Her Highness, My Wife

by Victoria Alexander

  “Excellent job, my lord,” she said softly. “You do indeed know the basics of seduction. Practice, no doubt.”

  His expression sobered. “If I had known or suspected or even hoped that you would ever return, I—”

  “No.” She reached to quiet his lips with hers. “I cannot blame you for what may well be my fault. However…” Gently, she bit his lower lip. “You shall restrict your activities to only one tart in the future.”

  “A royal tart?”

  In answer, she slipped her hand between them and caressed him. He gasped and grabbed her hand. “I can certainly see the benefits to that.”

  He anchored her legs with his and kissed her thoroughly. “Surviving death puts rather a remarkable edge on everything in life, don’t you agree?”

  “I do indeed. However, edge or not, it is rather more comfortable in a bed.”

  “We should try a bed more often.”

  “Very often.”

  “As often as possible.”

  “More often,” she said and met his lips once again.

  She had had doubts, before her return, as to whether coming back to him might not be a horrid mistake. She had had doubts as well over her plan to renounce her title. It was a drastic step, requiring a great deal of thought and consideration.

  But every minute spent with him, in his arms, in his bed, simply in his company dispelled those misgivings. She knew, with a certainty she’d never known before, that this was where she was meant to be.

  It was not mere happenstance that had brought her to Paris some fifteen-odd months ago. No simple impulse that caused her to escape the bonds of her position that day. No odd chance that led her to a park and an English charmer with a balloon.

  No, Matthew Weston was her fate.

  Now she just had to convince him.

  ———

  “If this is a small, intimate affair, I should hate to see Her Grace’s idea of a grand occasion.” Matt leaned close to Tatiana’s ear. “Granted, it has been a significant length of time since I was present at any ball whatsoever, yet this seems rather a crush to me.”

  “Nonsense, Matthew.” Tatiana’s gaze skimmed over the crowd. “I cannot imagine there are more than a hundred people here. Why, it is scarcely large enough to be called a ball.”

  Matt studied her curiously. His princess was in her natural surrounding. Wealth. Nobility. Power.

  Her eyes sparkled, and excitement sounded in her voice. When they’d changed from the carriage to the larger coach, Tatiana had taken the opportunity to increase her luggage as well. And well worth it. The gown she wore tonight was deep and blue and made of fabric so insubstantial it clung like gossamer to every curve. It was scandalously low and he tried not to frown forbiddingly when he glanced at her overly exposed cleavage. She was tantalizing and inviting and delicious, and he would wager he was not the only man here who thought so.

  She looked, in truth, every inch a princess.

  “I must admit, I am quite impressed with how quickly Her Grace’s staff has put this all together. Particularly, so far from the city.”

  “It’s ridiculous that the dowager decided to go ahead with it at all. Rather a lot of trouble for nothing.” A waiter presented them with a tray bearing glasses of champagne. Matt handed one to Tatiana and took one for himself. “The balloon was the true attraction, and it’s gone.”

  She shook her head in a gesture of feminine disgust. “You really do not understand anything about women, do you?”

  “Apparently not, as I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “It is obvious, my dear Lord Matthew.” She spoke as if he were a small child incapable of understanding even the simplest concept. “The dowager duchess has a strong belief in the importance of family. As you are the grandson of her dear friend, she considers you an honorary member of this particular family. All this is to welcome you back into the fold.”

  “This is not my fold.” He frowned and took a sip of his drink. “And I am not back in it.”

  “Come, now, all prodigal sons say that.”

  “I am not a prodigal son, nor do I plan on becoming one.”

  Tatiana sipped at her wine and cast him an overly innocent gaze. “You did promise to visit your grandmother and your home.”

  “I did not promise to visit. I promised to consider visiting. However, as we are discussing promises…” He narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you promise to tell Her Grace the truth about who you are and what you’re looking for?”

  “I do believe, my lord, that, just like you, I promised to think about it.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You are such a good influence on me.”

  “Tatiana.” The woman would drive him mad in no time.

