. I didn’t send to the livery stables.”

“What they provide can’t truly be called a horse,” he said dismissively. “I have brought you a horse. See for yourself.” He gestured to the street behind him.

Livia peered over his shoulder and her eyes widened. A groom stood holding the reins of the magnificent Cossack black, but also those of a dainty silver mare, whose elegant lines bespoke the Thoroughbred. “Oh, what a beautiful animal,” she breathed. “A perfect match for the black. Did you bring her from Russia too?”

“No, I bought her yesterday from Tattersalls,” he said nonchalantly. “Come down and make her acquaintance.”

Livia needed no urging. The mare raised her head, whinnied softly, and gave a well-bred shiver when Livia stroked the silky length of her neck. “Oh, you beauty,” Livia said, passing her hand over the velvety nose as the animal nuzzled her palm.

“Yes, I’m pleased with her,” Alex said a touch complacently. “How long will it take you to change?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Livia said promptly.

“I’ll wait here.” He watched her run back into the house with a most unladylike haste and smiled to himself, resigned to a long wait. In his experience no lady could change her dress in less than half an hour.

Livia, however, was not cut from the usual cloth. She reemerged in just under fifteen minutes, drawing on her gloves as she ran down the steps to the street. “There, I wasn’t too long, was I?”

“Indeed not,” he agreed. “I’m astonished at your speed.” He ran an appreciative eye over her figure, clad in a form-fitting dark green riding habit, the jacket adorned with epaulettes and hooked buttons in the manner of a hussar’s uniform. Her high-crowned hat sported a debonair curling plume. “Very nice,” he murmured. “Very nice indeed.”

Livia ignored the comment as she had tried to ignore the scrutiny, but it pleased her nevertheless. There was something very gratifying about such open approval.

Alex took the reins of the silver from the groom and gave them to Livia, then bent with cupped palm to give her a leg up into the saddle.

She went up easily and settled into the saddle, noticing the fine grain and supple feel of the leather. Fine tack for a fine animal, she reflected, but it didn’t surprise her that Alexander Prokov should own only the best. There was something so fastidious about him, it was impossible to imagine him coming into contact with, let alone owning, anything rough or inferior.

“Comfortable?” He ran practiced hands over the girths and stirrup leathers, checking the security and fit of the one and the length of the other.

“Very, thank you.” Livia smiled down at him, unable to disguise her delight in her mount or her eagerness to try the mare’s paces.

Alex nodded and swung onto his own horse. They rode out of the square, the groom following at a respectful distance on his own mount, a horse that Livia had already noted was also of a higher caliber than the customary mounts allotted to servants.

“You’re setting up your stables, then?” she inquired as they turned onto Oxford Street. She checked the mare, who pranced a little at the clatter of iron-wheeled carriages and the bustle of pedestrians and street vendors hawking their wares.

“To a certain extent,” he agreed, watching covertly to see how she handled the horse, who he thought was probably more highly strung than Livia was accustomed to handling, but he saw quickly that his vigilance was unnecessary; her hands were light but firm on the reins, her voice soft in reassurance, and the mare soon quietened. “I have the black, and two pairs of carriage horses.”

“And now this beauty,” she said, leaning to pat the mare’s neck.

“Ah, no, she belongs to you,” he said.

Livia sat up abruptly and the suddenly startled mare plunged forward. It took Livia a moment to soothe her before she could say anything in response to such an extraordinary statement. When she was able, she stared at her companion. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“There’s nothing ridiculous about it,” Alex stated. “I bought the horse for you. She’s a perfect ride for you. If you don’t have your own stables, then I will keep her in mine, and whenever you wish to ride, you will send a message and my groom will bring her to you. It’s a matter of utter simplicity.”

Livia continued to stare at him. “I think you’ve run quite mad,” she said. “I wouldn’t dream of accepting such a gift. Even if it weren’t utterly improper I couldn’t possibly accept such an overwhelming present…oh, it’s impossible even to express how insulted I feel.”

“Insulted?”
Alex looked genuinely astounded. “What could be insulting about such a gift? The horse is beautiful, you said so yourself. I thought only to give you pleasure, and it pleases me to see you riding a mount worthy of you.”

“How can you
not
understand?” she said, realizing that he really didn’t understand the impossibility of what he was proposing. “I don’t even know you. We’ve met twice…well, three times now. How do you think it would look?”

“Does it matter how it looks?”

“Now you’re being disingenuous,” she accused with exasperation. “I have to live in this society. You may play by your own rules, Prince Prokov, but I can’t. You may think nothing of such an outrageous proposal, but I assure you everyone else will draw the kind of conclusions that I do not want hanging around my neck. I think it would be best if I returned to Cavendish Square.”

She drew rein and attempted to turn the horse back the way they had come. Unfortunately a hackney cab was coming up behind them at a fair clip and the mare, suddenly faced with the cab’s horses, shied and threw up her head with an anxious whinny.

Alex leaned over and put a steadying hand on the bridle, drawing the silver mare to one side as the cab bowled past, the cabbie cursing them with colorful vigor.

“Unwise,” Alex said calmly. “Never pull up a horse suddenly in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare.”

“I know that,” Livia stated through clenched teeth. “Take your hand off my bridle.”

He didn’t do so immediately. “Let’s go on to the park, it’ll be much safer to continue this discussion out of the traffic.”

It made sense even to a furious Livia. She couldn’t simply ride home alone on his horse, and neither could they argue in the middle of Oxford Street. She flicked at her reins in an impatient gesture of acceptance and he removed his hand at once, urging his horse forward.

They rode in silence into Hyde Park and turned their horses onto the tan. It was immediately clear to Livia that they couldn’t possibly continue to quarrel here. London’s Upper Ten Thousand was out in force on a lovely late September afternoon, carriages bowling by on the broad pavement beside the tan, which was itself busy with riders, pausing to greet friends and acquaintances. Speed was impossible, and it was necessary to acknowledge the waves and greetings that came their way, and throughout she was acutely conscious of the speculative eyes on her horse.

“We can’t talk here,” she said softly after they’d been riding in silence for a few minutes. “I’m willing to ride once around the park and then I would like you to escort me back to Cavendish Square and we can put this ridiculous episode behind us.”

“I fail to see why a gift should come under the category of a ridiculous episode,” Alex protested, his voice as soft as hers, his smile unwavering. “Your definition of insult, my dear girl, is vastly different from mine.”

“Be that as it may…oh…” She broke off as a man came riding down the tan towards them. She waved a hand in greeting. “Nick, how are you? I haven’t seen you in an age.”

“I’ve been out of town, dear lady,” Sir Nicholas Petersham said, drawing rein. He raised his eyebrows as he took in her mount. “What a lovely creature, Liv,” he observed appreciatively. “Has the livery stable improved its stock, or are you setting up your own stable?”

“Neither,” Livia said swiftly. Nick was an old friend from their earliest days in London and the last thing she wanted was for him to have the wrong idea. “He doesn’t belong to me. Prince Prokov has loaned him to me for the afternoon. Are you acquainted with the prince?” She gestured to Alex at her side.