The Trouble With Princesses

by Tracy Anne Warren

  By now he was more than done with being tolerant and polite.

  Hodges smiled and gestured again in the direction from which Rupert had originally come. “Why don’t we go to our host’s study and have a drink? The Scotch here is quite excellent.”

  “So it is. Perhaps another time.” Turning, Rupert started down the corridor again.

  Before he’d taken more than three steps, however, Hodges sidestepped in front of him, blocking his path.

  “Billiards, then?” Hodges suggested, his voice going high with what sounded like a hint of desperation. “Nothing like a good game of billiards to relax a man.”

  Rupert scowled. “I have no wish to be relaxed. Stand aside.”

  Hodges swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “T-there must be activity in which I can interest you, Your Royal Highness.”

  “I think not. Get out of my way.”

  But Hodges did not move.

  Suddenly Rupert realized that he had been deliberately intercepted, deliberately delayed, and there could only be one reason.

  Ariadne.

  “Get out of my way,” he ordered again harshly.

  Shoving the other man aside, Rupert strode quickly down the corridor. Reaching the last room, he flung open the door without pause, not sure what he would discover inside.

  But the room stood empty.

  Where was she? She ought to have been here by now. Had he mistaken the room? But no, Hodges had not wanted him to come here, and he could think of no reason other than that the man wished to keep him from Ariadne.

  Then he saw it, something that glimmered in the dull candlelight. Approaching, he leaned down and picked up an earbob.

  Her earbob—a small pear-shaped drop made of sapphires and diamonds that he’d seen her wearing only half an hour since.

  He’d just closed his fist around it when he noticed a servant’s door in the far wall that had not been properly shut. Striding across the room, he opened the door and peered inside.

  Empty as well.

  This time, though, he caught a pair of scents—one familiar and one that sent a chill down his spine.

  She’d been here.

  He would recognize the light, honeyed fragrance of her perfume mixed with her own unique sweetness anywhere.

  As for the other scent, it reminded him of a surgeon’s office—or a chemist’s shop.

  Ether.

  Aware he hadn’t a moment to lose, he spun around and raced out of the room. The corridor was deserted.

  Hodges. That bastard.

  Where was Hodges—assuming that was even his name? Whoever he was, it was clear he was privy to whatever foul plot had befallen Ariadne.

  Now he just had to find him.

  Uncaring who might see, he broke into a sprint, heading back toward the ballroom and the main entrance. Pausing briefly, he scanned the milling guests, searching for the brown-haired head of his prey. But there were so many people, dancing and talking and laughing—their movements blocking his view.

  Suddenly he caught a glimpse. He ran faster, knowing he couldn’t give Hodges a chance to climb inside a coach or hackney and disappear.

  Hodges was in the act of doing exactly that when Rupert caught up to him. Clamping a hard hand on the man’s arm, Rupert spun him around. Hodges trembled and tried to pull away, his eyes as terrified as those of a cornered fox.

  “Tell me everything,” Rupert demanded, “or so help me God, I’ll tear this arm I’m holding straight out of its socket.”

  Hodges whimpered and began to babble.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ariadne glared at Selkirk, wishing it was possible for looks to actually kill. Her head ached, she was in a foul temper, and he was solely to blame.

  About half an hour ago, they’d stopped at an inn somewhere along what she’d guessed must be the Great North Road. She wasn’t sure of their precise location, having spent a large portion of the coach trip lying across the seat with her hands bound.

  Earlier, he’d removed the gag when she’d awakened and become quite ill. The drug he’d used on her had made her horribly queasy; they’d had to stop more than once so she could vomit along the side of the road. Another black mark in the long list of black marks she was accumulating against him—kidnapping being first and foremost among them.

  She’d been secretly pleased when she’d unintentionally splashed sick all over his shoes. He hadn’t liked that much and had spent ten minutes cursing in a field while cleaning them off in some tall grass.

  But that had been hours ago, the whole night and now most of the next day having passed. He’d finally decided they would stop to rest, then continue on in the morning to wherever it was he was taking her.

  In the meantime, she had no intention of aiding him in any way.

  “Try some of this ham,” he urged from across the table of the private parlor in which they sat. “It’s actually quite decent.”

  She glared harder, then crossed her arms and looked pointedly away.

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you’re the one who’ll suffer if you don’t eat. You ought to drink something as well. It won’t do to have you fainting because you aren’t keeping down enough fluids, especially considering how ill you were earlier.” He looked down at his plate. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

  “Which part?” she asked. “Drugging and making me sick, holding me at knife point, or turning criminal enough to kidnap me?”

  He considered the question. “All of them, I suppose.”

  “If you feel so badly about it, why not let me go? Put me in a coach headed back to London and I promise I won’t say anything about this unfortunate incident.”

  He smiled, his eyes twinkling as he raised his wineglass and took a drink. “You’ve got spirit, Your Highness. It’s one of the qualities I’ve always admired most about you. But unfortunately I cannot afford to simply let you go.”

  “Why? Do you not trust me to keep my word?”

