Princess Charming

by Nicole Jordan

  Fearing that her heated flush still showed, Maura bypassed the crowded ballroom with its resplendent denizens of the ton and went directly to the entrance hall, where she requested that Lady Katharine’s carriage be brought around and that a footman be sent to summon her friend.

  Then Maura waited impatiently at one side of the entryway, pondering the inexplicable question of why she had allowed Lord Beaufort to sweep her away as she had. Even though he had warned her in advance of his audacious intentions, she’d sat frozen with disbelief at his sensual assault, unable to utter a protest, much less extricate herself.

  Unconsciously Maura raised her fingers to her still tingling lips as she relived the marquis’s stunning kiss. He tastes like sin had been her first dazed thought. Enticing, wicked sin.

  He had devastated her senses, to the point that she had practically melted in his arms. No wonder women whispered with awe about Beaufort’s skills as a lover. She had never understood the word desire until that moment.

  He’d rendered her dizzy, weak with yearning, making her breasts feel heavy and swollen while kindling a strange ache between her thighs. And then the sensual caress of his tongue on her nipple had shocked her with pleasure.…

  Thank heaven he had stopped before she’d surrendered completely to his brazen lovemaking!

  Maura found herself wincing in memory of her idiocy. It should not have surprised her, though, that Katharine’s dashing older brother knew how to seduce with breathtaking effect. The Marquis of Beaufort was a favorite of the ton, admired by both sexes, the darling of matchmaking mamas despite his scandalous behavior and his well-founded reputation as a captivating Lothario.

  Handsome did not begin to describe him … roughly chiseled features, dark unruly hair, eyes that were the vivid color of emeralds. All five cousins in the extraordinary Wilde family were notorious for their bewitching charm, but as aristocratic rogues went, Ashton was the acknowledged champion.

  Yet Maura couldn’t help wondering why Lord Beaufort had bothered kissing her this evening. He’d claimed his motives were altruistic, that he merely wanted to help release her pent-up anger, but he had never looked twice at her before tonight.

  His impact on her had been overwhelming. One moment she was seething with frustration, railing on about her nemesis; the next she was speechless with desire.

  She’d been kissed twice in her life—several years ago during her comeout Season, in fact—and neither occasion had been particularly memorable. Certainly not enthralling, as tonight’s episode had been. Moreover, she couldn’t comprehend why she had craved Beaufort’s touch so desperately when Lord Deering’s had only repulsed her.

  And why had she permitted the marquis to drag her pitiful tale of woe from her? Normally she would never dream of spilling her intimate secrets to a nobleman she knew more from his wicked reputation than his female relatives’ rare confidences. It was mortifying enough that he had witnessed her altercation with Deering.

  Maura was highly vexed at herself for finding Lord Beaufort so irresistibly attractive. She ought to be worrying about how to retrieve her cherished stallion from the clutches of a devious viscount instead of dwelling on a spellbinding kiss like a dazzled widgeon. She wished Katharine would come—

  No sooner had the thought formed when her friend appeared in the entrance hall, obviously searching for her.

  Garbed in a ball gown of emerald green to match her sparkling eyes and highlight her shining auburn hair, Lady Katharine Wilde was the picture of vibrant beauty.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Maura stepped forward.

  “How did your meeting go with Deering?” Katharine asked at once, which made Maura grimace.

  “Truthfully, it was a disaster …” Quickly she recounted the viscount’s ignominious proposition and her own wrathful response.

  Kate looked outraged on her behalf, but immediately protested Maura’s decision to quit the ball early.

  “But you cannot leave just yet!” she insisted.

  “There is no point in my remaining,” Maura repeated the argument she’d made to Katharine’s provocative older brother. “But you know I am immensely grateful for all you have done, dearest Kate. I will return your lovely dress tomorrow.”

