Seducing the Princess

by Hart Perry, Mary

  Back in the royal mews, after Gregory had helped Beatrice dismount, escorted her across the busy yard and through one of the doors leading into Buckingham Palace, he whistled his way back to the stables. “You lads, take up these horses and brush them down.”

  As official escort to the princess he’d acquired a sheen of respectability and jumped to a higher pecking order. He was now a Senior Groom, no longer expected to perform the same drudgery as the younger boys.

  Gregory strolled back toward the groom’s equipment room to exchange his good riding boots for working clogs. He unstrapped the pistol from around his hip to return it to the armory. In doing so he felt the crackle of paper in his pocket. He pulled it out. His mistress’s latest letter.

  Might as well read it now as later. He leaned against a post in the shade of the stables.

  Me Dearest Greg,

  I didden wish to bring you this news x-sep for when I could hold your brawny self in me arms and kiss you and show you how happy I am. But you been so busy as to not answer me letters or to come home as I begged you. So now I can wate no longer.

  I carry your child, my darling. Even though you been gone for near two months, I know it is your babe as I have no other man in me life, nor ever will, my love. I know what you is doing in London is portant for our future. So I do not now ask you to come home as it will be at least four months before our child is born. I just want you to know that he (or she) is yours, just as I shall always be. There will be no prouder day in my life than the one we’re free to proclaim our love by marrying before God and our frends and family, at St. Edmonds in the village.

  I long for the day you come home to me. But, if you cannot come away from the job you are doing, cood you send for me? All I need is mony for a train ticket and a little more for room and bord in London, and I will run to your side. Please tell me that you want me to come.

  Yours everlasting,

  Margaret

  Gregory crumpled the letter in his fist. He stifled the rage building inside his chest. Silenced the scream of frustration working its way up through his throat. Swore, and swore again. She was going to spoil everything.

  21

  Helena and Louise extended their visit at Buckingham Palace another two weeks. Beatrice had no trouble figuring out why. She had overheard them in the queen’s garden. “Bea is in far too fragile a state since her hoped-for engagement didn’t take,” Louise said. “She can’t be left here alone to deal with Mama.”

  Helena nodded in agreement. “We must find a way to cheer her, if we can’t help the situation in any other way.”

  But attending teas or the theater with her sisters hardly replaced the exhilarating future she’d glimpsed for herself with Henry Battenberg before her mother forced her to reject his proposal.

  It was a Saturday, about a week later, when she received a message from Louise, asking that Beatrice meet her and Helena in the drawing room. Helena was already there, divested of her children who were in the nursery with the nurse who traveled with them. Helena looked up from where she was seated with a lapful of embroidery.

  “Louise send word I should meet the two of you here,” Beatrice said, “for a surprise of some kind. What is it? Do you know?”

  Helena smirked at her. “It’s a secret, I guess.”

  “But you do know, don’t you?” Beatrice smiled. It was good to see that somebody in this house was happy and enjoying herself. “What is it? Is her statue of Papa finished? Has she set a date for the installation and unveiling?”

  Louise had achieved one of her most cherished dreams—to become a professional artist. Not only did she paint magnificently, she was capable of sculpting the most amazing and life-like images of people, from life or portraits. Prince Albert’s full-body likeness in marble would be placed in a prominent location when it was done. But, so far, Beatrice hadn’t heard where or when.

  “All I’m allowed to tell you is that you need to wait here.” Helena’s expression became more serious. “Actually, I’m glad we have a chance to talk before Loosie comes with…with the surprise. I’ve heard rumors in Court that you should be aware of.”

  Beatrice waved her hand as if chasing visible clouds of gossip from the air around them. “You know I never pay attention to their ridiculous chatter.”

  “I know, dear.” Helena pressed a hand over Beatrice’s clasped fingers. “But this is something that affects decisions you must make very soon.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Sometimes knowing what others believe, even if it isn’t completely true, can help you sort out what’s real from what isn’t. I just don’t want your heart broken.” Helena hugged her.

