Suddenly turned pale as if overwhelmed by the depth of his complicity, Edward sank into a chair while Valentin turned to the grim-faced guards who had appeared at the door.
“Summon my privy council!” he ordered the first, while to the second, “Send soldiers to the baron’s home to escort Princess Hortense and her accomplice without delay to the council room. Tell the men they’ll find them locked in the cellar.”
As the two guards rushed from the room, Valentin turned to his valet, who still stood by the door looking wholly astonished by everything that had taken place. “Robert, I believe the baron could use a brandy.”
Robert nodded and hastened to oblige him, while Valentin went to where his brother-in-law sat so forlornly, and clasped his shoulder.
“You’ve my thanks,” he said simply, his judgment that Edward had suffered enough married to his half-sister more solidified than ever. “And my forgiveness. If you’d spoken up to my uncle, you might have found yourself thrown into the dungeon, too. It was a brutal time for all of us—”
“Valentin, you must go after her!” As if he hadn’t heard anything Valentin had said, the baron rose shakily to his feet. “Miss Easton was so kind to me, a lovely girl. She didn’t deserve what happened to her and neither did you. Surely your privy council will alter its decision to bar you from marrying her once they know the treachery behind my wife’s actions—and if not, you must bring the matter before your people and let them judge!”
Swallowing hard, Valentin nodded, the hopelessness that had gripped him fast fading.
All he needed was for Bastion to confess in front of his privy council to what Edward had told him—
“My lord, a brandy for you as well,” Robert said, handing him a brimming glass and another to Edward. “Something tells me that a celebration is in order…and soon, a very fast horse.”
Chapter 14
“Everything’s settled then, no need to spend even a night in Calais,” Adam said to Linette and Estelle as he climbed back into the carriage, his voice raised above the din of the bustling wharf. “Louis procured us passage aboard a ship bound for Falmouth that sails within the hour. We’ll hire a coach from there to take us the rest of the way to Porthleven.”
Within the hour. Estelle sighed forlornly and leaned her head back against the upholstered seat as Linette squeezed her hand, her sweet sister not having left her side for the remainder of their journey to Calais.
“It’s probably for the best,” Linette murmured as the carriage jerked into motion to take them further along the wharf to where their ship was docked. “Lingering here another day or so would only make things harder for you, Estelle, truly.”
She gave a small nod, knowing Linette was right even though the thought of a ship carrying her so soon away from Valentin made her heartache all the more unbearable.
Yet she knew, too, that somehow she needed to be strong to get through the journey home, if only for Linette and Adam, who felt so terribly for her. Dark smudges had appeared again beneath her sister’s eyes, no doubt from worry, and here Linette had been looking so happy until the night of the ball.
“This must be our ship,” Adam announced as the carriage rumbled to a stop not far from where they had started moments ago. He’d raised his voice again, the activity along the pier jutting out from the main wharf at a fever pitch as all was made ready for the three-masted vessel to sail.
To Estelle, it seemed to take only moments and she had disembarked from the carriage to climb the gangplank, a strange numbness enveloping her as she followed Linette while Mattie and the other two personal servants brought up the rear. Adam stood upon the pier overseeing the loading of the last of their trunks, while Louis had said his goodbyes and retreated to the wharf to watch their departure.
Estelle barely heard the commotion of sailors shouting on deck, or the captain barking orders, and nearly tripped over a thick coil of rope. Gasping, Linette grabbed her hand to draw her to the railing where they would be out of the way.
“Estelle, are you all right?”
Dazedly, she nodded, but she wasn’t all right. She would never be all right again. She heard Linette gasp again as Adam sprinted up the gangplank just before it was drawn onto the deck, the ship shifting almost imperceptibly beneath her feet.
Dear God, were they leaving already?
Trembling, Estelle looked from the blue expanse of open water back to the wharf, where another commotion seemed to be brewing not far from where they had stopped to purchase their tickets. At least thirty mounted soldiers swarmed in front of the ship’s office, their horses neighing and snorting, one man dismounting to rush inside.
