Authors: Julianne MacLean
Alexandra followed the butler down the stairs but felt a pang of anxiety when the front door opened and the true Prince Nicholas walked in.
He was dressed in formal evening attire with an elegant opera cape and top hat. He was just removing his hat and gloves when their eyes met.
Charmingly, he smiled and bowed to her. “Lady Alexandra, what a pleasure to see you.”
She reached the ground floor and paused at the newel post to offer the obligatory curtsy. “And what a pleasure to see you,
Nicholas.
”
His eyebrows lifted at the sound of his true name upon her lips.
“Ah,” was all he said.
“Indeed,” she replied. Turning to Spencer, she added, “Please tell Mr. Carmichael that I will wait for him in the coach.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Nicholas bowed again, then dashed up the stairs to speak to his brother.
Alexandra waited politely for the butler to open the door for her while deep down she wished she could find a way back into the drawing room—to bear witness to the heated conversation that was surely about to occur.
Chapter Seventeen
Rand looked up when the door of the drawing room swung open and his brother walked in.
“What happened?” Nick asked. “I just met Lady Alexandra in the main hall and she addressed me as Nicholas. You told her, then? How did she take it? Will there be a wedding?”
“Pour us both a drink,” Rand replied, not rising from his chair.
Nick moved to the side table and poured two brandies, then joined Rand in front of the fire.
“Did she explain why she didn’t meet you this morning?” Nick asked.
“Yes, and the reason is your fault for she heard about Lady Margaret at the Hanover Hotel. The dowager showed her the newspaper before she left the house at dawn, and naturally she took me for a rake. That is why she rejected me, and I cannot blame her. Not for that, at least.”
Nick frowned. “How the devil did she get ahold of that paper? It’s six weeks old, and it was printed in Petersbourg.”
“Her benefactor obviously has connections, but that is not the half of it. Lady Alexandra is not who we thought she was, and we have some decisions to make. It may be a late night. Cancel your plans, if you have any.”
Nick leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Consider it done. Tell me everything, and start at the beginning.”
* * *
The following morning, Alexandra woke from an uneasy slumber and could not eat breakfast, nor could she explain to her stepmother why she was not hungry. She certainly did not wish to describe what had occurred on the sofa at St. James’s Palace the night before. It was enough that she had revealed Randolph’s masquerade to Mr. Carmichael and the fact that she, too, had confessed her true identity.
Which explained why she could not eat this morning. She entered the breakfast room, breathed in the scent of eggs, ham, and toast on the sideboard, and felt unbearably nauseous. All she could do was pour herself a cup of coffee and hold it to warm her hands.
“Are you not hungry?” Lucille asked, tapping the shell of her boiled egg with a small silver spoon.
“No.” Alexandra sat across from her at the table. “I couldn’t sleep. I have no idea how this will be resolved, and I am tormented by the thought that Randolph believes I have behaved dishonorably. I did care for him—as you well know—for you were the one who stopped me from eloping with him.” She raised the steaming cup of coffee to her lips and regarded Lucille over the rim. “But perhaps you regret that now.”
Lucille set down her spoon. “There is no need to punish me. I had no idea he was the true heir to the throne. If I had known, I most certainly would have let you go.”
Alexandra leaned back in her chair. “So now we all know the truth.”
At that moment, the clatter of a coach and horses outside caused them both to turn their eyes to the window.
“Could it be him?” Lucille asked, perching forward in her chair.
Alex rose to look outside.
“Yes, it is the palace coach.” Her stomach careened with nervous butterflies and a terrible fear that this would all end very badly and collapse around her like a giant house of cards.
“It is not the proper time of day for a social call,” Lucille said. “It must be a matter of utmost importance.” She stood quickly and dropped her napkin to the floor. “I should have chosen a prettier gown. This shade of blue does nothing for me. You look lovely, however. Shall we move to the drawing room?”
