Princess Charming

by Nicole Jordan

  Ash’s overwhelming grief was underscored by panic at realizing that he’d inherited the title of marquis and so had to attempt to fill his father’s shoes.

  Granted, he’d overreacted in the beginning. He was too harsh with the boys and overly protective of the girls. But as the eldest cousin, Ash was their leader, accountable for their welfare and their happiness. They had endured enough sorrow, and he’d vowed to spare them any more.

  The five of them had vastly differing personalities and interests. His younger brother Jack, who’d been born the bastard son of a European prince, seemed a fun-loving rogue, yet there was a dark streak inside Jack stemming from his early childhood when he’d lived alone on the streets of Paris after Lady Clara’s death during the Revolution. Jack’s foreign upbringing had often left him feeling like an outsider, despite the fact that he’d been legally adopted by Ash’s and Katharine’s father.

  Sweet, lovely Skye—the youngest and probably the heart of the family—somehow always managed to get her own way, effortlessly wrapping them all around any finger she chose. Despite her deceptively innocent demeanor, Skye possessed an innate curiosity that frequently led her into trouble. That, combined with her mischievous streak, had caused their Uncle Cornelius many a gray hair.

  Quinn had inherited Cornelius’s intellectual brilliance, but he hid it under a lust for danger and adventure.

  And fiery Katharine was the spirit of the Wilde family. As such, she claimed the role of social director in addition to being an unabashed romantic at heart … which had led to Ash’s current predicament.

  Searching for his ideal mate with the goal of finding love was not his preferred method of shaping his destiny. No doubt his reluctance to form any deep attachments stemmed from losing so many loved ones when he was younger. His entire world had been shattered, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to risk that kind of pain again. Nor was he eager to upend his life by marrying. He had his family, and he’d never felt the need for more.

  The five of them had closed ranks when they’d lost their beloved parents. In fact, their tragedy had brought them much closer together and made them fiercely loyal to one another. It was the Wilde cousins against the world.… And yet at the same time, they were resolved to fulfill the family legacy and carry on the legendary Wilde joie de vivre. They lived life to the fullest, since they knew how short their time on earth could be.

  Even so, the questions his sister raised intrigued him. Could Maura Collyer be his ideal match? Ash wondered.

  Undeniably, he was fascinated by her fire and passion. And he couldn’t help believing she would bring that same kind of passion to her lovemaking. He wanted Maura in his bed, without question. And there was no way to get her there short of marriage, since he was not that much of a rake to seduce her out of wedlock.

  Either way, he had no choice but to involve himself in her trials and tribulations. Maura deserved his support, given her long history with Katharine and Skye. Besides, he was sympathetic to Maura’s cause and admired her courage in fighting against long odds. Undoubtedly he could improve her chance of winning her battle against a powerful nobleman like Deering.

  Still, it was one thing to help Maura. It was quite another to be swept headlong into a situation that could lead to matrimony. Finding himself shackled in wedlock would hardly be controlling his own fate, Ash thought with an ironic smile.

  His smile faded as he made up his mind. Standing, he crossed to the hearth and spent a moment banking the fire. If he wanted to get any sleep and yet rise early enough to meet with Maura before she left on her morning ride, he needed to retire now.

  But he wouldn’t allow himself to be drawn into his sister’s absurd theory about playing Cinderella’s prince, Ash vowed. He would help Maura Collyer recover her cherished stallion and that would be the end of it.

  Maura woke at her usual early hour the next morning, feeling groggy and bleary-eyed. She’d spent a mostly sleepless night tossing and turning and stewing over her course of action regarding her beloved horse.

