The ladies had then retired to the drawing room where she’d endured carol after carol sung in voices even worse than her own, if that were possible.
The only reprieve had been when Harriet Farago had played and sung beautifully.
When the gentlemen had returned, someone suggested they all play cards, and Lydia’s heart leapt at the chance to sit next to Alex.
Unfortunately, however, Sir Thomas claimed her as a partner, and now she had to sit at this table, not even pretending to concentrate, while Alex sat on the other side of the room, surrounded by silly little chits desperate for his attention.
An exclamation of disappointment brought her attention back to her group, and she saw that she and Sir Thomas had lost yet another hand.
“My apologies, Sir Thomas. I’m afraid that my concentration is not what it should be this evening. Perhaps the room is a little too warm.” She offered an apologetic smile.
“That’s quite all right, Miss Charring. Perhaps a moment’s fresh air on the balcony would do you some good?”
Lydia was alarmed to see a meaningful look adorn his features as he spoke.
“An excellent idea,” she agreed trying to think of an excuse not to have him accompany her, as he was obviously hinting to do.
“Miss Charring, might I escort you?” a voice behind her asked smoothly.
She whipped her head around at the sound of Alex’s voice.
He was standing just behind her chair, glaring at Sir Thomas.
Lydia had to force herself to stand slowly and not jump up into his arms.
“Thank you, Mr. Farago. You are very kind.”
“But—but—” Sir Thomas stuttered into silence as Alex threw him a dark look.
Holding out his arm to Lydia, he didn’t speak, merely raised an enquiring brow.
Lydia bit her lip to stop from grinning in response, and she walked smoothly beside him, trying to ignore the mounting excitement within her.
They stepped onto the balcony, and a blast of icy air hit her, but before she could even comment on it, Alex grabbed her waist and pulled her round so her back was pressed against the wall of the house, away from the eyes of the people inside.
“Alex, what—”
Her question was silenced as his lips crashed onto her own, and a surge of heat so intense it was almost scalding swept through her.
Lydia lifted her hands to tangle in his jet-black hair and pulled his head even closer to her own.
The kiss was intense. A raging fire that consumed them both.
It should have frightened the wits out of her, but all she felt was desire and something that felt very much like what her novels described as love, this clawing, all-consuming, almost painful feeling that swamped her.
Alex broke the kiss and leaned back, his breathing as laboured as her own.
“Are you cold?” he asked gruffly, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again,” she exclaimed breathlessly, earning herself a smugly satisfied grin.
“Forgive me,” he said not sounding one bit sorry. “But I’ve been desperate to get you alone and watching that snivelling little weasel commandeer you all evening annoyed me.”
“T-that’s how you act when you’re annoyed?” she laughed.
He grinned in response, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“No, that’s how I act when I’m eaten alive with jealousy,” he answered smoothly.
Oh Lord.
“We have to return,” she blurted, somewhat frantically.
If they didn’t go back inside now, she was afraid she would do something truly scandalous. And though she was too innocent to know what that something would be, she had no qualms taking a shot at it.
“Spend the day with me tomorrow,” Alex said.
“B-but there are things to do, the ball to organise and—”
“That can wait,” he interrupted. “Please.”
Well, how could she possibly refuse now? Not that she wanted to.
“All right.” She smiled, earning herself another quick, but no less enthralling kiss.
They returned to the drawing room, and Lydia hoped desperately that she didn’t look as flustered as she felt.
She spent the rest of the evening keeping some much-needed distance from Alex and the things he did to her.
Chapter Nine
Alex breathed in the fresh, crisp air.
In Aldonia, the snow would be so deep at this time of year that it would be nigh on impossible to travel anywhere, let alone go riding.
But although the snow had fallen here in the night, it wasn’t the near-blizzard he was used to, and so he could enjoy the morning with the woman by his side.
Lydia was an excellent horsewoman, as he’d suspected she would be.
He’d gotten to know her over these past few days, and she didn’t seem the type who would be bad at anything she set her mind to.
They’d spent all of their time together since the dinner party last week, with Lydia laughingly insisting that he help her put the abundance of holly they’d been collecting to good use.
Nobody from home would have believed him if he’d told them that he, Prince Alexander Philip Farago Wesslebach, had been scurrying about hanging garlands and making floral arrangements.
His time here had brought about a marked change in him.
And in Harriet.
She had joined Alex and Lydia in their decorating escapades, and Alex could see how much Harriet was enjoying the freedom of just being a typical young lady with none of the pressures that came with a royal status.
The downside to this otherwise perfect time was Huntsforth.
There had been no improvement in his uncle’s condition as far as Alex could see, and he had yet to enjoy even the briefest of conversations with the man, given that he was only ever allowed to visit when he was asleep.
The excitement of new arrivals would be too much for him, the doctor had said.
It seemed strange to be staying in the man’s house without him even being aware of their presence.
But they had to follow doctor’s orders.
