Eloping With The Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword)

by Robyn DeHart

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the Author

  Get Scandalous with these historical reads… How to Bewilder a Lord

  The Rogue of Islay Isle

  Seducing Charlotte

  Wicked in His Arms

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Robyn DeHart. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Scandalous is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Alethea Spiridon

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Cover art from Period Images

  ISBN 978-1-64063-108-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2017

  To Z, I suspect someday we’ll discover you’re secretly a princess. You’re most certainly mine. I love you to the moon and back.

  To Emily, who I swear is truly the other half of my brain. There is no writing without you.

  To my incomparable editor Alethea, your patience is never-ending, as is your brilliance. Thank you for your continued support of me.

  And as always, to my husband Paul, for too many reasons, but mostly for loving me so well.

  Prologue

  London, 1825

  “Jason! Come quickly,” Patrick said.

  Jason looked up from his wooden horse to see his younger brother bolt into the room. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “It’s Tom. Father is dismissing him. You must stop him. Who will care for the horses if he’s gone?”

  Jason didn’t wait around to console his brother. Instead, he ran from his room and down the large marble staircase to find his father. He skidded to a halt outside of the viscount’s study. The voices coming from inside were raised and angry.

  “You’ll never find anyone else who can handle your horseflesh the way I can,” Tom said.

  “I realize that,” the viscount said. “You are the very best, and that is not lost on me. However, it has been brought to my attention that Jason is spending far too much time with you. It’s simply not right. He is my heir. Unfortunately, you are a bad influence on the boy.”

  Jason wanted to run into the study, to tell his father it wasn’t true. Tom was a friend. He’d been kind to Jason, taught him so much about horses and how to care for them, and so many other things. He wanted to tell his father this was Jason’s own fault; he’d been the one to seek Tom out, to badger the stable master with questions until the man had relented and answered. Jason knew, though, that nothing he said would matter.

  He’d heard all of this before, primarily from his grandmother. His father’s mother was a strict woman who still had her thumb on her son, doing her level best to remain in charge of the family despite her husband’s death long before Jason was born.

  Jason tried so hard to be a good boy, one his grandmother could be proud of, but he’d always seen the scorn in her gaze. The truth was she’d never liked Jason. He’d felt that about his grandmother from his earliest memories. And it wasn’t that she didn’t care for children, because she seemed perfectly fond of his younger brother.

  “I have a right to spend time with him,” Tom said. “You know that. We agreed on that much. Where is Genny?”

  “She is not here, but suffice it to say, she agrees with this decision. You have had your time with him. But he is getting older, and now is the time for him to start learning my ways, the ways of his future,” Jason’s father said.

  “He’ll never be like you,” Tom said, bitterness dripping from his words.

  “Do not forget you were paid quite handsomely for your silence. As an added incentive for you to remain silent, I will also ensure you leave here with the best recommendations. You shall be able to have any job you wish.”

  Silence?

  About what? Jason knew there were secrets between their stable master and his parents. But he’d never known about what precisely. He had his suspicions, but he’d never dared ask.

  “This is for the best. For Jason. I’m certain you can appreciate that,” his father said, his voice gentle.

  Tom said nothing, merely grunted, then pushed his way out into the foyer. His dark eyes found Jason, and he walked directly up to him. Jason could have sworn there were tears welled in the stable master’s eyes. He grabbed hold of the front of Jason’s shirt.

  “Remember this, boy, blood will always tell. They can cover everything up with these high manners they’re teaching you and that fancy education, but in the end, blood will tell. You can’t run away from who you are.” With that, he released Jason and walked away.

  It would be another six months before Jason learned the full truth…that Tom was his father. That his mother had had a brief affair. And that, although according to the entire world he was the heir to his father’s title and estate, Jason was nothing more than a bastard.

  Chapter One

  Isabel Crisp had always considered herself the most ordinary of women. Of unknown or undetermined parentage, she relied on the generosity of her uncle, Lord Thornton, to fund her rather mediocre education at St. Bartholomew’s School for Girls. At nineteen, she had long ago made peace with her lack of prospects. After all, if her uncle had intended to withdraw her from school and launch her into Society, it would’ve happened long ago.

  Apparently, however, her uncle was as disinterested in her future as he was in her education. As for Isabel herself, she hoped one day to find a position as a governess, or perhaps to be allowed to stay on at St. Bartholomew’s as a teacher.

  She certainly never expected to be leaving St. Bartholomew’s any time soon, especially not before sunrise. But her aunt, Lady Thornton, had come to retrieve her. They had no sooner stepped outside when something gripped her arm and tugged. Or rather someone. Pain and panic shot through her, and she struggled against the man as he dragged her away from the school and her aunt.

