Perilous Princess: A Sexy Historical Romance

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  “That is none of your business, whore.”

  Anna sighed. Then there would be no rescue. Not tonight. She stepped up onto the next step, wondering if she should try to escape upstairs to her room. Could she climb fast enough?

  Her father, though, before gout had slowed him to a sedate walk, had been a very physical man. Hunting, mountain climbing and horse racing. Sailing on the lake. From experience, Anna knew he was very strong—and fast.

  So was she and if he had drunk enough….

  She began to turn but her father’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist, where she clenched the blanket closed around her shoulders. She gasped as he squeezed, making the bones in her wrist move. Her fingers weakened and the blanket fell away, revealing her undergarments.

  Her father’s eyes bulged. “Whore!” he hissed. The madness was in his eyes.

  He raised his big hand and Anna flinched backward and tripped over the step. She fell backward, her back and shoulders and head knocking sharply against the edge of the stairs. For a moment, she couldn’t make her lungs draw breath. Sparks flittered in her head.

  Then her father’s fist landed in the middle of her stomach and she cried out and tried to curl up in a ball to protect her vulnerable middle. But she was still dazed and moved too slowly. He got another two blows in before she could turn herself over and present her back.

  Then his fists hammered on her back and shoulders. It hurt, but she had learned that it was better to take the blows there than anywhere on her chest or torso. As he tried to beat her, she crawled up the stairs as fast as she could, hoping she might outpace him and escape.

  He began to curse in the low, monotonous voice that told her that in his head he had retreated to that part that held little connection with the real world. His personal demons lived there but he fought those demons off with his fists and whatever other instrument he could lay his hands on. She was thankful that he had found her on the stairs, well away from any pokers or belts or objects he could fling at her head.

  She climbed the stairs with her hands and feet, panting, trying to move fast enough to avoid his blows, but as they rained down on her, they took her feet out from under her and her knees rammed painfully into the carpet.

  Tears were gathering, blinding her. She blinked rapidly to clear them. She needed to see where she was going.

  With a spurt of desperate energy, she climbed up a dozen steps as quickly as she could. If she could get her feet back under her and stand up, she could move faster….

  But her father anticipated her strategy and with a cry that sounded almost inhuman, he grabbed her ankle and yanked her back off her feet.

  She fell heavily again. This time, the front of her hips and her forehead took the impact. She managed to get her hands under her to hold her body away from the sharp edges.

  Then he flipped her over with a snarl and as she rolled onto her back, he hit her with the back of his hand. The royal seal he wore on that hand caught her eye and she cried out as terrible pain flared in her head and the vision in that eye faded.

  He really will kill me this time. The thought came to her in a calm voice of utter certainty.

  She painfully turned herself back over, knowing that her only way of escaping this now was through her own resources. No one else would help her and her father had lost all reason.

  Desperate, she looked back over her shoulder as her father bent over her, his fists raised. With deliberate calculation, she lifted her foot and rammed it squarely into his stomach, as hard as she could.

  He staggered backward, lost his footing. He fell down the three steps behind him and sprawled on the floor below.

  The silence was terrible.

  Anna gave a gasping sob, staggered to her feet with the help of the banister and hauled herself hand-over-hand up the stairs to the next floor. She lurched along the corridor, past her mother’s closed door, and cried in relief as she reached the safety of her room. But she was not done yet. Moving as fast as she could, turning her head to look through her one good eye, she closed the door and locked it with the big key. Then she pulled the dining chair over to it and fitted it under the door handle.

  By that time she was shaking so badly, she barely had the strength and coordination to move over to her bed. She looked down at the brocade cover and realized she was falling toward it…and that was the last thought she had.

  Chapter Seven

  For the first time in his life, Rhys found himself arriving early at one of Natasha’s society events. He didn’t bother waiting the customary seven minutes past the appointed hour as most guests did. At eight o’clock exactly, he tapped smartly on the tall doors of the big mansion with his cane and stood, impatient for the butler to open the door.

