My Fugitive Prince

by Miriam Walker

  Yet why wouldn’t he smile? Other than the slight curving of his lips when they had first arrived, she hadn’t seen him look anything but serious. As if he bore some invisible burden upon his broad shoulders, even now his gaze upon her so somber.

  Without a word, he drew her toward a white marble bench set against manicured boxwoods and indicated that she sit, only then releasing her hand.

  Strangely, she felt bereft without the touch of his fingers clasping hers, a feeling she’d never known before. While Mattie went to stand at a discreet distance, though well within view, Estelle looked up at Valentin, whose eyes hadn’t left her face for a moment. Their steely hue had darkened, but then he seemed to square his shoulders beneath the tailored fit of his dark blue coat.

  “I don’t know where to begin. I’m just grateful you’re here after so many months when I wondered if you thought of me—though I hoped you did.”

  “I wondered the same thing, too!” Estelle blurted, all those months of pent-up frustration and worry causing the words to spill forth unchecked. “You didn’t write to us, well, other than that one letter telling us you were safe. I knew you and Donovan had spoken right before you left, and I was certain he must have offered to help you. He’s a wonderful man and so caring toward all of us. How could he not offer to help you after you saved my life?”

  “He did help me, Estelle, though I asked him not to. I sensed even then that peril might come to your family, but he insisted upon it. I had little money—certainly not enough to take us very far. He paid for Robert’s and my passage to Northumberland where we lodged with a military friend of his—”

  “So you went first to Northumberland!” Estelle burst out, her imagination already dancing with all the places Valentin must have gone as a fugitive. “How long did you stay there? Where did you go next?”

  “Bratavia. I wrote to Donovan the day before I left to inform him of my decision. I returned home to prevent another visit from my uncle’s henchmen. Donovan had sent a letter to warn me and to let me know what happened to you, to Linette—shot by one of those bastards, God help me, I’ll never forgive myself!”

  His face had grown so haggard of a sudden, so tortured, that Estelle could only stare at him, stunned, his revelation whirling in her mind.

  Valentin had returned home? If he’d no longer been a fugitive, then what had happened to him when he arrived? A terrible chill crept into her heart as intuition gripped her, the afternoon no longer so bright, the roses no longer so fragrant.

  “I couldn’t bear that any further harm come to you or your family. Nor could I bear you asking me tonight at dinner about all the places I traveled, when I’d come home instead. I thought you should know what had happened, though I understand why Donovan spared you the truth. It’s a miracle to me every day that I’m still alive.”

  “Oh, Valentin, forgive me for my foolish questions! When we didn’t hear from you for so long, I feared trouble might have found you, but I never gave up hope you were alive and well. Never!”

  She’d jumped up from the bench, his expression so stricken that she didn’t want to think of the horrors he must have endured thanks to his uncle, not the least of which was the loss of his father! She took his hands in hers, tears filling her eyes.

  “I never had the chance to thank you for saving my life, Valentin. I’ve dreamed about this day. Now I’ve learned our debt goes so much deeper than words could ever express…”

  She couldn’t go on, her voice catching, though something told her in the tension visibly easing from his shoulders that he’d found some relief from sharing the truth with her.

  In the gauntness of his face that she’d noticed earlier—not knowing why!—relaxing, too, his eyes no longer darkened to a turbulent gray.

  Almost self-consciously, she released his hands though she was loath to, his grip so warm and strong.

  If only she could go on holding his hands, and Valentin, hers, she found herself wishing. Yet they had already breached the proper decorum expected of an unmarried young lady and young gentleman—no, fairly thrown it out the window!

  At the very least, she wished she knew some way to make him smile! Anything to ease his heart and mind after what he must have suffered…

  “Come, Estelle. There’s a gazebo up ahead.”

  Valentin had hooked his arm through hers to guide her along a path through carefully tended rosebushes laden with blooms, their heady fragrance enlivening her senses.