Prudence and Lydia visited him daily, but they never talked longer than a few minutes and apparently never about anything that could overset him.
“What’s the matter, Alex?”
He looked up to see Lydia ahead of him, a smile on her face.
Her hunter-green riding habit clung to her like a second skin, and her unruly hair had come undone so it blew in the icy winter breeze in abandon.
She had no idea how utterly beautiful she was, which just made her more beautiful still.
“Not a thing, sweetheart,” he called now.
She smiled at the endearment he had slipped into calling her, as she always did.
And there was nothing wrong… apart from the secret that existed between them.
He still hadn’t told her who he was.
And he’d had ample opportunity.
They had enjoyed countless discussions where they’d gotten to know each other so much that he felt like she had become his other half.
But how could that be, when she had no idea who she was really talking to?
Something always held him back, though.
Every time he mentioned Aldonia, she would inevitably rail against the selfish nephew and how much she hated people of his ilk.
And she had mentioned more than once how much she deplored dishonesty.
And so the web of deceit he’d weaved grew everyday ensnaring him even more.
“Shall we race back, then?” she asked, and he was abruptly reminded of the first night they’d met.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
He brought his horse forward until he was right beside her.
“Ah, yes, you are fond of races, aren’t you?”
A blush stained her cheek, fascinating him.
“How ungentlemanly of you to remind me of how foolish I was,” she scolded.
&n
bsp; “You were adorable,” he countered firmly, and her blush deepened.
Alex reached over and stole a quick kiss.
“Whoever loses must sneak into the kitchen and steal some of those plum puddings Cook is so protective of,” he challenged, with a raised brow.
Lydia laughed, and the sound was like music to his ears.
How he loved making her laugh.
How he loved spending this time with her, revelling in her company, falling more and more in love with her every day.
The thought sobered him for a moment.
Yes, he loved her. He’d be mad not to.
And he suspected she loved him, too. But she didn’t know him. She didn’t know what she was getting in a prince. How much she would be expected to sacrifice to be with him.
His stomach sank.
The freedom they were enjoying here; the cosy evenings, the activity-filled days. They wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of it back in Aldonia.
That spirit he adored so much that was uniquely hers. Would it be dampened to nothing by the pressures of being royal?
Lydia, unaware of the maudlin turn his thoughts had taken, kicked her horse into motion, laughing with abandon.
Alex quickly followed suit, but he was feeling decidedly less carefree.
The time had come.
He needed to be honest with her. About his feelings. And about who he truly was.
The ballroom looked like a fairy-tale. Lydia sighed with contentment as she took in the display before her. They had all worked to make tonight as beautiful as it could possibly be.
White satin had been draped around the ballroom. Garlands of holly and ivy dressed every available surface, and the light from hundreds of candles lent the room a warm, inviting glow.
Mama had gone above stairs to see if Huntsforth would be able to join them.
Everything was coming together beautifully.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the picture you paint, sweetheart, standing alone in the middle of an empty ballroom.”
Lydia turned at the sound of Alex’s voice.
The surge of love she felt upon seeing him almost made her stagger.
She never thought it possible to love someone so much more every single day, yet somehow, she did.
Tonight felt special, as though they were on the cusp of something lifechanging.
Perhaps it was time to tell him how she felt.
“Alex—”
He stepped forward swiftly, grabbing her hands and holding them in his own, against his rapidly thumping heart.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, and Lydia felt a spark of dread at his serious tone and expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone panicky to her own ears.
“Lydia…”
He sounded tormented, and it did nothing to calm her.
“…I want you to know, I need you to know…” He stopped and took a deep breath while Lydia’s palms grew clammy with nerves inside her white satin gloves.
“What?” she asked again.
His eyes raked her, from the curls adorned with diamond pins, to the snow-white silk gown overlaid with lace.
“…you look like an angel,” he said softly, and she could have wept with relief.
Instead she laughed.
“Alex, is that all? You scared me,” she admonished. “But thank you.”
He was studying her intently, still with that strange, serious look upon his face.
“That’s not all,” he said, and just as quickly as it had improved, her mood dropped again.
Before she could speak though, he continued.
“Lydia,” he said, “I love you.”
Her heart soared at the words, but he wasn’t finished.
“I love you more than I ever thought possible. My whole life I’ve never really cared about anything other than myself. I’ve never worked for anything, never wanted anything.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
She had never felt happier in her whole life.
“Until you,” he continued. “You make me want to be better, to do better. For you. Because I love you so much and you deserve the best.”
Lydia smiled widely even as tears fell from her eyes.
She reached up to throw her arms around Alex’s neck, squealing as he lifted her off her feet.
“Alex, I—”
“Alexander?”
Lydia whipped around at the sound of a new, tremulous voice to see Huntsforth standing, leaning heavily on the arm of his valet, Mama flanking his other side.
“Huntsforth!” she cried happily, but her voice died at the next words Huntsforth spoke.