  Beatrice pushed her away impatiently. “Just tell me quickly, so I can laugh it off and be done with their nonsense.”

  Helena lowered her voice, even though no one else was in the room with them. “Unfortunately, Mama’s insistence on discouraging Henry Battenberg was overheard by several of her ladies. Now, apparently, everyone in Court knows about your fondness for him.”

  Beatrice laughed. “That’s old news. I hate being talked about, but there’s nothing I can do. By now you’d think they’d have tired of that story and found something more exciting to whisper about.”

  Helena pursed her lips. “That’s just it. They have. The new gossip has to do with Henry, back in Germany.” She shook her head mournfully. “It’s being said that, even as he was wooing you in Darmstadt, he had a mistress. And he still keeps this woman for his own pleasure.”

  Beatrice closed her eyes and shuddered. Of course she’d feared something like this was coming. Hadn’t Henry been entirely too generous, too handsome, too nice to have remained true to her, even if she hadn’t turned down his proposal?

  She felt sick to her stomach; her head spun and vision blurred with wretched crimson swirls. She had thought she was prepared to hear something like this. Gregory had warned her; it was the nature of man to seek a mate. Sometimes, apparently, over and over again.

  And yet she hurt. The pain of knowing another woman had stolen the joy that should have been hers was almost unbearable.

  “I think I will go to my room now.” She started to stand up.

  Helena pulled her back down on the loveseat beside her. “Oh, Bea, I’m so sorry. Of course it may not be true. He may not be the sort of man who needs that sort of companionship.”

  “Oh shut up, Lenchen. Not be the sort of man who needs sex? Is that what you’re saying? Of course he needs it. Why wouldn’t he? He’s a virile, gorgeous, and healthy man.”

  Her sister blanched whiter than the bleached lace doilies lying across the armrests, and it was only then that Beatrice realized what she’d just said. “Don’t talk like that,” Helena snapped. “Such language! You’re beginning to sound as bad as Louise.”

  “But I’m tired of being proper,” Beatrice cried. “Tired of avoiding subjects that are important in our lives. I should have listened to Louise long ago, ignored Mama and followed my heart. What is wrong with me? I wanted Henry! But I let Mama badger me into rejecting his proposal. And now he has found someone else.”

  “But isn’t it better to discover this now, if it is true?”

  “Stop it.”

  “No, listen.” Helena held onto Beatrice’s hands and looked into her eyes. “If he already had a woman while we were in Darmstadt, he was deceiving you even then. And if that part isn’t true, but he has a new mistress, then it appears he took very little time to mourn the loss of his dear Beatrice before finding a replacement.” She shook her head. “How disloyal is that? You would think the man might have taken some time to recover from your rejection before leaping into the bed of another woman.”

  Beatrice held back her tears, mortified. “You’re right. He should have done. Oh God, my life is ruined.”

  Just then the door to the salon swung open and Louise stepped through. She wore a broad smile and opened her mouth as
if to say something wonderful, but then took in the situation. Beatrice looked up at her from within Helena’s comforting embrace, aware that her tear-streaked face must surely reflect her breaking heart.

  “Oh my, what tragedy have we here?” Louise glanced back over her shoulder and made a stopping motion with her hand behind her.

  Helena’s voice was cool when she said, “A healthy shock of reality is all. She needed to know how things stood before you—“

  “What have you told her, Lenchen?” Louise’s voice stretched taut with sudden anger.

  “Nothing but what she needs to know.”

  Beatrice sniffled. “Please don’t fight, you two. I feel miserable enough as it is.”

  “I’ve just opened her eyes to the ways of men,” Helena said. “She’ll be all right soon enough.”

