One Night with a Prince

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Oh, Lord, he knows everything.

  He shocked her by lifting her bare hand to his lips and kissing it. “Of course, you might persuade me to share the fruits of my labors if you make the effort. You might as well receive something from this scheme, too. The letters did belong to your family, after all.”

  When he closed his mouth around her forefinger and sucked, it was all she could do not to punch a hole in his palate. But she wasn’t ready to draw the battle lines—she’d find out what she could while they were still on good terms.

  So she swallowed her disgust, and asked coyly, “What do you mean, you could help me get something, too?”

  He lifted his head, but didn’t release her hand. “I knew you would see reason. Especially after Byrne kicked you out of his bed.” His eyes gleamed. “Your dear Philip didn’t leave you with much, did he? And the prince is no doubt breathing down your neck for the letters.”

  She schooled herself to show no response. “What is your offer, sir?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Greedy little spitfire, aren’t you? I think you’ll like what I propose. If you’ll tell Prinny that you’ll authenticate the letters if I’m forced to publish them, then I will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “Byrne offered me riches, too,” she lied. “Why should I take your offer?”

  “He doesn’t have the letters. And I do. When Prinny marries me off to Princess Charlotte—”

  “He’ll never do it,” she broke in. “His Highness has loftier husbands in mind for her.”

  The baron snorted. “Given the choice between marrying his daughter to me or losing his chance to be king, the prince will never choose Charlotte, I assure you. And if he is fool enough to do so, then I can sell those letters to a publisher for a hefty sum.” He entwined his fingers with hers and drew her close. “Especially if you agree to tell your side of the story. They’ll be fighting over who gets to publish the book. You were what age when you and your father sailed off to Gibraltar with a prince’s son? Six? Seven?”

  “Eight,” she said tightly.

  “Perfect. A child’s perspective.”

  She fought down the roiling of her stomach. “You forget that my father is still alive. And he could be hanged for treason if they’re published.”

  Lord Stokely shrugged. “Your father’s a general—he could flee to America or any number of places from France, and no one would ever find him.” He bent his head to her ear. “You are the one you should be thinking of, my dear, not your father.”

  When he placed a wet kiss to her ear, she eased her head away from him with a shiver. “And I suppose a friendship with you would be part of this bargain.”

  “Of course.” His eyes bored into hers, lust shining in their depths. “I will be a most generous lover, my dear. I know you have nowhere to go, but I would set you up in any house in London that you choose, a slew of houses if you want. Princess Charlotte comes with a substantial dowry, so I could afford to shower you with jewels and gowns and—”

  “There’s only one problem with that,” she said, extricating her hand from his. “I don’t particularly care for jewels and gowns and houses in town. And I have no desire to be your mistress.”

  “Holding out for marriage, are you? Not sensible, you know. A penniless marchioness is of little more use to a man than a penniless milliner.” He ran his slimy gaze down her. “Some fellow might marry you for your obvious charms, but beyond that, you’re little good to a man.”

  “Then why would you want me for a mistress?” she snapped.

  “Because I happen to like obvious charms.” He slid his hand about her waist. “And you’ve shown that you prefer men of my sort.”

  “Not really.” Time to get out of his. She wrenched free of his hold and backed toward the door. “I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse your generous offer, Lord Stokely. Being one man’s mistress is more than enough for me.” She searched for something that might make him open the door. “In fact, Byrne and I had planned to meet here to search for the letters. He’s probably on the way even as we speak, and since he’s adept at picking locks—”

  “Good try, Lady Haversham, but it won’t wash. I saw him heading out into the gardens with Lady Kingsley right before I came in here. Why do you think I chose that moment to speak to you?” As he stalked her, his smile sent a shiver down her spine. “Ever heard the phrase, divide and conquer? Lady Kingsley is interested in renewing her acquaintance with your good friend Byrne.”

  He lunged forward and caught her around the waist again. “And I’m interested in beginning one with you.”

  She shoved against his chest, not only to force him away but in hopes of finding where he’d stuck her fan. “But I’m not interested in beginning one with you.”

  “You will be. As soon as I show you I can be an even better lover than Byrne.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers. Blast, he gave her no choice.

  She reached down and grabbed his ballocks, squeezing them more tightly than she’d squeezed Gavin’s that first time. No one could say she didn’t learn from her mistakes.

  It must have been the right amount of pressure, for he jerked back, his eyes popping wide. “What the devil—”

  “Let go of me, sir,” she commanded.

  “You little bitch—”

  She squeezed until his curse turned to a squeak, and he released her waist. Then she backed toward the door, dragging him by the ballocks the whole way. “You just couldn’t listen, could you?” she snapped. “When a lady says no, she means no. Perhaps next time you’ll remember that.”

  The veins stood out on his face, and his jaw was taut enough to bounce a penny off of. “Y-Yes,” he choked out. “Just…let go.”

  When she reached the door, she felt inside his coat with her free hand until she’d retrieved her fan and the key. Then she unlocked the door and opened it. “Thank you for the enlightening discussion, Lord Stokely.” Then she gave an extra squeeze and released him, leaving him doubled over and groaning while she rushed out the door and locked him inside.

