The Perils of Pursuing a Prince

by Julia London

  “I think it is you who does not like the tale, sir,” she said angrily, trying to pull her arm from his grip. “You cannot bear that the truth be known. You cannot bear that I know the truth!”

  “You are naïve,” he said heatedly. “You know nothing of the truth.”

  “I don’t know how you can face it,” she said breathlessly as they reached the steps leading up to the entry.

  “Hush,” he said harshly, and pushed her up the steps. “Do you honestly believe that Owen Percy would tell you the truth? How can you possibly believe he is anything but a liar and a profligate after what he has done to you?”

  Greer recoiled at the vehement way he said it; but he pulled her into the house, thankful that no ghosts, no Alis Bronwyn, had come to meet him. The realization emboldened him, and he marched her to the stairs that led up to the room that had remained locked for eight years.

  “Pray tell, what incredible fiction has Percy told you, precisely?” he asked as Greer struggled to keep up. When she did not answer right away he whipped around. “What did he tell you?” he roared.

  Greer yanked her arm free of his grip. “That you compromised the daughter of a solicitor from Rhayader,” she said coldly, rubbing her arm. “And when you had ruined her completely, you tossed her aside like so much garbage.”

  “He is a master at creating tales,” Rhodrick said with a snort of disgust. “What else?”

  “That soon after you refused her, the poor girl went missing.”

  “The bloody bastard,” Rhodrick muttered as they reached the room. He’d never known a blacker soul than Percy’s. There had been something quite unpleasant about him even as a young boy. “Go on,” he said roughly.

  “He said…” Her voice was breaking. “He said that she was never seen alive again.”

  “And how does he implicate me in her disappearance, other than to say I caused it?”

  “When she was nowhere to be found,” she said, her voice trembling, “he said that only you knew where to find her. In all the acres at Llanmair, only you knew.”

  He paused at the locked door and turned to look at Greer, the woman with whom he had fallen desperately in love, and cringed inwardly at the look in her eyes. He despised her for it. He abhorred that she had given herself to him if she could believe this of him.

  “Is that all?” he asked calmly, his heart having shut down, his emotions having disintegrated into blackness.

  She swallowed. “He said that all of Powys believes you killed her, and he supposed that the only way you might have found her was if you had put her there to begin with.”

  Rhodrick chuckled. “Did he indeed?” he asked coldly. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, then fit a key into the lock and opened it.

  The door did not open easily. The wood had swollen, and Rhodrick had to force it open with his shoulder. As the door swung open, the musty smell that emanated from the room nauseated him.

  But he forced himself to stride inside, his hand groping along the shelf for the stack of candles he knew was there, guided by the light filtered through a dirty window. He found the tinderbox, and with some doing, managed to light the flint.

  Greer was standing across the threshold, looking ill.

  “Come in, then, and have a look about,” he said angrily. “You wanted this.”

  She hesitated before taking a single tentative step across the threshold.

  The room had obviously been untouched for years, just as Miss Yates had left it the night she escaped. The evidence of her increasing madness lay all around them. In the corner, a table had been overturned and the oil from the lamp had spilled, leaving a dark, indelible stain. A garment on the bed had been ripped in several places, as if someone had taken a dagger to it. A tea service lay in fragments of china on the floor beneath the wall where it had been hurled, judging by the splatters of tea on the silk paper and the bits crushed under the weight of a man’s boot.

  As Greer stepped deeper into the room, she put her hand to her mouth.

  “You have given me Percy’s version of events,” Rhodrick said. “Now I shall give you mine. It was Percy who compromised Miss Morwena Yates, Greer—not I. He seduced a naïve, innocent young woman much like you, took her virtue when he was not, as was his habit, in the bed of a married woman in Powys, and pledged a love for Miss Yates that he did not possess in his black heart.”

  Greer picked up a piece of needlework, still in the circular frame, the canvas yellowed with age.