  “I won’t. I won’t be all right. Ever!” Beatrice moaned. “Mama has destroyed my life. And I let her do it, fool that I am.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Louise said breezily, her expression mellowing. “She does that every day of the week to one of us. You ought to be accustomed to her imperious bullying by now, Baby.” She cast Helena a damning look but then, remarkably, Louise’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Now, dry your pretty eyes, Baby. Here is your surprise.”

  Beatrice forced herself to look toward the doorway, knowing in her heart that whatever appeared there could not possibly cheer her up. A figure moved into the space behind Louise. Louise stepped aside. A man in a beautifully tailored dark blue frock coat stepped forward and into the light of the room.

  Beatrice’s heart exploded into a thousand pieces. “Henry!” she gasped.

  “Hello, my darling. I simply couldn’t stay away.” He smiled at her—that beautiful, perfect, intoxicating smile paired with eyes that shone as warm and blue as a tropical sea.

  “You beast!” Beatrice shrieked and, gathering her skirts, ran from the room in a flood of tears.

  22

  “What have I done?” Henry asked, honestly bewildered.

  Helena glared at him. “What every man does—makes a mess of women’s lives.” She refused to look at him and instead turned to Louise. “I think it was a terribly tactless thing for you to bring him here, now that we know his true nature.”

  Henry turned to Louise. “Know what? I thought you said Bea wanted to see me.” He had run into the Duchess of Argyll and her sometime traveling companion Stephen Byrne in Germany. The American Civil War veteran had served on the queen’s Secret Service until Her Majesty tossed him out of her employ and her country.

  “She did. She does, I’m sure of it.” Louise turned to look down the hallway as if Beatrice might have left a visible wake marking her dramatic departure. “I don’t know why she’s acting this way. She was broken hearted when Mama forced her to write and reject your proposal.”

  “I know why,” Helena said, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Enlighten us,” Louise said, and Henry had never heard her sound so severe.

  “It is because of his women.” Helena jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction.

  Henry shook his head, more confused than ever. “My women?” “Most certainly. There you were at your brother’s wedding, whispering honeyed words in my sister’s ear, promising her your heart, and God only knows what else, and all the while you were…you were…fornicating!”

  Louise stared at her sister in horror. “Lenchen!”

  Henry shook his head violently. “I wouldn’t…I never—”

  “Well, it’s true, Helena insisted. “Everyone says he had a mistress, even while we were in Germany. Since then he’s kept this woman, or got himself a fresh one, showing not one bit of remorse for losing my sister’s affection.”

  Louise let out a long sigh. “I dare say you haven’t a shred of evidence. And here dear Henry Battenberg himself stands, as steadfast as any man, coming all this way to see Beatrice. Tell her, Henry.”

  Henry felt as if he’d been shoved into a meat grinder and rendered a bloody pulp. Who could have imagined princesses being so brutal? He sat down heavily in the nearest chair and shook his head.

  “Henry,” Louise said, “you must tell me this isn’t true. Are you involved with another woman?”

  “I did have a mistress. Yes.”

  “You see!” Helen yipped triumphantly.

  “Did, not do. I had been spending time with a young woman, a merchant’s daughter. But after reacquainting myself with Beatrice at the wedding, I realized I was wasting my time when I could have Bea’s love. I broke it off with the girl the next time I saw her, which was the night after my brother’s wedding. I haven’t been back to her or with another woman since. I’m determined to win the woman I love.”

  “Well said.” Louise applauded.

  “So he claims.” Helena glared at him. “But does he speak the truth or is he just trying to trick us into believing him?”

  Henry groaned and clasped his hands together in front of him, in supplication. “On my honor, I have been true to Beatrice, even though she refused my proposal. I know she only did it because of the queen.”

  “You can bet on that,” Louise muttered, pacing the floor. “But now we need to convince Bea that these rumors have no basis.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Helena said.

  Louise ignored her sister and turned toward the door. “I’ll go talk to her.”

  Henry jumped to his feet and rushed to stop her. “No. Please. I appreciate your willingness to intercede for me, Duchess. But it’s up to me to speak to Bea and explain. She can’t take another’s word for my loyalty to her.”

