How to Propose to a Prince (14 page)

Sumner pulled her toward him again. “Shh, Elizabeth, do not cry, please,” he whispered into her hair, which in the bright moonlight resembled a bloodred cloak over her shoulders.

“I—I can’t stop. I know she is there to gain Parliament’s support—and what that means to us.” She drew in a jagged breath.

“Hush now, my sweet one.” He cupped her chin in one hand and gently kissed her forehead.

She raised her chin higher, and he kissed away a teardrop that had begun to roll down her cheek. And then, placing her fingertips on the edge of his jaw and tilting his mouth to hers…she pressed her tender mouth to his lips.

“I thought you’d gone. That I would never see you again…that I would soon become naught but a forgotten moment to you.” Her words felt like a warm breath against his parted lips.

“I could never forget you, Elizabeth. Never.” He felt an ache in his chest. He wished with all his heart he could spare this pain by telling her the truth—that he was not Leopold. That it was his sworn duty to protect the prince, his cousin, no matter the cost.

“And I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing you again. I love you, Sumner.” She turned and looked up and into his eyes. “I love you.”

His breath caught in his throat and searing heat surged into his eyes. Sumner pushed back
from her and turned away. He couldn’t let her see him like this. So vulnerable.

Her hand touched his side, and he lurched forward until he came to an ancient oak tree. He leaned his head and a hand against the tree for support.

No one had ever said that to him before.

Ever.

He had not been prepared for the overwhelming effect of those simple words. For the way it shook both his mind and his body so dis-ablingly.

“Please, don’t leave me.” Her voice came from only a short distance behind him, but she might have been a league away just then. “Sumner, please.”

“I have to go.” His voice broke and so he hardened his next words. “It is my sworn duty.”

The thrash of dried leaves beneath her feet heralded her arrival behind him. Soft hands eased around his waist and she laid her head against his back. He did not turn around. Could not, just now.

“If you must go, remember that I love you.” Her voice was soft, but even now he could hear the rawness in her tone. “And if you can, someday, please, come back for me.”

Sumner’s body stiffened at her words.

Come back for her.

His fingers dug into the bark of the oak. Once the agreement for marriage was secured and Leopold safely back in Paris—he could come back for Elizabeth. Yes, he owed the family much and was prepared to sacrifice his life for Leopold, to protect him as the prince carried out his own duty. But once Leopold was safe, he could resign his commission and, though until now he’d never considered a life apart from the military, he could leave it.

He could come back for her.

He could begin life anew.

Sumner turned around so quickly that her arms remained around him. He clutched her to him and held her tightly.

“I will come back for you,” he said, louder than he had intended. “I will.”

Elizabeth turned her glistening eyes up at him. Tears rushed anew down her smooth cheeks, but this time the tears were of happiness.

He bent and kissed her deeply, feeling more joy than he had ever known.

E
lizabeth was reluctant to return to Cranbourne Lodge, even though she knew she must. Her heart felt weighted with worry, now that she and her prince had left the sanctuary of the forest, that the thorns of reality would puncture her dream of the future they would share and shred his promise to come back for her.

Sumner brushed a lock of hair from her face and kissed her gently at the door of the lodge just as the sky began to change from darkest ebony to a cool gray. “Trust me, Elizabeth. I will come back for you. Believe in me. We will be together. Somehow. Someday. Soon.”

Elizabeth nodded, already feeling the smile she’d affixed to her lips for Sumner begin to
dissolve. She peered up into his gray eyes, but fixed her attention on the vibrant blue ring surrounding them. She had to believe in her dream. Had to believe in Sumner and in their growing love. She had to have faith. “I trust you, Sumner. Come back for me…soon.”

She tilted her head back and their lips met again in a kiss full of promise. Wishing never to let him go, her arms had wrapped around him, when she heard the bolts being released on the door. Her eyes widened. The doors had been locked sometime after she left. “Sumner. I love you,” she whispered. “But you must go. Hurry.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a heady kiss just one last time, then turned and disappeared into the morning fog hovering over the lawn.

The old footman opened the door just then, sleepily adjusting the white wig atop his head. He nodded to her. He stepped back, and without a word allowed her to enter the lodge.

As Elizabeth slowly ascended the stairs to her bedchamber and slipped beneath her coverlet, a blissful smile mellowed upon her lips. She would believe in Sumner.

Yes, he would leave for London this day for Sir Henry’s Curzon Street home, where he and
his cousin had been invited to stay in seclusion, if they wanted, for a fortnight.

But she no longer fretted over Sumner’s leaving.

She closed her eyes with the taste of Sumner’s kiss still sweet on her lips. Sleep would come easily to her now—for she knew her dream would come true.

Sumner had promised they would be together somehow, and no matter what happened, he would come back for her.

When the clock in the passage tinged ten of the clock, Elizabeth opened her eyes to find Princess Charlotte sitting at her bedside, her arms tightly folded and her mouth set in a hard grimace.

“You have returned.” Elizabeth lurched upright. “Were you successful?”