  Pocketing the key and her fan, she hurried out of the house with her heart racing. That had been much too near for comfort. She had to get as far away from the scoundrel as possible, before he came after her.

  At least it would take a few minutes for him to make himself heard—once he recovered—and another few minutes for the servants to find the key and let him out.

  She headed to the gardens. She had to find Gavin. There was no point to their searching anymore—Lord Stokely had made that painfully clear. So they had to strike some bargain with him. But only Gavin had the wherewithal to deal with the man. Somehow she must convince him to give up his plans for vengeance and help her. She simply must make him listen!

  Voices came from the gazebo in the far corner, so she headed there. But as she approached near enough to recognize the voices, she hesitated. Lord Stokely hadn’t lied—Gavin was with Lady Kingsley.

  Something kept her from bursting right in on them. Heart pounding, she edged around the gazebo until she found one of the fanciful shuttered windows, still closed from the night before. She eased the shutter open enough to look inside, though she felt like a fool for eavesdropping. But how could she not? Lady Kingsley had been the love of his life.

  “Enough, Anna,” Gavin was saying. “You’ve babbled on now for ten minutes about why you listened to your parents years ago. I keep telling you, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I’ve forgotten it—you should, too. And if you dragged me out here just to beg my forgiveness or some such nonsense—”

  “Forgiveness! No, it’s not forgiveness I want from you.”

  Christabel peered around the edge until she could see them both in profile. Once again, she was struck by how hauntingly beautiful Lady Kingsley was. A lump settled in her throat. No wonder Gavin had loved her.

  “Then what?” he snapped. “I have to return to the house.”

  “For what?” Lady Kingsley countered. “That hoyden yo
u call a mistress? I hear she’s not even sharing your bed these days.”

  He stiffened. “Who told you that?”

  “Lord Stokely, of course. He heard it from his servants.”

  “Ah.” He arched one eyebrow. “You and Stokely seem rather…cozy now that your husband is in town.”

  “Are you jealous?” she said hopefully.

  “Afraid not, my sweet. Those days are long past.”

  At his words, the tightness around Christabel’s heart eased some.

  But they brought a frown to Lady Kingsley’s delicate brow. “You needn’t worry about me and Lord Stokely. He’s not my sort. And she’s not yours. Surely you see that. You need a woman with finesse, sophistication, a woman like—”

  “You?” he said dryly. “Thank you, but I’ve had my fill of women like that.”

  “Oh, Gavin.” Her aching whisper set Christabel’s teeth on edge. “I don’t blame you for hating me. I should never have listened to my family.”

  “But you did, Anna,” he said, his voice decidedly more gentle. “And you were right to do so. A marriage between us would never have worked. You would have fretted over my constant absences and the enormous amount of time I spent at the club in the early years. You would have chafed at the lack of money—”

  “I’m not so shallow as all that,” Lady Kingsley said petulantly. “I would have understood about your financial situation.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, though he sounded merely placating. “But I couldn’t have succeeded while worrying every moment about you. We were too young, and I couldn’t give you the things you wanted. There’s a very good reason men wait until they’re older and established to marry. Because then they have the time and money they need to devote to a wife and family.”

  “Or a mistress?” She lowered her lashes provocatively as she sidled up to him. “It would take very little for me to convince Walter to buy a house in town. Then you and I could meet whenever we pleased.” She reached up to un-knot his cravat. “You loved me once—”

  “That was long ago,” he said firmly, removing her hand from his cravat. “And I don’t want a mistress. I want a wife.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “You mean to marry Lady Haversham?”

  “If she’ll have me,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  Christabel couldn’t breathe. He’d meant it? He really did mean to marry her?

  That didn’t seem to alter Lady Kingsley’s purpose. “There’s nothing to say you can’t have a wife and a mistress. Most men do. Marry the chit if you crave respectability, but you could still—”

  “No, I only want her. You’re right—she’s not my sort, thank God. She’s kind and generous and honest, far too good for the likes of me. But that’s not going to stop me from marrying her, no matter what it takes.”

  Christabel’s blood thundered in her ears so loudly, she was sure they would hear it.

  Lady Kingsley looked decidedly ill. “If it’s a wife you want, I could…try to convince Kingsley—”

  “To divorce you?” Gavin gave a harsh laugh. “Don’t be absurd. Even if he would, you’d be a fool to risk it. I wager you don’t like scandal any more now than you did then.” He softened his tone. “And I hate to tell you this, Anna, but if you showed up on my doorstep tomorrow free as a bird, I wouldn’t marry you. Our time has passed, my sweet. Lady Haversham is the woman I want, the woman I need. And nothing you say or do will change that.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Lady Kingsley threw her arms about his neck. “You still love me—I know that you do. And I can prove it, too.”

  As she pressed her lips to Gavin’s, a searing rage roared through Christabel. She rounded the gazebo, threw the door open, and hissed, “Take your hands off my fiancé this minute, you scheming witch.”

  Gavin was already setting the woman away from him, but as Lady Kingsley whirled to face her, Christabel jerked out her fan. “You had your chance with him, and you lost him. You don’t get another.” Flipping the catch to release the knife, she brandished the blade. “And if you don’t leave him alone from now on, I swear I’ll gut you like a fish the next time I see you.”

