To Charm a Prince

by Grasso, Patricia;

  “Rudolf felt we should go into hiding. His other brothers are coming to England to help straighten out this trouble.

  “I cannot marry you now. I hope you will forgive me someday.”

  Alexander flicked a glance at the prince. “I will marry you anyway.”

  Samantha felt her heart sinking to her stomach. This was more difficult than she could have imagined.

  “You don’t love me.”

  “I like you and respect you and know you will make an excellent wife and mother,” Alexander told her.

  Close to tears, Samantha couldn’t control her quivering bottom lip. “I am going to marry the prince.”

  “You don’t need to marry him,” Alexander said.

  “Yes, she does,” Rudolf said. Then, “Tell him.”

  Samantha raised a badly shaking hand to her mouth. She took a deep breath and said, “I am carrying the prince’s child.”

  “You coerced her to Scotland and then took advantage of her innocence,” Alexander said to the prince. “I ought to call you out.”

  Before the prince could accept the challenge, Samantha burst into tears. The prince leaned close to put his arm around her.

  “If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to seek me out,” Alexander told her, rising from his chair. To the prince, he said, “If you ever hurt her, I will kill you.”

  When the four of them returned to the foyer, Aunt Roxie was waiting and looped her arm through Alexander’s. “Stay a moment,” she said. “I want to speak to you.”

  Without a word to anyone, Samantha turned toward the stairs. Rudolf caught her hand, asking, “Where are you going?”

  “I am going to my chamber to rest,” Samantha told him. “If you don’t trust me, my aunt will vouch for my whereabouts while you are gone.”

  Rudolf snapped his brows together. Of course he trusted her. How dare she imply that he didn’t?

  The marquess laughed out loud. “She sounds like my wife,” he told the prince. “I never would have believed that sweet Samantha could be as snippy as her sister. Motherhood will cure her of that, though.”

  Samantha watched them leave the house and then turned to climb the stairs to her third-floor chamber. She had never felt so tired, and her damn cheekbone hurt.

  From below, her aunt’s voice drifted up to her. “Dear Alexander, I was so looking forward to welcoming you into the family. I have another niece that will suit you better than Samantha. Victoria is a tad impetuous and not as sweetly biddable. You men like a bit of spice, though. Victoria needs a strong, solid man like yourself, who can control her wilder impulses. I know you are up to the task . . .”

  Chapter 12

  She had a black eye.

  Samantha grimaced at her image in the cheval mirror. Limping wasn’t enough? Now God had sent her a bruised cheek and a swollen black eye.

  In spite of her disappointment in the prince’s attitude toward her, Samantha had tried to make herself especially attractive and dressed in the shell pink silk gown he’d bought her. Their marriage would be a sham, but even an unwanted bride deserved pleasant memories.

  She would have only one betrothal and one wedding in her life. She didn’t want to look back with bitterness.

  If Rudolf had transformed himself from a charming prince into an autocratic ogre, was it possible for him to transform again? How would she go about changing him? Certainly not with arguments.

  Whatever she gave to him, he would return to her. She needed to woo her betrothed with gentle words. She practiced her smile in the mirror, but moving her face hurt because of her swollen cheek.

  Disgusted with her own appearance, Samantha turned away from the mirror and walked toward the door. She paused as she recalled her aunt’s words of wisdom: “If you want to know a man’s mind, watch what he does, not what he says.” She wouldn’t listen to what the prince said, only watch what he did.

  Samantha left her chamber and went downstairs to the drawing room where everyone met before going to dinner. She hoped the boys would be on their best behavior.

  Walking into the small drawing room, Samantha saw that she was the last to arrive. She peeked at the prince and tried to gauge his mood, but he was in a conversation with the duke.

  “Lady Samantha!” Grant and Drake noticed her at the same time. Both boys raced across the drawing room and gave her a hug.

  “The duchess is making Giles eat in the kitchen,” Grant told her.

  Drake nodded. “She’s very bossy.”

  Samantha smiled at that and felt her cheek throb.