  Katharine had loaned her the ball gown of amber silk, since she had nothing fine enough to wear to a grand ball and little money to waste on fashion in any case. Additionally, Katharine had sent her own carriage to collect Maura from her stepmother’s house, since Maura only had a gig in London and no coachman. She loved Katharine dearly, like a sister, but she still felt uncomfortable having to accept her generosity. No doubt it was pride that made her want to be independent and stand on her own two feet.

  At the mention of the ball gown, Kate gave a dismissive shrug, then suddenly changed the subject. “What about Ash?”

  “What about him?” Maura responded warily.

  “I saw him follow you outside onto the terrace. And you remained out there with him for aeons. What happened between the two of you?”

  “Nothing happened,” she lied.

  “Then why is your face so flushed? Come now, Maura. I know you too well.”

  She sighed, knowing her friend would never give up until her curiosity was appeased. “Your brother kissed me, if you must know,” she confided in a low voice.

  Rather than look startled, however, Katharine smiled slowly in satisfaction. “And how did you like it?”

  “What does that matter?” Maura asked in exasperation.

  “Because I want to know.”

  The heat in her cheeks increased. “I liked kissing him very well,” she finally admitted, although not even under pain of death would she confess that she’d been far more intimate with the marquis than a mere kiss.

  “You don’t say.” Kate clasped her hands together in delight. “This is even better than I hoped.”

  Maura’s gaze narrowed on her best friend. “Katharine Wilde, what in deuces are you talking about? Please tell me you did not invite me here to throw me in your brother’s path. You did not, did you?”

  “Well, perhaps I did, a little.”

  “That is perfectly ridiculous—”

  “I disagree, darling Maura. I think you and Ash may be meant for each other.” Before Maura could sputter an objection, Katharine hurried to add, “In any event, Ash is the very man to help you get your horse back.”

  “No, he is not. I can manage on my own.”

  “No doubt, but you should not have to. You know Skye and I are your family. You claimed us years ago.”

  That much was true, Maura allowed. Upon being sent off to boarding school by her stepmother when she was twelve, she’d arrived at the Ingram Academy for Young Ladies shortly before Katharine and her cousin, Lady Skye Wilde, who was a year younger. The Wilde girls had been orphaned by then, having lost both sets of beloved parents in a tragic accident at sea, and Maura had befriended them at once.

  At that point in her young life, she was feeling terribly alone and lonely herself, and when she’d heard Skye crying softly in her bed late one night, grieving her loss and missing her remaining family—her older brother Quinn and her cousins Jack and Ashton—Maura had promptly declared that she would be Skye and Katharine’s family. The three girls had made a pact then and there, a bond that had only grown stronger over the following years as they shared the tribulations and joys of school days and holidays together; then as young ladies negotiating the uncertain waters of society debuts; and afterward, as they moved into full-fledged womanhood, which fostered new dreams and aspirations for each of them.

  When Maura made no reply, Katharine pressed her. “Promise me you will at least discuss the matter with Ash when he calls on you tomorrow.”

  “How do you know he will call on me?”

  “Because I intend to make him.”

  Maura raised her eyes to the gilded ceiling. “Katharine, you know I love you like a sister—”

  “Then trust me, Maura. You know I only have your best
interests at heart.” Hearing a swell in the music, Kate glanced over her shoulder. “I should return to the ball. I have a great deal of convincing to do tonight.”

  After planting a swift kiss on Maura’s cheek, Katharine spun around and hurried off, leaving Maura shaking her head in dismay and fond exasperation. Yet she should be accustomed to Kate’s outrageous schemes by now and knew they were usually well-meant.

  The fiery, passionate Wilde cousins had always proudly lived up to their name, rousing the secret envy of the ton with their adventures and exploits and derring-do. No doubt their recklessness came from being raised primarily by their uncle, Lord Cornelius Wilde, a scholarly bachelor who was much happier with his nose buried in a Greek tome than when trying to discipline his unruly nieces and nephews.