  After last evening’s disaster with the odious Lord Deering, she knew she had to regroup. More aggravatingly, when she’d finally managed to doze off, she couldn’t prevent herself from dreaming about a much more appealing nobleman. Even now, she found herself dwelling on the stunning kisses Lord Beaufort had given her, remembering the bewitching taste of him, the sensuality of his illicit caresses—

  With a groan, Maura cut off the seditious memory and buried her face in her pillow, highly vexed with herself. Deciding she might as well rise, she climbed out of bed and performed her ablutions, then began donning her riding habit. A brisk ride before breakfast should help to clear her mind. And with luck, she might encounter Lord Deering. She had it on good authority that he rode Emperor in the park on some mornings, although her two previous efforts to intercept him there had failed.

  She was attempting to button the back of her shirtwaist when her bedchamber was invaded by her two smiling stepsisters, no doubt eager to hear about the ball.

  Hannah and Lucy were both garbed in frilly pink dressing gowns that unfortunately did nothing to flatter their somewhat plump figures. Both girls, Maura surmised, must have inherited their straight brown hair, brown eyes, and round features from their father, since their mother was a raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty. Indeed, Priscilla’s beguiling loveliness was the prime attraction that had lured Maura’s own father into matrimony.

  The girls also lacked their mother’s refinement and social skills. Lucy, the youngest at seventeen, was a pert chatterbox, while the shier nineteen-year-old Hannah had a generous nature, which she promptly exhibited when she noted Maura’s struggle with the buttons.

  “Here, let me help you,” Hannah offered kindly, while Lucy launched into a spate of questions.

  “Was the ball very grand, Maura? How many guests attended? How many times did you dance? Did you waltz? What was Lady Katharine wearing? Was her gown as beautiful as your amber one?” Lucy paused her prattle to take a breath. “I vow that gown you wore last night was the most beautiful one I have ever seen in my whole life.”

  Maura sighed inwardly. She had little desire to be dragged into evaluating last night’s fashions or her scarcity of dance partners. But her stepsisters were like puppies seeking affection, and she couldn’t turn them away.

  They perched on her bed while she did her best to report on the details that would interest them. And when she had tied the laces of her half boots and slipped on her riding jacket, they followed her downstairs to the breakfast room, where a light repast awaited her, supplied by the cook who had worked faithfully in the Collyer household since Maura was a child, and who knew exactly how to tempt her appetite when she was so preoccupied with her precious horses that she would have forgotten to eat.

  At least she needn’t worry about encountering her stepmother just now. Priscilla rarely rose before ten o’clock, especially after a late evening, which evidently had been the case last night. Thankfully, Pris had still been out when Maura arrived home from the ball, and so had avoided any more bitter rows regarding the cost of Seasons and unlawful sales of stallions.

  At the conclusion of Maura’s recount of the ball, Lucy gave a dreamy sigh. “I should have loved to attend,” she confessed. “Mama was angry that you were invited and we were not, even if Lady Katharine is your bosom friend and we claim no acquaintance with her. And Mama was pea green with envy over that splendid gown you wore.”

  Maura refrained from mentioning that it was business, not pleasure, that had compelled her to attend the ball, and that the “splendid gown” had not even belonged to her.

  “I cannot say the same,” Hannah admitted. “I would have been terrified to face all those imposing people.”

  “You are terrified of everything,” Lucy stated frankly.

  “I am not!” the elder girl defended herself. “Maura helped me overcome my fear of horses.”

  “Yes, well, you ought not boast about it. An attachment to horses is not
something that sits well with Mama.” Lucy surveyed Maura’s forest green riding habit. “You know Mama will not be pleased that you are riding this morning, Maura?”

  Very familiar with her stepmother’s stance on the subject, Maura made no reply. Priscilla had long feared that her deplorable hoydenish tendencies would rub off on her stepsisters.

  She could just hear Pris’s habitual protests: “I cannot for the life of me understand why you insist on wallowing in dirt and manure with the stablehands, Maura. You attended the best finishing schools in the country, so you know perfectly well what is required of a lady.”

  Since Priscilla truly was the epitome of grace and elegance, she particularly lamented Maura’s current profession. No lady of quality would deign to operate a horse stud!