  “When Miss Yates discovered she was carrying his child, instead of doing the honorable thing—for the honorable thing was never Percy’s concern—he dismissed her and left her to fend for herself. As you might imagine, the shame she had brought on her family was so great that they could scarcely bear it.”

  Greer shifted her gaze to the bed.

  “I accepted the responsibility that Percy would not and had sent the young woman to a safe place to bear her child. She bore Percy a daughter—but she did not take the position of governess I had secured for her in Cornwall, as I believed. She had, in her grief, convinced herself she was quite in love with Percy. Unbeknownst to me, she returned to Rhayader with the hope of gaining his affection and support.”

  Greer turned slightly, so that he could not see her face; but he saw the rise and fall of her shoulders as she took a steadying breath.

  “In the meantime, I had let Kendrick to Percy with the vain hope that he would settle in and refrain from his scandalous behavior. Miss Yates came to Kendrick, no doubt desperate for him to right the terrible wrong he’d done her. He would not see her, of course, or acknowledge her in any way. In fact, he sent her away, for she had, to all intents and purposes, ceased to exist for him. But in her desperation, Miss Yates returned to Kendrick once more to see Percy. Unfortunately, on the night she appeared, my wretched nephew had gathered some influential men of Powys with the hope of securing a loan for some ridiculous venture or another.”

  He shifted his gaze to Greer. “Miss Yates embarrassed him—Percy has always been far more concerned about himself than anyone else, and, I think, feared what his potential investors might think more than he cared about the woeful condition he had put on Miss Yates. So he escorted her here, to this room, where they argued. When it became apparent she would not leave, he locked her inside rather than have her embarrass him again. And here is where he kept her, in this seldom-used wing of the house, locked away for almost a fortnight.”

  “If that is so, then why was Mr. Percy not brought to the proper authorities when it was discovered?” Greer asked.

  Rhodrick smiled coldly. “Because Miss Yates was nowhere to be found.”

  He held the candle high and walked across the room to stand before her. “It was days after her initial disappearance that her father faced what he thought was true—that she’d fled her shame. Percy confirmed it. He said she’d come to Kendrick, and they had argued. He even confessed to having put her away until his guests had departed. But he swore to me that he’d then advised her to go home to her mother and seek her solace there. He claimed to have never seen her again after that night. But in reality, he’d held her prisoner here as he considered what to do,” he said, gesturing to the room. “Lord knows how long he might have left her when she turned mad. Look at her clothing, cut to ribbons. Look at the furniture overturned, the tea service hurled against the wall. See the scratching here?” he asked, pointing to words that were impossible to make out beneath the window sash. “She scratched those with her fingernails.”

  “But…what happened then?” Greer asked breathlessly.

  “She surprised the old crone Percy had hired to tend her one day, knocking her to the floor and then fleeing into the wilderness, mad with despair.”

  “Oh dear God,” Greer whispered.

  Rhodrick glanced around. “I have left this room exactly as it was found with the fruitless hope that one day, justice would be served.” He turned back to Greer.

  The look of loathing in
her eyes had been replaced by sadness. “How do you know what happened? Did Percy tell you?”

  He could feel the color bleed from his face as he remembered the morning he had confronted Percy with his suspicions. “Not exactly. Percy panicked when he could not find her, I suppose. He fabricated a tale in which he said that a mad Miss Yates had come back to Kendrick and then fled into the forest. Every able-bodied man in Powys searched for Miss Yates. We began at sunup and searched until dusk, but it wasn’t until the fifth day that she was found. By then, Percy had failed to pay the crone for her trouble, so she confessed her part in it to me and accused Percy of locking Miss Yates away.”

  “But…but why didn’t Miss Yates seek her family when she escaped?”

  Rhodrick sighed, regretting that he must tell her such a wretched tale. “Unfortunately we will never know what truly happened. By the time Miss Yates was found, most of her body was gone, scavenged by animals. From what was left of her, we know that her neck had been broken. I think as she fled, she became disoriented and ran deep into the forest. She was probably unaware of the ravine and fell to her death.”

