Always a Princess

by Alice Gaines

  “How could you?” she demanded without even looking at him. “How could you trap me like that?”

  “You wouldn’t have agreed to move in if I’d asked you nicely, now would you?”

  “No, and I haven’t agreed this way, either.”

  “But you must. Mother and Father are depending upon it.”

  She stopped and glared up at him. “I will not live under the same roof as you, Lord Wesley. I will not move into that…” She gestured back to the mansion they’d just left. “That house.”

  “Why on earth not? It’s a very nice house.”

  Oh, yes, very nice. Palatial. With an above stairs and below stairs and respect flowing in one direction only—upward to the lords and ladies of the manor. She’d spent over a year in a house like that, and the devil could take them all.

  “It only makes sense,” he said, grasping her upper arms.

  She glared at his hands and then at his face, until he released her.

  “You can leave that horrid place in St. Giles,” he said. “You can even save the pitiful sum you spend on it. You can be comfortable and warm and safe. I need to know that you’re safe.”

  “Why?”

  The question seemed to give him pause, because he huffed a few times and glanced around him as if searching for an answer. Finally, he bent toward her. “Because I care about what happens to you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why in bloody hell not?”

  She turned and began walking again. “If you’re going to use that kind of language, this discussion is at an end.”

  “I?” he said, once again rushing to keep up with her. “I used foul language? What about your own?”

  “I didn’t say ‘bloody,’” she said. “And I can say whatever I damned well please. I’m not the bloody nobility. You are.”

  He let out a hoot that was part disbelief, part anger and part victory. It made him sound like some crazed bird of prey, the stupid man.

  “And I’m the aggrieved party in this affair,” she added.

  “You?” he demanded.

  “Yes, me. I.”

  “I extend my family’s hospitality to you, and you’re the aggrieved party? That’s rich. I suppose if I offered you shelter from a storm, I’d deserve to be clapped in irons for the offense.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, still charging on but not getting any farther away from him.

  “And what punishment would an offer of friendship win me? Transportation?” he continued, now gesturing wildly with open hands toward the skies.

  “You’re making a spectacle of yourself, Lord Wesley. And of me.”

  “And what if I asked you to marry me, Miss Stanhope?” he shouted. “Would that get me beheaded?”

  She stopped and turned toward him, which only made him crash into her. She backed away a pace but still stood within the scent of his shaving soap as she stared up into his face. “That would earn you a bed in Bedlam and a great deal of hilarity from me.”

  “You’d laugh at a marriage proposal from me?” he asked.

  “I’m laughing at the mere idea,” she said. “Ha! Hah-hah.”

  He bent toward her until his nose nearly touched hers. “I’ll remember that if I ever take leave of my senses and entertain the idea of marriage to you again.”

  “By all means, do.” Not that he or anyone remotely like him would ever consider marriage to someone so below his station. Stupid, pigheaded, inbred ingrates all.

  “But you will move in with my family,” he said. “By the end of the week.”

  “I most certainly will not.”

  “My parents are expecting it,” he snarled, “and I won’t have them disappointed.”

  “Then, you’ll just have to un-expect them and undisappoint them yourself, won’t you?” She turned and headed away again.

  “I’ll come to collect your things if you don’t come on your own,” he called from behind her. “I’ll do that.”

  “I’ll see you in hell first,” she called back cheerily.

  “That can be arranged.”

  Eve paused, her hand raised to knock on Mr. Thaddeus Rush’s door. The sound of voices penetrated into the hallway where she stood—one calm and too quiet to be fully understood, and the other quite loud. The softer voice belonged to Rush, if she wasn’t mistaken. The louder one sounded familiar, although she couldn’t quite place it.

  “…substantial loans…young man,” the softer voice said.

  “The devil, you say,” the other man shouted. “I don’t have to tolerate this from the likes of you.”