  He clapped the man on the back as the butler moved backward, his brows lifting. Rhys handed him his gloves, cane, hat and coat, then nodded his thanks and followed the footman into the drawing room.

  There was no one else there, of course, except the host and hostess. He greeted them both as formally as he could manage. Lady Wandsworth tried to deal with him as she would one of her peer guests, but because he was not landed, not a lord and only nominally accepted at these events because of his father’s lineage and his sister’s, she continuously had to cut short her small talk and fall into a confused silence. He didn’t hunt because he did not own a horse and couldn’t afford the club fees, either. He didn’t have servant issues and he didn’t own a boat or have a large estate to manage.

  Rhys spared her any more discomfort and turned to the safest topic in the world. “The sudden rainstorm last night was quite unexpected. Did you get caught out in it, Lady Wandsworth?”

  She smiled gratefully and turned to speak of the severe winter they had suffered through and the expectations for the coming summer. Rhys nodded in the right place and gave his host a small smile as he was offered a glass of wine by the butler.

  He realized then his own foolishness in arriving early. He would have to suffer through long and endless minutes of polite chat like this while he waited for Anna and her family to appear. He couldn’t settle to it, for he was braced, listening for a knock at the door that would herald another guest.

  Slowly, the guests began to arrive in small groups. London society was highly sensitive to appointed hours as a rule and most of the guests stepped through the door in large groups, arriving mostly at the same time.

  Rhys grew uneasy as the room filled and he failed to see Anna.

  He hovered by the door where he could see the front door and the new arrivals, nursing his wine. Because of his scandalous background, many people tended to avoid speaking to him at all and tonight it suited his mood to be left alone.

  Not long after eight o’clock a very large group of guests arrived and Rhys spotted a familiar face among them. With a degree of relief, he hurried over to draw Vaughn Wardell out of the pack and over to one side where he could greet him properly.

  Vaughn gave him a warm smile, then looked over his shoulder where the butler and his footmen were doing their best to juggle twenty sets of outerwear, gloves and more and shepherd the guests into the drawing room. “Elisa!” he called, just loud enough for his voice to reach the group.

  A blonde woman stepped around the group and moved toward them, her silk dress swishing as she moved.

  “Look who is here, Elisa,” Vaughn said, his hand on Rhys’ shoulder.

  Elisa’s smile was as warm as Vaughn’s. “Rhys Davies, why it has been simply ages since we saw you.” She swept even closer and touched his cheek with her lips and her scent reached him, something light and lovely. It didn’t stir him, but instead made him think of Anna’s scent, instead. Instantly his body tightened and his thoughts turned to her. Where was she?

  “I thought you were in Scotland,” he told the pair of them. “For Easter.”

  “We couldn’t stay when we got the news,” Elisa said.

  “Besides, it rained heavily for a week, once we got there, which put a pall on
everything,” Vaughn added.

  “News?” Rhys asked politely.

  Elisa glanced at Vaughn, then gave Rhys a small smile. “I think, perhaps, I may have betrayed a confidence.” She gave a small smile. “Oh well, it is good news, anyway.” She swayed up on her toes and spoke close to Rhys’ ear. “Natasha is expecting.”

  Rhys drew in a breath, absorbing the news. “A third child,” he breathed. “I’m pleased.”

  “Seth will puff up like a rooster when we next see him,” Vaughn said and laughed.

  But Elisa was studying him with a thoughtful expression, her lips pushed into a small bow. “Is there a reason why you are loitering so near the door, Rhys?” she asked gently.

  Vaughn looked at him, startled. Then he raised his brow, a smile forming. “Is there?”

  Rhys had become accustomed to the frank approach to life that Vaughn and Elisa took. They spoke their minds and liked others to do the same. They had no time for hypocrisy and little patience with the more extreme expectations of society. So he didn’t hesitate to speak the truth…in a way.

