Princess Charlotte's Choice Read online

  Oh, dear. Would he now think she cared about what he did in the future?

  He regarded her steadily for a moment, his eyes impenetrable, his expression remote. He lifted his shoulders. ‘It depends upon several things. What about you? Do you attend the princess?’

  ‘No. I am to return home to Kent.’ Her term of duty was over. ‘I will miss the princess.’ She would not miss all the intrigue at court.

  ‘I see.’ A small smile flickered across his lips. He glanced down at his plate, pushing the vegetables around with his fork.

  ‘Did—?’ she asked.

  ‘How—?’ he said.

  ‘You first,’ he said.

  Her heart thundered as her lips formed the question she longed to ask. But there was something more pressing. ‘Did you get my letter?’

  His mouth flattened. ‘I received it. How—?’

  ‘Silence for his Royal Highness,’ a steward called out.

  ‘A toast,’ the Prince Regent cried with broad smile.

  Everyone rose to their feet.

  ‘To my daughter and her future husband.’

  With much cheering, the company saluted the engagement. The couple looked decidedly content as their gazes locked down the length of the table. It did Isabelle good to see it. This engagement would work. The princess had been right to brave her father’s disapproval and reject the sneering Prince of Orange and instead seek a man who could bring her happiness.

  It was every woman’s dream, should she be lucky enough to find that man.

  At her side, Nikki pushed back his chair, his expression dark and moody. ‘Excuse me. My prince has need of me.’ He stalked away; impressive in his isolation he looked neither right nor left. After a brief word with the prince, he left the room.

  Isabelle had seen no sign of a command from the prince. Nikki was clearly using it as a reason to escape her company having realised she no longer would fall for his charm. No doubt he was off to find some more amenable lady.

  Something in her chest felt as heavy as lead. She’d done the right thing. She ought to feel virtuous. Instead she felt wretched. Even cruel. For despite his faint air of amusement at their sparring, she had the feeling she might have hurt his feelings.

  Hurt him? How foolish. It was her heart speaking not her head. Women did not hurt Nikki. He left them weeping. She’d learned much about him in his absence. Seducer. Libertine. Gambler. The list of his wickedness was as long as this table.

  The best she could do was avoid his company, see the royal wedding through as promised and return home without bringing disgrace to her family.

  ‘Pass the codfish heads, young lady,’ the general boomed. ‘They’ll be removing the covers soon.’

  A codfish gazed at her balefully. With a sigh, she passed the plate.

  Chapter Two

  Dinner over, the female guests conversed in the music room, raising their voices to be heard over the orchestra. Isabelle had never seen the princess glow as she did tonight. She was as lustrous as the pearls around her throat. While they drank tea, her eyes constantly sought the doors through which her prince would enter when the gentlemen finished their port. Isabelle prayed Nikki would not make one of their number.

  Leaving Mrs Campbell’s side, Princess Charlotte slipped onto the sofa beside Isabelle. ‘He so much handsomer than I remembered,’ she murmured. A smile curved her full lips. ‘But so stern.’

  She turned her lips down and frowned in imitation of Prince Leopold, then burst out laughing. Loud. Too loud. Heads turned. Lips pursed. The princess liked to laugh. Many at court thought her far too boisterous. This time she elicited a headshake from the queen.

  Princess Charlotte covered her mouth with her fan. ‘Oops. And the count? What on earth made you sit beside him at dinner?’

  Isabelle tried not to flinch. ‘It was simply bad luck.’

  The princess gave her a worried look. ‘Does he continue his pursuit?’

  ‘Hardly,’ Isabelle said. ‘He left at the first possible moment.’ His rapid departure still rankled. People must have noticed how quickly he’d tired of her company. Having put himself beside her, the least he could have done was remained until the end of the meal and feigned interest.

  Lady Ilchester bore down upon them, a frown on her face. ‘Your Highness, you really must mingle with your guests.’ She bore the princess off in a flurry of discreet disapproval.

  Leaning against a pillar in a shadowy corner, arms folded across his chest, Nikki watched his royal master bend his dark head close to the princess’s golden curls as they strolled the length of the stifling and furniture-stuffed gallery. Leo’s normally sombre expression lightened as he smiled at something she said. He looked more cheerful than he had for years.

