Authors: Julianne MacLean
“I expect it will be a full house tomorrow evening,” Lucille announced, intentionally interrupting their staring fest with a brusque reminder that they were not the only two people in the coach.
“I expect Your Grace is correct,” Nicholas replied, without the slightest hint of discomfiture.
He glanced only briefly at Alexandra again before engaging her stepmother in a conversation about the weather—always a safe and acceptable topic.
When they pulled to a halt in front of the house, he helped Lucille out first, then offered his hand to Alexandra.
This time, however, as she exited the coach, Lucille did not walk on ahead. She waited beside Nicholas, as if she knew she must stand guard against any clandestine whispers of an improper kind.
“It has been a pleasure escorting you both home this evening,” he said as he walked them to the steps. “Until tomorrow,” he said with a bow; then he departed.
Alex and Lucille slipped inside and handed over their capes and gloves to the butler, but before Alex could make haste to her bedchamber Lucille stopped her. “Not so fast, young lady. I wish to speak with you in the library.”
With sinking dread, she followed her stepmother across the hall. Lucille closed the double doors behind them.
“What did I say to you about keeping your eyes off Nicholas, but there you sat, practically throwing yourself at him.”
“I did no such thing.”
Lucille scoffed. “Do I look like a blind fool? Clearly you are smitten with the man, and I daresay he looked to be enjoying every minute of it. Have you forgotten why we are here in London? It is not for you to go traipsing about, flirting indiscriminately with the first handsome buck who pays you a compliment.”
“I have not forgotten,” she retorted, “and I have not been flirting indiscriminately with anyone, much less a
buck—
handsome or otherwise.”
Lucille squinted. “Don’t lie to me, gel. I know an infatuation when I see one, and he is the worst possible man to take up with in such a way, for he will spoil any chance you may have with Randolph. If it was another man, we could perhaps keep such a scandal secret, but he is Randolph’s brother! I forbid you to dance with him tomorrow night. You must make some excuse and direct all your attentions to the man who will occupy the throne.”
“I beg your pardon,” Alexandra argued, “but you cannot forbid me from dancing with Nicholas. If I lose his favor, I may lose everything. Let us speak of this no further.”
With her heart about to beat out of her chest, Alex strode quickly to the door.
“Impudent gel!” Lucille scolded. “Come back here at once, or I shall tell Mr. Carmichael what you have just said to me, and he will not be pleased!”
Alexandra swung around and spoke with heated restraint. “Tell him if you wish, but it would be a grave mistake. Do you
want
him to withdraw his support?”
“Of course not,” Lucille replied.
“Then do not stand in my way. Trust that I know what I am doing and, no matter what path I choose, I am still the rightful heir to that throne. When it comes to my future, there is much I have yet to decide.”
Lucille stared at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean? You overstep yourself.”
Alexandra felt a muscle clench at her jaw. “Do I indeed?” Then she gave her stepmother a fierce look of warning before she turned and exited the library.
* * *
Stinging raindrops had just begun to fall like pebbles from the sky when Nigel Carmichael galloped through the misty darkness onto Westminster Bridge.
He still wore his formal evening attire from the theater, and cursed the inclement weather as he reined in his mount halfway across the bridge.
The wind gusted violently, and he was forced to hold on to his elegant top hat, while his opera cloak blew open.
At long last, he heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats through the noise of the rain and spotted a horse and rider coming from the opposite side of the Thames. The rider trotted closer and came to a halt beside him.
“You could have chosen a more sheltered location,” the Duke of Kaulbach said. “I am already drenched to the bone. What news have you about the princess’s progress?”
“I spoke to Alexandra this evening. She assured me that all is proceeding according to plan, and that Randolph has singled her out on more than one occasion. I am hearing some talk in the clubs that she is the current favorite, though I have watched Randolph mingle with the public. He is charming toward most women. There are many who are nursing high hopes, I can well imagine.”
The duke’s horse tossed his head as a fierce blast of wind roared across the bridge and the rain struck their faces.