Alexandra watched from the window as the coach pulled to a halt and the footman opened the door.
Out stepped His Royal Highness Prince Randolph, wearing a dark greatcoat and black top hat.
Alex’s heart skittered like a stone skipping over water at the mere sight of him. How handsome he was. All she wanted was to hear the sound of his voice, to feel his breath in her ear and the soft touch of his hand upon her skin. To return to the erotic pleasures of the night before, when she had not known her world was about to shatter.
Alexandra turned bravely to face her stepmother. “The time has come. Let us go and hear his decision.”
* * *
“Welcome, Your Royal Highness,” Lucille said, dropping into a deep curtsy as he entered the drawing room. “Won’t you please come in?”
He was impeccably dressed, but his eyes were weary, as if he had not slept.
“Good morning to you both.” He turned to Lucille. “I am here to request a moment alone with Lady Alexandra to discuss a matter of personal importance.”
The implication was obvious to Lucille. She nodded and moved efficiently to the door. “Of course. If you will excuse me. I will wait in the breakfast room.”
With that, she swept out and closed the doors behind her.
Alex regarded Randolph curiously in the morning light.
“Would you care to sit down?” she asked, gesturing toward the sofa.
“No,” he coolly replied, wedging an instant emotional distance between them, deep as a canyon.
Steadying her nerves, she watched him clasp his hands behind his back and glance around the room at the furnishings and the portraits on the walls. The vase of flowers on the mantel.
Tick, tick, tick,
went the clock.
At last, he spoke.
“I was up all night discussing the matter with Nicholas,” he explained, “and he is of the opinion that a marriage between us may be good for the country, and might put an end to the political turmoil that exists between the disputing factions. He believes enough time has passed, and that the birth of an heir descended from the House of Tremaine, if presented a certain way, could be a most celebrated event.”
Alexandra moved closer. “And what do
you
believe?”
He turned and walked to the window. “I have always trusted my brother’s opinions. He has a good sense of the people.”
Her stomach flipped over with nervous, cautious hope, for she would do anything for a second chance with Randolph. Anything.
How odd that she had never intended to love the Prince of Petersbourg. In fact, she had hated him—or at least the idea of him—since the day she learned the truth about her real family. When she discovered he would travel to England to seek a bride and future queen, her pursuit of his hand had been an act of duty and vengeance.
Yet now here she stood, the morning after she’d given her innocence to the man she vowed never to love, and her heart was breaking in two, because he was not the same. Gone were the heated flirtations she had come to live for. Gone was the thrill of their passion, which she had seen in his eyes on so many wonderful occasions. Instead, this morning he looked completely disenchanted with her.
“For that reason,” he continued, “I wish to make you an offer of marriage. Whatever concerns you may have had in the past for your safety, or the safety of your family, may be put to rest. As my wife, you will be under my protection, and no harm will come to you. Though I warn you now, there will be those who will disapprove of this marriage. The country is divided, remember. You may have your supporters, but we also have ours.”
This was certainly no fairy-tale ending. In fact, Alex felt slightly ill from the loss of his affection, but she reminded herself that it was not so different from what she had originally envisioned. And perhaps there was still hope. Perhaps in time she could prove to him that her love was true.
“What about your father?” she asked. “I do not suspect he will be pleased. Will he not wish to have some say in the matter?”
Randolph looked away. “My father has not been well in recent months, and I doubt he will have the strength of will to oppose it.”
Not been well? She had not known of this.
Randolph looked at her intently. Was he waiting for an answer?
If so, what was
she
waiting for? This was a marriage proposal from the future King of Petersbourg, a union that would secure the restoration of her family’s proper place in history.
And she loved him. More than anything.
“I accept,” she said at last, though for some reason when the words passed her lips she dropped her gaze, for she could not look him in the eye.
This was not what she had been dreaming of these past few days. It was not even close.