  A gaggle of ladies followed in the betrothed couple’s wake. Hiding in their midst, Isabelle looked like a primrose amidst a bunch of overblown roses. A modest flower, with light brown hair and skin the colour of rich cream that turned a delicious rose when she blushed. She blushed a great deal in his presence. It had amused him at first. Now it drove him mad wondering if she coloured up for other men. Her features were too ordinary for great beauty, her body too slight, but there was unexpected kindness in her intelligent grey eyes. One didn’t expect kindness at court, just flirtation and ambition. Not that she didn’t have spirit. She did. Too much or she’d not have dared to walk with him outside.

  She should know a few dragon-ladies could not protect her. Look how easily he’d changed places at dinner. His shoulders tightened. He shouldn’t have done it, of course. Leo had been quick to signal his displeasure. A look, a lift of one finger, had forced Nikki to leave.

  He’d been wrong to test the waters. Should not have bedevilled her. The surge of desire he’d felt when she’d entered the gallery had taken him by surprise. Shocked him. He’d thought he’d cast her from his mind when he’d scraped the mud of England off his shoes. At Leo’s request, he’d thrown himself into the peace negotiations after Waterloo with the same zest he’d thrown himself into battle. He’d been too busy dealing with the pettifogging bureaucracy dividing up Europe to think about women. Or, at least, none of them had sparked his interest since he left London.

  Because he still wanted this one.

  Damnation. Nothing must get in the way of Leo’s marriage. ‘I’ll not let one of your peccadilloes give her an excuse to dismiss me the way she dismissed the Prince of Orange, Nikki,’ Leo had warned on the boat across the Channel.

  Only a brave man would stand between Nikki and what he wanted. But Leo was a good friend and brave comrade-in-arms. For years they’d racketed around Europe, two poverty-stricken noblemen attempting to repair family fortunes ruined by Napoleon. Leo deserved his success and Nikki owed him his loyalty.

  He wished he’d never met her. Wished he’d never taken the Prussian prince’s wager. He’d been quite mad that summer. Betting on anything. Drinking. The relief of knowing war was at an end. Only afterwards had he realised his careless act had spiked Leo’s guns.

  He’d almost thrown the prince’s friendship away again tonight for the chance to make her blush. He didn’t blame her one bit for her anger though. He had treated her abominably.

  ‘As brooding as ever I see, Nikki?’ Count Hardenbrook said.

  Nikki cast a glance at the Dutchman, Leo’s chosen equerry and a member of his small but loyal retinue.

  ‘Certainly not,’ Nikki drawled. ‘Simply keeping an eye on the prince. Awaiting the scraps from his table. Like you.’

  ‘Always the cynic, Nikki.’ Hardenbrook gave a short laugh. An expression of worry crossed his normally cheerful face. ‘The call to come to England could not have come at a worse time. He is still unwell and this cursed weather doesn’t help.’

  ‘He covers his indisposition well enough.’ Even healthy, the prince was pale and lean. ‘It is certainly clear she likes him.’

  ‘She’s so exceedingly odd,’ Hardenbrook said. ‘I do not understand English women. I suppose growing up wit
h parents at loggerheads, each using her as a pawn, is bad for a child. Leo says she responds well to kindness.’

  Nikki’s gaze drifted back to Isabelle. He’d also made her his pawn. He’d let her glimpse joys he knew she couldn’t have. Not with him. A man with no prospects was not a good catch. Most considered him a fortune-hunter clinging to Prince Leopold’s coattails. They weren’t far wrong.

  He could have had her, though. Isabelle. He’d seen it in her eyes that day in the garden. He had too much experience with women not to know she’d fallen hard.

  Only with difficulty had he walked away. Done the honourable thing. With nothing to offer, he hadn’t had a choice. Just as he hadn’t had a choice but to return with Leo when requested.

  But he should not have sought her out.

  He pulled his gaze away from Isabelle. ‘Leo has a great deal of patience. He will make a good husband.’

  Hardenbrook nodded. ‘Where are you lodged?’

  ‘Above the stables.’ He grinned. ‘Cheaper than an inn in town. I claimed it as my duty as Master of the Horse.’

