How to Pursue a Princess (21 page)

“No, thank you. I’m merely bruised and a bit sore.”

“I’m glad you were not seriously injured.” He glanced around and, seeing that only Emma was within earshot, added, “I was going to invite you for a walk tomorrow, for the duchess has nothing planned as of yet, and I thought it might be a good time to see her gardens. I hear they are quite phenomenal.”

“I’d love to.”

He smiled warmly and she was touched by his enthusiasm.
See? Being married to him wouldn’t be a trial at all. I’ve been allowing my imagination to run away with me when—

Emma stood, her movement so jerky that Lily and Huntley looked at her in surprise.

She flushed when she met Lily’s gaze. “I’m sorry, but I cannot— I mean, I think I—” She took a shaky breath. “Lady Charlotte wishes to speak to me, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just—”

Huntley caught Emma’s hand and held it between his. “Emma, please, whatever’s wrong? You look ill.”

“No, no,” Emma said, untangling her hand. “I’m famished, that’s all. It’s getting late and I haven’t eaten since noon.”

The earl looked surprised. “Should I fetch you some refreshment and—”

“No, no. I’ll be fine.” Emma had composed herself
and appeared almost normal, though her cheeks were still faintly pink. “I was just feeling a bit dizzy is all. I’m better now.”

Huntley smiled beguilingly. “Then stay a few more minutes. Please?”

She bit her lip, and after a moment sank back into her seat. “I suppose I can see Lady Charlotte after dinner.”

“Of course you can,” Huntley said, concern in his brown eyes. “You may speak to her during our whist game. You must play, for I intend on winning back some of the coins you stole from me.” He told Lily, “Emma and I played billiards this afternoon and she won every game.”

“Ah,” Lily said, feeling as if she’d somehow missed something. “I have been warned.”

“I was just on a lucky streak today.” Emma smoothed her gown, bright spots of color in her cheeks. “The duchess has grand plans for us the day after tomorrow. She wishes us all to visit the folly built on the island in the middle of the lake. We’re to take boats and paddle over, and then spend the day exploring.”

“There’ll be a luncheon, too,” Huntley added.

“That will be lovely.” Lily liked follies, and she’d seen several beautiful ones. Follies were quite the rage. Ornate buildings built to seem like ancient ruins, usually constructed to resemble fallen Greek or Roman temples, they were strategically placed to surprise and delight visitors strolling about one’s property.

“This one is supposedly very elaborate,” Emma said. “Her grace showed us the architect renderings last night, and I’m excited to see it, for it’s extensive. There is a half-fallen temple, surrounded by carefully overgrown vines and, farther into the woods, two huge columns lying upon their sides to look as if an even bigger temple of some sort had fallen long ago—”

“
Ionic
columns,” Huntley inserted.

Emma looked pleased. “Yes, they were! I should have known you’d appreciate that detail.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been a student of architecture for the longest time.” A half smile touched his mouth. “But then, you know that.”

“It’s a pity you’ve never designed something. I’ve often said you should.”

He laughed. “You think I could do anything.”

“You can. You’ve only to try and I’m certain you could do it.”

“Ah, Emma, you are always encouraging me to try new things. You are the sister I always wished to have.”

Emma’s smile disappeared, a stricken look in her eyes.

Huntley didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he smiled at Lily. “I hope you’ll let me be your guide when we visit the folly. It would please the duchess, for she suggested it. It would please me, too.”

Self-conscious, Lily glanced under her lashes at Emma, who was now looking with a fixed expression across the room, seemingly detached from the conversation. But Lily was certain she knew what Emma’s
expression meant.
Emma cares for him. Good God, how did I miss that?

But then Emma caught Lily’s gaze and smiled, as calm and serene as ever, and Lily wondered if she’d imagined the expression in the older woman’s eyes.
Perhaps Emma was reacting to something else?

“Lily, if you don’t wish to go for a walk tomorrow, we could find another amusement.” Huntley leaned closer, his smile fading. “If it’s is too much, then—”

“No, no. A walk would be just the thing.”

“Excellent. We will go after breakfast. It won’t be as entertaining as the folly will be, though, will it, Emma?”

“No, indeed. The duchess says it’s historically accurate.”

