Her Rebellious Prince (Scandalous Family--The Victorians Book 2)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Elise moved into the front hall and nodded at Beatrice Rose as the girl passed her, her hand up in her hair, securing a pin. Beatrice just barely nodded back. She had the earliest start of all the ladies living in the house. She was required to be at her place of employment at the lace factory by seven o’clock in the morning.

  Elise moved through to the kitchen, outlining in her mind the few points she needed to discuss with Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Brown was an excellent cook and coaxed from their short supplies a highly creative menu every day.

  It was not the start of Elise’s working day. She rose before dawn to ensure the dining room was presentable for breakfast, and to see that Mrs. Brown was up and preparing the meal. Breakfast itself was a chance for her to pause, sip tea and chat with Great Aunt Annalies, before moving into the heavy work of the morning.

  Ann would soon release her from her duties and Elise could take a well-earned week of rest. She was curious to see how Ann fared, working under the same restrictions as Elise had discovered. Elise had been rather proud of her arrangements with Mr. Donaldson and had many ideas about how she might make similar arrangements with other tradesmen and suppliers.

  Elise had quite enjoyed the challenge of keeping a large house running smoothly. It made her feel an odd connection with her father, for he had been an excellent butler in his day, too. When she saw him next, she would tell him so. She suspected her father would be amused and proud. After all, she and Ann were making the best of their circumstances, which was all anyone could do.

  Ann’s ambition to marry her prince was her version of making the best of things. Despite teasing her, Elise was happy for her. She hoped Ann would land the man. Although, how she would do so while running this house remained a mystery.

  Elise thought no more about it. There was far too much to do.

  Three days later, Elise was prepared to admit that Ann was a competent butler. Ann did not go about it as Elise would have, yet in her own way, Ann was effective. Ann did not seem to be bursting with ideas about how to tackle the many major projects of modernization which were to be part of their combined responsibilities. Instead, Ann’s strength was taking care of the mundane, every-day routines, and making them more efficient.

  “I do believe that between the two of you, you make one extremely effective butler,” Great Aunt Annalies said after a few days. She held the lid of the butter dish in the air and stared at the fresh new pat sitting upon the plate.

  “I suspect Ann is so good at finding the most efficient way to get things done because she would rather not have to deal with them at all,” Elise said grudgingly. “The sooner she can be done with the task, the better, in her mind.” Although, she did wonder where Ann had found the butter. She chided herself on her ungallant thought and tried to be proud of her sister. Deliberately, she took a scoop of butter as thick as Ann usually did, spread it upon her toast, and returned to her correspondence. “I see you received the same invitation, Great Aunt Annalies,” she said, hefting her the thick cream sheet of stationery.

  “Dinner with Morgan and Emma,” Great Aunt Annalies said. “I suppose, as the season has officially ended, any dinner invitation at all is a pleasure to receive. I haven’t seen Morgan and Emma for the longest time.”

  “And all their children,” Elise added. “What is it now? Five?”

  “You were a child once, yourself,” Great Aunt Annalies pointed out. “It will be nice to have company during the off-season. They plan to stay in London until Easter.” She glanced at the sideboard where Ann’s correspondence was piled. There was a similar cream-colored envelope amongst the letters. “It seems Ann has been invited, too. That makes sense.”

  “It is her turn to be butler. Therefore, I must accept on her behalf,” Elise said.

  Great Aunt Annalies raised a brow. “You won’t allow your sister the evening off to dine with her cousins?”

  Elise shook her head. “That is not the arrangement, Great Aunt Annalies. I stayed in London and ran the house while Ann spent a week in Northallerton, even though we were both invited. Therefore, she must remain at the house, just as I did.”

  Great Aunt Annalies pursed her lips. “Very well, then,” she murmured.

  Accordingly, Elise and Great Aunt Annalies prepared for the evening, while Ann pouted.

  “It is the price you must pay as a working lady,” Elise told her sister.