  Greer made a sound of distress and turned away, lurching unsteadily for the door and grabbing the frame. “I don’t understand! If this is true, then why hasn’t Mr. Percy been brought to justice?”

  Rhodrick shrugged and glanced at the embroidery. “Because it was a gentleman’s word against that of an old woman who had a fondness for drink.”

  “How did you find her?” Greer demanded. “He said you found her. He said that in all these acres, only you could find her. How?”

  Rhodrick debated telling her. At the moment, he hardly cared if she thought him mad. But he’d never told a soul that extraordinary tale, had never voiced it aloud, and he could not bring himself to start now. “Luck,” he said.

  “Luck? You would have me believe it was luck that led you through thousands of acres to find her?”

  His hand curled around the candle, gripping it tightly. “What other explanation is there? Perhaps you still believe Percy.”

  “I find it extraordinary,” she said, with far less calm than he, “that you continue to distrust me. I only wonder aloud how you might possibly have found a woman’s devoured corpse in so many empty acres. Did a bird tell you? Did you remain silent to protect someone? Do you not find it remarkable that you alone knew where to find that poor creature?”

  “I have answered you plainly. What else could you possibly need to hear?”

  She turned toward the door. “I cannot bear to be in this room at all…much less with you.”

  “The feeling is entirely mutual,” he said, and blew out the candle, sending the room and his heart into blackness.

  They hardly spoke at all as they made their way back to the horses. When they reached them, Rhodrick came behind Greer, putting his hands to her waist to lift her up, but Greer pushed them away. “I can do it,” she said, and struggled to lift herself up.

  An old, familiar feeling of unworthiness rushed up within him and he turned away, mounted Cadfael, and spurred him forward. He did not look to see if she followed—he scarcely cared if she did.

  As they rode to Llanmair, his knee ached fiercely and he noticed the air turning colder and damper. They were in for quite a storm, he reckoned, and wished to be in the privacy of his study so that he might massage his knee.

  Alone.

  By the time they arrived at Llanmair, the first few snowflakes had begun to fall. Greer hardly seemed to notice; she marched past him, disappearing inside. When he entered behind her, she had yanked the hood of her cloak off her head and was struggling to undo the clasp. Rhodrick meant to walk by, to leave her, but he caught sight of the man standing in the shadows, still wearing a cloak.

  Greer must have seen him at the same time for she made a sound of surprise. “My lord Harrison!” she exclaimed.

  “Miss Fairchild,” he said, bowing low. “I have brought you a letter from the marquis of Middleton.”

  “Ava!” Greer cried with apparent relief, and took the vellum from the man.

  He, in turn, shifted a cold gray gaze to Rhodrick. “Geoffrey Godwin, Viscount Harrison, at your service, my lord. I have come on behalf of the marquis of Middleton to bring his sister-in-law safely home. At once.”

  Twenty-eight

  Dearest Greer,

  We are desperately worried and hope that this letter finds you well and unharmed! The situation seems absolutely dreadful and you really must come home at once, darling! We have enclosed a letter from the marquis of Middleton in which he vouches for your true identity and character, and naturally, Lord Harrison has the funds necessary to see you home posthaste!

  “You needn’t worry about that, Phoebe,” Greer muttered as she paced her room. “I shall leave at first light!”

  You must believe that I take no satisfaction in being proven completely right about this journey—I knew it was a ghastly idea from the start! You are lucky you haven’t gotten yourself killed if you haven’t already. Ava stands nearby and she asks that I remind you that you said you’d not be gone for more than one month, two at the most, and now it is almost nine! We had all but given you up for lost!

  “If only I had listened to you then!” Greer cried, shaking the vellum at the painted ceiling.

  I regret to inform you that your Mr. Percy has not called on the marquis on your behalf. Ava said that is because it has been an unusually rainy autumn, that he is surely and unavoidably detained. I rather think that he might have traveled at least faster than the post. Ava and I had quite a row about it, but it is really of no consequence now, for we have received word that you are alive, thank heavens!