  Yet no more than the closeness of him, Estelle feeling as if everything had grown right once more with the world. She was so focused upon his striking profile and the lean strength in his arm that she didn’t see the gazebo with its cupola roof until they’d come upon it.

  “I had a picnic prepared for us,” he said, leading her up the white-painted steps to a rose petal strewn table set for two. She saw him then, the older, gray-haired man she recognized at once as Robert, descending the opposite stairs as if he hadn’t wanted to disturb them. He gestured to Mattie, who had followed her and Valentin at a respectful distance, and together they moved to a shaded bench further along the path.

  “Close enough…but not too close,” Valentin murmured, pulling out an ornate metal chair for Estelle so she might sit down. Then he moved another chair closer and joined her, watching her face as she gasped in delight at the spread before them: Two sparkling glasses of white wine, delicate finger sandwiches, purple grapes and plump strawberries dusted with sugar, and a silver plate piled with sweet confections.

  “I didn’t give Robert much notice, but he’s done well with our little picnic, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s wonderful!” Estelle accepted a brimming glass from Valentin, so warmed by his thoughtfulness that she didn’t need a sip of wine to blush with pleasure. He didn’t pick up a glass though, instead appearing content to watch her as she eagerly sampled a cucumber finger sandwich after he gestured for her to try one.

  In truth she was famished, and one sandwich became a quick succession of four, followed by a buttery baked tart filled with raspberries and cream that nearly had her swooning.

  “I love desserts, I can’t deny it,” she admitted sheepishly, licking a fleck of sweet cream from her finger in a most unladylike manner. To her surprise, Valentin leaned forward to wipe away another smudge on her cheek and then licked the cream from his thumb, too, laughing.

  Laughing! A rich masculine sound that thrilled her to her toes, and made her giggle, too, grinning at him like a besotted fool.

  For she was besotted with Valentin Chevalier, utterly and completely.

  She knew that now as surely as she was breathing…the two of them sitting there together, a soft breeze ruffling his hair and lifting strands around her face even as he drew closer to tilt her chin upward and gently, oh so gently, press his lips to hers.

  She no longer heard the birds singing or the chatter of squirrels as her heart began to beat faster in her ears, the wondrous sensation of Valentin’s kiss unlike anything she could have dreamed. Then as quickly as it had begun, he drew back from her when Robert approached the gazebo, a young footman following at his heels.

  “My lord, word has come that more guests have arrived…as well as Princess Hortense. Would you like me to relay that you’re presently engaged and will see them at dinner?”

  “I’ll never hear the end of it if you do,” Valentin said grimly, glancing with apology at Estelle as she blinked with amazement at his darkened mood. She could sense his reluctance to leave her, evidenced by his heavy sigh.

  “Valentin?”

  “Forgive me,” he murmured, rising from his chair. “My half-sister doesn’t appreciate being kept waiting. I had hoped to discuss so much more with you, but it will have to wait. Do you trust me, Estelle?”

  Astonished at how intently he stared at her or that he would have even asked her what she hoped was written so plainly in her eyes, she nodded. “Completely, Valentin…but I don’t understand—”

  “You mustn�
�t let anything you see distress you. It’s all a game I must play, nothing more. A few days until the coronation and ball, and then after that night, it will all be over. Will you promise me?”

  “Yes…yes, I promise.”

  “Good, then I’ll see you at dinner.” His gaze softened for a moment, but then he seemed to resign himself to whatever duties lay ahead of him. “Robert, please escort Miss Easton back to her room.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  As Estelle stared in confusion, Valentin left the gazebo without another word or a glance behind him.

  His stride long, his shoulders stiff, his demeanor every inch a royal prince.

  She would have sat there longer, too, still stunned by how abruptly the course of their afternoon had changed, if Robert’s low voice hadn’t nudged her into motion.

  “Miss Easton, shall we go?”

  Nodding, she rose and accepted the valet’s proffered arm, her gaze falling upon the last bit of raspberry and cream tart left upon her plate.