“Y-your Highness,” he said as he executed a small, wobbly bow.
Lydia frowned, her heart filling with dread.
Had Huntsforth’s illness addled his brain? How tragic.
She turned to Alex, not quite sure what to do, but the look on his face filled her with even more dread.
He didn’t look confused at all. He looked… he looked caught out.
“Alex?”
His eyes flew to hers, and she saw unmistakeable guilt therein.
What on earth?
“Is it really you?” Huntsforth spoke again and shuffled toward them, every step seeming like a great struggle.
Alex stepped forward, and Lydia watched with ever-growing horror.
“It is, Uncle,” Alex said softly, and Lydia’s world shifted on its axis.
Uncle?
But that meant…
“Oh my God,” she whispered, as her brain made the connection.
Alex turned imploring eyes to her, but Huntsforth was still speaking, his voice warbling with either illness or emotion.
“You’re here,” the old man said.
“I am.” Alex smiled gently, reaching out to clasp Huntsforth’s extended hand.
Lydia watched the exchange in a haze of confusion.
A noise signalled the arrival of another player in this farcical performance, and Harriet swept into the room bedecked in festive red.
She drew to a halt as she took in the expressions of the people around her.
“Huntsforth,” she cried with a smile similar to Lydia’s of moments ago.
“Princess Harriet, my God, just look at you,” Huntsforth breathed.
“Princess?” Lydia blurted, looking from Huntsforth to Harriet, and then to Alex. “And he called you Your Highness,” she added quietly.
“Could somebody please explain what is going on here?” Mama sounded just as bewildered as Lydia felt by the events unfolding in front of them.
“Why, my nephew has come to visit, of course.” Huntsforth smiled as he sat heavily in a chair that a footman had fetched him.
“Your nephew?” Prudence repeated. “As in your heir?”
“The very one,” Huntsforth confirmed happily, while Lydia’s heart stuttered painfully.
Dear Lord.
What a fool she’d been!
All these weeks, berating the nephew who didn’t care a jot for poor old Huntsforth, and all this time he’d been here, right under her nose, no doubt laughing at the great joke he was playing.
She turned to him now, her humiliation fuelling her anger.
“You lied to me,” she spat through gritted teeth.
“Lydia, I can explain—” he said beseechingly.
“Oh, can you?” Her voice oozed sarcasm. “Well, then, I should love to hear it. And while you’re at it,” she continued, “you might explain why he keeps calling you Your Highness. Because although world history was never my strong suit, I’m fairly sure there is no royal family called Farago in Europe.”
Alex looked genuinely miserable, but Lydia hardened herself against it.
If he were miserable, it was because he’d been caught out in his deceit.
“Farago?” It was Huntsforth who spoke now. The man who hadn’t been able to string two words together these past weeks was suddenly full of chatter.
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��Is that what you’ve been calling yourself?” he asked Alex.
Alex merely nodded mutely, his jaw clenched.
“What do you mean, calling himself?” Lydia demanded. “That’s not even his name?” This she directed at Huntsforth, for if she looked at Alex, she would likely burst into tears. Or throw something at him.
“It is my name—” Alex spoke quickly. “—just not my full name.”
Lydia did turn to him now, wrapping her arms around her midsection, feeling nausea rise in her throat.
“What is your full name?” she asked, filled with dread.
Alex took a deep breath before speaking again. “My name is Prince Alexander Philip Farago Wesslebach.”
Lydia heard a strange sort of buzzing in her ears at his words.
She heard Mama exclaim something, whilst wringing her hands.
She heard Harriet call her name, then whisper furiously to Alex.
Alex said nothing else. Merely stared at her.
“Prince?” she repeated weakly.
“Yes,” he answered emotionlessly. “Second in line to the throne of Aldonia.”
“And heir of Chillington Abbey,” she finished for him, since that part seemed to have slipped his mind.
His expression looked pained for a moment before he nodded mutely once more.
Harriet suddenly stepped forward, coming into Lydia’s line of vision.
“Lydia, Lady Prudence, I am so sorry to have kept this from you. W-we came here to meet Huntsforth.” She spared a gentle smile for her uncle, who was watching proceedings avidly. “But he was unwell, and well, you seemed so disapproving of Alex. So, we—” She seemed to struggle for words. “That is, he, Alex, I mean, he thought—”
“Harriet.”
That one word from Alex stopped his sister’s ramblings immediately.
His eyes hadn’t left Lydia.
“Let me explain properly,” he said softly.
It wasn’t a question, and that angered her further still.
“Is that a royal decree?” She sneered. “The prince has spoken, and we mere mortals must do as he commands?”
“Of course not,” he said impatiently.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” Her voice was saccharine sweet and completely insincere. “But I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is when a prince who has spent weeks toying with one for his own amusement starts making demands of one.”
The Hidden Prince (The Royals of Aldonia Book 1) Page 6