  “Oh, do stop looking at me as if I have done something reprehensible. I have indeed decided to confess all. I simply did not have the opportunity today.”

  He raised a brow. “Too busy searching Effington Hall, were we?”

  “Not at all.” She bristled. “I was too busy preparing for this evening, as was she. I shall bare my soul to her tomorrow. If that is acceptable to you. I may even give up dishonesty altogether, if that should make you happy.”

  “Blissful.” He raised his glass to her. “To your vow of honesty, then.”

  “Unless, of course, the situation truly calls for its opposite.” She smiled in an all-too-regal manner and turned her attention back to the milling crowd. “I have no idea who is whom here. I am somewhat surprised there was no receiving line, nor were we announced upon our arrival, although I suppose this is not a formal affair.”

  “No, this is one of those small, family gatherings.”

  “Do you know any of these people?”

  “I should, I suppose, but I entered naval service when I was sixteen, still a bit young for occasions like this.” He shook his head. “I don’t know a soul.”

  “Well, the tall gentleman standing near the dowager is her grandson, Thomas, the Marquess of Helmsley,” a feminine voice sounded behind them.

  Matt and Tatiana turned at once. An attractive woman with a mass of unruly blond curls and spectacles perched on the end of a pert nose smiled at them.

  “Do forgive me, but I could not help overhearing. Or rather, I suppose I could help it, but it would not be nearly as much fun.” She held out her hand. “I am Lady Helmsley, Thomas’s wife. I gather you are Lord Matthew Weston.”

  “Lady Helmsley.” Matt drew her hand to his lips. “Allow me to present my wife.” He bit back an inadvertent grin. “Lady Matthew.”

  “You are the scholar from Avalonia.” Lady Helmsley’s eyes sparkled. “Her Grace told me all about you and your quest to learn of the travels of a princess. It must be fascinating.”

  “Oh, indeed it is,” Tatiana said blithely. “One never knows what kinds of things one can find with just a bit of searching.”

  Matt snorted, then effected an odd cough and smiled apologetically.

  Tatiana shot him a quick, scathing glance.

  “Do you see the couple conversing with the dowager duchess?” Lady Helmsley nodded at a tall, dark-haired gentleman accompanied by a lovely blonde, also with spectacles. “That is Viscount Beaumont, and his wife, my sister Jocelyn. No one knew it when they wed, but he is your princess’s grandson. In truth, he has a legitimate claim to the title of prince, although he chooses not to use it. I’m certain you will wish to speak with him about her.”

  “I had hoped to, but I had heard he, as well as his mother, were not in England at the present time.” Tatiana’s tone was offhand, but her gaze on the couple was intent. That was obviously the cousin she had never met, and Matt wondered if her newfound promise of honesty would extend to him.

  “His mother has returned to London and is planning a small reception next week.” She leaned close to Tatiana. “We shall make certain you are invited. That will be the perfect opportunity for you to meet her and inquire about the princess.

  “Lord Beaumont and my sister returned from Avalon
ia only recently, as did Thomas and my brother, Richard. There have been some political difficulties there in recent months, but apparently all is resolved now.” The lady cast Tatiana a curious glance. “But then, you, no doubt, are far more familiar with the situation than I.”

  “I have been away from my country for a rather long time, my lady,” Tatiana said smoothly. “Unfortunately, I am not as well versed with the political climate as I should be.”

  Matt raised a brow but held his tongue.

  “I’m not certain any of us are.” Lady Helmsley shrugged. “I consider myself quite well read, yet even I am not as informed as I should be. However, Lord Beaumont is most up to date on current affairs in your county. He will be a fount of all kinds of interesting information.” Lady Helmsley beamed at Tatiana. “I cannot believe the stroke of luck that has brought you here.”

  “Nor can I.” Tatiana smiled pleasantly.

  “The world is a remarkably small place,” Matt said, trying not to grin.

  “Isn’t it, though?” Lady Helmsley tucked her arm through Tatiana’s. “Now, then, my dear, you must meet everyone.”

