To Wed a Wicked Prince (9 page)

“A certain form-fitting tightness can be very fetching,” Aurelia responded with a similar gleam of a smile. She laid the coat on the bed. “What time are you meeting your prince?”

“He’s hardly mine,” Livia protested. “But he said in his note that he would be waiting with the horses at the White Hart at the Richmond Gate at ten o’clock. It’s too early for anyone else to be riding for pleasure in the park, so we should be quite safe.”

“It’ll take you at least an hour by hackney,” Aurelia said. “You should leave by nine at the latest.”

“I’ll leave at nine,” Livia agreed. “And if it takes longer, then he must wait for me. A lady’s prerogative, after all.”

“Certainly.” Aurelia nodded. “I think you should wear my black felt hat with the little veil instead of the beaver with the plume. He’ll have to be very observant to notice that you’re still wearing basically the same habit.”

“And if he does notice, so what?” Livia declared stoutly. “The limitations of my wardrobe are no one’s business but mine.”

“Quite so,” averred Aurelia, but with another little smile. “I’ll fetch the hat.”

Punctually at nine o’clock, Jemmy jumped down from the hackney he had hailed on the corner of the square and ran up to the front door. “Jarvey says he don’t mind going to Richmond, Lady Livia,” he declared with satisfaction as he bounced into the hall. “First two I stopped wouldn’t go that far.”

“Thank you, Jemmy,” Livia said with a smile, drawing on her gloves. “I knew you’d manage.”

“You’ll be quite inconspicuous in a hackney,” Aurelia reiterated, adjusting the little veil on her friend’s hat. “Apart from the fact that no one’s going to see you anyway. It’s far too early for most society folk to be out of their beds let alone on horseback in Richmond Park.” She stepped back to examine the effect of her adjustment. “Yes, I think that’s perfect. You look very elegant.”

“Then I am ready to go.” Livia leaned forward to kiss Aurelia’s cheek. “Thank you, Ellie, you’re a rock of support.”

“Nonsense,” Aurelia scoffed. “You don’t need support. Go now and have a wonderful morning. If the mare’s as magical as you say, it should be bliss to ride her where you don’t have to worry about decorum.”

“Indeed,” Livia agreed. “That is, after all, the object of the morning’s exercise.”

“Of course,” Aurelia concurred gravely. “Of course it is.”

A
LEX STOOD IN THE STABLE
yard of the White Hart, slapping his gloves impatiently into the palm of one hand as he watched the stable clock. It was now just after ten o’clock.
Where was she?

He’d arrived at the inn by nine, had breakfasted in the tap room, and, until the last few minutes, had been perfectly serene and composed. Now he was seething with impatience, an emotion he had always avoided, believing that haste inevitably led to costly mistakes. He was a past master at waiting with a tranquil mind for the outcome or event he was expecting. So why this morning could he not take his eyes away from the clock?

She would come, he was certain of it. It was a journey of less than an hour on horseback, but in a hackney it would take quite a bit longer. So he rationalized the delay, but he was tapping his booted foot on the cobbles when a hackney turned into the gates to the stable yard at a quarter past ten.

He was aware of a swift surge of anticipation, a prickle of excitement as if at the beginning of a chase. And after all what was he embarking on if not the opening pursuit of a hunt?

He stepped forward to the door as the coachman drew in his horses, and opened it almost before the carriage had come to a complete stop. “Good morning, Livia.” He swept off his beaver hat and bowed, the sun glinting off his fair head as he greeted her with a smile, no indication of his earlier impatience in his calm tone. He held out a hand to assist her to alight.

For the entire journey Livia had had the sense that she was taking an irrevocable step into what was for her unknown territory. Several times she had leaned forward to open the window to tell the jarvey to return to Cavendish Square. But each time she’d sat back again, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her heart beating too swiftly for comfort.

Now she drew a deep breath and returned the greeting, pleased at the steadiness of her voice, as if they were merely meeting casually on the street instead of embarking on some kind of tryst. As always he was immaculately dressed in buckskin britches, shining top boots, a dark gray coat, and a simply tied white linen stock. There was nothing ostentatious, nothing of the dandy, about his appearance, merely a sense of quiet, composed perfection that was almost intimidating, and Livia had a strong desire to see him ruffled, untidy, discomposed, as if it would in some way even the playing field.

She took the offered hand, stepping down to the cobbles, blinking behind her wisp of veil at the sudden brightness of the morning after the dim light in the coach.

“A beautiful morning,” she observed, taking back her hand when he seemed disinclined to relinquish it. The banal remark was so at odds with the jumbled emotions of excitement, apprehension, anticipation that swamped her as she looked up at him that she could almost have laughed at herself. Except that she didn’t feel in the least like laughing.

“Perfect for riding,” he observed in much the same tone.

