The Princess and the Peer (39 page)

Nick had just turned away from Emma’s door when a faint creaking noise echoed behind him.

Spinning around, he peered into the darkness.

But the corridor stood empty, and as he continued to watch, nothing moved in the shadows. Slowly, he walked toward the source of the sound.

Still nothing. The noise did not come again.

Nerves,
he decided, recalling times in the past—usually before a battle—when every little squeak and rattle took on ominous characteristics.

After one last check, he shook off the feeling, then retraced his steps to his room.

E
mma awakened late that morning, the hours spent with Nick feeling like a dream—the most wonderful dream of her life.

But then she remembered his determination to ask Rupert for her hand in marriage. Had he gone to speak with Rupert yet? Was there still time to stop him? But Nick had been so adamant about doing the honorable thing by her that she didn’t think there was any stopping him. She huffed out a breath as she sat up between the sheets, knowing she would simply have to let matters take their course.

Even so, she couldn’t help fretting, her anxiety growing as the day went on.

She was seated in the drawing room that afternoon, sewing and drinking tea with the other ladies, when Ariadne laid her embroidery aside. “It seems a lovely sunny day outside,” Ariadne said. “Why do we not get our cloaks and take a walk in the garden?”

Mercedes looked up, while Emma’s needle stilled over her own stitchery. Emma studied Ariadne for a long moment, reading the significant look in her friend’s green gaze.

Emma’s pulse accelerated. “Yes, all right.” She tucked her embroidery into her sewing box, then rose, along with her two friends.

The baroness glanced at them from across the room, but returned quickly to her conversation with one of the other guests.

The three of them retrieved their cloaks and made their way outside into the wintry air. Brilliant sunshine streamed down, the light making the temperature seem less frigid. Their slippers crunched on the gravel path as they wandered into the neatly trimmed garden with its tall hedgerows of shiny green boxwoods and holly bushes, dark leafless trees spreading their wizened branches overhead.

They were near the center of the garden when Ariadne drew to a stop. “Go through that break in that hedge,” she murmured, gesturing toward a narrow, almost invisible gap in the greenery. “Mercedes and I will stay here and keep watch. If you hear a nightingale calling that means we have been joined by company.”

Emma stared for a moment, then gave a quick nod of understanding.

When she slipped through to the other side of the hedgerow she found Nick waiting for her in the narrow, mazelike corridor beyond. Warmth spread through her at the sight of his beloved face.

“Nick,” she cried, rushing into his arms.

He pulled her close and kissed her. “Darling.”

“Did you talk to Rupert? I worried when you weren’t at nuncheon.”

A bitter line edged his mouth. “I spoke with him this morning. You were right. He wouldn’t so much as consider my offer. Your hand, he informed me, is already promised. He said I had a great deal of nerve to even approach him considering that I am not of royal blood. Apparently no man of lesser rank will do for you.”

She brushed her fingers over the fine black wool of his greatcoat. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. You did warn me of the likely results. But at least I tried to do the right thing. Now we’ll do what we must and elope.”

“When? Now?” she asked, her pulse doing a jagged little dance of excitement.

He shook his head. “I fear my interest in you has put your brother on the alert and that you are likely to be watched. We’ll have to plan more carefully.”

“All right. Then, when?”

“I’m not sure yet. I shall get word to you through the princesses to let you know the details. In the meantime, I think it best if I play the dejected suitor and leave. That will alleviate any suspicions.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. “Leave? I wish you would not.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t be long, and then I shall be back to collect you.” He smiled and skimmed a warm thumb across her cheek. “I told you last night I’m not letting you go. Nothing on earth will stop me, not even an angry prince.”

She shivered and wished she felt as confident. Rupert was not an individual to cross, and she feared what might happen to Nick if they were caught.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said. “I don’t know how I’ll bear it until you return.”

“It’s going to be torture for me as well. Just remember that I love you.”