  “When the duchess goes out, we’ll allow Giles into the dining room with us.”

  “What happened to you?” Drake asked.

  “Your eye is black and you look sick,” Grant said, sounding worried.

  “I fell in the foyer,” Samantha said. “I slipped on the marble floor.”

  “Did you cry?” Drake asked.

  “No.”

  “Does it hurt?” Drake asked.

  “Yes.”

  Drake crooked his finger at her in a gesture for her to lean closer. When she did, he put his arms around her neck and said, “I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

  Then the eight-year-old touched his lips to her bruised cheek. Stepping back, he asked, “How does it feel now?”

  “I do feel better,” Samantha said. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I want to kiss it, too,” Grant said.

  Samantha leaned close and let the ten-year-old press his lips on her cheek. When he stepped away, she said, “I feel almost like new. Whenever I feel poorly, I want both of you to make me feel better.”

  Grant and Drake beamed with pride. Drake grabbed her hand and led her across the drawing room. “His Highness is feeling poorly, but I don’t think he wants me to kiss him.”

  “Did he tell you he was feeling poorly?”

  Drake shook his head. “He’s very grumpy tonight.”

  “Drake, darling, you are going to be a heartbreaker,” Aunt Roxie drawled.

  “What’s that?” Drake whispered to Samantha.

  “She means all the ladies will fall in love with you,” she told him.

  “Yuck,” Drake exclaimed, looking disgusted.

  Samantha heard a masculine laugh and peeked at the prince. Catching her eye, Rudolf crossed the drawing room. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. “I am sorry for your pain, my love.”

  Samantha stared into his dark eyes. What had happened to make him start calling her his love again? His moods confused her.

  “If you kiss it,” Drake called, “she’ll feel better.”

  Samantha blushed and dropped her gaze to the carpet. Rudolf lifted her chin and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.

  “Her cheek, Your Highness, not her lips,” Drake called, making everyone laugh.

  Rudolf leaned close again, his lips brushing her cheek. Samantha didn’t know what to say. She looked at the others. Her aunt was beaming, the duke was smiling, and her sister was giggling.

  Dropping her gaze, Samantha realized the three of them wore formal evening attire. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “We’re going to the opera,” her aunt answered.

  “After that, we’re going to Lady Mayhew’s ball,” Victoria added.

  Samantha glanced at the prince. “I would like to go to the opera, too.”

  “I thought opera bored you,” her sister said.

  “Tory, you are the one who dislikes the opera,” Samantha said.

  “I despise the opera,” Victoria said with enthusiasm, making the prince smile. “I do love the intermission, though.”

  “Darling, your eye is blackening and your cheek is bruised,” Aunt Roxie reminded her. “We don’t want to invite speculation.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Your aunt means you will not be leaving this house until the bruise disappears,” Rudolf said.

  Samantha felt irritated. Was she a prisoner in the duke’s house? “What if the bruise is still there o
n April twenty-third?”

  “A veil will cover it nicely,” the prince told her.

  * * *

  Samantha was relieved that oyster soup was not on the menu that evening. Tomato soup enriched with a swirl of cream and chopped green herbs was followed by dandelions dressed with morsels of bacon and a sharp vinaigrette, stewed mushrooms, and baked Dover sole.

  Duke Magnus sat at the head of the table. On his left were Aunt Roxie, Grant, and Victoria. Samantha, Drake, and Rudolf sat on the opposite side.

  “Angelica sent Mrs. Sweeting to help with the children,” Aunt Roxie told her. “She’s unpacking her bags now.”

  “Have you met Mrs. Sweeting?” Samantha asked the boys. When they nodded, she told them, “Sweeting was my nanny when I was a very little girl.”

  “Well, that explains why she’s so old,” Grant said, making everyone smile. He glanced at the duchess and added, “You won’t believe this, but we didn’t have table manners before.”

  “Is that so?” her aunt remarked.

  “Lady Samantha gave them to us,” Drake announced, “She taught us reading, too.”

