“Come see what we’ve brought you.” Sorcha went to the bed. There were two pairs of slippers, some stockings, evening gloves, and a spangled shawl dotted with blue silk roses. “We weren’t sure what would fit you best, so we brought everything we weren’t using.”
Mairi picked up the pair of slippers. “You have smaller feet, but you can put paper in the toes. I wasn’t certain which would look best with the gown. Wait until you see it!” She unwrapped the sheet bundle.
Gleaming softly in the candlelight was a gown of pale-blue crepe over white sarcenet. Two folds down the front of the gown were lined with pearls, while a double row of pearls and tiny white flowers decorated the sweeping hem.
Bronwyn touched the gown reverently. “Where did you get this?”
Sorcha smiled. “It’s mine, but it doesn’t fit me. Mama was going to send it back to Edinburgh to have the skirt lengthened and the bodice taken in, but I think it will fit you. And I want you to wear it tonight.”
Bronwyn looked at the beautiful gown, tears clouding her eyes. She engulfed Sorcha in a huge hug.
Mairi laughed and wrapped her arms around them both. As they hugged, Mairi said, “When you two are married, you must find me a husband just as nice as yours. But he must be at least an earl, devastatingly attractive, and have enough money to keep me in books forever.”
Bronwyn laughed as she untangled herself from her sisters. “You have my word on it.”
A shrill call rang out in French, and Mrs. Pitcairn sniffed. “Tha’ be yer mum’s Frenchie maid. She’ll be wantin’ t’ help ye get ready.”
Sorcha grimaced. “We must go. Come downstairs at exactly eight. That’s when we’re leaving, and Mama will change her mind about allowing you to attend once she sees that you are ready. We’ll make certain she does.” She whisked out the door, Mairi on her heels.
Bronwyn realized her sisters were right. She had to face her fate tonight, not hide from it. And what better way to do it than in a new gown? Her spirits buoyed, she began to go through the stacks of clothes.
An hour later Bronwyn stood before the mirror, the soft glow of a lantern shimmering over the gown and making the pearls glow. Mrs. Pitcairn had pinned her hair up in a simple yet elegant style. She looked better than she’d ever looked before. It’s a pity I’m dressing to refuse an offer—one that, if it had been made under different circumstances, would make me the happiest woman on earth.
She gulped back a rush of emotion, hurriedly wiping her eyes. As she pushed her spectacles back into place, she glanced at the clock. Five till eight—time to go downstairs. She picked up her cloak and tied it about her neck.
Click!
Bronwyn whirled to the door. That sounded like . . . the lock?
She hurried over and tried to turn the handle. Nothing. It was locked from the outside. “What is this? Who’s out there?”
Mama’s voice floated in. “Your sisters told me of their plan. This is for your own good, Bronwyn. I promise.”
“No! You can’t do this!”
“I must.” Mama’s voice was thick with tears. “Just wait there. I truly have your best interests at heart—you’ll see. I can’t say more, but just wait.”
“Mama, please don’t—” Her voice broke and she had to gulp to steady herself. If she didn’t go, then Mama would be free to deliver the coldest of answers to anything Alexsey might have to say. Her heart thudded sickly. “Mama, let’s talk about this. Come inside and—”
“Good night, Bronwyn. I’ll unlock the door when we return.”
Her footsteps receded, and soon Bronwyn heard the distant sound of the carriage as it left. Her heart pounding in her throat, she sank to the floor, her mind working furiously.
She’d stolen his heart with just one kiss, a kiss as chaste as an angel’s wing, light and filled with innocent promise.
—The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth
From a window in the upper hall, Alexsey watched the carriages stream into Tulloch’s courtyard. All day, his body had hummed and he’d felt light on his feet, like a snow leopard on the hunt, simmering with excitement and a sense of purpose. Today, he would claim Bronwyn for his own. It’s about damn time.
He didn’t regret the passionate night he’d spent with Roza—come a hundred scandals, he’d never regret that. That night had made him all the more determined to have her in his life. But he did regret the necessity of this proposal. The whole thing—the scandal, the gossip, the fact that other people were now involved in his and Bronwyn’s relationship—that was the untenable part and it had greatly complicated things.