“Then Alexandra must work harder to seduce him. Have they been alone together yet?”
“Only briefly. She is always chaperoned. We must take great care not to let her out of our sight.”
“I am quite sure she is not in any danger. We are the only two people in England who know of her lineage, except for the dowager. Can she be trusted?”
“I believe so.”
His Grace paused as he considered everything. “You must encourage the girl to be more brazen. If he chooses another, we will be forced to rely on other means to restore her to the throne—and I doubt we could raise enough capital for that. Seduction is the most efficient way.”
“Not enough capital to fund an army, you mean—”
“Yes, for if such a thing were possible, I would have already done it.”
Carmichael tipped his head forward to shield his face from the stinging rain, and a stream of water poured from the brim of his hat. “I don’t believe an army will be necessary. She seems well motivated. She is strong willed. Beautiful as well. I have no doubt she will capture the hearts of the people the moment she sets foot in the country and blinds them with that dazzling smile.”
The duke nodded gamely. “That is exactly what I wish to hear. God is on our side this time.”
Carmichael nodded. “Let us hope so.” He paused. “And your son, the marquess—is he prepared to do his part?”
The duke paused. “I regret to say he has been misbehaving lately. We had a rather heated argument last night and he has left England for Petersbourg. But I have no doubt he will come around and help Alexandra to settle in once she arrives.”
“That is excellent news. In that regard, what have you heard about the health of the king?”
“He grows weaker every day.”
“I see.” Carmichael paused. “Well, then. Now is the time to act. We are doing the proper thing, Your Grace. It is long past time we restored the true monarchy to the throne.”
The duke steered his horse in the other direction toward Lambeth. “I daresay you rouse my blood, sir. Let us hope Princess Alexandra is up to the task.” He began to shout over his shoulder as he trotted away, “We shall meet again, Carmichael! But for now, continue to keep me informed, and keep that priceless jewel on track!”
Chapter Nine
A dull hum of conversation ensued in the main hall of Almack’s Assembly Rooms on King Street the following evening while a few immaculately dressed couples took part in a decorous country dance.
Alexandra glanced up at the large crystal chandelier overhead and watched the orchestra in the balcony above, then perused all the guests, looking for a very particular face.
“I see Prince Randolph has not yet arrived,” Lucille mentioned. “But oh, my word, look at that.… What a dreadful gown. Did no one say anything to her? Will no one help her to have good taste? It’s rather sad, is it not?”
Alexandra ignored Lucille’s observations as they were greeted by the wife of the Austrian Ambassador.
A short while later, Alex was invited to dance with a young viscount, and following that little triumph, a handsome eldest son of an earl escorted her onto the floor.
At last, Prince Randolph and Princess Rose were announced, and the crowd fell silent and parted with elegant bows and curtsies. The royal guests conversed with the patronesses for quite some time while Alex watched the door, wondering impatiently when Nicholas would arrive.
A full hour must have passed without any sign of him.
Later, when his brother approached her to claim his dance, she smiled warmly, laid her gloved hand upon his, and joined him on the floor for their set. All eyes were upon them as he led her through the figures of a traditional Scottish reel.
“My brother speaks highly of you,” he said when the proper moment presented itself.
“I am flattered,” she replied.
But had Nicholas been singing her praises as a potential future queen, or was Randolph now aware of his brother’s true feelings, and had she been disqualified from the race?
Glancing quickly to the left, she noticed her stepmother observing intently and thought how much easier this would be if she felt for Randolph only
half
of what she felt for Nicholas. Then there would be no need for a charade. There would be no urgent decisions to make.
She smiled at Randolph and tried to imagine herself married to him but was no longer certain she could be such a gifted actress for the rest of her life. It was one thing to wear a mask for the duration of an evening but quite another to deceive someone into a wedding and beyond until an heir was born. Especially when she was in love with his younger brother.
She made an effort to flirt with Randolph with her eyes, but he hardly seemed to notice as they joined hands and moved across the floor. Eventually, she could resist temptation no longer. She asked the only question that mattered.