“It will be magnificent.” Huntley began to expound upon Greek architecture, obviously a subject near to his heart.

“Huntley,” Emma finally said, breaking into his detailed description of a temple he’d seen when on the Continent in his youth, “the butler just informed her grace that dinner is served.”

People were starting to move toward the doorways. As the three of them followed the other guests, Lily scanned the crowd.

“Looking for Prince Wulfinski?” Emma’s voice was low so that Huntley couldn’t hear.

Lily’s cheeks heated. “I wished to thank him, of course.”

“You won’t see him here. The duchess has forbidden him to attend any more of her functions.”

Lily stiffened. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“She says that it would be awkward to have him here when his grandmother is not allowed. She told him yesterday after your accident.”

Lily’s hands tightened into fists.
How dare the duchess do such a thing? Why, I might never see him again—
Her heart sank.
But that would be for the best, wouldn’t it?
She stole a glance at Huntley and her heart tightened, aching as if she’d bruised it and not her shoulder.

Before she could sort through her turmoil to frame a reply, MacDougal and a footman opened the wide doors to the dining room and the procession in to dinner began.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
Tomorrow we visit the folly. While I am not fond of them, Roxburghe says that nothing inspires him more than a Greek ruin. I can only hope that my guests will feel the same. I must admit it
is
a rather romantic spot. I wonder if certain guests will be inspired by it? I certainly hope that Huntley and Miss Balfour are, although the decision is, of course, entirely their own.

The next night, as the guests were all retiring to their rooms, Lily paused at the bottom of the grand staircase and listened to the rain beat furiously against the tall windows that lined the foyer. The glass panes were swirled with wetness, the air so moist she could almost taste it. The stormy weather matched her mood.

She and Huntley had taken their walk after breakfast, and she’d tried to find out more about him, hoping to build their relationship into a real friendship. She’d asked him about his childhood, and his favorite
horses, how long he’d held his title—oh, a number of topics all designed to help her get to know the earl better. But although he’d been forthcoming, the answers had all left her feeling vaguely dissatisfied.

The entire walk had proven futile, and she felt no closer to Huntley now than before the walk. In fact, she’d been relieved when the rain had moved in and they’d had to hurry back to the house. She’d excused herself on the pretext of changing her damp gown and hadn’t joined the others until they’d gathered for dinner.

Huntley had searched her out then, and although flattered, she’d spent the entire time wondering why she didn’t feel as close to him as she did to Wulf. Right from the beginning, she’d found herself sharing personal thoughts and desires with Wulf that she hadn’t shared with anyone else. She didn’t know why that was, but she wished she could re-create it with Huntley.

Alas, that goal appeared much more difficult to achieve than she’d thought. Sighing, she turned and climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, murmuring good-night to the other guests who passed her.

Longing for bed, she opened the door just as a brown dog flashed by, scampering into the bedchamber before she stopped and grinned up at Lily. “Meenie, what are you doing here?”

Freya looked up from where she was running a bed warmer between the sheets. “Och, no!” She left the pan and came rushing over to capture the pug.

Meenie gave a sharp bark and dashed around the maid, and the chase was on. Freya was thin and wiry and quick on her feet, but the pug could get in places that even the maid could not. Lily tried to help, but Meenie ran between her feet and, scampering madly, dashed pell-mell under the bed.

“Och, tha’ dog.” Freya pushed her mobcap back onto her head and plopped her fists on her hips. “There’s no gettin’ her oot from under there wit’oot help. I’ll fetch some o’ the footmen and we’ll catch her.”

“If the duchess doesn’t mind, she can stay here. I’d like the company.” Lily felt especially lonely tonight, feeling Wulf’s absence all the more after her failed conversation with Huntley.

Freya’s gaze softened. “I must warn ye tha’ they sometimes snore, and loudly, too.”

“So does my sister, but I’m used to having her in my room.”

The maid chuckled. “Verrah weel, then. So long as MacDougal knows where the dogs are a’sleepin’, ’tis well with her grace.”

“She doesn’t wish them to sleep in the same place each night?”