He bent and kissed her, claiming her lips with a sweet, wild desperation that neither of them could contain. Moments passed, his touch everything she would ever want and more. His arms trembled with the force of his passion, but somehow he found the strength to end their embrace.

Just then, the call of a nightingale sounded from the other side of the hedge.

He stiffened, obviously aware what the sound meant. “I’ll return for you,” he said. “Just wait for word from me.”

They shared one last, quick kiss, and then he was gone.

A moment later, Ariadne—who was talking very loudly about how much she adored gardens—walked slowly through the gap in the hedge. She was followed by Mercedes and the baroness.

The older woman stopped and looked around, a suspicious glint in her eye.

But Nick was gone, not even a trace of his footsteps remaining on the hard ground. Ariadne and Mercedes both looked relieved to find Emma alone.

“Oh, hello, Baroness,” Emma said in the most cheerful voice she could muster. “Don’t you just love a good maze?”

The next few days were some of the longest of Emma’s life. In an attempt to take her mind off Nick, she joined in the holiday festivities arranged by her host and hostess.

During the day, the ladies met to enjoy a variety of activities: painting, embroidery, poetry reading, and crafting. They fashioned all sorts of holiday decorations that their hostess had the servant hang from the fragrant holly- and fir-draped mantels and banisters. To add to the festive mood, a great Yule log had been carried in and now blazed hotly in the main drawing room fireplace.

As for the men, they rode out nearly every morning to try their hand at pheasant and partridge hunting, returning with braces of birds to be served at that night’s dinner. When they did not venture out, they played billiards and cards, the pungent scents of tobacco and liquor wafting from whatever room they had commandeered.

On more than one afternoon, joint outdoor winter activities were arranged for both the ladies and gentlemen, including sleigh rides and an ice-skating party at a nearby pond.

Sigrid’s daughters were given the rare treat of joining the adults for the skating. Much to everyone’s surprise, King Otto volunteered to teach the two young girls how to navigate the ice, a few guests remarking that he seemed as carefree as a child himself in those moments.

But Emma knew better, now subjected to Otto’s daily efforts to further their acquaintance.

It wasn’t that he was a bad man, she decided, though his grating laugh still sent a shudder through her every time she
heard it. No, it was simply that they had virtually nothing in common. As she had surmised from their first meeting, he was rather arrogant and vain and spoke only of matters that interested him, with scant regard for her preferences.

He loved to hunt; she hated it.

He thought reading plays and stories to be an absolute waste of time; she thought owning a collection of taxidermy animals to be appalling.

He believed sea bathing to be a dangerously unhealthy activity; she thought he ought to take baths more frequently and wear far less cologne.

But she merely smiled and demurred, letting him think she was satisfied by his compliments on her figure, her face, and whatever gown she was wearing that evening. Other women would likely have been flattered, but she found his words shallow and practiced.

Yet even if she were not in love with Nick and planning to elope with him soon, Otto would have left her cold. She shuddered to think how she would have felt were she still destined to be Otto’s bride instead of Nick’s.

As for Nick, she heard nothing, every day worse than the one before. Ariadne and Mercedes did their best to cheer her, but she couldn’t ever truly relax, worried as she was that Nick would not find a way to carry out their plan.

She would leave notes for Rupert and Sigrid, she decided, to be delivered after she and Nick were safely out of reach. She could only imagine Rupert’s fury and her sister’s dismay, but under the circumstances, it could not be helped.

If only Rupert had listened to her when she had asked to be released from the engagement, none of this would be necessary. She hated the bitterness her elopement would cause, the fracturing within their family. But she loved Nick and, no matter the sacrifice, she would do everything in her power to be with him, to be his wife.

Christmas Day dawned clear and cold, the house alive with laughter and frivolity as the guests ate, drank, sang, and
generally made merry. Emma was in the midst of unwrapping one of her presents when Mercedes eased onto the sofa next to her.

“Open this one when you are alone,” she whispered and pressed a small oblong box into Emma’s hand.