His tone might have been calm and matter-of-fact, but there was nothing matter-of-fact about his eyes as they swept over her. Their usual brilliant blue had darkened to an almost purple, a deep glow in its depths. She could read impatience, hunger,
lust
in his close scrutiny and a quiver ran through her belly. Suddenly it was as if all pretense, all the conventional delicate maneuvers that obscured true emotions had been stripped away. And she had a fleeting glimpse of the edge on which she teetered.

He spoke again into the moment of charged silence. “Do you wish to refresh yourself in the inn before we set out? I have bespoken a private parlor and there’s a maid to attend you.”

For some reason this considerate foresight surprised her, but she found its ordinary courtesy immediately reassuring. It brought her back from that edge. “Thank you, yes, I would like that,” she said appreciatively.

“Then come with me.” He reached out and lifted the little veil, setting it back over the neat black hat that perched at a rakish angle on her dark curls. “That’s better, I like to see your eyes.” His own were still as penetrating as two beams of blue light as they looked closely at her, seeming to take in every centimeter of her countenance. He gave a little nod, as if of approval, then took her hand and tucked it into his arm to usher her into the inn.

And immediately her sense of reassurance vanished. There was nothing conventional or ordinary about either the scrutiny or his proprietorial manner. How could she possibly insist on a proper formality, or expect a conventional distance between two near strangers, when she had not only agreed to this encounter in the first place, she’d insisted on a secrecy that immediately made it most improper?

Not that Alexander Prokov had ever observed the distances, she reminded herself, not even in the first moments of their initial meeting…one that he had carefully and quite ruthlessly engineered. She’d never been under any illusions, so it was a little late now for second thoughts. With a mental shrug she yielded to the greater force and allowed herself to be escorted into the inn.

The parlor was neat and comfortable. There was coffee and bread and butter, a discreetly provided commode behind a worked screen, and a smiling maid. “How long shall I give you?” Alex asked as he stood in the open doorway, his gaze sweeping the chamber to make sure all was as he’d ordered.

“Fifteen minutes,” Livia said.

“I’ll be waiting with the horses.” He bowed over her hand, said softly, “Don’t keep me too long,” and left.

Livia drew off her gloves and took the cup of coffee the maid handed her. She sipped gratefully of the revivifying liquid and concentrated on composing herself. No harm would come of this little adventure. No one would know of it; she would have an exhilarating ride in company that she enjoyed. No more and no less. With a nod of determination she slipped behind the screen to make use of the commode.

Alex was standing with both horses, talking with a stranger when Livia reemerged into the sunshine of the yard a quarter of an hour later. He broke off his conversation as Livia came up to them.

“At noon then, Boris.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The stranger bowed to Livia. “Good morning, ma’am.”

Livia returned the greeting wondering absently what
at noon
could mean. The silver mare whickered softly as she stroked her nose, and her hide rippled with a little shiver as if she were anticipating the prospect of a gallop as eagerly as her rider.

“She’s such a beauty,” Livia said, putting her foot into Alex’s cupped hands so that he could toss her up into the saddle.

“Any further thoughts on a name for her?” he asked, settling into his own saddle on the Cossack black.

“I don’t know her well enough as yet,” Livia responded, leaning forward to pat the mare’s silky neck. “When I’ve had a chance to ride her properly, then we’ll see.”

“Then let us go.” Alex clicked his tongue and the black pranced forward.

Livia’s anxiety had vanished the minute she was in the saddle and now she relaxed, getting the feel of the mare’s gait as they moved at a trot towards the entrance to the park. The air smelled crisp and slightly autumnal, but there was some warmth in the sun as they trotted down a wide deserted ride between lines of copper beech trees.

Livia nudged the mare with her heels and the horse threw up her head and broke into a canter. Her stride lengthened as Livia settled into the rhythm. Another nudge and they were galloping down the ride, Livia’s wisp of a veil flying up away from her face, the wind cold on her cheeks, her lips parted in a silent cry of exhilaration. She could hear the black behind her, then he was beside her, keeping pace so that they rode neck and neck. She glanced at Alex and he met her gaze, laughing with an exhilaration to match her own.

“Let her go,” he shouted above the rush of air that held them in a tunnel, a world of their own.

Livia leaned forward over the mare’s neck, reducing the wind resistance, and encouraged her with soft words into her flattened ears. And the horse raced along the broad ride, her stride lengthening, as the black kept pace and eventually drew ahead. For a few minutes Livia let the race continue, but then reined the mare in, inch by inch, knowing that the animal hadn’t the chest and heart of the Cossack black. The mare slowed with seeming reluctance to a gentle canter and then fell back into a trot.

Alex drew in his own horse and waited for them to reach him. “You know your horse,” he commented. “I knew you and she would be a good match.”

“She is gallant,” Livia said, leaning to stroke the mare’s neck. The animal was not in the least distressed by the mad gallop, indeed seemed eager for another race, tossing her head and sniffing the wind. “What do you call the black?”