  ‘Not planning an elopement, is he?’

  Nikki laughed. ‘Not unless he plans to start a war with Britain. And besides, it is not needed. He has it all in hand.’

  The couple turned at the end of the room and headed back, the ladies following parted like a division of well-trained soldiers and let them through their ranks. Isabelle smiled at the princess. A brave smile. The same smile she’d worn the day she met him in the garden, until he’d melted her bravado and seen her tender heart. It had warmed places he thought frozen out of existence by war.

  Hellfire. Would he never get her out of his thoughts?

  ‘What an extraordinary house this is,’ Hardenbrook said. ‘The pieces are exquisite. They must have cost a fortune.’

  ‘It’s too blasted hot, if you ask me.’ Nikki tugged at his neckcloth. ‘I’m stifling. Someone should open a window.’

  ‘The Prince Regent likes it warm. I gather he was deprived of a fire in the schoolroom as a lad and swore when he reached adulthood he would never feel cold again.’

  ‘The man needs to have mercy on the rest of us.’

  The prince and princess left the gallery and entered the music room where the orchestra still played their hearts out. ‘We had better follow,’ Hardenbrook said. ‘In case we are needed.’

  Nikki’s lip curled. ‘I am dismissed for the evening.’ For stepping beyond bounds. ‘I should already be gone.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The horses.’ Hardenbrook strolled off.

  Do something about it. The words went round and round in her mind. But what should she do? If she was to have peace, she needed to tell Nikki face to face what she thought of his treachery and remind him to keep his distance.

  ‘Are there enough rooms for all the people Prince Leopold brought with him?’ she asked Mrs Campbell, the kindest of the princess’s ladies.

  ‘Most have taken rooms in town.’ Well that accounted for Nikki’s disappearance. No doubt he was sampling all Brighton had to offer.

  ‘His Master of Horse apparently lodges in the stables,’ Mrs Campbell said.

  Nikki’s official title. Hope surged in Isabelle’s breast. Would his presence nearby provide her with a chance she needed? The opportunity to do something?

  Looking the picture of the amiable host, the Prince Regent sat in his wheeled chair tapping his fingers on his thigh in time to the music with the redoubtable Lady Hertford standing guard, but the prince and princess were on the move. The ladies around Isabelle readied themselves to follow. One of them asked Mrs Campbell a question and she turned away.

  Seeing her opening, Isabelle slipped away from the group, confident that with everyone’s attention fixed on the betrothed couple, her absence would not be noticed. At least for a while.

  At the end of the gallery, beyond the mirrored doors, a door led out to the gardens. And to the stables. She hesitated. Did she really want to do this?

  Do something. Lord Alvanley’s ironic tones echoed in her ears.

  This was all she could think of to do. The green-and-red-liveried footman stationed at the door raised a brow at her approach. She resisted the urge to look back and see if anyone had remarked her departure.

  ‘I need some fresh air,’ she said, fanning her face, sure it was bright red from the embarrassment of more lies.

  ‘It is cold out there, my lady,’ the young man said in his slow Sussex drawl. ‘Careful lest you catch an ague.’

  ‘I’ll only be a moment or two,’ she said, stemming her impatience at his obvious hesitation to let her out.

  Finally he bowed and opened the door for her to pass through. ‘You take care now,’ he said as she stepped outside. ‘All you has to do is knock, my lady, and I’ll let you back in.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Fortunately, Prinny believed in lighting his grounds. Torches flickered in iron braziers on the walls and lamp standards lined the pathways. It took only seconds for her eyes to adjust and locate the stable block a little distance off.

  A strong chill wind blew off the sea only a few yards away, tugging at her light skirts and freezing her bare arms. She wished she’d brought a shawl. But there was no going back. She would call Count Grazinsky to account and be done with him once and for all.

  Taking a quick deep breath, she marched to the open stable doors. Light spilled out onto to the cobbles and she could hear the low rumble of male talk and laughter and an odd rattling sound.

  A shout went up. Cries of joy and dismay.

  Mouth dry, heart racing, she remained in the shadows cast by the doors and peeped inside.