  “I am waiting for someone, but not in the way you think.”

  “And does the lady have a name?” Elisa asked, smiling.

  Rhys let out a sigh. “It is not what you think.”

  “We don’t know what to think yet,” Vaughn pointed out. “Confess, Davies. You at least have the potential to create this season’s scandal and the talk of the latest racing results pales in comparison.”

  Vaughn jest landed far too close to close to home. Rhys struggled to keep his expression neutral. “I’ve caused enough scandal in my life,” he muttered.

  It was Vaughn who studied him carefully this time. “What is it?” he said bluntly. “You look worried.”

  “I am. I have been expecting the Princess Annalies to arrive at any moment and the later the hour, the more concerned I become.” There. It was out. With a rush of exhaled breath, Rhys realized that it was a relief to share his worry. He did not concern himself about airing such a delicate matter to Vaughn and Elisa. They were discretion itself. It would not spread farther.

  Elisa’s lips parted in surprise, but her eyes grew warm with delight. “A princess,” she breathed. “How oddly appropriate that you should find yourself entangled with royalty.”

  Vaughn, though, was still watching him thoughtfully. “Why are you worried?” he asked.

  Rhys glanced around. There were people all around them, but no one seemed to be straining to hear them. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. “I could only deliver her to within hailing distance of her home last night and was forced to leave her alone to slip back inside without being noticed. Now, I want to assure myself that she is safe.”

  Elisa drew in a quick breath. “Oh. Oh, dear,” she whispered.

  Vaughn looked around the room again. Then he caught Rhys’ sleeve. “Let’s slip into the library for a moment,” he said, his voice low. “Elisa, my love, please excuse me for a moment or two.”

  “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I will pay our respects to our host.”

  A tendril of alarm wound itself about Rhys’ chest and squeezed, caused by Vaughn’s abrupt change in mood. He followed Vaughn back out to the big front entryway and across the tiles into the library. It was a small room, made smaller by the floor to ceiling bookcases, all filled with enticing leather volumes. Normally, Rhys would have been drawn to the shelves, to browse for as long as someone left him alone to do so, but not tonight.

  He looked at Vaughn as the man shut the door and turned to face him.

  “I have heard rumors about Prince Leopold,” Vaughn said, “but I dismissed them as scurrilous gossip. Tell me why you are so worried about the Princess.”

  There were no demands to know why on earth he was associating with someone so far above his commonplace position and Rhys relaxed just a little more. Vaughn was focusing upon the crux of the matter.

  So Rhys told him the truth as bluntly and as swiftly as possible. “She carries bruises. Some of them old, some of them fresh enough to still hurt. I thought she might have acquired them as a consequence of her habit of escaping the house and roaming the streets dressed as a man, but there are too many for that to be the reason. She will not speak of it, not even to me, but when she thought her father would arrive home before her, she was closer to panic than I have ever seen her come.”

  “A woman who braves the streets in male clothing…that isn’t someone to lose their head over a trivial matter.”

  Rhys nodded his head in agreement. “And now it is past the half-hour and she still has not arrived.” He drew in a breath. “What are the rumors you have heard? Could they be true? Does it make any difference now I have told you this?”

  Vaughn’s gaze was troubled. “I’m afraid, yes. It makes all the difference in the world. I heard that the Prince and his brother, the Duke, both suffer from the same malady that has troubled many of the royal family for generations.”

  “The madness?” Rhys clarified.

  “Indeed. Coupled with the fact that no one has met Leopold’s wife since they arrived in England, it is….” He sighed. “It’s troubling.”

  “They say his wife, the Princess, is bed-ridden.” Rhys tried to speak evenly, but his heart was leaping about in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to run from the house and search for Anna.

  “Yes, they say she is quite ill,” Vaughn said. He glanced at the clock ticking on the desk in the corner. “It is just gone half-past eight. If she is not here by nine, then we will go to her.”

  “We?” Rhys repeated.