  “Then the sooner I am married, the better,” Ann said. “Although how I am to find a husband while being chained to this house, I do not know.”

  “I believe that is exactly the point I raised, when you both proposed this arrangement,” Great Aunt Annalies said as she wrapped a thick paisley shawl around her shoulders. She and Elise intended to walk to Morgan and Emma’s townhouse, for it was only five minutes away. “At least with this sharing arrangement, you each have time to pursue your interests.”

  Great Aunt Annalies smiled at Ann. “I am sorry you are to miss the dinner, but there will be opportunities later. It is something I have learned—that if the opportunity is meant to be yours, it will come again.” She patted Ann’s arm.

  Ann sighed. “Yes, we did agree to this,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I will ever get used to working for a living.”

  “At the very least, it will broaden your mind.” Great Aunt Annalies gave her a warm smile and moved to the front door. “Coming, Elise?”

  They walked through the crisp early evening air to the gray stone building where Morgan and Emma lived from time to time. Morgan and Emma were Elise’s second cousins. They did not reside in London according to the season, although they did spend a great deal of time here, conducting business. That business included Emma’s energetic political activities, which Morgan seemed to fully support. Elise admired him for his broad-mindedness. She suspected few husbands would allow their wives to protest in rallies and invade town hall meetings. Emma wrote endless letters to the newspapers, along with articles and interviews in which she argued the benefits of equal rights for women.

  Morgan and Emma had a proper butler. Johnson handed their shawls, gloves and reticules to a waiting footman, as Morgan emerged from the drawing room to greet them. He and Great Aunt Annalies immediately fell to discussing the new law which allowed women to vote in Council elections.

  Three of Morgan’s children, all of them girls, and all of them the youngest of the family, ran up to Great Aunt Annalies and tugged on her skirt. Great Aunt Annalies was a favorite amongst the small children, for there were often barley twists in her pocket for them to find. Great Aunt Annalies bent to pat cheeks and speak with them in a delightfully serious tone.

  Elise looked around the hall, while the fuss in the front hall continued. Morgan had an excellent library, here in London. It was small, yet the volumes were all quite new, or very old, and not the usual titles one tended to find amongst the upper class. Morgan had an extraordinary mind and his library reflected that.

  Elise slipped away from the loud chatter and moved down the short passage to the door into the library.

  There was no light in the library, although there was enough light shining through the tall windows for her to see around the room and read book spines. Elise stood with her hand on the door handle and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

  A strong hand gripped her arm and turned her. “I said, good evening. Did you not hear me?” The enquirer was a tall man with black eyes and pale skin. He tilted his head to study her. “I had forgotten how lovely you are,” he added.

  Then he cupped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Danyal wasn’t sure why he kissed the woman. He had enjoyed her company in Northallerton, even though she saw him only as a potential husband. It was hard to reject the company of such a pleasant lady, no matter what her motives might be.

  And she was a delightful woman to look at. He had been reminded of it when he had spotted her standing to one side in the front hall a moment ago. She was tall and slender and elega
nt, and moved with a grace which drew the eye.

  As he had followed her along the short passage to the library, Danyal admired the sway of her skirt and the small waist. His observations were tinged with regret, for even she could never be his.

  Was that why he kissed her? Regret for what could not be? A need to measure what he was giving up? In the back of his mind, he knew she would welcome the gesture, even if she made all the usual delicate protests afterwards.

  At the first touch of his lips, she stiffened, which was perfectly natural. He drew her into his arms and was pleased with how far around her waist his arm did reach. He drew her arms up around his neck, which let him lean into the kiss properly and bring her up against him.

  That is much better…

  The pragmatic satisfaction faded from his mind as he properly registered the pleasure in the kiss. His body tightened as her pliant softness pressed against him. Not even her corset ruined the effect. She was a delight to have in his arms. Heated and soft and with a scent which did nothing to diminish the fire in his belly.