The clock ticked away in the stony silence of the room until slowly he strode closer. “Tell me one thing,” he said. “Why did you not come to me sooner with this petition? Your benefactor obviously knew that you would have many supporters among the Royalists. Why did you begin with a charade?”
Alexandra took a seat on the chair opposite the sofa. “It was common knowledge that you had no interest in a political marriage,” she explained. “You wanted to marry for love, so that is what we sought to achieve.”
His eyes darkened. “
Love.
You sought to achieve
love.
Through lies and deceit. Do you feel you succeeded?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “But before you judge me too harshly, remember that you sought to achieve it through dishonesty as well. You lied to the woman you claimed to love.”
A muscle clenched at his jaw, but his eyes never veered from hers. “We could go on and on like this,” he said, “around and around, knocking the ball back and forth. Clearly we are both guilty of some form of deception.”
“Indeed we are, and I have forgiven you for yours. Have you forgiven me?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his shoulders heaved with a deep, resigned sigh. “I won’t lie to you, Alexandra. I don’t know what I feel for you.”
His words were like a knife in her heart, for she and Randolph had come so far to reach this moment. He had taught her to love and had inspired her to give up her vengeance, which had been a driving force in her world for six years. She had never felt so happy as she did on the day she decided to run away with him. But it was all gone now. That happiness was no more. This felt more like a funeral.
“Is there any hope for us?” she asked.
He blinked slowly and bowed his head. “I have been hunted all my life by ambitious women and their overbearing mothers, and just when I thought I found the one woman in the world who wanted me for myself, I discover she was a fortune hunter all along.”
“Please do not call me a fortune hunter,” Alex said. “That is not what I am.”
They both looked away from each other and said nothing for a grim and somber moment.
“Where does this leave us?” she asked. “You have proposed, and I have accepted. Now what?”
His eyes, at last, met hers. “You will accompany me back to Petersbourg, and we will give the public what they want—a spectacular royal wedding.”
“How lovely it will be for them,” she said.
“Lovely indeed,” he replied.
Her heart throbbed painfully, and she was half-tempted to leap out of her chair and shake Randolph senseless for being so unforgiving, because she loved him. She
loved
him! Could he not see that?
Yet at the same time she understood his skepticism. She was the true heir to the throne he would one day occupy, and she was a member of the enemy Royalist cause that opposed his father’s rule and deemed him a usurper. And she had practically accused him of murder. How in the world would she ever convince Randolph that she was faithful and true?
“When will we depart for Petersbourg?” she asked.
“In three days. Arrangements are already under way. The regent has been informed that I have found the bride I was seeking, and he will reveal my true identity and announce our engagement at a political assembly tomorrow evening.”
“The regent knew all along?”
“Yes. We couldn’t have done it without his support and assistance. I daresay he was rather amused and inspired by the whole affair.”
“It will cause quite a stir,” Alex replied, “when members of the
ton
discover they have been tricked.”
“Perhaps,” he replied, “but the dust will settle soon enough with the announcement of our military alliance.” He paused. “You see, I did not come here for the sole purpose of seeking a bride. My father has commissioned four new navy ships to be built here in England. Compared to that, our little royal wedding is merely incidental.”
Making a sincere and noble effort to maintain her dignity before such a clear reminder that she was no longer the center of his world, Alex stood up and held her head high. “Ah. Then it will be a most auspicious event tomorrow evening. I must consider what to wear.”
He stood up as well. “In that regard, I hope you will accept this symbol of our engagement.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a ring, which he held up in front of her.
“Is that a ruby?” She felt almost dizzy at the sight of it. It was a magnificent stone surrounded by diamonds.
He reached for her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. “Yes. It belonged to your mother.”
Alex’s heart flipped over in shock as she admired it.
Her mother’s ring. It fit perfectly. How could this not be some divine act of providence? How could her and Randolph’s accidental meeting on the terrace that first night have been anything other than fate?
She laid her hand over her heart. “This means so much to me, Randolph.”