Bronwyn would never accept a marriage offer made for society’s sake. She was far too stubborn and too independent for that, and he relished that about her. But now, because of their situation, she would think that was all he had to offer. Because of his carelessness, things had become complicated. She will refuse me. I know it.
He tugged at his neckcloth, his palms damp. He would not accept her refusal. He’d need a plan, though. Yes, a plan. He’d have to win over her pragmatic side first. Their circumstances dictated that they marry, and he was more than willing, so that was that. But her romantic side would present a bigger challenge. He’d have to prove that more than necessity had brought him to her, and that there was a very good reason to wed. The best one of all. Because he loved her.
If only I’d admitted it to her earlier. But his heart had been stubborn in yielding its secrets. Damn it, I should have wooed her properly from the start, but I was a fool and had planned on just a flirtation. He cringed to think of that now. But all of that could be overcome, he was certain of it. Because he could not accept the alternative. Not this time.
Fortunately, he was not a novice. He patted his coat pocket, where a bundle rested. There was more than one way to woo a woman who loved a good book. It must work. Our happiness depends on it.
Below in the courtyard, Sir Henry’s coach pulled up. Alexsey leaned forward as the coach dislodged its guests, but the portico blocked his sight. Cursing, he left the window and headed downstairs to the ballroom. Finally!
Once inside the ballroom, he bowed to those nearest the doorway and made his way into the crowd, aware of the whispers and looks that followed him. The rumors were thick, but he couldn’t have cared less.
Strath left a small group of men and joined Alexsey. “Ah, the happy groomsman!”
Alexsey looked around, frowning. “I don’t see her. Do you?”
“No.” Strath’s gaze narrowed. “Tell me something: was it worth it?”
“A thousand times yes.”
Strath didn’t look convinced. “She’ll not have you, you know. I’ve heard she’s only coming to refuse you.”
“Then I will change her mind.”
“Good luck. The Murdoch women are a stubborn lot.”
“They are Scottish. I expect no less.”
Strath laughed. “I suppose so. Just . . . don’t do anything rash. You could make this offer, let her refuse you, then go on your merry way, free and unfettered.”
“Free and unfettered do not have the benefits I once thought.”
“Amen,” Strath muttered under his breath. “I must say, you are the most willing of unwilling grooms I’ve ever encountered. You are positively aglow with—”
“Your Highness!”
They turned to find Lady Malvinea. Though always stiff in bearing, she was even more so tonight, her hands clasped tightly before her.
Alexsey looked past her but there was no one there. Pushing his impatience aside, he bowed. “Lady Malvinea, where are your lovely daughters this evening?”
“Sorcha and Mairi were both dancing when I last saw them.”
“And Bronwyn?”
“That’s what I came to tell you. She—” Lady Malvinea looked at Strath, who was pretending not to listen but obviously was. She frowned. “Lord Strathmoor, I would like to speak to His Highness in private.”
Strath flushed. “Since I was standing with him when you address
ed him, I could hardly leave without being rude.”
“You may leave now.”
Strath’s mouth grew white, but without a word, he turned on his heel and left.
Alexsey frowned. “Strathmoor is a good man, my lady.”
“If you knew how many times he’s—” She closed her lips. “It doesn’t matter. If we may walk and converse, there will be fewer interruptions.”
He escorted her away. “Well?” he said as soon as they were distant from the crowd. “Where is Miss Bronwyn?”
“She refused to come.”
He’d never considered that a possibility. He’d been certain that she would at least attend the dinner. He’d imagined it all—she’d arrive, they’d talk, even argue, she’d perhaps even leave with things unresolved. But he’d never imagined that she might not even speak to him. What if she refuses to ever speak to me? His heart grew cold.
Lady Malvinea watched him closely. “That upsets you, I can see.”
“I must speak to your daughter, Lady Malvinea.”
The older woman sighed. “If only it were that easy. Your Highness, she will not marry you. She’s determined to free you from this situation and move on with her life.”