“Wha’ her grace wishes fer her dogs and wha’ she gets fra’ them are two different things. She had beds made fer the lot o’ them, all lined up in her bedchamber, but no’ a one will use them. So they’re allowed to sleep where they wish. Ye can ring me if’n Meenie gets too noisy fer ye.”

“Thank you.”

Freya helped Lily undress and slip into her nightgown, then combed and braided her hair. The maid removed the bed warmer from the now-toasty sheets, helped Lily between the covers, stirred the fire, blew out the candles, and bade her a cheerful good-night before closing the door. Nothing was left but the sound of the rain pit-patting against the windows.

A few moments later, there was a scrambling noise as Meenie clawed her way out from her hiding spot. She found the step stool to the bed, climbed onto the thick coverlet, made her way to Lily’s feet, walked three times in a circle, and then settled with a sigh into the impression she’d made.

It was rather comforting having the dog there. But though the bed was warm, the dog was cozy, and the house had grown silent, Lily was too fraught with her thoughts to sleep and lay awake staring at the ceiling. Why had the duchess banned Wulf? It hardly seemed fair; how could he be responsible for his grandmother’s behavior?

Lily sighed.
And why, oh why, do I care so much about seeing him?

After a half hour of useless fretting, she turned onto her other side, tugging the heavy sheets and blankets closer. The dog grunted, but didn’t awake. Lily tucked her toes under its warm body and sighed at the softness of the sheets. She was completely spoiled, living here with such luxuries and a personal maid.

Things at Caith Manor were far simpler. She had Cook, of course, and a manservant who’d served as
butler and groom for longer than she could remember. Both servants were elderly, and Lily tried to lighten their loads as often as she could. Other than those two, they hired a lady to come from the village once a week to help with the laundry, while Lily and Dahlia did most of the cleaning, dusting on Thursday and polishing silver every Friday. Linens were washed and repaired on Saturdays, while floors were scrubbed each Monday. This difficult work used to be done by a small army of servants, but that was long ago, before Father had spent their funds on his greenhouses and horticultural experiments.

Lily flopped onto her back, noting that the rain had finally stopped.

The dog snuffled awake and, after giving a disgusted grunt, got up, turned in a few circles, then plopped back into the same place on the heavy coverlet. Within seconds, it was once again sleeping.

Lily listened absently to the dog’s snores, her mind locked on her predicament.
Surely, if I try, I can be happy with a man as kind as Huntley.
He truly was a good person; but why didn’t he make her feel breathless the way Wulf did? And why didn’t his smile give her a fluttery feeling? Was she wrong in wishing for more than simple, calm affection? To hope that he’d actually come to care for her and—

Plink!

Meenie grunted in her sleep as Lily looked toward the window.
That sounded like a pebble.

Plink! Plink! Plink!

Meenie jumped to her feet, a low growl in her throat.

“Hush,” Lily said softly. She threw back the covers and slipped from the bed, her feet hitting the hard, cold floor. She shivered and rubbed her arms beneath the thin night rail and tiptoed to the window. She’d just reached it when—
SMACK!
Something hit the window with a decided crack.

Meenie, who’d walked to the edge of the bed, hopped back to the middle with a yelp.

“Some brave protector, eh?” Lily pushed back the curtains and threw open the shutters. A pebble rolled to the floor as the shutter swung open, and she could now see where a spiderweb of cracks surrounded a small hole in the glass.

From outside came a low string of foreign curses uttered by a familiar deep voice.

Her heart thudding, Lily peered out. The bright moon shone upon the courtyard below, making the wet flagstones look like a shimmery pool. And right in the center of it stood the prince, a flowing, black cloak flung back from his shoulders, his booted feet planted firmly on the flagstones while his loose white shirt hung open at the neck. His arm was cocked back as if to throw another pebble, but at the sight of her, he dropped the rock and cupped his mouth. “Moya, open your window.”

His voice was low, but Lily still held her breath and listened for the sounds of other shutters being thrown back . . . but nothing happened.

She breathed a sigh of relief.
If the duchess realizes the prince is outside in the courtyard at this time of night, she’ll call for her footmen to remove him.
A flicker of anger at the unfairness stiffened Lily’s resolve. He wasn’t like the rest of them, trained in how to move through the complicated circles of their society, and it was frustrating to watch the duchess and others judge him for it.