  Reportedly the cousins’ vivacious, pleasure-loving parents had generated even more tales of scandal and passion during their day. The elder Wildes had lived enchanted lives, ruling the lavish, wealthy world of the British aristocracy until their ship sank crossing the Channel from France during a lull in international hostilities. The tragedy had combined the two separate branches of the noble Wilde family—the Marquises of Beaufort and the Earls of Traherne. The five orphans had moved in together under the nominal supervision of Lord Cornelius.

  As they grew to adulthood, the cousins often skirted the edge of scandal, even the two girls. Lady Katharine and Lady Skye, however, were partially sheltered by rank and fortune and thus allowed much more license than other unattached young ladies. Certainly more license than plain Miss Maura Collyer, whose commoner father had died under a cloud of dishonor.

  Maura couldn’t help but envy the Wildes for their freedom. She had to deal with a stepmother who slavishly followed the stringent rules of the Beau Monde.

  When her borrowed carriage finally was announced, Maura gladly made her escape from the ball, although she was not eager to return to her temporary lodgings. While in London, she stayed with her stepmother on Clarges Street, in the same home that her mother had lovingly presided over so many years ago.

  She hoped she wouldn’t encounter Priscilla tonight. There had always been discord in their relationship, beginning with their first encounter. Maura believed Priscilla had wed Noah Collyer mainly for his fortune, and Priscilla deplored her lack of ladylike manners and thought her a complete hoyden. Shipping Maura off to boarding school was intended to cure her of her hellion ways, as well as reduce the competition with her new young stepsisters for her doting father’s affections.

  After Noah’s passing, Priscilla had distanced herself from Maura as much as possible, except to argue frequently about finances. Pris maintained that because of the scandal, her widow’s portion wasn’t nearly large enough to launch her daughters into society, and that she should receive a much larger income from the farm and breeding stables to compensate for the additional obstacles they faced.

  “Seasons are enormously expensive, you know,” Priscilla had complained countless times. “But the notoriety staining our name makes it immeasurably more difficult to find suitable husbands for your stepsisters. It is only right that you help us out, Maura.”

  Priscilla’s chief goal at present was to marry off her two daughters, Hannah and Lucy. Their comeouts had been postponed while they were in mourning, but more critically, the ignominy that haunted Noah Collyer’s death had severely damaged their chances of making good matches.

  Maura did feel a responsibility to help her stepsisters. They were sweet girls and she loved them both, even if they were unrelated by blood and shared few interests with her. But their London Seasons ought not to have come at so exorbitant a price as her beloved stallion.

  She’d had a major row with Priscilla over her deceit three weeks ago. Pris claimed she had sold Emperor not simply for the funds, but to cultivate Lord Deering’s much-needed good graces. Given that he had made the accusations of cheating against Noah Collyer in the first place, Priscilla was convinced that Deering could mitigate the scandal if he chose, perhaps even erase the blot from their family name entirely. And with his aristocratic connections and the outsized power he wielded in society, the viscount’s active support could surely smooth the path for her daughters’ matrimonial prospects.

  In truth, Pris did sincerely care about her daughters’ welfare and would go to great lengths to see them properly married, including conspiring to appropriate a celebrated racing stallion from the Collyer Stud and win Deering’s favor.

  Maura would never forgive her stepmother’s betrayal, however. She stood to lose the thing she loved most in the world. Emperor was like her own child, as well as friend and pet.

  After Priscilla’s defection, Maura considered her horse and her steward her only close family, other than her dear friends Katharine and Skye, who had stood by her during those horrible, dark days of grief and scandal. If not for them, she would have had to fight the world alone for the past two years. She was immensely grateful, of course, but if Kate had some reckless matchmaking scheme in mind …

  Well, Maura thought as she was handed into the waiting carriage, she had no time for such foolish distractions.

  It might take an immense amount of willpower, but she intended to forget the stunning kiss Lord Beaufort had given her. She was determined not to be sidetracked by a seductive marquis or his well-meaning sister from her mission to rescue her precious stallion.

  To Ash’s surprise, he did not have to search at any length for his sister. Katharine found him shortly after he returned to the ballroom.

