How to Pursue a Princess (31 page)

“Just now, while we watched you dance, he told me
he was ready to make a proposal.” Wulf’s gaze locked with hers. Then he whispered, “Moya, are you certain?”

She thought of Dahlia, married to curmudgeonly Lord Kirk, and of her father, how he’d wither and die in gaol, and of her own life, how adrift she’d be without her family and Caith Manor. It took every ounce of her strength, but she managed to say, “Yes.”

A swell of disappointment filled her, bitter and ugly. Her eyes filled up with tears, and suddenly being in Wulf’s arms made her situation all the more unbearable.

Unable to hold her tears at bay another second, she broke from his embrace, gathered her skirts and ran, leaving Wulf standing alone in the middle of the dance floor. Though she felt the looks and heard the whispers rustling through the ballroom, she ignored them as she escaped into the cool evening air, her tears already falling.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
There comes a time in every courtship where expectations must be defined, and we have reached that stage in Miss Balfour’s case. Fortunately Charlotte and I are here to oversee that process, and we are, to be honest, quite good at it.

Lily pressed her forehead to the cool marble and looked up at the clear sky overhead. She’d left the ballroom half an hour ago and had found sanctuary in one of the small courtyard alcoves that held statuary. There, hidden from sight by a plump brace of cupids, she’d wept until she could weep no more.

Her tears had finally subsided, her breathing slowly returning to normal. But she could do nothing about her swollen eyes, red nose, and broken heart.

Eventually she’d have to go back inside and face everyone, but for now, she wished to do nothing more than stand with her forehead pressed to the cool marble statue. When the last guest carriage had left and
the lights went out in the castle, she’d slip up to her room.

She closed her eyes, tears threatening to well yet again.
What a mess I’ve made of everything, falling in love with the wrong man.

And what a fool she’d been, too, to think she could control love. Wulf had warned her, but she hadn’t listened.
Oh, Wulf, if only I had understood what you were saying. But I didn’t, and now—

A hand closed about her wrist. Lily gasped and jerked away, only to find herself facing Wulf’s grandmother.

“Are you through with . . .” The old woman drew lines down her face.

“Yes.” Lily found her handkerchief and wiped away her tears, her face afire. “I’m sorry I left your grandson standing on the dance floor.”

“It is no matter. No doubt he deserved it.” The old woman moved closer, her black skirts rustling. “I told everyone who would listen that the turtle soup at dinner did not agree with you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“It was a poor excuse for soup. There was so little turtle that it could have been water, for all the flavor it had.”

“It was thin. Your grace, thank you for your assistance. It was just— I didn’t mean to—”

“Here.” The old woman grasped Lily’s hand and pressed something into her palm.

Lily opened her hand and found a small pouch
tied with an oddly knotted ribbon that held some tiny dried flowers and a little stick figure held together with thread. “What’s this?”

“It’s a . . .” The old woman scowled. “How do you say? It’s not-for-love potion.”

“A . . . I’m sorry, but did you say a ‘not-for-love potion’?”

“Yes, yes. Can you not hear?”

“I’m sorry. I just—” Lily took a deep breath. “How does it work?”

“Simple. I will explain. First, you must know that it can be used only once.”

“Only once.”

“
Da
, for one person. But who needs more, eh?”

“Yes, but . . . I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘not-for-love’?”

“It is to forget. To erase the”—the old woman swirled her hand about her head—“so you don’t have to keep thinking.”

“Ah. It erases your memory.”

“Memory, yes. Of one you love. Then, you can continue with your life and not be sad. That is good,
nyet?
”

Lily looked at the small bag. If she didn’t remember Wulf, she could move into her new life as Huntley’s wife without the weight of a broken heart. But . . . forget Wulf? Could she really?

She closed her hand around the pouch, the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon and pine wafting through her fingers. “It smells like a sachet.”

The old woman bristled with disapproval. “How would
you
know how a not-for-love potion should smell? Have you seen one before?”