  Henry left the two women in the salon, loudly debating the Battenberg honor. He wondered what it was about this family that had enticed both his brother and himself to become involved with them. Certainly Louis saw for himself financial benefits and a boost in social status when he wed the queen’s granddaughter. He took after their father, a practical man. But he believed Louis also cared for Vicky.

  The one impractical thing the grand duke, their father, had ever done was to marry their mother. She was not of royal or even noble lineage, and their engagement had caused a monumental scandal years back. Then his father had dug up a discarded title and somehow found (or manufactured) a link through his wife’s family to it. Before long the aristocracy forgot their silly rules and accepted her into their ranks. By the time his sons came along, the duke had learned his lesson and began planning early for his boys’ future wives.

  But Henry didn’t give a whit about the prestige of wedding the Queen of England’s daughter. He didn’t see Beatrice as a royal ticket to wealth and fame. He saw a gentle and lovely young woman who smiled and laughed far too infrequently, whose eyes he’d delighted in making sparkle. Simply put, he loved making her happy. He couldn’t understand why others failed to recognize the qualities he had discovered in Beatrice.

  But now, because of vicious rumors, and her damn obstinate mother, he was about to lose her.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  He ran as fast as he could, not even sure where to start looking for Beatrice. Once he reached the family quarters, and he had only the vaguest memory of which wing that was, it would be a miracle if a servant didn’t challenge him and demand to know where he thought he was going. He choked back a hysterical laugh. He must be insane chasing after the woman this way.

  Insane or in love. Maybe a little of both.

  Of course he’d been attracted to other women in the past. His experiences with them sometimes had been exciting and flattering, but they’d meant nothing. Suddenly he’d found the woman whose temperament, intelligence, and appearance all appealed in the most profound ways to him. He couldn’t lose her. He just couldn’t.

  But he almost ran over her.

  Henry broke his sprint and leapt over a billow of dark-colored skirts plumped up in the middle of the hallway floor. He immediately recognized them as a downed Beatrice
, sprawled on the marble tiles.

  “My darling, did you fall?” He spun around and came back to her, stooping down to lift her chin and brush the hair from her eyes. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

  Beatrice shook her head, sobbing. “Just go away and leave me alone. I can’t bear the thought of…of you and another wo-wo-woman.”

  “Bea, sweet Bea, there is no one but you.” He lifted her chin again to make her look into his eyes. He kissed the center of her puckered, pink forehead. “I promise you. I solemnly swear that I want no woman but you. Will have no woman other than you for as long as there is any chance we can be together. And I do believe we will find a way. Please trust me.”

  “Oh, Henry!” She lifted her tear-blotched face to him.

  He kissed away the salty moisture from her cheeks, stroked a finger down her nose to its tip and lightly touched the petal-soft bow of her lips. Down here in the floor with her, where they sat, her skirts pooled around them and not another person in sight, he was suddenly overcome by the urge to enfold her in his arms and lie down with her. Right here. Holding her for as long as it took for her to feel the stirrings of his heart and know how desperately he wanted her.

  This very moment.

  On the floor.

  Oh, Lord! He had to distract himself from that kind of thinking.

  “This is a two-way street, my dear. You must learn to trust me. And somehow, I must learn to trust you, my Beatrice.”

  She frowned at him. “Trust me in what way?”

  He shrugged. “How will I ever convince myself that this beautiful woman won’t run off with the next dashing courtier who flirts with her?”

  She giggled and covered her mouth with one hand. Her eyes flashed at him with delight. “Oh Henry, no one ever flirts with me.”

  “You see why I worry? You don’t deny you would run off with the rogue. And—” he put up a finger to stop her from interrupting him “—I expect there have been many young men who have attempted to flirt with you, Princess. But your good breeding has enabled you to pretend they don’t exist and thus discourage them.”