“And where is your brother this evening?”
Randolph gestured toward the door. “As it happens, he has just arrived and is speaking to your stepmother this very moment.”
Alex turned to look.
Sure enough, there he was—the one man she could not banish from her heart and mind. Dressed in a royal blue frock coat and a waistcoat of white-embroidered satin, he looked more handsome than ever.
The dance came to swift finish, and before she knew it she was being escorted back to Lucille.
“Good evening, Lady Alexandra.” Nicholas bowed to her. “I wonder if I am too late. May I still claim my dance?”
Lucille piped in like an army trumpet, “But surely you must give the poor girl a chance to rest her feet. She has just come off the floor.”
“Quite right,” Nicholas replied, surrendering to Lucille’s greater wisdom. “How ungracious of me. Perhaps I could escort you to a quiet chair instead, my lady, where we will sit for the duration of the set.”
It was most certainly an unwise decision, but without hesitation she offered her hand to him. Together they crossed the ballroom and put some much-needed distance between themselves and her rigorous chaperone.
“I apologize for my tardiness this evening,” he said.
“You are indeed quite late, sir,” Alex replied.
“If you must know, I almost did not come at all.”
He picked up two glasses of punch from a passing footman carrying a tray, and handed her one.
“Why?” she asked. “Did you not wish to see me?”
She let go of his arm and they faced each other.
“Quite to the contrary,” he replied. “Though I am personally agonized by this situation, I will always wish to see you whenever possible.”
He took hold of her elbow and led her to a few unoccupied chairs in a dimly lit corner where they both sat down.
“That is very kind of you to say. I, too, wish to say something—something I have not been able to express until now.” She paused while his eyes searched all the corners of her face, which only served to intensify the fever that was heating her blood, simply from the nearness of him. “The letter you wrote … I … I was touched by it. Touched very deeply.”
His scintillating blue eyes fixed upon hers. “I wasn’t sure,” he said. “I thought perhaps I had offended you, but when you spoke to me in the coach last night, I knew there was still hope. You had not cast me aside completely.” He looked down at her hands upon her lap. “I fear I cannot hide what I truly feel, though I am compelled by duty to do the right thing.”
She swallowed over her restlessness. “Does your brother know how you feel?”
“No,” he replied. “I have told him nothing.”
“And you believe the right thing is for you to step aside,” she said, needing to reconfirm the particulars. Was there still a chance for them?
“I confess I am torn,” he replied. “I believed it was the right thing to do when I wrote to you, but every moment since has been more torturous to me than I can possibly convey. The mere idea of never sharing another private moment alone with you has been enough to drive me almost mad with regret for ever writing that blasted letter in the first place.”
A wild thrill of renewed hope flooded through her body.
He still wanted her. The desire was not gone. Heaven help her, she was losing sight of everything that mattered, but for the first time she didn’t care.
She took a sip of her punch and turned her eyes to the dancers.
“If you were to confess your feelings to your brother,” she carefully said, “my opportunities would be greatly altered. It seems my fate is in your hands, sir. I am at your mercy.”
He took a moment to consider that. “But would that fate not be altered for the better, my lady, if you chose love over duty?”
Still so afraid, so unsure, she fought to keep her true feelings concealed and slid him a surprised look. “Are you presuming that I am in love with you?”
“I presume nothing,” he replied. “I have always known my place. I am second in line for everything.”
Alexandra downed her punch in a single gulp. He was far too honest, which made this all the more excruciating.
“My apologies,” he said, taking the empty glass from her hands and setting it on the floor under his chair. “It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable.”
“I am not uncomfortable,” she replied, without looking at him. She feared that if she did, he would see straight into her soul and there would be no turning back. “But I wish you wouldn’t say such things. You don’t understand. My life is very complicated.”
“As is mine,” he told her. “There are things you don’t know about me, Alexandra. Things I wish to tell you, but I cannot. Not yet.”