A tall man with blond hair that shone in the sun breaking through the clouds, Estelle’s heart suddenly in her throat.
Linette must have seen him, too, for she grabbed Adam’s arm. “That was Valentin! I swear I just saw Valentin!”
Again, the ship seemed to shift and creak beneath her, Estelle pressing closer to the railing as the man burst from the ship’s office and vaulted onto his horse.
And not just any horse, but a powerful black stallion that Estelle recognized at once as Valentin’s.
Valentin’s!
“Adam, quick, you must speak to the captain!” Linette shouted even as Estelle ran to where they had pulled up the gangplank.
Her heart clamoring, she stared transfixed as Valentin and his soldiers came galloping down the wharf toward their ship, dodging carriages and wagons as people scrambled out of the way. She heard Adam crying out for the captain to hold the ship, everything else seeming to cease around her as the gangplank crashed a moment later back down upon the pier while Valentin had dismounted to run alongside the ship.
His eyes anxiously searching for her among the other passengers lining the railing, until he spied her, intense relief upon his face as he cried out her name.
His voice hoarse, but no more than Estelle’s.
“Valentin!” She half-stumbled down the gangplank to reach him while he lunged upward toward her, and caught her in his arms to hug her fiercely, lifting her from her feet.
“Estelle…oh, my love, Estelle.”
She could not have said how long they held each other, Valentin easing his embrace only a little to kiss her cheeks wet with joyous tears, her eyelids, her smiling lips…until Adam strode down the gangplank to loudly clear his throat behind them.
“Well, Your Serene Highness, I take it we’ll be disembarking from the ship?”
“At once if you would, Lord Linley,” came Valentin’s lighthearted reply as he released Estelle and took her by the hand to lead her down the rest of the way to the pier. “If you will kindly see to Lady Linley, I will escort my beautiful bride-to-be—”
“Bride-to-be?” Estelle gaped at him as he nodded and grew sober, the intensity in his steely blue eyes taking her breath away. “What about your privy council and Princess Hortense?”
“Handily overruled by my people after they filled the streets to voice their displeasure on your behalf…not that her confession and that of her accomplice hadn’t already convinced every member of my council to change their minds—”
“Confession?”
Valentin nodded, drawing her with him toward the nearest carriage where a wide-eyed Louis had clambered out and held the door. “I’ll tell you all that happened on the way home to Bratavia. My people eagerly await our wedding and I’ll not delay that pleasure for them a moment longer than we must, agreed?”
Smiling at him in wonder, Estelle murmured, “Agreed,” as once more he drew her into his arms to kiss her…oh, so tenderly…until Adam came up behind them with a beaming Linette on his arm.
“A wedding you say, Valentin? Damned glad to hear it.”
Blushing furiously and knowing exactly what Adam meant, Estelle glanced at Valentin, who clearly had understood as well from the awkward grin on his face. Yet Adam immediately set him at ease by reaching out to heartily shake his hand.
“As you said, let’s not
keep the good people of Bratavia waiting.”
***
The following afternoon, Estelle stood in the narthex of the cathedral, dressed in the exquisite silver gown she’d worn to the coronation ball, as trumpets announced her arrival. The citizens of Bratavia who had packed into every pew, every side aisle, even filling up the balcony and crowding the musicians, jumped to their feet to see her walk down the aisle to marry her prince.
The route to the cathedral had been thronged with people, too, everyone jostling for a view of Estelle in her white carriage with gilded trim—long reserved for the brides of Bratavia, she’d been told—and drawn by four prancing white horses. Adam and Linette had accompanied her and already taken their seats in the front pew while Valentin had arrived moments earlier astride his magnificent black stallion.
Estelle kept her gaze fixed upon him now, her heart swelling with love as she began her walk down the center aisle to the stirring sound of violins and harp.