  “I cannot believe you let Maura leave,” was her preemptive comment. “You should have stopped her.”

  Ash arched an eyebrow. Kate was taking him to task for her friend’s abrupt departure? “And just why should I have been responsible for stopping her?”

  “Because someone has to save her from that villain, Lord Deering, of course. At the very least you could have asked Maura to stand up with you for a set of dances, so everyone could see that she is under our family’s protection.”

  His response was interrupted when one of Katharine’s many beaus approached to claim her for the next set. Ash forestalled the gentleman with an upraised hand, then caught Kate’s arm and bent to murmur in her ear. “We have some serious issues to discuss when your ball is over, minx.”

  While her partner waited politely at a distance, she glanced boldly up at Ash. “Indeed, we do, dearest brother. In fact, I mean to call a meeting of the entire family tonight.”

  The determined gleam in her green eyes sparked Ash’s suspicions even more than her announcement about an impromptu family gathering. “Why?”

  “Because we have a matter of great importance to consider—something that could affect all of us. We should meet in the library. I suspect Uncle Cornelius has already taken refuge there, given that I’ve seen nothing of him since the receiving line disbanded.”

  She started to break away, but Ash tightened his hold. “You fabricated your need for this ball, didn’t you, love?”

  “Only slightly,” Katharine admitted with no remorse whatsoever.

  Annoyance speared through him. Although he considered balls the most boring of entertainments, he had spared no expense for Katharine’s grand evening. He would do anything for his family. Yet he disliked being duped, even by his endearing spitfire of a sister.

  “Did you ever intend to search for a husband as you claimed?” Ash demanded.

  Katharine smiled sweetly. “Well, yes, some day I will. Just not at this precise moment. I am more concerned about rescuing Maura. She is far too proud to ask for help, and arranging a ball was the best I could do on short notice.”

  His audibly muttered oath held irritation but also a telltale hint of exasperated amusement.

  Surprisingly, though, Kate’s expression turned intent to the point of graveness. “You must help her, Ash.”

  He raised a hand. “Oh, no, sweetheart, you won’t fish me into your intrigues. I’ve done my duty by hosting your damned ball.”


  “But I need you. Maura needs you. You cannot say no until you hear me out. Please.…”

  Just then the music began anew, and Katharine turned away to join her partner while calling over her shoulder, “I will explain everything later in the library, Ash, I promise.”

  “Yes, you will, dear sister,” he said under his breath as his troublesome youngest sibling fled his proximity for the relative safety of the ballroom floor.

  Admittedly, Ash’s curiosity was piqued, however.

  At the conclusion of the ball, when the last of the carriages had rumbled away from his Grosvenor Square mansion, and his household staff had begun clearing the remnants of the late supper and extinguishing the flames in the crystal chandeliers overhead, Ash escorted a cheerfully secretive Katharine to the library.

  It was three o’clock in the morning, and not surprisingly, they found their Uncle Cornelius in his favorite haunt, slumped in a stuffed-leather armchair near the hearth fire, sound asleep and snoring softly, his spectacles sliding down his nose. The elderly gentleman loathed social gatherings, especially balls, and always hid in the library as soon as he could politely escape.

  The other Wilde family members were waiting with various degrees of anticipation. Skye, with her deep blue eyes and pale gold hair, looked bright and fresh as a rose, as if she hadn’t just spent the entire night wearing out her dancing slippers.

  Her elder brother Quinn, the Earl of Traherne, was also blue-eyed and fair-haired, but of a darker gold hue. Quinn’s appearance of a bored, jaded aristocrat was highly deceptive, since in addition to being the most adventurous of the five cousins, he had the sharpest mind and a wicked wit that could slice opponents to ribbons.

  Currently Quinn lounged in an armchair, looking slightly amused but willing to tolerate a family gathering for curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.

  Lord Jack Wilde, Ash’s raven-haired first cousin and adopted brother—who was not quite thirty years of age—was sprawled irreverently on the sofa, his eyes closed.