  To be fair, Pris had lived under the strain of scandal for two years now, and worried that not only would her daughters be further tarnished by maintaining a close association with Maura, but that their marital chances would be completely ruined. Without question, Priscilla preferred that her shockingly unconventional stepdaughter remain hidden away in the country. When Noah Collyer was still alive, the family had made their home primarily at the farm manor in Suffolk, but upon his unexpected death, Priscilla had hastened to remove her daughters to London, gladly leaving the breeding stables and Maura behind.

  Hannah and Lucy, on the other hand, professed to regret that their stepsister was no longer an intimate part of their family. They seemed particularly delighted to have Maura in London now, no doubt because she was willing to stand up to their exacting mother.

  To say that the girls were intimidated by Priscilla was a vast understatement, in part because she was always criticizing their unladylike conduct. “Stop slouching!” was Pris’s favorite phrase.

  Maura, though, did not mind overly much being excluded from her stepfamily’s lives if it meant avoiding Priscilla’s frequent rebukes. Granted, the first year alone after Papa’s death had been painfully hard, but her grief had eased somewhat with the passing of time. If there were still occasions when she felt lonely and alone … well, she was usually far too busy to dwell on it.

  And now she had even greater problems to deal with. She had hoped to conclude her business with Lord Deering as soon as possible and return home to help Gandy with the new spring foals, but to her dismay, it appeared she would have to remain in town a good while longer—

  Her thoughts were interrupted just then by a footman, who announced that the Marquis of Beaufort had called for Miss Collyer.

  Caught off guard, Maura grimaced at the news, while Hannah’s eyes grew wide. “Can it be true, Maura? The marquis has come to call on you?”

  Lucy clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, famous!”

  She was clearly delighted at the prospect of so prestigious a visitor, yet Hannah frowned with uneasiness. “Mama will be unhappy if she is not here to receive him, Maura. If you can delay his lordship, we can wake her and allow her time to dress.”

  Just then Beaufort strolled into the breakfast room. Clearly he hadn’t waited to be invited, but at least he had the manners to offer her a polite bow.

  When his gaze locked with hers, Maura felt her heartbeat quicken at the impact of those vivid green eyes. Indeed, Beaufort’s mere presence had the power to unnerve her. Then her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she shivered, remembering her dreams about his sensual kisses.

  Quickly, she cleared her throat. “My lord, what brings you here at this early hour?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten our engagement this morning?”

  “Engagement?”

  “To ride.”

  They had made no such appointment, but he gave her no time to argue as he shifted his attention to her stepsisters. The fact that the girls were still in their dressing gowns must have dawned on them both at the same time; Lucy giggled, while Hannah turned red in the face.

  Beaufort did not seem to notice their dishabille, though. No doubt because he was accustomed to seeing females in various stages of undress.

  “Will you introduce me to these lovely young ladies, Miss Collyer?”

  She complied. “These are my stepsisters, Hannah and Lucy Collyer.”

  He offered them a bow and a charming smile. “A pleasure to meet you, ladies.”

  Both girls were clearly awestruck by his attentions and by his stylish elegance. He wore a burgundy riding coat, buff breeches, and shining black boots, attire that molded his broad shoulders and long legs to perfection.

  Hannah sat staring at him, tongue-tied, while Lucy giggled again.

  It was rather disturbing, Maura thought in sympathy, having a noble rake of his caliber in their breakfast room. Even so, she was a fool to let Lord Beaufort affect her so. She didn’t even know why he was there. On second thought …

  I think you and Ash may be meant for each other.

  Remembering Katharine’s declaration last night, Maura pressed her lips together. The suspicion that her friend was bent on matchmaking filled her with dismay. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about just now.

  Her first inclination was to be rid of the marquis as soon as possible, but apparently he had other ideas.