  Arthur. For heaven’s sake, the man bellowing inside was Arthur Cathcart. What could have made Arthur pay a visit to London’s most notorious receiver of stolen jewelry?

  “You’re mad, Rush,” Arthur continued. “I can’t take any more of my mother’s jewelry. She’s already missed the cameo.”

  The cameo. Bloody hell, could he mean that cameo? The one Mrs. Cathcart wore only for special occasions? The one Sir Udney had fired her for stealing? What other cameo could he mean?

  That bastard. That bloody bastard. He’d let his parents sack her without a recommendation, knowing full well she’d never find another position. And he’d had the bleeding cameo the whole time. She’d tolerated all his pawing in silence, and he thanked her by stealing her only hope of making a decent living.

  “As you wish…gems or money,” Rush said. “But your loans have come due.”

  She’d heard right the first time. Rush had said loans. Probably to pay gambling debts. She’d overheard enough arguments in the Cathcart house about Arthur’s prodigal ways to know Sir Udney wouldn’t cover his son’s losses at the gaming tables. The fool was well on his way to losing his inheritance. If she could get her hands on that cameo, she could get him cut off without a penny.

  “This conversation is at an end,” Arthur proclaimed. Angry footsteps approached, and Eve only had time to scurry around a corner before the door opened. She held her breath and listened, although as loud as Arthur had been shouting, they’d hardly hear her breathing.

  “Then I’ll expect you tomorrow with some funds,” Rush said.

  “I’ll come when I’m bloody good and ready,” Arthur said.

  “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Cathcart. You owe me a great deal of money. If I don’t receive a considerable payment by the end of the week, I’ll be forced to take steps.”

  “Stay away from my family,” Arthur snarled.

  “I wish it were that simple, sir.”

  “Don’t come near my house. Don’t come near me.”

  “Shall we say Tuesday?” Rush said evenly. “I suppose I can wait until Tuesday.”

  “You may go to hell,” Arthur said. His footsteps echoed down the hallway and then descended the stairs. The front door to the building opened and then slammed shut. Rush laughed softly and closed the door to his flat, leaving Eve alone in the hallway.

  Well, well. She stepped out from her hiding place. Well, well, well. Arthur not only had gambling debts, but he couldn’t make any real sort of payment on them. And she stood right outside the door of the man who could turn the jewels in her reticule into justice. How very convenient.

  She walked to the door and rapped briskly on it. After a moment, Rush opened the door. He glanced upward briefly, as though expecting to find someone of Arthur’s height, but he corrected himself immediately and gave her an unpleasant smile that showed less-than-perfect teeth.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “I think you can.”

  “Ah, yes. Delightful, delightful.” He pulled the door open further and gestured for her to step inside. “Please, come in and have a seat.”

  Eve walked to the man’s desk and sat in a chair before it. He joined her, still wearing that smile on his face. After sitting, he continued to scrutinize her. “And how may I be of service to such a pretty young lady?”

  She cleared her throat and gathered her wits. One didn’t co
me right out and discuss matters with a man like Rush. One skirted the issues, speaking in a code that both would understand. She’d rehearsed what she planned to say, but she hadn’t counted on having Arthur and that cameo drop right into her lap in this manner. If she was to have Rush’s cooperation, she’d have to put things in just the right way.

  “Mr. Rush, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes. And you would be…?”

  “Who I am isn’t important. I’ve come to you on a matter of some delicacy.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Ah, yes.”

  “I understand that you occasionally help people who’ve, um, fallen on difficult times.”

  The blackguard assumed a saintly expression no more sincere than his earlier smile. “It warms my heart to be able to help others.”

  “It happens that I could use your help,” she said.

  “But, of course. Whatever I can do.”

  She reached inside her reticule and pulled out the handkerchief that held the jewelry she’d stolen on her own. “I’m afraid I need money, and I find myself forced to sell these.”

  She pushed the bundle across the desk to him and watched as he opened it and studied the contents with a critical eye.