His chest tightened with each word. “She has told you this?”
She nodded. “Bronwyn does not wish to correspond in any way. She asks only that you respect her wishes and leave as soon as possible, so that she may continue her life as it was before.”
His heart sank and he fought for breath. He realized Lady Malvinea was waiting for him to speak. “I am sorry, but this news . . . I cannot accept it.”
Her expression softened. “Perhaps . . . perhaps we can ask for some assistance. Bronwyn has a fondness for Sir Henry. We could ask him to speak to her on your behalf. She might be willing to see you then.”
Why not? “Yes. That would be good.”
“Here’s the library. Why don’t you wait there, and I’ll fetch Sir Henry. I just saw him by the stairs, and it would be better if I asked for his attendance. He’s not happy that the incident happened under his roof. He’s a bit irritated with you now, but once he knows you wish to make things right, I’m sure he’ll come around.”
Alexsey didn’t have anything to lose. “I will wait here.” Hopefully there would be some scotch in the library.
As she left he went inside the room, only to find it quite dark, lit by only one candle.
Frowning, he took a step toward a lamp beside the candle.
“Hello?”
He turned at the sound of a woman’s voice. Squinting into the gloom, he saw someone rise from the settee beside the fire, the high back having obscured her from view. He frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought this room unoccupied.”
“Oh! Your Highness, I didn’t realize it was you.” She dropped a curtsy.
“Sorcha?” Alexsey frowned, walking closer. “What are you doing here?”
“Mama has a headache, and she told me to wait here while she fetched some hartshorn.”
He froze in place. “Your mother?”
“Yes. She said she’d . . . return . . .” Her words diminished to a whisper, her eyes widening.
“Damn it!”
He turned toward the door, but before he could take more than two strides, Tata Natasha and Lady Malvinea entered, Sir Henry behind them. Sir Henry was in the middle of telling the ladies a story about a fish he’d once caught, but he came to an abrupt standstill when he saw Alexsey and Sorcha.
It looked damning—the empty room, him and Sorcha in the near dark—
“Well!” Tata Natasha said, satisfaction on her face. “What have we here?”
Lady Malvinea’s eyes gleamed, though she shook her head in condemnation.
“Damn you, sir!” Sir Henry stomped forward, his face obviously flushed. “How many Murdochs are you trying to ruin?”
Lord Thomas leaned closer. “Roland, I will tell you an ancient secret. There are two ways to woo a woman. The first is to use all the weapons at your disposal. The second is to never run out of weapons.”
—The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth
Alexsey seethed. Was nothing to go right today?
Lady Malvinea turned to Sir Henry. “The prince has ruined Sorcha. I demand an accounting.”
The words sounded as contrived as they were.
Alexsey made his way to the nearest lamp, flooding the room with a brighter glow.
“Mama, no!” Sorcha hurried to her mother’s side. “Nothing happened, and you know it. You were the one who—”
“Quiet, child. Let Sir Henry handle this.”
Sorcha’s chin rose. “No, I won’t let it be! You caused this. You—”
Tata tsked. “Sir Henry, forgive the girl. She’s obviously distraught.”
Alexsey narrowed his gaze on his grandmother. She didn’t seem the least upset. In fact, he detected the faintest glimmer of a smile in her eyes.
“With good reason!” Sir Henry glared at Alexsey. “Your Highness, you have much to answer for!”
“I did not attempt to seduce Miss Sorcha.”
“You were here, so was she, the lamp turned down, and nearly all of the candles were out. Who did that, if not you?” Sir Henry blustered. “How dare you abuse my hospitality in such a way!”
“I did not know Miss Sorcha was in the library when I entered. Lady Malvinea did not mention that she’d left her daughter here.”
“He never touched me,” Sorcha added.
“Ha!” Tata Natasha said.
Alexsey caught the quick, meaningful glance she shared with Lady Malvinea. His gaze narrowed. “Tata, you and Lady Malvinea have been plotting. But what? I wonder.”