  Then the man who had accompanied her aunt came after her assailant, punching him square in the face. The man released her arm and howled in pain. Isabel scurried away. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, thundered against her chest. Lilith grabbed her and pulled her into the waiting carriage. A minute later her aunt’s companion jumped inside the carriage and yelled to the driver to move.

  They rolled forward, away from the school. She rubbed at her throbbing arm where her would-be assailant had grabbed her. Her heart still beat wildly. She put her hand to her chest in a foolish effort to still her heart.

  “Did you know that man?” Lilith asked.

  Isabel was about to answer when she realized that the question had not been directed at her. She searched the faces of her aunt and her c
ompanion.

  The man shook his head. “I was hoping you recognized him.”

  “Me? No, I’ve never seen him before,” Lilith said. “What does he want with Isabel?”

  “I didn’t give him a chance to tell me,” he said. “I simply pulled her free and slowed him down. But it’s obvious she’s in danger.”

  Her? Why would she be in danger? She merely assumed that the man had grabbed her because it was so early in the morning and certainly that must be the time when all the criminals were out and about. Her assailant wasn’t the only man she didn’t know. Who was this man who was with her aunt? They quite obviously knew each other, but Isabel had never seen him before. He was a gentleman, that much was blatant, with his perfectly tied cravat and proper speech.

  Isabel watched the two of them talk back and forth as if she were invisible. When she could stand it no longer, she finally blurted out, “I am right here. No need to discuss me as if I am deaf or incapable of speaking for myself.”

  Her aunt’s companion turned his gaze on her. “Did you recognize him?” the man asked her.

  Isabel didn’t answer immediately. She did not know this man. He could very well be a criminal, but that wouldn’t explain why her aunt was with him. Lilith was the only person in the world she’d ever been able to trust. She glanced at her aunt and when Lilith inclined her head gently, Isabel took a steadying breath.

  “No, but I rarely leave the school.” She paused and considered any time recently when she would have been out of school grounds and in a place to meet a stranger, but nothing came to mind. She shook her hands out to calm her addled nerves. “I don’t understand. Why am I in danger?” Then she angled her head to speak directly to Lilith. “And who is that man?” she asked quietly.

  The man looked directly at her aunt as if she alone held the answer.

  “Do not fret, squirrel, I will keep you safe.” Lilith patted Isabel’s knee.

  Her aunt’s use of the pet name offered a small measure of comfort.

  “This is Lord Lynford. He is our escort for the evening.”

  Isabel could clearly see that there was more the two of them weren’t saying aloud. Where was her uncle, and why was her aunt with this Lord Lynford? It was on her tongue to ask precisely that, but she instinctively knew they would not answer. Perhaps once she was alone with Lilith she could find out more.

  Later on, the man stopped the carriage and gave instructions to the driver. When Lilith questioned him, he simply told her he was bringing them somewhere safe. Lilith argued, demanded even, that he return them to her townhome, but the man refused.

  Isabel knew there was no point in her joining in the conversation; neither of them would listen to her. She had no notion of what was happening in any case, and now merely wanted to be out of the carriage so she could move her body around. She was cramped and stationary, and that made her jittery.

  Tired of the quiet that stretched in the tiny confines of the carriage, Isabel finally asked one of the questions spinning through her mind. “Lilith, why did you come get me?”

  Her aunt smiled slightly. “You have been at the school long enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Well, yes, but every time I asked Lord Thornton if I could leave, he refused me,” Isabel said.

  “You call your uncle by his title?” Lord Lynford asked.

  Isabel frowned at the man. “He insisted on it. I called him uncle once or twice and he said I was not to do so again.”

  “He will no longer be insisting on anything,” Lilith said. “He is gone.”

  “Gone?” Isabel asked.

  “Dead, my dear.” There was much left unsaid in that one statement. Isabel had known from nearly the moment she’d met her uncle’s wife that theirs had not been a love match. Thornton was a cruel man, and he’d done little more than parade Lilith about on his arm, relishing the way her stunning beauty made others look at him.

  Isabel nodded but did not speak. Thornton was dead. He was her only family member save Lilith, but that was only by marriage. She was alone in the world. She’d always felt as much, but now it was truth. The realization swam through her, but she felt nothing. Not relief, not sadness, not even indifference. It was as if Lilith had said something as simple as she’d started growing cabbage in her garden.

  The carriage rolled to a stop.

  “Who lives here?” Lilith asked after peeking out the curtained window.

  “Viscount Ellis,” the man said, then he held his hand out to them to assist them down from the rig. “Ladies.”

  The servant who opened the door bowed to the man. “Your Grace,” he said as he gave them entrance. Lord Lynford had moved farther into the house and was speaking quietly with the butler.

  “Who is that man?” Isabel whispered.

  Lilith rolled her eyes so slightly that Isabel wasn’t even certain it had happened. “I already told you. Gabriel Campbell, Duke of Lynford.”