  “Those have been in my family for generations,” she lied. In fact, she didn’t even know how old they were. “I wouldn’t sell them at all except under duress.”

  Rush picked up a string of matched pearls. “These are passable pieces. I think I can help you.”

  Passable, indeed. She didn’t need to know much about jewelry to realize that necklace alone had more value than the cameo. Adding the matching earrings and the other pieces made the whole offering a generous trade. Rush couldn’t fail to take it.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, doing her best to gush gratitude. “I wonder if I might ask another small favor.”

  His eyebrow rose. “What might that be, Miss….”

  She smiled sweetly at him, still refusing to reveal her name. “That gentleman who just left here…”

  “You overheard us?”

  “I couldn’t help but do. He was rather loud.”

  “I don’t discuss my acquaintances,” Rush said. “I’m sure you’d expect the same discretion.”

  “Certainly. But you see, I already know the gentleman.”

  Rush laughed softly. “You know that one?”

  “Our families are very close.”

  “Your family might show better taste.”

  She answered his chuckling with laughter of her own. “I’m sure you’re right. And still, if my friend has gotten himself into trouble, I’d want to do what I could to help him.”

  Rush glanced at the jewelry she’d brought and then at her. “Really? What do you propose?”

  She rose from her chair and walked to the window, deliberately taking her time to consider her next words. “My friend’s mother lost a cameo recently. She suspects it was stolen.”

  “Very likely,” Rush said. “The world’s a larcenous place.”

  “I’m afraid it would break her heart to think her son was involved,” she said. “She has a delicate constitution. I’m not sure she’d survive the shock.”

  Rush clucked his tongue in mock sympathy.

  “And of course, I’m interested in the young man’s redemption. I’d like to see him settled comfortably in the bosom of his family.” Good Lord, where had she learned such tripe?

  Tripe or not, it had the desired effect on Rush, whose expression blossomed into a pained, almost beatific smile. “Ah, yes. The feminine half of humanity. So keen to lead the male down the path to salvation.”

  She returned to her seat in front of his desk. “The cameo would help a great deal.”

  “I could be persuaded…” Rush glanced at the jewelry she’d brought again. “A trade. For the sake of the young man’s restoration.”

  “Lord bless you, sir.”

  “’Tis better to give…” he said as he scooped up the pearls and the other items she’d brought. He put them into a side drawer, pulled out a box and pushed it across the desk to her. When she opened it, the cameo stared back at her. A small thing, but it had launched her on a life of crime.

  After closing the box, she rose, clutching it in her hand. “Good day to you, sir.”

  He also got up. “Allow me to show you out.”

  She put the box with the cameo into her reticule and headed toward the doorway. Rush opened the door and paused with his hand on the knob. “And, please, do come to me if you have any more trades to make.”

  Of course, the larcenous bastard would want more after the killing he’d made on this one. She stepped into the hallway. “You’ll be the first person I think of.”

  Rush bowed briefly and then shut the door behind her.

  Well, well. This changed things rather dramatically. She’d planned on living off the sale of those pearls for some time. Now, she only had the cameo. She could use it to get revenge against Arthur and possibly even win her job back, if she wanted it.

  She had another option, though. One she might turn to good advantage, indeed. She could accept Wesley’s invitation to move into the house with his family. Once there, she could search for the Wonder and make off with it. Even Rush, with all his greed, would pay enough for that stone to keep her and Hubert well-cared-for for life.

  A more scrupulous woman might feel some shame at stealing the diamond from her “partner.” And yet they’d only stolen it from someone else. She’d given Wesley ample opportunity to share in the profits. Instead of taking her up on the opportunity, he’d stalled and avoided the question. Maybe he had no intention of living up to their bargain at all. Yes, she most definitely had reason to take the diamond for herself.

  One more theft of the Wonder, and she’d be done with crime, the princess and the whole lot of it. How delicious that Philip Rosemont had invited—nay, demanded—that she move into his house to do it.