  She couldn’t resist, popping the sweet morsel into her mouth not because she was hungry, but to relive the magical sound of Valentin laughing.

  Laughing!

  At once she smiled, though she missed him so dreadfully already and they had only been moments apart.

  Oh, yes, she was helplessly, hopelessly besotted.

  Chapter 5

  “My seamstress swore she knew the latest European fashion, but I feel terribly outmoded,” Linette whispered to Estelle, the two of them standing side by side, with Adam directly behind them. As they waited their turn to greet Valentin at the entrance to the elegant dining room, Estelle smoothed the skirt of her simply designed iris-blue silk gown and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Mrs. Polkinghorne did her best and I like my dress,” she whispered back, more for Linette’s benefit. If the truth be told, she did feel self-conscious surrounded by women wearing gowns with a more natural waist than her and Linette’s empire style, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  Would Valentin notice? Would he mind that she wasn’t as fashionably dressed as the three beautiful young women and their chaperones who had preceded them? Surely they must all be of noble lineage from the jewels glittering at their throats and wrists and earlobes.

  Estelle wore no jewelry other than a single lustrous pearl dangling from a delicate gold chain, a gift from her mother who had died when she was only one year old. Adele Easton had left her four daughters a cache of precious jewels that had been sold so they might each inherit a modest fortune, but they had also each kept a special piece in memory of her.

  Estelle fingered the pearl now, the smooth surface giving her courage and making her lift her chin in spite of the sideways glances being cast in her and her sister’s direction. Linette did the same, keeping her eyes forward and ignoring the furtive tittering behind white kid-gloved hands and fluttering fans.

  “That’s my brave girls,” Adam said in a low voice so only she and Linette could hear. “My beautiful wife and my equally lovely sister-in-law. Do you think our gallant host sent each of those young ladies a personal invitation to his coronation? I seriously doubt it.” He stepped forward between them and took both Linette and Estelle by the elbow, propelling them closer to where Valentin stood next to an imperious-looking woman. “Who do you think she might be? His maiden aunt? Some other highly placed relative?”

  “His half-sister, Princess Hortense,” Estelle murmured without thinking, both Adam and Linette glancing at her in surprise. She realized they must be wondering how she would have known such a detail, considering they knew nothing about her stealing away earlier with Valentin to the gardens, so she quickly added, “I overheard one of the other guests say as much. Didn’t you?”

  Neither Adam nor Linette had a chance to reply as they were now next in line to greet Valentin. Estelle’s heart beat faster at how handsome he looked in his red military coat with gold braid and shiny brass buttons, white trousers, and polished black boots. As soon as she had entered the formal gallery lined with gilt-framed portraits that led to the dining room, she had sensed he knew exactly where she was as if he heard her thrumming heartbeat, too.

  A time or two she had seen him glance in their direction to check their progress, a tension in his shoulders that matched the impatience she felt to gaze again into his arresting blue eyes.

  She bit her lower lip, remembering their all too brief kiss at the gazebo when everything around her had receded except for the warm pressure of his lips upon hers—

  “Miss Easton, you say?”

  Estelle blinked at Princess Hortense’s voice sounding every bit as haughty as she appeared, the elegantly clad woman looking her up and down with thinly veiled disdain as an official-looking gentleman made the proper introductions.

  “Lord Linley…Lady Linley,” Hortense continued, her gaze skipping over Estelle as if she were of no consequence whatsoever without a title. “So gracious of you to accept my brother’s invitation and join us for this momentous occasion. Of course, you’ve already met His Highness, Valentin Antoine Pierre Chevalier.”

  While Adam bowed and Linette curtsied, Estelle felt rooted to the floor as at last, she stood before Valentin and stared into his eyes.

  Steely, turbulent-looking eyes that swept from the modest plumed headdress atop her upswept hair to the satin slippers that perfectly matched her—oh, dear, regrettably unfashionable!—evening gown.