Emma’s breath caught. “Is it—?” she began to say, then caught herself in time.

Mercedes gave her an encouraging smile, then rose to return to her own small hillock of gifts.

Emma trembled, her heart racing. Making sure no one saw, she slipped the small box into her pocket and continued on with the festivities.

She had to wait until it was time to change for dinner before she finally managed a few minutes alone. Pleading the need for a nap, she sent her maid away with instructions that she not be disturbed.

Emma hurriedly took a seat and ripped open the small box. Inside was a note from Nick and a delicate flowered brooch made of gold and amethysts. She pinned it on her dress, then read the missive.

Finally, Nick is coming for me,
she thought, hugging the note to her chest.

Tomorrow they would flee and she would begin the most exciting adventure of her life, and the most fulfilling.

Tomorrow she would become Dominic Gregory’s wife.

The predawn hour was dark and silent, and Emma’s bedchamber was swathed in a wealth of shadows as she waited in an armchair by the lazily burning fire. By prior arrangement, Ariadne had promised to unlock the side door that led to the garden so Nick could gain access to the house. Assuming
she had been successful, he would have no difficulty making his way inside and up the stairs.

In preparation for his arrival, Emma had dressed in her warmest forest green cashmere gown and a matching traveling cloak, her small, trusty valise packed with a change of clothes and a few essentials; anything more than that she would buy later as necessity required. She wasn’t sure yet if Rupert would allow her to claim any of her current wardrobe. Her jewels and other belongings would likely be forfeit as well—punishment for her elopement.

But she did not care.

Certainly, there would be those who would say she was imprudent to give up her royal title and everything that came with it in order to marry for love. But to her, she was giving up nothing. Material belongings were only things—easily left behind, easily forgotten. Nick was irreplaceable, his love the only thing she knew she could not live without.

She had already said her good-byes to Ariadne and Mercedes, leaving them each with tearful hugs and promises to write as soon as she could.

“Once Nick and I are settled, you must both come to visit,” Emma told them.

“Of course we shall,” Ariadne said, her words quickly seconded by Mercedes. “And do not worry for a moment about your brother. He can put me on a rack and try to torture the details from me, but I won’t tell him a thing.”

Emma couldn’t keep from smiling. “I expect Rupert will be furious, but not enough to actually torture you.”

Ariadne gave her a look as if she had her doubts but was willing to suffer regardless.

“You can count on me as well,” Mercedes said. “Just be happy, Emma.”

And on that one score, Emma had no doubt; her future with Nick couldn’t be anything
but
happy.

She hadn’t slept, too keyed up to even doze. Yet a kind of electrified lethargy stole around her as she waited, her eyelids
drooping slightly so that when a soft tap came at the door, she startled awake.

Moving rapidly across the room, she cracked open the door and there stood Nick, too handsome for words. A hint of crisp winter air had stolen in on his greatcoat, his scent clean and deliciously masculine. He pulled her into his arms and took her lips, their kiss one of mutual relief and joyful exaltation.

Then, just as quickly as their embrace had begun, he released her. “Ready? We haven’t a moment to waste.”

Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed four times, its echo fading into silence. Emma smiled, her pulse pounding out an anticipatory beat. “Yes, let’s go.”

Hand in hand, her valise clutched firmly in Nick’s grip, they moved toward the staircase. Down they went, silent and stealthy as a pair of cats, careful to keep to the shadows even though the house was absolutely still.

She didn’t say a word and neither did Nick, absolutely quiet as they reached the ground floor landing and made the turn that would lead them out the back garden door and onward to the drive where Nick had left his carriage. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they took the last few steps.

They arrived at the door without mishap, and Nick was just stretching out a hand to lift the latch when a soft but unmistakable footfall rang out from behind them.

Emma’s heart gave a leap into her throat and she spun around. Nick turned slowly and reached again to take her hand.

Sigrid stepped out from the shadows. “I thought you two would come this way rather than use the front door. You really shouldn’t be so predictable, you know.”