  “His Highness taught us numbers,” Grant told them.

  “How did you meet the prince and my niece?” Aunt Roxie asked the ten-year-old.

  “The boys were bent on highway robbery,” Rudolf answered, laughter lurking in his voice. “Thinking we had struck the dog, we stopped the coach. The next thing we knew, the boys had materialized from nowhere and pointed pistols at us.”

  Samantha watched the prince as he spoke. He was so heartbreakingly handsome. She yearned for his love, and then she dropped her gaze to his hand on the stem of the goblet. Remembering his hands touching her body, she yearned for something else.

  “Isn’t that right, Princess?” Rudolf was saying.

  Samantha snapped her gaze to his face. She felt the heated blush staining her cheeks and wondered if his smile meant he knew her thoughts. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Giles pretended to be injured.”

  Samantha dropped her gaze to his mouth as he spoke. She recalled where his lips had touched, and her breath came in shallow gasps.

  “Darling, are you ill?” her aunt asked.

  Samantha shifted her gaze from the prince to her aunt. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You are behaving strangely tonight,” Aunt Roxie remarked. “Are you ill?”

  “People in love always act like that,” Grant told the duchess.

  “Lady Samantha loves His Highness,” Drake added. “That’s why she stares at him.”

  Samantha suffered the almost overpowering urge to crawl beneath the table. She heard her sister giggling, the duke coughing, and her aunt’s murmured, “Is that so?” The prince’s reaction escaped her. She absolutely refused to look at him.

  What could she do but sit there and blush in silence? She couldn’t protest and announce that she didn’t love her betrothed, the father of her unborn child. That would be too insulting to him. On the other hand, Rudolf didn’t love her and hadn’t wanted to marry. Her pregnancy had trapped them into a union.

  Samantha did the only thing she could do. She changed the topic of conversation. “Prince Rudolf’s daughter will be arriving in a few days,” she told the boys. “I do hope you will be kind to Princess Zara and include her in your games.”

  “I’ll play with her,” Drake said. “I like girls.”

  “I like them, too,” Grant added, “but they’re stupid.”

  “Why do you believe girls are stupid?” Aunt Roxie asked.

  “Girls weep all the time,” Grant answered. “Lady Samantha weeps whether she’s happy or sad.”

  Again, Samantha felt a blush rising on her cheeks. She peeked at the prince. He was smiling at her.

  “Do you mean that Lady Samantha is stupid?” the duchess asked.

  Grant nodded. “Yes.”

  “We love her anyway,” Drake said.

  “I’m glad I’m not His Highness,” Grant said in a loud whisper, leaning close to the duchess. “It’s his job to make her smile whenever she weeps.”

  “How does he do that?” Aunt Roxie asked.

  “We don’t know,” Drake told her. “He takes her into the bedroom.”

  Everyone, including Prince Rudolf, laughed at that. Only Samantha remained silent. The joke was on her. She was about to become betrothed to a man who didn’t love or want to marry her.

  When dinner ended, they walked upstairs to the duke’s office. On her way down, Mrs. Sweeting met them in the corridor and took the boys to their chamber. Intending to get her cloak, Victoria went with the boys.

  Inside the duke’s study, Samantha sat down in the chair in front of the desk. Her aunt sat down beside her.

  “Your Highness, would you like to read this first?” Duke Magnus asked, handing him the contract.

  Samantha watched the prince give the document a quick perusal and then sign. As her guardian, the duke signed and then handed her the document.

  Wetting her lips gone dry from nervousness, Samantha began reading the document in order to delay signing. Once she’d affixed her name to the contract, she doubted she would ever be able to break it.

  “Sign it, Princess,” Rudolf said, standing beside her. “No matter what it says, you are pregnant and have no choice.”

  Without acknowledging his words, Samantha lifted the quill from his hands and signed the contract. Now she was well and truly trapped. She watched the duke and the prince shake hands. No one bothered to shake her hand.

  “Your Highness, would you care to say good night to Grant and Drake?” Samantha asked, rising from her chair.