  “Miss Easton, you look enchanting,” he said, inclining his head while belatedly, Estelle remembered to curtsey as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. To her relief, he seemed not to notice her discomfort, but leaned toward her with an inquisitive look upon his face.

  “You know, I forgot to ask you when you arrived about your little dog, Luther—ah, no, forgive me.”

  Valentin had recognized at once what Estelle found so difficult to discuss, even four months later. “You were very kind to ask me, but Luther’s gone now…not long after my birthday in February,” she said softly, though she forced herself to brighten. “You gave us two more years together, for which I’ll always be grateful.”

  “Your Highness.”

  Princess Hortense’s voice carrying a clear correction, Estelle quickly added, “Yes, of course, forgive me. Your Highness.”

  She didn’t have a chance to say anything more as Adam cleared his throat and propelled both Estelle and Linette into the dining room, where formally dressed menservants led them to their places.

  Her heart sinking, Estelle found herself immediately separated from her sister and brother-in-law, who were seated at the opposite end of the immense table, closer to where she imagined Valentin would sit. Meanwhile she was offered a chair next to a glum-looking gentleman with a shiny, bald pate.

  “Good evening,” she ventured, but her greeting was barely acknowledged as the man downed what appeared to be a brimming glass of sherry and then waved for another.

  The chair on her other side remained unoccupied, and Estelle had the distinct impression that she’d been seated so far away from Valentin on purpose while those young ladies and their chaperones, men and women, filled in every seat in between. As what she had anticipated would be a wonderful evening with Valentin now loomed drearily in front of her, she watched as he and Princess Hortense walked together into the dining room while the man seated next to her belched indecorously.

  “My wife,” he indicated with a bleary nod at Hortense, who took a seat not far from her brother and next to one of the lovely bejeweled ladies smiling so brightly at Valentin. “Allow me to introduce myself…Edward Bertrand, Baron of Toulouse.”

  He hiccoughed, bowing his head to Estelle, and then he leaned toward her on his elbow, his breath reeking of spirits. “You’re the parson’s daughter, aren’t you?”

  Stunned that the man would know such a detail about her, she nonetheless nodded, reasoning that his rank as a baron must not have entitled him to stand beside his wife in the receiving line. Suddenly she felt sorry for him
as he tossed down another half a glass of sherry.

  “My wife knows all about you…well, what she could glean from Valentin. He was a brave boy to save your life, a very brave boy.”

  Another hiccough followed, and then he leaned even closer to Estelle to whisper sloppily, “Hortense doesn’t like you at all…and can’t wait for you to return to England. Steer clear of her if you can, my dear girl. You’re not part of her plans at all, oh, my, no.”

  As Estelle stared at him in astonishment, the meal began with a flowery welcome by Princess Hortense, clearly the hostess for the evening—and no doubt, the person responsible for the seating arrangements as well. At the opposite end of the table, Valentin sat looking at her from what felt so very far away, while Linette threw her a smile of silent encouragement.

  Estelle wasn’t surprised she couldn’t summon a smile back. Instead, she stared at the gold-rimmed plate in front of her while the baron downed the rest of his sherry, the man’s warning ringing in her mind.

  Steer clear of her if you can, my dear girl.

  Would the baron even remember what he’d said to her come morning, or for that matter from the rate at which he was drinking, by the end of the first course? She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t understand what he had meant.

  She was a parson’s daughter, albeit one with impeccable connections in English society, while Valentin was a royal prince. And though she hadn’t yet been introduced to those young women vying at that very moment to charm him with their smiles and sparkling conversation, Estelle could only imagine they had come from some of the finest houses in Europe as potential brides…oh, Lord, potential brides.

  If she’d been walking on air that afternoon when she’d returned to her room, now she felt wholly deflated—until she looked up to find Valentin watching her from across the room.

  His eyes intent upon her face, his expression carefully composed though she could see a tic working in his jaw that reminded her of when Robert had told him more guests and his half-sister had arrived at the castle.