And how could she not stare at him dressed in princely regalia and looking so unbelievably handsome? His gaze never left her, either, his expression expectant and filled with such warm admiration that she felt her cheeks blush with pleasure.
It seemed before she knew it, she had taken his hand with trembling fingers and they had walked together up the steps to stand in front of the altar where the archbishop joined them. Like a miraculous dream come true, she and Valentin recited their wedding vows before God and man, followed by their exchange of gold rings, a solemn blessing, and the archbishop presenting them to all as husband and wife.
Yet then came a second part of the ceremony heralded by another blast of trumpets. Still holding her hand, Valentin turned her back toward the archbishop, who placed a glittering diamond tiara upon her head and proclaimed, “Long live our beloved princess, Estelle Marie Chevalier!”
Overcome when the entire assemblage rose to their feet again with resounding cheers and applause, she smiled with heartfelt gratitude while Valentin drew her with him to the top of the steps.
“Your adoring subjects, my love,” he murmured, squeezing her fingers as he faced her. “You’ve won their hearts just as you’ve won mine forever.”
His eyes filled with emotion, Estelle had never felt such joy as when he pressed the sweetest kiss to her lips, which caused the cathedral to erupt again into thunderous approval.
From that moment on, the rest of their wedding day flew by in a whirl of happiness.
The carriage ride back to the castle along streets festooned with flowers as she and Valentin waved to the exuberant throng in between his fervent kisses.
A sumptuous banquet where their guests bestowed upon them countless toasts for a long and prosperous life together, good health, and many children. The later salute never failed to make her blush, each time Valentin tenderly squeezing her fingers and murmuring into her ear that he prayed they were already on their way to starting their family.
Edward Bertrand’s toast to wish them well was especially heartfelt, the baron appearing at peace and not suffering at all the absence of his wife. Hortense had been banished to a guarded estate bordering France, her three hand-picked potential brides for Valentin sent home, and her accomplice exiled forever from Bratavia. Estelle went to him at once to kiss his cheek, which clearly touched him from his gracious bow, her gratitude boundless for his help in reuniting her and Valentin.
And finally the dancing where she and Valentin twirled together around the ballroom until all of a sudden, the hour grown late, he clasped her around the waist and swept her along with him toward the door. Her last glimpse over her shoulder had been of Linette and Adam, who glanced at each other smiling. Estelle gasped with delight when Valentin lifted her into his arms to carry her the rest of their way to his private apartment.
No, their private apartment now, she amended happily as the guards threw open the doors for them and then shut them firmly behind them.
Valentin didn’t stop until he had reached the bedchamber, and only then did he set her down in the middle of the room that clearly had been prepared for them: A fire burning brightly in the fireplace, the covers turned down, and two fluted glasses filled with champagne on a table beside the bed. Valentin left her for only a moment to close the door and then strode back to sweep her into his arms.
“Alone at last,” he murmured against her ear, Estelle thrilling at the sensation of him holding her so tightly. Her arms had no sooner flown around his neck when his mouth found hers to kiss her until she was breathless and trembling, the joy that had enveloped her all day making her feel as if she might burst from the wonder of it.
Only a few nights past she had believed they would be parted forever, and now they were united for a lifetime together as husband and wife!
“You’re a princess now…my princess,” he breathed against her lips, his hand slipping down her back to caress her through the silvery satin of her gown. She shivered and pressed against him even closer, which made him groan from deep in his throat.
“Shall we do something with this?” he said huskily, releasing her to remove her tiara and deposit it on the table. Then he returned to her swiftly to begin undressing her, and Estelle, him.
A lusty giddiness seized them, a flurry of clothing filling the air as they laughed and kissed and spun around each other until Estelle found herself tossed naked onto the bed.
Flushed from head to toe, her breasts rising and falling with unbridled eagerness for him to join her, Estelle watched as he first lifted a glass of champagne to take a healthy draught and then offered her a sip. She trembled so from wanting him that when she rose on one elbow and covered his hand with hers to guide the glass to her mouth, she splashed cool droplets down the front of her body, her nipples puckering.