  A group of four men in their shirtsleeves, seated on hay bales, huddled around an open space on the floor. It was easy to see what they were about. Gold coins were heaped in piles beside their booted feet. Bottles and tankards littered the floor and a pair of die lay in the centre of the group showing a pair of sixes.

  Gambling.

  Perhaps this was not a good time to broach Nikki.

  ‘Nicked it, by Gad,’ one of the men said in French, nobility’s international language. ‘You have the devil’s own luck, Nikki.’

  ‘Demmed if I don’t,’ Nikki said in an arrogant drawl. ‘Throw again, Dimitri. Perhaps I’ll relieve you of all of that fortune of yours.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Dimitri said. ‘I’m for my lodgings in town and a chamber maid with the merriest smile you ever did see.’

  ‘Trust you,’ Nikki said, scooping up his winnings.

  ‘Join me. I’m sure she has a friend or two. Indeed you are all welcome. Why not make a night of it?’

  Isabelle’s heart pounded harder at the thought of him leaving with his friends. She stepped out from the shadows. ‘Count Grazinsky,’ she said in English. ‘I wonder if I might trouble you for a word before you leave.’

  Four heads swivelled in her direction.

  ‘Isabelle,’ Nikki said, shooting to his feet. The shock, perhaps even horror, on his face was well worth the risk of this nighttime visit.

  ‘Sly dog,’ Dimitri said. ‘Isn’t she your—?’

  His eyes blazed. ‘Out,’ Nikki said, his voice so cold she felt the ice of it on her skin. ‘All of you. Go.’

  The men laughingly grumbled and gathered their belongings.

  Nikki took her arm and drew her into the shadows. ‘You little fool,’ he muttered.

  She opened her mouth to reply. He pressed a finger to her lips as he watched, tight-lipped, as the men swaggered off into the night.

  Nikki swung her around to face him. ‘What in God’s name do you think you are doing? Are you so careless of your reputation?’

  ‘There speaks the man who conspired to ruin my good name,’ she challenged.

  A frown furrowed his brow. ‘Believe me, I’m sorry for it.’

  Sorry they had ever met, no doubt, judging from his rigid expression. ‘You didn’t seem so sorry at dinner,’ she said to hide her hurt. ‘I wrote and asked you to stay away from me.’
/>   He laughed darkly, pulling her into the light, gazing down into her face. ‘It seems it is you who needs that reminder.’

  She pulled her hand free of the warmth stealing up her arm towards her heart. The casually open collar of his shirt above his unbuttoned waistcoat revealed the strong column of throat and a wedge of wide chest. She dragged her gaze up to his face, met his intent sapphire eyes. ‘I needed to speak to you privately.’

  His expression darkened. ‘Why?’

  ‘To tell you I know you only flirted with me so Prince Augustus could see the princess alone. You could have ruined us both.’ Indignation made her speak with more passion than she’d intended. Anger at herself. She’d been completely blinded by his flattery. Her stupidity made her furious.

  His hands closed and then opened. ‘You are right. It was a wager. Augustus was entertaining himself at Orange’s expense. I certainly have no reason to love the little weasel. Nor had Leo. But he was not pleased by what I did.’

  A wager. Disappointment squeezed the hope from her chest. She turned her face away, stared down at the debris left by his friends amongst the trampled straw. He was what rumour said of him, a hardened gambler. ‘Tonight, I suppose Leopold dared you to distract me from my duty,’ she said in a low voice

  ‘No.’ The word sounded harsh and she glanced up to see a derisive smile on his lips. ‘’Twas Leo who dismissed me from the table.’

  ‘Why do you feel the need to torment me?’

  ‘Torment?’ His voice was scathing. ‘You don’t know the meaning of torment. The people in the countries the French conquered suffered torment. Safe here on this little island, you have no idea what real torment is. However, if my presence offends you, I apologise. It will not happen again.’

  The pain in his voice spoke of suffering she did not understand.

  ‘Your family?’

  His eyes darkened. He gave the slightest of nods.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But that does not give you the right to ruin my life.’

  His dark eyes searched her face. He took her hand, raised it to his lips, his breath warming the chilled skin of her knuckles. A shiver ran across her shoulders. Pleasure and pain. She couldn’t move.