The princess glared. “None of my gowns will fit me now. Aida suspected as much, but of course I was not convinced. But then she attempted to dress me in two, one after the other, and neither could be laced closed. The dresses were only meant to be pin-fitted—not finished!”

“Oh…” Elizabeth sighed. “I do apologize, but the French modistes insisted upon fitting the gowns and ensembles perfectly. I have no French,
and was quite unable to convince them to stop once the pinning had been completed or even to leave more room for freedom of movement.”

Princess Charlotte did not speak, but her eyes grew darker with anger.

“I was quite concerned, Your Royal Highness, until I realized, in your wisdom in concocting the plan, you must have considered the differences in our shapes and decided that the gowns were the price of your escape to London.” Worry began to snake up Elizabeth’s spine. The princess was not softening.

“You decided that, did you?” Princess Charlotte leapt up from the slipper chair. She widened her stance and set her fists on her hips. “Despite the queen’s intervention on my behalf, and Henry Brougham’s less than persuasive oration on the need to increase my portion, my income has not been increased. It already is not adequate to support my mode of living—let alone my staff.”

“I—I was not aware.” Elizabeth swallowed hard.

“I am afraid you are too great an expense, Miss Royle.” Princess Charlotte whirled and stalked heavily toward the door.

“I do apologize most humbly—” Elizabeth began, but Princess Charlotte was not listening.

Before leaving the bedchamber, the princess jerked around. Her cheeks were glowing like a setting sun and she fairly spat as she delivered her next message. “
We
shall return to Warwick House within the week.
You
will return to Berkeley Square, where you will not have the opportunity to make any other costly decisions on my behalf.”

Seizing the door, without the aid of the footman reaching for the handle, the princess slammed the bedchamber door closed behind her.

Elizabeth sat, startled, for several moments.

Then she leaned back against the pillow and smiled.

What did this matter? Like her prince, she was going back to London.

Her happily ever after was close at hand. She could feel it.

Cavendish Square
Lady Upperton’s library

“Well, dove, I am happy to have you back with us all once more, but I daresay, do you think angering the princess was the best way to achieve your homecoming?” Lady Upperton glanced sidelong at each of the Old Rakes, who
sat upon the settee in a perfect row like dark-plumed ravens.

“Angering the princess was bound to happen. Making her furious was inevitable. She is highly volatile and most childish.” Elizabeth shook her hands before her, hoping they would understand. “It was only a matter of time.”

“I daresay, her good opinion of you is likely gone forever. She is well known within Society for holding a grudge.” Lady Upperton chewed her lower lip with worry. “I pray she does not seek to soil your name.”

Elizabeth did not care in the least what the princess thought of her, though she knew she ought to. Princess Charlotte could easily make her a pariah in Society—if she was able to escape her cage long enough to do so. “I vow, I am not the only miss who irks her. In fact, the only woman she seems able to tolerate is Mercer—I mean, Miss Elphinstone—and why she tolerates the princess is beyond my comprehension.”

“Is it possible, Elizabeth, that your feelings toward Princess Charlotte could be colored red by your own jealousy?” Gallantine asked as he rubbed the stubbled gray growth on his chin.

“M-My jealousy?” Elizabeth was astounded that he could suggest such a thing. “If anything,
it was she who harbored feelings of jealousy for me. After all, I hold the prince’s heart.”

Lord Lotharian met Lady Upperton’s concerned gaze. After a moment of silent utterances between the two, he addressed Elizabeth. “Parliament supports a marriage between Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold. The only hindrance is Prinny’s blessing, which he will surely grant in time.”

“He will not marry her.” Elizabeth smiled smugly. “He loves me.”

“Dear gel,” Lilywhite said, absently rubbing his round belly, “even in this day, love and marriage are not mutually exclusive.”

“But I told you about my dream.” Elizabeth exhaled a frustrated breath. “Please, believe me. We will marry.”

Gallantine shrugged. “There is the possibility that the gel could be right. Her dreams have come…close to coming to fruition. And the prince has yet to receive Prinny’s blessing, and there are those who maintain that he still desires a marriage between his daughter and William of Orange.” He gave an inappropriate chuckle.

“What amuses you so, Gallantine?” Lotharian’s hawkish eyebrows inched toward his nose.

“Only that if the Regent manages such a
union, he can pack the gel off to the Netherlands and be done with her and her antics. The people love her better than him, and he is no doubt well aware of this.”

Lady Upperton scowled and shook a tiny finger most impolitely at him. “Do not encourage Elizabeth’s ideas, Gallantine. What are you thinking?”

“I am only saying it is possible the young prince does have a fondness for our gel, here. And it might be remiss of us not to explore this possibility.” Gallantine rose stiffly from the settee and circled the group as he considered his own statement. “After all, we did swear to Royle we’d see to his daughters’ happiness and welfare—which we all agree includes marriage. What better match could we possibly achieve for Elizabeth than to a prince, eh?”