  Now you must come home, Greer, for all is restored to us. Not our mother’s fortune, of course, for Lord Downey is, according to Mr. Laramie, the solicitor, quite within his right to keep it and shows no indication of wishing to share even a portion of it. But the marquis is a very generous man, particularly to me, for he understands now what I have endured living with Ava all these years. He has made available enough funds to see us both properly married, so please do come home. Lord Harrison will see that you do.

  I must close now. Ava is feeling poorly and needs me, although she is very stubborn and will not admit it. She has not endured her delicate situation very delicately at all, and really she has always been rather cross with even the slightest headache.

  “Her delicate condition? Ava?” Greer whimpered, sinking on to the settee.

  We did tell you she is with child, did we not?

  “No, Phoebe, you did not! But when?”

  We anxiously await your return! All our love, P.F.

  “Oh, Phoebe!” Greer cried, closing her eyes. “Couldn’t you at least have told me how long she’s been carrying the child?”

  She read the letter again, then the letter attached to it from the marquis, in which he greeted the earl of Radnor as if they were acquaintances, vouching for Greer and her identity and informing him she’d be leaving in Lord Harrison’s company at the first opportunity.

  She was leaving.

  She had her inheritance and would leave this awful place once and for all.

  And she did find it awful, didn’t she? Not a single modern convenience to be had, not like in London. And really, all the peace and solitude could drive a person quite mad. Not a bit of society, and one had to travel miles just to have tea with someone other than the staff.

  Granted, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Kendrick—but given the horrific events at that house, she could hardly see how she might stay. She shuddered at the memory of Rhodrick’s tale and the question raised itself again: How had he found Miss Yates? A forgotten trail? Someone whose identity he needed to protect?

  However he’d found her, the tale was too gruesome, and Kendrick would always be tainted with it. Had she been the prince, she would have endeavored to wash away all memory of that tragedy. She would have cleaned the room and painted it a bright and cheerful color. She would h
ave brought that grand house to life again.

  But she was not the prince. She was scarcely even Welsh any longer. Seeing Harrison again—dressed in finery found only in London and Paris, his demeanor impeccable—had reminded her of all that London had to offer. That was where she truly belonged.

  She had simply passed the weeks playing at a fantasy here, but now that Harrison had come, she could plainly see that she did not belong here. Ava and Phoebe were waiting for her, and she was desperate to see them.

  It was settled. She had to leave. She had to take her inheritance and leave this place with all its secrets. And Kendrick. And she had to leave him.

  Greer fell back against the settee, one arm draped over her belly, the letters lying listlessly in her hand.

  She really had no choice.

  But oh, how she dreaded it! And for so many conflicting reasons that it gave her a stifling headache.

  That night she dreamt of her mother, standing, as always, in the door of Kendrick, beckoning Greer into a grand mansion. Greer entered as she always did, trying to reach her mother before she disappeared, trying to catch her, to put her hand on her before she faded away, and as always, she could not reach her.

  But she did reach Rhodrick. Somehow, she went from following her mother to being in his arms again, in the grand salon at Kendrick. Only it was no longer an empty shell, but a palace, with crystal chandeliers and beeswax candles and thick wool rugs at her feet. She was dressed in a resplendent ball gown of pale blue silk, and somewhere, an orchestra played a waltz.

  She danced a waltz with Rhodrick, moving sure-footedly across a highly polished dance floor, twirling beneath the glittering crystals.

  He moved her with grace and ease, and she seemed to float securely in his arms, basking in his brilliant gaze, the feel of his hard body surrounding hers. She did not fear him. She loved him.

  When Lulu arrived the next morning, Greer had already dressed in a somber brown and black traveling gown, for she had every intention of leaving as soon as a coach could be summoned from Rhayader. Lulu looked surprised, but did not question Greer’s request that she pack her trunk. She did, however, tell her that Lord Harrison awaited her in the red salon.