  Lady Kingsley let out a squeak.

  “Better take her words to heart, Anna,” Gavin said dryly. “She’s liable to do exactly what she says.”

  “Oh, yes,” Christabel said in her fiercest voice. “You see, women who lack ‘finesse’ happen to possess boldness in spades. We don’t sneak behind our rivals’ backs to steal their lovers. We have the courage to fight for the men we love, a character trait that sophisticated women like you have apparently failed to acquire.”

  Gavin looked as if he were struggling not to laugh. “You’d better go, Anna. Lady Haversham and I have some matters to discuss in private.”

  Lady Kingsley gave a tight nod, then edged warily around Christabel before darting out the door.

  As soon as she was gone, Gavin dropped his gaze to Christabel’s blade. “You can put it away now, lass. Unless you’re planning to go on a rampage and threaten my former mistresses, too.”

  She retracted the blade. “I’m sorely tempted.”

  He stepped closer. “You do know, darling, that I wasn’t trying—”

  “Yes, I realize that. I heard the pertinent parts.” When he reached for her, she brushed his hands aside. “But I didn’t mean to…I didn’t come here for that. I came to tell you what I found out about the letters.”

  His smile faded. “Right now, I don’t give a bloody damn about those bloody letters. Christabel, I—”

  “Lord Stokely knows that we’ve been looking for them.”

  That brought him up short. “I’m not surprised. But how can you be sure?”

  Swiftly, she related the encounter she’d just had with the baron, leaving out the parts that might send Gavin into a rage.

  It sent him into a rage anyway. “He wanted to make you his mistress?” He headed for the door. “It’s time I set that bloody arse straight once and for all.”

  “Forget Lord Stokely’s flirtations for a moment,” she said, grabbing him by the arm to stay him. “I came to tell you that he seems to think having me on his side would help him. He mentioned that I could authenticate the letters.”

  That gave Gavin pause. “Did he?” He turned toward her, eyes narrowing. “That means he’s beginning to doubt whether he could convince a publisher to print them without other proof.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do you know what this means?”

  She eyed him warily. “N-Not really.”

  A slow smile lit his face. “It means we have something to bargain with.”

  “I don’t follow—”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “leave it to me. If we can’t go to the letters, perhaps we can make the letters come to us.”

  “You have a plan!”

  “I have a plan.” He removed her fan from her fingers and tossed it aside, then slid his arms about her waist to draw her near.

  She strained back from him. “What is it?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  Her heart sank. “Because you mean to get them for yourself.”

  “Have a little faith in me, darling,” he said softly. “Have a little faith in yourself. Did you think I could remain immune to your heartfelt pleas forever?”

  “Actually, I did,” she said, with a lift of her chin.

  “Then you don’t realize the effect you have on me. What you said last night made sense. I was doing it for myself, when all I ever wanted was justice for my mother. But if using the letters would hurt her more—would hurt you more—how can I do it?”

  A cautious hope sprouted in her chest. “So you’re going to help me get them back? And let me return them to the prince?”

  At the mention of His Highness, his face grew pained. “I’ll do whatever you want, darling. Just don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

  Hope sprang to full flower. “Oh, Gavin!” she cried, throwing her arms about his neck and showering his face with kisses. “Than
k you, my love, thank you!”

  After a moment, he drew back, a suspicious gleam in his eyes. “I’m not done, lass. I do expect you to meet one condition before I’ll help you.”

  She eyed him warily. “Oh?”

  “You have to agree to marry me.”

  Marry him. The word yes was on the tip of her tongue before she caught herself. She’d leaped into marriage without a thought once before—she was not going to do so again without settling a few things first.

  Nor did it bode well for their future that he would use the letters to try forcing her into marriage. “Let me see if I understand you—you will only help me regain the letters and return them to their rightful place if I agree to marry you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s blackmail, you know.”

  “Of course,” he said without an ounce of remorse in his face. “By now, you should know I’m capable of worse.”

  “So if I refuse to marry you? Would you then go off to get the letters on your own and ruin my family?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She frowned. “You wouldn’t help me out of the goodness of your heart?”

  “Let me tell you a secret, lass.” He bent close to her ear and added in a whisper, “I don’t have any goodness in my heart.”

  When he then proceeded to kiss a path along her jaw, she said, “Then why should I marry you?”

  “Because you want to.”

  “I’m not sure that I do,” she said, peeved that he could be so certain of her. He reached for the buttons at the back of her day gown, and she added, “Stop that! We don’t have time for—”

  “We have plenty of time,” he assured her. “The next round of games won’t begin for another hour or two, and we need only a few moments with Stokely. So we have all the time we need to…work out the terms of our agreement.”

  He slid her gown off her shoulder and pressed an openmouthed kiss to the flesh he’d bared. “Besides, I’m not leaving here until you agree to marry me.”

  As his hand slid inside her gown to cup her breast through the chemise, she sighed. It had been too long since he’d touched her, too long since he’d caressed her. “But what if…your plan doesn’t work, and you can’t retrieve them?”