“Suleyman.”

“Ah, yes, the Magnificent,” Livia said with a nod. “Appropriate.” She patted the mare’s neck again. “This lady, however, is Daphne. A woodland nymph who loved the chase.”

“And was ensnared by Apollo’s golden arrow.” Alex raised his eyebrows. “If I recall the myth correctly, she had no interest in marriage and begged her father to respect her wishes.”

“Yes, and he said he wouldn’t force it upon her but her beauty would,” Livia responded. “But Apollo still needed to set a trap to capture her,” she added.

“Indeed,” Alex murmured. He glanced sideways at her as they trotted along the ride. “Has anyone attempted to set a trap to catch Lady Livia Lacey?”

Livia looked up sharply. “Why would they need to?”

“Ah…forgive me.” He raised a hand in disclaimer. “But it is unusual for a woman of your attributes to be single at—”

“At my advanced age,” Livia interrupted, an edge to her voice. “As it happens, Prince Prokov, I am single through choice…I could see through any trap anyone might wish to set for me…and there’s absolutely no reason on earth why anyone would wish to set such a trap.” She nudged the mare with her heels rather more urgently than she’d intended and the horse leaped forward into a renewed gallop.

Alex watched them go. Another mistake on his part, he reflected ruefully. He couldn’t seem to get the note right with this woman. He’d hoped for a lightly amusing exchange that would lead easily into a declaration of his own interest. Instead, he’d sounded like a clumsy blunderer who hadn’t a sensitive and articulate word in his vocabulary. He set Suleyman to follow the mare.

Livia heard the black’s hooves growing closer and swung her horse onto a smaller, narrower ride through the trees. He would have to slow down to follow her. Perversely, she was aware of a thrill of excitement at the chase, a desire to outwit her pursuer. Impulsively she directed Daphne onto a still narrower ride with low overhanging branches. It would slow Alex even more, if indeed he bothered to follow her. And with another surge of exhilaration she realized that she would be very disappointed if he didn’t.

A broad oak tree dominated the head of the path just before it opened into a wide grassy sweep between majestic beech trees. The trunk divided about six feet from the ground from a deep saddle-like fork. An image from her childhood rose unbidden in Livia’s mind. There had been a tree with a crotch like that in the New Forest, outside Ringwood, the Hampshire village where she and Nell and Ellie had grown up. During school vacations the three of them had roamed freely in the company of Nell’s elder brother, Frederick, and his various school friends, until their parents had variously decided the time had come for their daughters to pursue more ladylike activities. Climbing that ancient oak tree had been one of their greatest pleasures.

Livia glanced briefly over her shoulder. There was no sign of Alex and the black as yet. She drew rein beneath the oak tree and knotted Daphne’s reins safely on her neck. She looked up at the fork of the tree, a quick assessing glance that seemed to send her straight back to her childhood. Without further thought she reached up for the branch above the fork and swung her body up off the saddle and into the tree. It was as if her body, her muscles, all remembered exactly what she had done so many times in the past. In the old days she had relied on Frederick or one of his friends to boost her up until she could grab on to the branch. But Daphne’s back had done as well.

The mare seemed startled at being suddenly riderless and pawed at the ground, shaking her head, setting the bit jangling. Then she raised her head, her ears pricking at the sound of another horse. The Cossack black appeared on the narrow path.

Alex, bent low over the saddle to avoid the overhanging branches, had been cursing both Livia and his own tactlessness from the moment she and Daphne had disappeared onto this narrow path that barely qualified to be called a ride. Now he raised his head gingerly and his heart leaped into his throat at the sight of the riderless mare. Had Livia been thrown? It was hard to believe, knowing what an experienced rider she was, but maybe she’d been knocked from the saddle by a branch…knocked unconscious…

“Livia…Livia…”
He shouted at the top of his lungs, startling both horses. There was no response and a film of sweat formed on his brow as his heart beat faster. He rode up to the mare, who had turned on the pathway and was high-stepping towards them. It was then that Alex saw the carefully knotted reins on her neck. They hadn’t tied themselves, and it was a task beyond the abilities of an unconscious victim of an overhanging branch.

His eyes narrowed as he scanned the path and the trees to either side. His moment of panic had passed.
Where the hell was she?
Clearly playing some game…and he wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that. He dismounted and walked slowly forward to where the mare had been standing. As he reached the spot something stung his cheek. He jumped, glancing down. An acorn had fallen to his feet.

“Livia, you devil,”
he exclaimed, looking up for the first time.

She laughed down at him from her perch in the tree. “I thought I’d forgotten how to climb trees,” she said. “It’s amazing how the body remembers the old tricks. Not bad for an aging spinster, don’t you agree?”

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he said somewhat uncertainly. He didn’t know whether he was amused or angry.