  “I would like nothing better.” There was a gleam in Tatiana’s eye that did not bode well. What was she up to now? She handed him her empty glass. “Would you be so good as to fetch me another? I find I am rather parched.”

  “Certainly.” He leveled her a discreet warning glance. “I shall join you in a moment.”

  “Excellent.” Lady Helmsley nodded, then steered Tatiana away. “I think we have a great deal in common. I write a bit myself. Nothing as complicated as the history of a royal family. Stories, really, not at all serious, but great fun…”

  Stories? He snorted to himself. If Lady Helmsley only knew she wasn’t the only one experienced in spinning stories. He downed the rest of his champagne, then nodded at a passing footman, who relieved him of both empty glasses.

  “Your wife is lovely.”

  “Thank you.” Matt turned with a grin. “I think so.” His smile froze.

  He stared at a man of his own height and build, with eyes the color of his and hair nearly the same shade. A man who was almost a mirror image. Not quite a twin.

  His breath caught and blood roared in his ears. “Stephen?”

  Absolutely a brother.

  The corner of Stephen Weston’s mouth quirked upward. “Have I changed that much?”

  “No.” Matt stared in disbelief. “Not at all.” Without thinking, he reached out and clasped his brother’s hand in both of his. “I would have known you anywhere.”

  “Come, now, Matt, is that all I get after ten full years?” Stephen pulled him into a hard quick hug, then held him out at arm’s length. “You look good. The life of an adventurer suits you.”

  “An adventurer?” Matt laughed. “Hardly that.”

  “No?” Stephen raised a brow. “What would you call a man who first served in His Majesty’s Navy, then turned to sailing the skies?”

  “Something of a fool, actually,” Matt said wryly.

  Stephen laughed and slapped him on the back. “Damn, I have missed you.” He nodded toward a row of French doors on the far side of the ballroom. “Come on, there’s a terrace out there where we can talk. It’s too bloody crowded in here for my taste.”

  He started toward the doors, Matt trailing a step behind. At once he was struck with a sense of familiarity. Stephen was older by barely a year and Matt had spent most of his childhood at his brother’s heels.

  “Besides, we can have a cigar.” Stephen glanced back over his shoulder. “Of course, if you don’t like cigars…”

  Matt grinned. “I have been known to indulge on occasion.”

  A few minutes later, the brothers leaned on the stone balustrade overlooking the Effington grounds. Stars glittered overhead and strategically located candelabras cast circles of light. Stephen’s cigars were excellent and Matt puffed appreciatively, grateful for both the quality of the tobacco and the reprieve from more serious matters the simple act of lighting up cigars provided.

  “So…” Matt drew a deep breath.

  “You are wondering what I am doing here.” Stephen grinned. “The Dowager Duchess of Roxborough is not above meddling to suit her purposes. I’d wager she had a note written and on its way to us before you did more than bid her good day. She thinks it’s time to put the past to rest.”

  “She’s made no secret of her opinion.”

  “And we agree.”

  “We?”

  “We. All of us.” Stephen puffed on his cigar. “Alec—you do realize he is the marquess now and head of the family?”

  Matt nodded.

  “He, James, grandmother and I are in accord on this.” Stephen cocked his cigar at his brother. “Grandmother was pleased, by the way, to learn of your marriage.”

  “Was she?” A heavy weight settled in Matt’s stomach.

  “Yes, indeed. Quite pleased. She is not as spry as she used to be and much crankier than she once was. One of her favorite themes is the lack of females at Weston Manor.”

  “So none of you have married?”

  Stephen flicked an ash over the side of the terrace and shook his head. “No one has managed to leg-shackle us yet. Of course, Alec, as the title holder, is the most in demand, but he is barely one and thirty, with plenty of time to wed and sire an heir. And neither James nor I are in any particular hurry.” He grinned in a slightly wicked manner. “We are having entirely too much fun.”

  Matt laughed. Stephen joined him, then sobered. “It has been far too long, little brother, and you have been missed.”

  “I have missed all of you as well.” Emotion swelled within him and he puffed quickly to disguise it.