Elizabeth realized she had found an ally in her quest for the prince. “The prince and his cousin were invited to stay at Sir Henry Halford’s house on Curzon Street. Mercer had let it slip that Princess Charlotte orchestrated several interviews for him with the Duke of Kent and several ministers in Parliament to help build support for a union.” Elizabeth suddenly felt it difficult to draw breath. “While I believe that the prince will choose me, I believe, too,
that I must do my part. If I can find a way to meet with the prince, even once more before he returns to Paris for a time—”

Gallantine began to nod. “Yes, yes. There is the dinner party at Sir Henry’s house Thursday evening.” A sly expression lifted his sagging features. “Miss Elizabeth and I have been invited to attend.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right, my lord.” Elizabeth shot up from her chair. “Surely the prince and his cousin will be in attendance.”

“I have an uneasy feeling about this, I must admit.” Lotharian thrummed his fingers on his knee, but glanced once or twice up at Elizabeth, who did her best to plead her case with her eyes. “Will his protégé, Manton, attend as well?”

Gallantine nodded. “He did mention that he would also attend. I have a notion he fancies our Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth colored. “Mr. Manton is handsome and good, and true, he is heir to a viscountcy—but…I love Sumner.”

Lotharian’s attention pricked up the moment she uttered the name. “Who have you fallen in love with?”

“
Sumner
,” Elizabeth said very slowly, wondering if the old man’s hearing was not quite as keen as it once was.

“Oh, you are referring to the prince’s cousin, young Lord Whitevale.” Lotharian’s gaze seemed to bore into her. “His father was once a fellow member at White’s. Can’t say that I knew him well though. Don’t know that anyone did.”

“No, no. Not his cousin…
the prince
. Sumner, he told me, is the name only those who know him intimately call him,” Elizabeth replied. “It is some sort of family name, I believe.”

“And he allows you to address him as Sumner?” Lady Upperton asked, with a most curious expression upon her round face.

“Yes. He requested it.” Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat. “We…we have become very close, Sumner and I.”

“Sumner, eh?” Lotharian leaned his elbow on his knee and bent slightly, to twirl a few strands of one of his thick gray eyebrows. He glanced up at Lady Upperton, who was nodding her head madly.

“I say, I think she must attend the dinner party.” She glanced around at the others for agreement. “After all, the prince will likely be in attendance.”

Lotharian skewered Gallantine with his gaze. “My good man, do you think you can secure an additional invitation for Elizabeth’s spon
sor? I think it appropriate that Lady Upperton be there since, from what I have heard, the other guests will be gentlemen.”

“I am sure I can manage something, Lotharian,” Gallantine said.

“Good, good. I agree that Elizabeth should at least have her chance with…Sumner.” Lotharian shifted his intense gaze to Elizabeth. “Isn’t that what you called him, dear?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth surveyed Lord Lotharian and then Lady Upperton through narrowed eyes.

Something was not as it seemed, she just did not know what it was. But never mind. She was going to see her prince on Thursday.

Berkeley Square

Elizabeth sat at the scrubbed pine kitchen table reviewing the household budget and Mrs. Polkshank’s market list. She was quick to note that during the short time she’d been at Cranbourne Lodge, expenses were even higher than before she left. But today she wouldn’t let it worry her overmuch.

She was just so happy to be home, with her own responsibilities and tasks to undertake, instead of sitting idly in royal splendor.

Handing the market list along with a small clinking pouch of coins to Mrs. Polkshank, she started from the kitchen to see to Great-aunt Prudence.

Mrs. Polkshank accepted the list and the pouch, but appeared utterly confused. “What, you ain’t wishin’ to argue the cost of bread and beef?”

Elizabeth stopped and turned. “Not today, Mrs. Polkshank.” She cast her a brilliant smile and then started up the stairs for the parlor.

She found Great-aunt Prudence in her favorite chair, positioned between the hearth and the window looking out upon Berkeley Square. She was wide-awake.

A small book lay upon the old woman’s lap, which she tried to hide between her leg and the arm of the chair when Elizabeth entered the room. She gave Elizabeth a toothy grin, while her palsied hand fumbled to conceal the book more fully.

“Chatter in the house says you will be attending dinner with Sir Henry Halford,” the old woman said.

Elizabeth pulled another chair close and sat down near her great-aunt. “Yes, among others—including my prince.” She lifted her lips demurely.

“How do you find that eel-backed baronet, Sir Henry?”

Elizabeth chuckled at that. “Good heavens, where did you hear that description of him?”

“From a colleague of your father’s, another surgeon to the king, Wardrop was his name,” Prudence said. “Granted, this was years ago. Still, he didn’t trust him, and I only mentioned it because perhaps you shouldn’t either, gel.”

“I have had no occasion to trust or mistrust Sir Henry, I assure you.” What a thing for her great-aunt to say. “How are you feeling today, dear? You seem exceedingly well.”

“As well as a woman of my years can feel, I suspect.”

Elizabeth reached down between the old woman and the armrest and withdrew the book she had placed there. “I see you have been reading.” She started to open the tome when her great-aunt caught her hand.

“Cherie brought me the
Times
this morning. I have been reading that, too. The newspaper reports that Liverpool and Parliament support a marriage between the princess and
your
prince.”

Elizabeth set the book down in her own lap and shot a glance out the window. “It is nothing.”