  Danyal regretfully lifted his mouth from hers.

  As he released her, she drew in a breath which shook. She put a hand to her mouth, then removed her other arm from around his neck and took a step back. Her hand, he was thrilled to notice, shook as she pressed the tips to her swollen lips.

  “I think…I believe…” She cleared her throat. “Are you…Prince Selâhattin, by chance?”

  He laughed. “It isn’t that dark in here!” He reached for her once more—it wasn’t intentional. His body was dictating his actions, not his mind. He would sample more of her, for that simple taste had been better than he had anticipated.

  She stepped back and pressed her free hand to her torso, as her breasts in the simple evening gown rose and fell quickly. “I believe you have mistaken me for my sister, your Highness.”

  Coldness touched him. Doubt dispersed the good feelings the kiss had generated. He could not make sense of what she said. He couldn’t put it together. “I assure you, Miss Thomsett, I would not make such a mistake.”

  She dropped both her hands. “Ann didn’t tell you we were twins.” She gave a soft, vexed sigh.

  “Twins?” The coldness turned to an embarrassed horror. “You are…you are Elise? Ann’s sister?” Finally, the thing he had not understood slid into place. His mortification rose. “No, I do not believe it.”

  She gripped his arm, much as he had taken hers—what had she thought of a stranger grasping at her as he had done? With astonishing strength, she pulled him farther into the library. She headed for the windows, where the gaslights from the street flooded the room with warm orange light. There, she turned and presented herself so the light fell on her face.

  “I am Elise,” she said, her tone gentle and patient, as if she had explained this more than once in her life—and quite likely, she had.

  But not after the blighter had just kissed her.

  Danyal swallowed and made himself examine her face. The differences. He drew in a great breath and let it gust out. “Yes, I do see…” he said slowly. “You are much like your sister, yet there are differences.” He could feel his face heating with a rare discernable embarrassment. “I believe I owe you a most abject apology.”

  She shook her head. “There is no need. I do understand how it happened. I was in dim light–”

  “You are being kind. It was a liberty to kiss you in the first place. Had you been who I expected, you still would have grounds to be insulted…”

  “Oh, I am quite sure insulted would be Ann’s very last reaction to a kiss from you,” the woman said, her tone light. Her fingertips wandered back to her swollen lips and touched them absently. The corners of her mouth turned up in a charming little smile of amusement.

  The same amusement speared him. Danyal resisted the urge to laugh aloud. “I would be a cad to make the same suggestion, however…”

  “However, I do know my sister,” she finished.

  He did laugh, then. A soft chuckle. The last of his mortification evaporated. “Thank you for your understanding.” He straightened his shoulders. “I feel it is far too late to introduce myself formally, although…”

  She held out her hand. “You are Prince Selâhattin of Pandev. I am Elise Marie Thomsett, formerly of Northallerton, and most recently of Mayfair.”

  He rarely shook other men’s hands, let alone a woman’s. Yet he found himself reaching for her small hand and gripping it carefully so he didn’t break her bones. Multiple impressions registered. The heat of her hand. The softness of her skin. The fragility of the bones beneath. And the strength of her grip, which was at odds with everything else about her.

  Carefully, they shook.

  He let go of her hand. His fingers tingled. “My friends and family call me Danyal. I would be pleased if you did, too.”

  “I am a friend now?” she asked, her tone amused. “I suppose, as we have kissed…” Her brown eyes danced with the same humor. In the light from the streetlamp, they were warm. Perhaps darker than her sisters? He would have to study them when the women were side-by-side.

  He shook his head. “In a way which your mother will one day explain to you, you and I are distant cousins.”

  She frowned. “I have heard rumors for years…” Her frown cleared. “Then, if you are Danyal, I am Elise.”

  “It is nice to meet you, Elise.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” she admitted softly. Then she straightened her back with a snap, her eyes widening. Her hand came back to cover her mouth, this time to try to catch back what she had just said.