  No, that was merely the man’s name. She wanted to know who he was. “Why are you with him?” Isabel asked.

  “’Tis a long story,” Lilith said.

  “This way.” Lord Lynford angled his head.

  Lilith matched the duke’s stride and said something quietly to him as they were led through the foyer and down a corridor. He quipped back to her. Though Isabel couldn’t hear their precise words, she was not so green to not recognize that something simmered between the two of them. Of course that would not be surprising. Her aunt was beautiful, stunning, and likely turned the head of every man when she entered a room. She and the handsome Lord Lynford would certainly make a striking couple.

  The butler led them into a study, and a man immediately stood from behind a large mahogany desk. Though he quite obviously belonged in this room, there was a boyish charm about his wry grin that made him appear as if he’d snuck into his father’s study.

  “Have you been traveling about London picking up stray women all night, Lynford?” His brilliant blue eyes sparkled as he spoke.

  “Not precisely,” the duke said.

  The man Isabel presumed was Lord Ellis stepped around his desk. He glanced at Lilith. “Lady Thornton, a pleasure to see you again.”

  Lord Lynford tried to introduce her. Isabel vaguely heard him refer to her as Miss Crisp. Isabel knew it was unbecoming and impolite to stare, but she seemed to be caught up in the appearance of Lord Ellis. With his cropped brown hair and chiseled jawline, he was the picture of a fine gentleman, right down to the aristocratic line of his nose and the white of his cravat. Although he wasn’t as tall as Lord Lynford, his broad shoulders spoke of masculinity, and the way he moved revealed his athleticism. He was nothing short of dashing.

  “We used our Christian names at St. Bart’s so I’m accustomed to that. Isabel is fine,” she said.

  “Very well,” Lord Lynford said with a nod. “Isabel is in need of protection.” He stepped closer to Ellis and lowered his voice. “We could discuss this in private, if need be.”

  “Unnecessary. I trust your assessment. Who is she?” Lord Ellis asked, never taking his piercing gaze off her.

  Isabel coughed gently. “She is Lord Thornton’s niece. I can speak for myself.”

  That wry grin from earlier blossomed into a full smile. He gave her a sharp nod. “Duly noted, Lord Thornton’s niece. I shall address you directly in the future.” He turned back to Lord Lynford. “Now then, am I to understand that we do not know why she is in danger?”

  “You believe me to be in danger still?” Isabel asked, her heart ticking up a beat. “I thought that man was merely a criminal taking advantage of my being out at such an early hour.”

  “We do not know,” Lilith said. “And I certainly did not intend for us to intrude upon you so early in the morning; it is not even fully light out yet. If you would kindly lend us a carriage, we shall—”

  “Lilith, you are not going anywhere,” Lord Lynford said. “We’ve discussed this.”

  “No, you made demands. Not the same thing,” Lilith sa
id.

  Isabel watched the two of them standoff and didn’t know what to think. She was potentially in danger, though she couldn’t fathom why. She knew next to no one, considering she’d spent so many of her formative years at St. Bart’s. Though something must be causing Lilith to be alarmed, else she would not have taken Isabel away from school before dawn.

  “Ellis,” Lynford said. “Perhaps you could show Isabel to a room, assuming you are able to accommodate us?”

  “Of course,” Lord Ellis said.

  Lilith gave Isabel an apologetic look.

  She would have been satisfied with someone simply pointing her to the nearest room, although she couldn’t very well return to bed at this hour. She supposed some women would. She’d heard that genteel ladies often did not arise until noon, but she was not accustomed to keeping such hours. Not only that, but she wasn’t ready to end the conversation with Lilith and Lord Lynford. She wanted answers. Her aunt’s tight-lipped expression clearly revealed that she would not be providing any more answers, at least with Lord Lynford within earshot. So Isabel followed Lord Ellis out of the room.

  “I admittedly do not have guests often. My apologies if I am a terrible host,” Lord Ellis said as he led her up the staircase.

  “I can’t say that I’ve ever truly been a guest, so I won’t have much previous experience by which to measure your hosting skills.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, then I have ample opportunity to impress you.”

  She smiled in spite of herself and the awkward situation.

  “Yes, well, here we are.” He opened a door to their right and stepped inside.

  She followed suit and stared in surprise at the sight that greeted her. She forced herself to close her mouth. “I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head. “Is this some sort of jest?”

  His brows rose. “Is the room not to your liking?”

  “No, you misunderstand. I expected to be shown to a servant’s room. This”—she stepped farther into the room, but was careful to keep her feet on the hard floor and not tread directly onto the very expensive and plush rug—“is too much. It is unnecessary for me to have so much opulence.” She backed up, trying to leave the room, but he stopped her with a hand against her back.