  Vaughn grinned. “You turning up at her doorstep is likely to end with you being shot for a cad and a blighter. But if Seth and I are standing behind you—”

  “You cannot rouse Seth over this,” Rhys protested. “He should be with Natasha.”

  “She has months before her confinement and she’s a healthy young woman. Seth won’t mind a night of adventure. He was complaining about becoming too domesticated the last time I saw him.”

  That did sound like Seth. Rhys managed a rueful smile. “Very well. But Anna may yet arrive and all this fuss will have been for naught.”

  “Nonsense. It’s a change of pace from sipping tea and eating crumpets.”

  As they left the library to join the others in the drawing room, Rhys wondered if it was only Seth who spoiled for a less sedate life.

  * * * * *

  They arrived at Anna’s address shortly after nine-thirty. The house was a large brown brick one, but the many windows were mostly dark. Gaslight showed in a single window on the main floor.

  “Early to be abed already,” Seth remarked, stepping back and looking up at the windows above. He had been more than willing to venture out into the night on an unknown mission. He wore a frockcoat over his uncollared shirt and no cravat or waistcoat.

  “It is not reassuring,” Vaughn agreed.

  Rhys rapped on the door, for there was no bell pull.

  There was no sound of reaction to his summons, so he tried again. And again.

  It took long minutes before there was any sign of life in response to the bell and even then, it was a subdued one. The door cracked open a few inches and not even a candle shone out from behind it. It was only the gas lanterns along the street that let Rhys see the narrow face peering through the narrow opening.

  “What do you want?” said the man, with a strong German accent.

  “You are the Duke of Marienburg, are you not?” Rhys asked. The man was tall and thin, while the few glimpses he had caught of Prince Leopold was of a portly fellow with a full beard. This man was clean-shaven. “Is the Prince at home? We would have words with him.”

  “He’s asleep,” the man said, not stirring from his position behind the open door. “Who are you and why do you disturb the household at this time of night?”

  “I am the Marquess of Fairleigh,” Vaughn said, “and this is the Earl of Innesford.”

  From the corner of Rhys’ eye, he
saw Seth nod shortly. Seth’s arms were crossed and Rhys recognized the stance. He was thinking like the captain of a ship. His instincts had been stirred.

  “There’s no need to disturb the Prince,” Rhys said. “Let us speak with the Princess Annalies and assure ourselves that she fares well, then we will leave you in peace.”

  The man straightened as if his attention had been pricked. “And who are you then, freund?” The question was directed at Rhys.

  “A man who keeps good company,” Rhys said calmly. “We could have called the police in to investigate, but we thought you might prefer to keep this away from the police.”

  “And the newspapers,” Seth added.

  The Duke shook his head. “Go away, gentlemen.” He started to close the door, but Seth thrust out his hand. The door thumped up against the heel of his hand.

  The duke opened the door and stepped forward. “How dare you!” he cried and his eyes seemed to blaze with sudden, incomprehensible fury.

  “Quietly, now,” Vaughn said, stepping forward. “You don’t want your neighbors to overhear you, do you?”

  Apparently, the duke did not, because he contained himself and tried to shut the door in their faces once more. But Seth had his foot in the way. He put his shoulder to the wood and shoved. Hard.

  Rhys heard Seth chuckle as the door flew open and he staggered inside. Rhys followed him in and Vaughn shut the door behind them. It cut off the light from the street. The entryway was dark, except for gaslight that showed beneath a door to the right.

  The Duke stood in the middle of the hall. He wore a dressing robe of satin, the family crest embroidered on the pocket. His feet were pushed into slippers and pajamas peeped from the hem. It seemed he really had been in bed.

  “Where is the Princess Annalies?” Rhys demanded.

  The Duke looked from one to the other of them. They could see very little of his features in the dim light, but his anger seemed to be contained for now.

  “We only need to see that she is of good health and welfare and we’ll be on our way,” Vaughn said. “It is a very simple matter.”