  Danyal watched, delighted, as her cheeks tinged pink, visible even in the lamplight. He let her writhe for a moment, enjoying the fact that now it was not just he who had committed an indelicacy. In a crude way, they were even. “Thank you,” he said.

  She dropped her hand and pressed her lips together. Then, “Thank you?” she asked, sounding breathless.

  “As I was rude enough to force a kiss upon you, I am pleased you enjoyed it, at least.”

  She pressed both hands to her face. “Oh dear…” she breathed. “Perhaps I should go to the drawing room with the others before I say anything else inappropriate.”

  “I believe we should both do that,” Danyal replied. He stepped back out of the way, so she had room to move passed him. “After you.”

  He watched her elegant sway once more as she made her way to the door. She and her sister shared that gracefulness, yet it seemed the similarity in their appearance was purely superficial. Even in the few moments he’d spoken to the woman—Elise—he could tell she was quite different in nature from her sister. She was aware of the differences, too.

  It would have been interesting to pursue this tenuous, barely birthed association and learn just how different she was from her sister. Only, it was not why he was here in England. There were far more suitable Macedonian women of high birth and breeding waiting for him at home. Aloysius, his secretary, would have a complete list prepared by the time he returned to Pandev. Then the work of securing the title and the principality would begin.

  First, he must rid himself and the family of the English associations to the title. His uncle, Konstantin, the late Prince, had been an Anglophile, just like the old Emperor had been. Times change, though. Danyal was not unsympathetic to England, only he had been handed difficult circumstances which required new loyalties and priorities.

  As Elise sailed into the drawing room, her short train trailing after her in a sweeping curve which was as stylish as her, Danyal realized he had, indeed, measured fully what it was he was giving up.

  He studied the curve of her jaw, the line of her neck and the small waist, as Elise greeted her cousins and took a glass of champagne from the butler, with a warm smile in his direction.

  He continued to study her throughout the simple, well-made dinner, as they were at opposite ends of the table and on opposite sides.

  She had a quick wit and an agile mind. Her sense of hu
mor was deep, indeed—he found himself appreciating her dry humor when no one else seemed aware of it.

  By the end of the meal, when they returned to the drawing room—for Morgan Davies did not separate the men after dinner as was the custom—Danyal found himself across the room from her once more, his arm upon the mantelshelf over the fireplace, a brandy balloon in one hand.

  He watched the way she sipped her brandy—no overly sweet madeira for her—and the way she let her head fall back when she laughed, which was often. He studied her full lips, which looked far more inviting than her sister’s. Danyal observed and grew aware of the tautness in his body, the tingle of promise.

  Surely the kiss had not been that wonderful?

  Yet he ached for another. A second kiss, though, was flatly impossible for a thousand reasons. The least of those reasons was that she had not glanced at him even once throughout the evening. It was as if he was not there at all.

  Yes, she was quite different from her sister.

  And he liked that she was.

  Elise inclined at the corner of the sofa, the brandy glass in her hand, and tried to pretend that the Prince of Pandev was not standing at the fireplace watching her.

  She wanted to throttle her sister. Why on earth had Ann not told the Prince that her sister and she were identical? Then the deeply embarrassing moment would not have happened.

  Although Elise knew well why Ann had failed to mention it. It was a habit left over from childhood, when swapping places and “being” each other had been useful.

  Only, now it had turned upon Ann in a way she likely had not anticipated. Or had she thought Elise would pretend to be her, to charm the Prince in her place, as Ann could not be here herself?

  Expecting Elise to submit to kisses from a strange man was stretching that sisterly expectation a bit far, though! She intended to speak to Ann at the first opportunity. Tonight, if she could manage it. As soon as she and Great Aunt Annalies returned home.

  Elise took another sip of the excellent brandy. Morgan’s brother, Iefan, sent it from France. While she sipped, she lectured her heart and demanded it stop fluttering. It took not the slightest bit of attention.