“No, but—”

“Then do not question my magic!”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you must marry this Huntley, but my foolish grandson has made you fall in love with him.”

“He didn’t—”

“Pah! I have eyes. I see things. I am no fool.”

Lily pressed her hand to her hot cheek. “If you can see it, then so can everyone else.”

“No one who matters.”

Lily sighed. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“No one ever does. But it will pain you to leave him. Use the pouch to make a tea. Drink it, and you will remember nothing of my grandson.”

“Make a tea? With this?”

The old woman muttered under her breath. “You know how to make tea, foolish girl? Steep the pouch in hot water, the longer, the better.”

“With this stick figure attached?”

“
Da
, with the figure attached. You are making this difficult!”

“I just want to do it right.” Not that she’d actually use it. She didn’t believe in magic . . . but the pain in her heart was so overwhelming. She looked at the bag. “Once you drink it, the forgetfulness will last forever?”

“Forever. You will remember the person, but feel nothing.”

“You won’t remember the love.”

“You remember, but you will feel nothing, like a distant memory. Good,
nyet
?”

“Yes.”

“And so it works. But you can cast the spell only once, so use it wisely.” The old woman glanced over her shoulder and then turned back. “I must go now. My grandson will be out soon to get into the carriage, and I do not wish him to see me talking to you. He does not like the old magics, the young fool. Youth never believe in the old.”

“But—”

“There he is. I go.”

Sure enough, Wulf’s large form was framed in the glow from the foyer.

Lily quickly moved so that he couldn’t see her. “Thank you for the potion, your grace.”

“Use it. Make this go away, for my grandson’s sake as well as yours.”

“You worry about him, too.”

The old woman’s expression softened. “His life has been one of privilege and he’s never had to accept a
nyet.
Now he will have to do so, and in a matter of the heart. It will take a long, long time for him to recover, but that is part of life.”

Lily thought about Emma’s luminous gaze. “Don’t worry. He will meet someone else and forget me soon enough.”

“Pah! You don’t know love if you think that.” The old woman’s shrewd gaze narrowed. “But you
don’t
know much about love, do you? It is new to you, too.”

“Very new,” Lily said, and her heart ached at the words.

“So you say, but I see something else in your eyes.” The old woman’s expression softened. “You are like a lamb facing the slaughter. Your fate before you, and no idea how to accept it. You should—”

“Tata!” Wulf’s deep voice rumbled from the terrace doors.

“Make the tea.” The old woman’s black gaze rested thoughtfully on Lily. “Do you know what ‘moya’ means in our language?”

“It means ‘red.’ ”

“Foolish girl. It means ‘mine.’ ”

“But . . . he’s called me that since we first met.”

“He’s met you many times before. In his dreams.”

Dreams?
“I’m sorry, but I don’t—”

“I must go before he comes for me and finds you.” The old woman turned away. “Just remember,” she called over her shoulder, “you can use the potion only once, and for only one person. And that, you must decide.” Then she was gone.

Peering around the statue, Lily watched the prince escort his grandmother to their carriage and assist her into the seat, spreading a blanket over her knees before he climbed in, his broad shoulders filling the carriage doorway before he disappeared inside.

“Mine”? How have you seen me in your dreams?
And your grandmother said that you won’t forget me for a long, long time. How am I to pursue a life with Huntley if I know you are suffering?

The footman closed the carriage door as the groom climbed into the seat. Then the coach swept down the drive, past Lily and her hiding place, and disappeared into the night.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
This morning after breakfast, I told Huntley that it was time he stopped fiddling with people’s feelings and declared himself forthwith. He was quite surprised by my brazenness, but by the time I finished explaining how his hesitation must seem to the one he cared about, he was in agreement.

Or I think he was. He’s difficult to decipher. So little emotion.

Still, I suppose I shouldn’t blame him for his caution. Neither marriage nor death should be entered into lightly.