  “Pray, do not rush yourself, Miss Collyer,” Beaufort said easily as he pulled out a chair across from her and settled in it. “It is a lady’s prerogative to keep a gentleman waiting. However, you could offer me breakfast. The ball ran so late, I didn’t rise in time to dine this morning before our ride.”

  Maura’s eyebrows shot up at his boldness in inviting himself to eat at their table, but while she debated how to answer, Lucy broke in.

  “Yes, please do join us, my lord,” the girl implored. “Our mama will be enraptured to meet you.”

  That reminder settled the issue for Maura. She had no desire to have Beaufort’s escort on her morning ride, but she urgently wanted to get him out of the house before her stepmother appeared and made him a captive audience.

  Setting down her napkin, Maura rose with alacrity. “His lordship will have to meet Mrs. Collyer at some other time, Lucy. We should go, my lord. You won’t want to keep your horse standing.”

  He had provoked her into letting him accompany her, and the smile in his eyes suggested he knew it. When she stood waiting impatiently for him, Beaufort rose also and snagged an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table before following Maura from the room.

  She held her tongue as she hastened to collect her gloves and hat from the footman at the front door, not wanting to argue in front of Priscilla’s servants. Then she quickly led the marquis outside and down the steps to the street, where her mount was being held by a groom.

  Yet when Beaufort asked in that amused tone of his, “What is the hurry, Miss Collyer?” Maura explained in a low undervoice. “Even if you are an unwanted guest, you don’t deserve to be subjected to my stepmother. She would toady you to death.”

  “Your effort to spare me is much appreciated,” he murmured in return, “although it wounds me to be considered unwanted.”

  Refraining from replying, Maura allowed the groom to aid her into her sidesaddle while Beaufort mounted his own horse, a splendid bay gelding. When she urged her mount down the street, he fell in step beside her.

  “But you are unwanted, Lord Beaufort,” she continued when they were out of earshot. “I am only letting you come along because it will save me having to take one of Priscilla’s grooms. I would rather not have her know my business, and her servants usually report back to her.”

  His mouth curved wryly. “Even more wounding, being relegated to the role of servant.” When that got no rise out of her, he commented further. “Surely, you can venture out of the house on your own, Miss Collyer. I would not have expected you to fear for your reputation.”

  “I don’t fear for mine,” Maura said honestly. “But I have my stepsisters’ reputations to think of. Besides, my stepmother may not like having to spare a groom, but she dislikes even more having me ride about London without one.
And since I am living in her home at present, I try to accede to her wishes.”

  She said nothing further as she turned the corner onto a busier street.

  “Where are we riding?” Beaufort asked after a moment of negotiating various carriages and wagons and pedestrians.

  “Don’t you know?” Maura countered archly. “You concocted this pretense of a prior appointment.”

  “I thought to leave the choice to you.”

  “How magnanimous of you.”

  “Indeed, it was.”

  When he offered her a winning smile, Maura’s defenses went on full alert. Lord Beaufort was as charming as the very devil, but she couldn’t afford the distraction of an irresistible rake just now.

  Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, noting his tall, muscular elegance as he sat his powerful mount with ease. She knew he was a bruising rider from summers and holidays visiting Katharine and Skye at their family estates, and undeniably his accomplishments as a horseman impressed her. Yet she felt far too self-conscious around Beaufort, no doubt because of those disturbing kisses of his … and because of his sister, too.

  Reminded of Katharine’s threat to throw them together, Maura felt a renewed surge of mortification. She was not one to shrink from a conflict, however, and so decided to be frank. “You have not explained why you invited yourself to ride with me, Lord Beaufort. You are here in order to placate Katharine, are you not? She said last night that she would convince you to help me, but I told her I didn’t need your help.”

  “I did not need convincing. I planned to intervene even before she pleaded with me.”

  “I do not want her dragging you into my affairs,” Maura declared in frustration.

  “Are you always a termagant at this hour of the morning?” he asked, surveying her.

  His simple question brought her up short. Whatever Beaufort’s faults, he did not deserve to be treated rudely.