Tata sniffed. “Don’t ask for help from me; this matter is in Sir Henry’s hands.” She turned to him. “Sir Henry, you know what you must do.”
Sir Henry’s glower faded a bit. “Aye?”
“Tell my grandson he must make a choice. He has to pick which he will marry.”
Sir Henry blinked. “I do?”
“Of course. What else can you do?”
“I don’t know. I suppose that answer serves as well as any other.” He turned to Lady Malvinea. “Is that what you would have me do? If it were me, I’d rather toss the blackguard into gaol for the rest of his life.”
“You cannot,” Tata Natasha said serenely. “He’s a prince of Oxenburg.”
“I don’t give a damn if he’s a prince of England,” Sir Henry huffed. “As far as I’m concerned, that rakehell lost his immunity when he seduced two women under my roof.”
“My lord.” Lady Malvinea cleared her throat. “Her Grace’s idea has merit; let’s allow His Highness the choice.”
Tata nodded. “It is an easy choice. Bronwyn is not of a marriageable age. Sorcha is perfect. It is decided.” She inclined her head to Sir Henry. “Marry them as soon as possible.”
“I’ll fetch a vicar now and—”
“No.”
Everyone turned to see Lord Strathmoor standing in the open doorway, his face white.
Sir Henry frowned. “This is none of your affair.”
“Like hell.” Strath held out his hand to Sorcha.
With a muffled sob she hurried to his side, slipping into the circle of his arm as if she belonged there. “I’m so glad you came! Mama asked me to wait for her here—I didn’t know she was tricking the prince into joining me here, or—”
Tata stomped her foot. “Bozhy moj! Is everyone in this castle hiding their loves?”
Lady Malvinea’s mouth hung open. “Sorcha? What is this?”
Strathmoor pressed a kiss to Sorcha’s cheek, then bowed to Lady Malvinea. “Sorcha and I owe you an apology. I have come to you many times requesting your permission to court your daughter.”
“Too many times,” she said curtly. “You have nothing to offer her.”
“I have love, my lady. And for us, it is enough.” He took Sorcha’s hand and kissed it. “We married two days ago.”
Silence met this.<
br />
Alexsey choked on a laugh. “You lucky bastard.”
Strath sent him a pleased look. “I wished to tell you, but you were in the middle of your own storm.”
“I am glad to see we’re to be brothers, once I convince Bronwyn to have me, that is.”
“Pah!” Tata Natasha threw up her hands. “This ruins everything.”
Lady Malvinea nodded, tears in her eyes. “Our plan . . . all of our scheming . . .”
“Da,” Tata said with a regretful shrug. “It was a beautiful idea, but it did not work so well, eh?”
“I don’t understand.” Sir Henry rubbed his eyes as if he hoped to see through the confusion more clearly. “Strath . . . married to Miss Sorcha? I thought you couldn’t stand one another.”
“Trust me, there were times I positively hated her, and she me.” Strath sent an amused glance at his wife, who blushed. “She said no many, many times.”
Sorcha smiled shyly. “But he kept asking, each time in a better way.”
“Sorcha, how could you?” Lady Malvinea’s face folded in tears. “How could you not tell me? I’m your mother!”
“I wanted to, but every time I mentioned Strathmoor, you dismissed him and started talking about the prince.”
“But . . . he’s only a viscount, and has so few prospects. How will you live?”
Sorcha slipped her arm through Strathmoor’s. “I love him, and we will make our own prospects.”
Lady Malvinea turned to Sir Henry. “You must do something about this!”
“I’m afraid I can’t. If they’re married, that’s all there is to be said about it.” Sir Henry sighed. “I suppose I can do one thing, though. I was already thinking about this, so I’ll make it official.” He quirked a brow at Strath. “What do you think of a bride gift in the form of this castle?”
Strath’s eyes widened. “Tulloch? For us?”
“Aye.” Sir Henry looked fondly about the library. “I love the place, but it needs someone who’ll live here and invest the rents back into the lands. I’ve no time for that, but you could do it, lad. You’re young and have the intelligence.”
The Prince Who Loved Me (The Oxenburg Princes) Page 26