The next morning, dressed in a pelisse of gray merino trimmed with green ribbons over a walking gown of dusky blue wool, Lily sat on the low stone wall that edged the fields around Floors Castle. Since breakfast she’d been avoiding the other guests, although Wulf’s grandmother had done her job well. Most of those Lily had met seemed to genuinely believe that
her abrupt departure had to do with the turtle soup, which was quite fine with her.

Tomorrow, she’d face them all at the Butterfly Ball, and then . . . and then, it would be time to accept Huntley’s proposal.

She pressed her fingertips to the sides of her forehead, which pounded steadily.
How can I walk away from the feelings I have for Wulf? Even more, how can I leave him knowing that I’m causing him pain?
That last question had kept her up most of the night.

She couldn’t bear to think of Wulf in agony over anything, especially her. But what would Papa do if Kirk demanded the payment or, heaven forbid, went to the constable?
I cannot win.
Someone
is going to pay for my decisions. How can I—

“Miss Balfour, there you are.” Huntley stood on the other side of the stone wall, dressed as if ready for a ride in Hyde Park, his horse behind him.

She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding sickly. “Lord Huntley. What a surprise to see you here.”

“I’m sorry if I startled you. I dismounted by the apple tree near the lake when I saw you and thought I should take advantage of the opportunity to speak with you alone.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m lucky your hair shows up so nicely against a gray stone wall.”

“Ah. Was that what gave me away?”

“Yes. A flame against the gray.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. In fact, she didn’t know what to say at all. She was painfully aware
that he was going to ask her to marry him, and she wished she could keep him from doing so.
If only I’d already taken the potion, because then I wouldn’t mind.

“Miss Balfour—Lily, I must admit something. . . . I was out here looking for you.”

She gulped.
Here it comes. Please, no, not yet. I’m not ready and—

“I need some advice.”

She blinked. “Advice?

“Yes. There aren’t many people I trust as much as you.” His calm brown gaze met hers. “You’re a very special woman, Lily. I feel closer to you than almost anyone.”

Good God!
How could she turn his mind away from proposing? In a quick, breathless voice she said, “Thank you, but surely there are others you know better. Emma, for example, or even Prince Wulfinski. I’ve noticed that the two of you have been quite close of late—”

“This is something far too personal to share with the prince. As for Emma . . .” He shook his head. “There is only you, Lily. May I speak frankly?”

No. She didn’t wish him to speak at all. But she was at a loss to stop him.

He looped the horse’s reins about a shrub, then took off his hat and leaned across the wall. “Lily, have you ever been in love?”

“Love? I—no. I mean, yes, but not—”
Oh, God, I’m making such a mull of this!

“I mean
really
in love, until you couldn’t tell if you
were up or down, waking in the middle of the night, your mind on fire, thinking about the one woman you want to spend your life with.” He laughed shakily. “I sound like every sort of fool, don’t I?”

Good God, he feels that way about me? I had no idea.
“Huntley, that’s . . . Love is admirable in all forms.”

“Oh? Even when it’s not returned?” he asked softly.

She gulped.
He knows. How did he find out?

“It’s a damnable situation, isn’t it?” he said, giving a short laugh. “Here I am, wildly in love with someone, while that someone isn’t wildly in love with me. A wise man would leave well enough alone, but I cannot. I must know. I must speak. I—” He rubbed a hand over his face. “So tomorrow night, I will offer my heart.”

Tomorrow night
?

“I’m going to throw all caution to the wind and—and I’m going to propose. Do you know what that means, Lily?” His gaze burned into hers.

She flushed. “It means . . . that you’ll soon be wed?”

“I hope so. I don’t know if I could face being told no. I’m not given to taking chances; you know that about me. That’s why I wished to speak with you first.”

Ohhhhh. He wants an assurance that he won’t be embarrassed, and that I’ll say yes.
It was hardly a romantic gesture, yet she had to appreciate his honesty. “You’re cautious.”

“I have always been so. Something the duchess said to me this morning made me realize that I was waiting for the perfect moment. Her grace says there is no
such thing, and that I should take the leap now, while my heart is behind it, and trust that all will end well. And so tomorrow night at the ball, I will propose.”