  “You might, but somehow I don’t think your friends would be so accommodating. They’d have the story out of you without a great deal of persuasion, then set every man they can command onto my trail. There’s nowhere I’d be safe, either here or on the Continent.”

  “Then why risk any of this? My friends, who are closer to me than family, are certainly aware by now that I’ve disappeared. They will be searching for me and they will not stop until I am found.”

  “Nor do I expect them to. But so long as I stay two steps ahead, I’ll be able to achieve my aims before anything can be done to stop me. Once that happens, it won’t matter if they find us.”

  He slid a small basket of bread toward her. “Take a piece. I really must insist you eat. And drink some of that milk I ordered for you. It should help soothe your stomach.”

  She opened her mouth to refuse again, but something in his eyes made her stop. He might appear perfectly amiable on the surface, even reasonable, but he was still the man who had used force against her and spirited her away against her will. Would he use force again if she continued to refuse to eat and drink?

  Taking a slice of bread, she laid it on her plate, then broke it in half. As he watched she put a small piece in her mouth and chewed. Her tongue still felt dry and too big for her mouth, her throat rebelling. She forced herself to swallow, waiting anxiously to see if it would come up again.

  But mercifully the food stayed down and her lingering nausea eased slightly. She tried the milk next, even though she hadn’t drunk a glass of milk since she was a child in leading strings. She didn’t care for the tepid blandness, but after a long minute, her head began to clear a bit as well.

  Resenting Selkirk all the while, she continued to eat and drink. He did the same.

  Once she had eaten all she dared at present, she leaned back in her chair. “You said you only need to keep ahead of my friends until you achieve your aim, that afterward it won’t matter. What is that aim? I presume it has something to do with money?”

  H
e laid his knife and fork neatly across his empty plate, and patted his mouth clean with his napkin. Only then did he look at her. “You are far more intelligent than most people, a trait I’ve always liked, even if it isn’t considered becoming in a female. Being that’s the case, can you not hazard a guess at my plan?”

  She could, but she didn’t like any of the ideas that came to mind. “You need money and are going to hold me for ransom,” she ventured, suggesting the least objectionable notion first.

  “You’re right about the money. I do need it. A great deal of it, as the case may be. But ransom? Really? And how would that solve anything?”

  It wouldn’t and she knew it. He obviously knew it as well.

  “No. I plan to wed you. Everything would have been so much easier if you’d just agreed to marry me when I asked. But this is what things have come to.”

  “I thought you’d turned your attentions to that squire’s daughter. Things appeared rather serious between the two of you.”

  His expression grew fierce. “They were. She’s a comely little bird with a well-feathered nest. She would have made a tolerable wife, even if she has no more understanding of manners than your average goat. But sadly, just as all my plans were falling into place, her father started looking into my affairs. It seems he discovered a number of unsettled gaming debts and tradesmen’s bills.”

  One of his hands tightened into a fist on the table. “He called me a fortune hunter and forbade me to see his daughter ever again. I might have convinced her to run off to Gretna Green with me, since she was in love, but he sent her away. To Italy, where she is utterly out of reach.

  “Meanwhile, matters grew more serious, since I had by that point availed myself of the services of a moneylender, thinking at the time that I was soon to come into a great deal of wealth. When I did not, my thoughts turned once more to you.”

  She crossed her arms again. “So I presume I am now the one going to Gretna Green?”

  His mouth curved upward. “Clever, Princess. I’m going to enjoy being married to you.”

  “Then it’s a shame that I have to disappoint you yet again, since I have no intention of agreeing to be your wife.”

  He sighed with understanding. “I was afraid you might not be amenable at first and would need further convincing. You’re quite ruined by now, you know. Even if your absence wasn’t noticed by the Ton last night, it certainly will be by now. When next you are in Town, the rumors will be flying.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he drank more wine. “Once it becomes known that you spent several days alone in my company . . . Well, let’s just say I can’t fathom the number of doors you will find closed to you, regardless of your status as a royal. Your only salvation is to marry me. Some might sneer and point out that ours is an uneven union, but others will find it romantic that we eloped.”

  She sent him a fresh glare. “Eloped? Is that what you expect me to tell everyone? I think kidnapping and extortion will do far better.”

  “I only thought to put a positive light on our nuptials. But if you insist on the truth, then so be it. Don’t say I didn’t offer to spare you the extra talk.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You want my money that badly.”

  “More like I need it that badly, but yes, I do.”

  “Well, that is a shame indeed.”

  “And just what do you mean by that?”

  “Only that you have mistaken the situation. You see, I do not care overmuch about protecting my reputation. If you knew me better, you would have realized my views on the subject. Truth be known, I would much rather the world brand me a scarlet woman than be forced to tie myself for a lifetime to an unscrupulous rogue like you. There is not going to be a marriage.”

  He stared at her, his expression turning hard. “Ah, but there is. Believe me, Your Highness, you will marry me.”

  She gave a wry laugh and crossed her arms. “I will not. So you might as well take me back right now. The trip north would be an absolute waste of time for us both.”