  “That’s good to hear.” Stephen studied the glowing end of his cigar. “Alec and James wanted to come with me tonight, but we decided I should come alone.” He met his brother’s gaze directly. “We didn’t know what kind of reception we’d get. If you had yet forgiven us.”

  “If I had forgiven you?” Matt started with surprise. “What was there for me to forgive?”

  “We did nothing at the time to stop events between you and Father from unfolding as they did.” Stephen chose his words with care. “We have talked about our lack of action through the years and it weighs heavily on us.”

  Matt stared for a long moment, then laughed.

  “I’m glad you find this amusing,” Stephen said dryly.

  “Not amusing, exactly, simply ironic.”

  “Oh?”

  “You see, I feared the reception I would get if I ever dared set foot in Weston Manor again.” Matt chuckled. “I was concerned that you had not forgiven me.”

  “Not forgive you? Now, that makes no sense whatsoever.”

  “Perhaps.” It had made perfect sense to Matt for the better part of a decade. For the first time in his life he was glad to learn he was wrong.

  “You know, Matt, someone rather wise once told us you would come home when the time was right.”

  “Who? The dowager duchess?”

  “No.” Stephen smiled. “Father.”

  A sense of loss so great it was almost physical slammed into Matt. For a long time he could do nothing but stare out into the night.

  “I was such a fool,” he said under his breath.

  “Not at all.” Stephen’s voice was thoughtful. “You were the youngest of four sons. And so much like Father it was inevitable you would not get along.”

  “I regret—”

  “Of course you do. As did he. But he bore you no ill will. In fact, he knew, in general, where you were at any given moment, what battles your ship was in, what your duties were. He kept track of every promotion, every honor. I’m not sure how he managed any of it, but he did.”

  The back of Matt’s throat ached.

  “We all had our disputes with him, Matt. More and more as he, and we, grew older. You were simply the most unyielding, the one who refused to compromise—”

  “The stupidest.”


  “Give me a chance. I was going to say that.”

  Matt blew a resigned breath. “But I am the only one he threw out.”

  “Threw out? I was under the impression you walked. Or rather ran.”

  “Semantics, brother.” Matt grinned. “Let us say it was a mutual parting of the ways.”

  “Agreed. So…” Stephen puffed on his cigar, tilted back his head and blew a long stream of smoke into the air. “When are you coming home?”

  Chapter 16

  “I have a cousin in Avalonia named Tatiana.” Viscount Beaumont kissed Tatiana’s hand and smiled. “It’s a beautiful name.”

  “Perhaps that is why it is so common in my country.” Tatiana laughed lightly.

  “Perhaps.” The viscount studied her for a moment. “I have the strangest feeling we’ve met somewhere before.”

  “Really?” She considered him curiously, then shook her head. “It is probably nothing more than the belief I have noted among the English that all foreigners look alike. Besides, my lord, if we had met, I am quite certain you would remember.”

  A startled expression crossed Beaumont’s face, then he grinned. “Indeed I would, my lady.”

  “If you will forgive me”—she peered around him and waved to an imaginary acquaintance—“I see someone I promised to speak to.”

  “Of course.” His pleasant smile belied the puzzled look in his eye. “We can talk again later, perhaps.”

  “I shall look forward to it.” She nodded and walked away, knowing full well his gaze followed her.

  Of course she looked familiar. She looked exactly like his grandmother. Tatiana would not be at all surprised if there was not a portrait of Sophia hanging somewhere right next to the one of her husband she had brought with her from Avalonia. A portrait Beaumont had probably seen throughout his life.

  She accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter and casually glanced back to see if Beaumont still watched her. He had turned away and was speaking to his wife. Tatiana sipped thoughtfully.

  So this was the cousin who had helped her brother Alexei calm the mood of the people in Avalonia. From what Alexei had written in his letter, Beaumont wanted no part, or at least no significant part, of his hereditary title. That attitude might well make the viscount a powerful ally for her in the future. However, the future was not her immediate concern.