  Eve wasted little time putting her plan into action. Viscount Wesley had invited her into his house to steal his own stolen diamond, although he didn’t know that last part. He’d made a great show of ordering her to do it, even threatening to bring her by force if he had to. So—they’d just see how he reacted when she showed up under her own power. In her own carriage and with Hubert along to play chaperone.

  The old brougham that served as transportation for the Princess Eugenia d’Armand pulled to a stop in front of the Rosemonts’ mansion. Hubert opened the door to let Eve out. She climbed to the street and glanced up at her new home.

  The tall scarecrow of a butler who seemed always to guard the Rosemonts’ front entryway stared down at her from the top of the stairs. He stood completely still, hardly moving a muscle except for the slightest twitch of his nose, as if he smelled something bad.

  “Do you suppose it’s only the coach that makes him look so sour?” she whispered to Hubert. “Or does he disapprove of us equally?”

  “Do you care?” Hubert said.

  “Not at all.” She straightened her back, lifted her skirts and headed up the stairs. Hubert followed a few steps behind.

  Before they reached the top, the door opened farther, and Viscount Wesley appeared. Good. He might as well know straight off that Hubert was moving in with her. If he had seduction on his mind, Hubert would only be in his way. She’d never have left Hubert in St. Giles alone, in any case, but if his presence nettled Wesley, so much the better.

  He didn’t seem taken aback at the old man’s presence, though, but smiled at both of them as they ascended to the front of the house.

  “Princess Eugenia,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome.”

  The scarecrow humphed, and she gave him the very best haughty lift of her brow that she could. Then she turned a blinding smile on Lord Wesley as she slipped her fingers into his. “So très, très kind of you to have me.”

  Wesley turned toward Hubert. “And Mr.…”

  “Longtree, my lord.” Hubert bowed ever so slightly.

/>   “Inform my parents that the princess has arrived, Mobley,” Wesley said to his own servant.

  “Certainly, sir,” the man said. “And what should I do with the…ahem…carriage, sir?”

  Wesley looked down at the shabby brougham that had brought them. It really did look better by lamplight than by sunlight. But if Wesley disapproved, he didn’t show it in his expression. “Have someone take it around to the carriage house.”

  Just the slightest widening of Mobley’s eyes showed what the man thought of putting such a degenerate conveyance close to the family’s own carriages. But he didn’t say anything beyond, “Very good, my lord.”

  The fellow disappeared inside the house, and Wesley gestured for the rest of them to go inside, as well. Once in the mammoth foyer, Wesley looked around to make sure they were alone and then smiled at Eve. “What a pleasant surprise, Miss Stanhope. I thought I might have to pack your things for you and bring you here by force.”

  “Hubert convinced me this was the right thing to do,” she said. Hubert hadn’t actually done that, but he approved, the old dear.

  “Well done, Hubert,” Wesley said. “Now, what are we to do with you?”

  “Do?” Eve repeated. Lord Wesley wasn’t going to do anything with Hubert, not if she had any say in the matter.

  “We need some explanation for Hubert’s presence,” Wesley said. “I say, old man, would you like to be Lord Excellency, Chancellor of Valdastok? Or perhaps some kind of archduke or other?”

  “No, sir,” Hubert said. “I think below stairs is the best place for me.”

  “No,” Eve said. “No, you will not go below stairs. I won’t have it.”

  Hubert took her hands in his. “I’ll be fine, child.”

  “No,” she repeated. “You’re no longer a servant, and I won’t have you acting like one.”

  “I meant no disrespect,” Wesley said. Eve glanced at him and found bewilderment—and some concern—in his eyes. “We can say you’re an advisor of some kind, Hubert. I can find you some rooms near Miss Stanhope. You can keep very quietly to yourself.”

  “That’s very kind of your lordship, but I don’t really care to pretend to be someone I’m not,” Hubert said.