Which Valentin didn’t seem to mind at all, the hungry look in his eyes making Estelle’s heart skip a beat.
He deposited the glass on the table and joined her so swiftly that she could but gasp and fall back upon the bed, Valentin straddling her and lowering his head to taste the champagne slicking her breasts.
“Oh, Valentin…” Estelle thrust her fingers into his hair as he began to suckle at her nipples, an intense longing filling her. If they had been laughing and lighthearted moments before, now she wanted nothing more than for him to claim her as his truly wedded wife.
She sensed Valentin shared her mounting urgency for his hands had begun to tremble as he caressed her, and dipped his tongue into her navel to make her buck beneath him. Yet he didn’t stop there, but shifted lower, burying his face between her thighs and cupping her bottom to lift her to his mouth, Estelle crying out in surprise.
She threw back her head, her hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue pressed deep inside her to taste her, tease her, until she cried out again, but this time in sheer ecstasy. Only then did he rise above her and blanket her with his body to thrust himself into her, the driving movement of his hips making her moan in sweet delirium.
Distantly she heard him groan, too, Valentin’s flesh throbbing at the very heart of her while Estelle clung to him with all her might, her arms and legs wrapped around him.
He found her mouth, his lips tasting of wine and her sex…their kiss so impassioned, so intimate that she felt wholly possessed by him.
Body and soul.
“I love you, Estelle…my wife, my heart,” came his fierce whisper moments later as he shifted onto his side and drew her with him, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
She snuggled even closer and pressed a fervent kiss to his chest, his heartbeat thrumming against her lips. “I love you, Valentin, my sweet prince. Forever and always.”
***
Late August, 1822
Porthleven, Cornwall
“Mama, will I marry a prince someday?”
Corie glanced in surprise at Paloma, who stared as if enchanted with Valentin and Estelle as they greeted well-wishers at the garden reception she and Donovan were hosting for them at their manor house. She drew her b
eautiful daughter closer to whisper in her ear, “I pray you’ll marry the man of your dreams, whoever he might be.”
“Just like you did with Papa?”
Paloma’s dark brown eyes filled with sweet innocence, Corie felt a tug at her heart as she nodded. “Just like Lindsay and your Aunt Marguerite and Aunt Linette—”
“And now Aunt Estelle. She looks so happy, Mama. Prince Valentin, too.”
“Yes, they’re very happy…but you know you can call him uncle now.”
“Yes, but I like prince so much better. May I have a piece of lemon cake?”
Corie smiled her assent, inwardly relieved that Paloma’s unexpected musings about whom she might marry had jumped to her favorite dessert. She gave Corie a hug, and then ran across the lawn in a flurry of yellow silk to the tables laden with good things to eat, while a masculine chuckle behind Corie made her spin around.
As always, her heart skipped a beat at how handsome her strapping husband looked, Donovan’s midnight eyes full of teasing.
“Only eleven years old and already dreaming of her prince. What are we to do, my darling wife?”
Corie sighed softly, shaking her head as she took his outstretched hand, Donovan drawing her close to stand beside him. Together they surveyed the happy scene of all of their family and many neighbors from the village gathered together after witnessing the blessing of Valentin and Estelle’s marriage at the parish church.
Her dearest friend, Lindsay, and her husband, Jared, visiting in a congenial cluster with Estelle and Valentin, who stood arm in arm, and Linette and Adam.
Marguerite sitting beneath a shady tree and holding baby Flora while she and Walker watched their son, Dwight, running and playing with the twins, Draydon and Dahlia, and Lindsay’s children Justin and Cecelia, the air filled with squeals of laughter. A trio of nannies tending to three-year-old Adele and Penelope, who was ensconced in a pram along with Lindsay’s little Mary, so Corie and Donovan could focus upon their guests.
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