  Instead of answering, Rudolf reached into his pocket and produced a tiny, velvet-covered box. He opened it, removed a diamond ring, and placed it on the third finger of her left hand, saying, “Diamonds are priceless gems, and so are you.”

  Samantha heard her aunt sighing. She looked up at the prince and said in a soft voice, “Thank you for the thought and the ring.”

  In silence, Rudolf and Samantha climbed the stairs to the third floor. She was pregnant with the prince’s child but didn’t know how to make conversation with him. She hadn’t had this problem in Scotland. Perhaps, he had no wish to converse with her.

  If only he loved me . . . If only he had wanted to marry me . . . If only I didn’t limp.

  Why was her life filled with if-onlys? No contentment was possible with if-only.

  “Thank God for a blessing,” Samantha said, entering the boys’ chamber. Grant spoke first. “Thank You for Lady Samantha and His Highness. Oh, and thank You for Mrs. Sweeting.” Then he elbowed his brother.

  “Thank You, Lord, for not serving me oyster soup,” Drake said.

  Samantha bit her lips to keep from laughing. She glanced at the prince, who was smiling. Both kissed the boys good night and left the chamber.

  “Which chamber is yours?” Rudolf asked in the corridor.

  Samantha pointed to the chamber at the end of the corridor. Surprising her, Rudolf reached for her hand and escorted her to her chamber.

  “Which chamber is yours?” Samantha asked.

  Rudolf grinned like a boy caught in a prank. “I have the next chamber,” he answered. “I insisted on it.”

  As he started to turn away, Samantha said, “May I ask you a question?”

  Rudolf inclined his head.

  “Will you become angry?”

  “That depends on the question.”

  “Why have you changed?” Samantha asked, hating the pleading note she heard in her own voice. When the prince gave her a puzzled smile, she realized he had no idea what she meant.

  “You are not the man I knew in Scotland,” Samantha told him, trying to explain without insulting him.

  Rudolf cocked a dark brow at her. “Who am I?”

  “I wouldn’t wish to say.”

  Rudolf lifted her chin, and when she raised her gaze to his, he told her, “I am as I always was.”

  “You are behaving d
ifferently,” Samantha said, shaking her head. “Your mood—”

  “Any man forced by pregnancy into an unwanted marriage would suffer a passing mood,” Rudolf interrupted her.

  His words broke her heart, but Samantha masked her pain with a placid expression. “Why are you trying to keep me a prisoner in this house?”

  “I have learned to guard what is mine when Vladimir is close,” Rudolf said. “As my intended wife and the mother of my child, you belong to me.”

  Samantha balked at his words. “I belong to myself. I am not property.”

  “According to the law, a wife and children are the man’s property,” Rudolf informed her. “He can do whatever he wants with them. Within reason, of course.”

  “Your Highness, we are not standing in Russia,” Samantha informed him in a lofty tone. “This is England—”

  “The laws to which I refer are English.”

  Samantha was startled. She’d had no idea that her homeland considered her some man’s prospective property. Of course, since her deceased father had lost the Douglas fortune, she had lived a life of unusual freedom. “The law is an arse.”

  “The law is the law,” Rudolf said. “And violet is purple.” At that, the prince left her standing there and disappeared into his chamber.

  Samantha walked into her bedchamber and closed the door. Tears sprang into her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  Today had been the worst day of her life, excepting the day she’d been run over by the carriage, and the day her mother died, and the day her father died. Today wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but she hoped it wouldn’t get worse.

  Her turbulent emotions and pregnancy had taken a toll. As soon as she climbed into bed, she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Awakening the following morning, Samantha felt better but a tad queasy. She yawned and stretched and rolled over. On the table lay a piece of bread on a plate. Sitting up, Samantha read the note beside the plate: Eat this. The note wasn’t signed.

  Samantha ate the bread and leaned back against the headboard. Who had sneaked into her chamber while she slept and left her the bread? Probably her aunt. A short time later, the queasiness passed without the usual dry heaving. Eating bread must be beneficial.