  He contemplated her statement in silence and drank more wine. “I don’t think so. You see, you are the one who is in error now. You seem to be under the impression that your consent is required for our union. I assure you it is not.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she retorted with a huff. “I am a royal princess and if I choose not to align myself with you, I cannot be forced to do so.”

  “Were we remaining in England, that would indeed be true. But once we reach Scotland and Gretna Green, all I need do is find a willing minister and a pair of witnesses.”

  “All of whom I shall inform of my refusal to be your wife.”

  “Indeed, you may try,” he told her with an unsettlingly smug assurance. “However, I have to warn you that once I inform the minister that I have been bedding you with great frequency over the course of our journey, he’ll be only too happy to see us wed. After all, a child might be involved and as its father, I will wish to atone for such sinful behavior and make provision against its illegitimacy.”

  She curled her fingers around the dinner knife next to her plate. “So you are planning to add my violation to your list of crimes? I have to tell you now that I will never submit to you, not voluntarily and not without a fight.”

  He grimaced and held up a hand. “Here now, there’s no need to be insulting. Most women enjoy coming to my bed.”

  “Not I.”

  And to think that at one time she’d toyed with the idea of taking this man as her lover. But now that she’d been with Rupert, she wanted no one else. Certainly not this blackhearted jackanapes who made such dreadful threats.

  And Rupert? Where was he and why had he not arrived for their rendezvous in time to prevent her from being kidnapped? Surely nothing untoward had befallen him?

  No, she assured herself. He is well and will come for me.

  Until then, it was up to her to defend herself as best she could.

  “Don’t come near me.” She clutched the knife harder.

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you be so dramatic. I’ve never forced my attentions on a woman and I don’t plan to start now.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said I would tell the minister that I’d deflowered you, not that I actually would. Although if you push me hard enough I might change my mind. For the time being, however, your virtue is safe. Once we’re married, we can discuss the situation again.”

  “He won’t believe you, the minister. I’ll convince him you’re lying in order to steal my fortune.”

  He sent her a look of cynical amusement. “You can try, but in the end it won’t serve. If enough money exchanges hands at the time of the ceremony—and I’ll make sure it does—the vicar won’t care if I have to put that gag back in your mouth and drag you to the altar by your hair.”

  Blood drained out of her cheeks at hearing the utter sincerity of his words. If he managed to get her to Gretna Green, he would do whatever it took to achieve his aims. But they were still a long way from Scotland. She would think of some way out before then.

  She hoped.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next day, Ariadne gazed dully out the coach window, doing her best to ignore Selkirk. Seated opposite, he looked as if he were sleeping—his hands linked atop his stomach, his legs stretched out as far as the vehicle would allow.

  But she didn’t trust him. He was like a cat, apparently asleep one second, fully alert the next. She had good reason to know, since she had tried to escape last night and failed.

  After dinner, he’d escorted her upstairs to a bedchamber that she’d been appalled to learn they would be sharing. But he’d kept his word about leaving her untouched, making a pallet for himself on the floor with the extra blankets and pillow he’d requested from the maid.

  She’d refused to undress, lying underneath the coverlet on the bed, willing herself not to give in to her need for rest. She waited nearly two hours, listening until she heard the deep, even rhythm of his breathing, acc
ompanied by an occasional light snore.

  Careful to make no sound, she crept from the bed to the door and silently turned the lock. She’d eased the door open barely an inch when with no warning at all, it was slammed shut.

  And there stood Selkirk.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he admonished. “You’re a naughty girl, Your Highness, trying to escape, though where you thought you’d go, I have no idea.”

  Actually, she’d thought she would take a horse from the stables and ride as far and fast as she could manage. After all, if her friend Mercedes had been able to successfully elude a band of murderers a few years ago, then surely she herself could get away from a blackguard like Selkirk.

  But to her great disgust, her plan had failed dismally.

  “Back to bed, Your Highness, and get some sleep,” he ordered. “We leave at first light.”

  Defeated, she’d trudged back to the bed and lay down again. To her further irritation, she’d had to watch as he moved his makeshift bed in front of the door, barring any further escape attempts, for that night at least.

  So here she was, trapped with him in the coach again.

  If she thought she could get away now, she would open the door and fling herself out. But the vehicle was traveling much too fast, and she knew the most she would do was cause herself a grave injury and be back in his clutches, even more effectively caged than before.

  At least she had a fresh weapon—a fork she’d secreted in her napkin over the hasty breakfast she’d eaten. What she planned to do with it, she had no idea, but having it in her pocket made her feel better nonetheless.

  As the day continued, the tedium wore on her nearly as much as her captivity. She tried to sleep, but the effort made her even more resentful, since every time she dozed off, the coach would hit a rut and jostle her awake.

  In the past when she’d traveled, she had done so as befitted a princess, riding in an elegant equipage that glided over the highway with nary a bump. The interior had always been comfortably appointed, so much so that it had seemed almost like traveling atop a grandly padded chaise.