How to Propose to a Prince (21 page)

Berkeley Square
The next day

E
lizabeth peered into the mirror in the entry hall as she tied the bonnet’s lush, green satin ribbon and fluffed the bow at her throat. MacTavish handed her a rose-hue twill mantle fringed with tiny white tassels and then opened the door for her.

She had just stepped through the doorway when she heard Lord Lotharian’s deep voice coming from inside the house. Elizabeth ducked back inside and followed the low tones into the parlor, where she was surprised to find him speaking, quite animatedly, with Great-aunt Prudence. They both turned, appearing
equally surprised when they saw her standing, mouth agape, before them.

“I did not realize you had called, Lord Lotharian.” Elizabeth looked suspiciously at him. Nothing was ever as it appeared with the clever old rake. “I was under the impression that my sisters and our husbands were to join you at Cavendish Square—in Lady Upperton’s library. Am I incorrect?”

Lotharian flashed a charming smile at her. “No, no, not at all, dear Elizabeth. Since your husband is coming from his meeting at Carlton House, I thought that you may be in need of conveyance.”

“Why, thank you, my lord. MacTavish has a hackney waiting outside, but I shall ask him to release the driver. Do excuse me.” Elizabeth smiled, then stepped around the corner and waited a moment for the conversation inside the parlor to reconvene.

“I daresay, is she absolutely sure?” Lotharian was asking Prudence. “Once I do this, it will be very difficult to be undone.”

“This was the plan all along, Lotharian. Once the gels were happily married, they would be told…the appropriate
truth
.” Prudence’s voice was strong with conviction. “You will tell them this day, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes.” Lotharian sounded, for the first time, as though he were overcome with nerves. “I will ask you to undertake arrangements for my funeral, for once they hear what I tell them, the gels and their husbands will no doubt throttle me to my end.”

Great-aunt Prudence chuckled at that. “You will do quite well Lotharian. My faith is in you.”

There was the sound of heavy steps on the carpet. Lotharian was coming. “If there is any change—you will send word immediately.”

Elizabeth scrambled down the passageway on the toes of her kidskin boots to ask MacTavish to dispatch the hackney. She could just hear the two elderly dears beyond.

“I shall,” Prudence said. “Good-bye and good luck, Lord Lotharian.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Winks, for I shall need all the luck I can obtain.”

Cavendish Square
The library

Additional seating had been set up in Lady Upperton’s large library for the occasion. What occasion that might be, no one but Lord Lotharian knew. And quite possibly Great-aunt Prudence.

But Elizabeth had overheard enough to know that whatever he said would once more change their lives forever. This unnerved her no little amount, for Lord Lotharian did nothing by half.

Mary, Anne, and Elizabeth sat nervously, side by side upon the settee, while three large chairs had been positioned behind each of them for Mary’s husband, Rogan, the Duke of Blackstone; Anne’s new husband, Laird, Earl of MacLaren; and finally Sumner, Marquess of Whitevale, who had only just arrived.

Lady Upperton sat before her mechanical tea server and amused the gathering by setting it into motion, efficiently pouring dish after dish of tea. Lady Upperton glanced up at the hidden door in the bookcase nearest the hearth. The tiny woman was visibly agitated, and judging by the way her small hands shook, had she not invented the mechanical tea server, she would not have been able to take the role of mother herself this day and pour the tea herself.

Suddenly there was a metallic click, and the flames of every candle in the room pointed toward the hearth as the hidden door opened, drawing enough air from the library that the tendrils of copper hair at Elizabeth’s hairline lifted toward the door.

Lilywhite waddled through the doorway first, followed by the tall, bewigged Gallantine, and, at last, Lotharian, who wore a very serious expression on his hawkish face.

Lilywhite and Gallantine took the tufted chairs lined up parallel to the Royle sisters, but Lotharian remained standing.

“Dear Lotharian,” Mary began, “please do not make us endure the torture of waiting any longer.”

Anne was nodding. “I was not able to sleep at all last night, for when you ask for a meeting, someone’s life changes completely.”

“And now that we three are blissfully married, which was the promise you made and kept to our father,” Elizabeth said, keeping in mind the exchange she overheard in Prudence’s parlor, “I can only assume you have something new to report—or another scheme in the works—to prove our birthright.”

Lotharian’s brows fluttered at that. “You are quite clever, Elizabeth. All of you are.” He glanced at each individual in the room in turn, as if purposely trying to delay his oration. “But, it seems, not quite so wily as…
I
.”

Everyone looked to each other for understanding, murmuring among themselves, but no one—even the other two Old Rakes of
Marylebone—knew what Lotharian was about.

Only Lady Upperton did not move or speak. She simply stared down at her quivering hands.

Sumner came to his feet. “Enough games, my man. Tell the ladies what you mean to say. Elizabeth and I must leave for Whitevale before the sun sets.”

Lotharian waved Sumner down, not deigning to speak another word until everyone was seated and silent. When at last everyone was settled again, he began. “The Royle sisters are
not
the daughters of the Prince of Wales and Maria Fitzherbert. The story of their birth is all a grand ruse, contrived by me alone, to stir interest within the
ton
and confidence in the gels.”

“Wh-What is this? Why would you say such a wicked thing?” Rogan demanded, reaching forward and settling a comforting hand on Mary’s shoulder.

“I promised Royle I would see that his daughters were happy and married well. I achieved that.” Lotharian began to pace as he spoke, his voice not so even and calm as it normally was in the company of friends. “How else would three gels from Cornwall with no money and
no true connections gain entrée into Almack’s and into the finest drawing rooms in all of London? If I did not achieve this, how could I hope to match the Royle sisters with gentlemen of quality,” he gestured to the sisters’ husbands, “like yourselves? Sumner, here, was the only match I could not foresee, but then you, Lord Whitevale, were in the midst of your own ruse of secret identity, weren’t you? Lady Upperton and I did not realize who you were until Elizabeth mentioned the name Sumner. Prince Leopold is known for his formality, elegance, and superior manners. From first we met, you, sir, did not reflect the refinement I expected, but rather the qualities of a warrior—strength and loyalty.”

Gallantine was incensed. “Damn you, Lotharian! You have been lying to us all, even to Lilywhite and to me—your trusted brothers of the Old Rakes of Marylebone. And you did this…why?”

“For my plan to work, everyone had to believe it completely.” Lotharian withdrew the document box that belonged to their father.

He must have gone to Berkeley Square to retrieve it, Elizabeth realized, not to convey her to this library as he’d claimed.

“Thankfully, your father did have many con
nections in court and Parliament. He did favors, and kept secrets…in this box.”

Lady Upperton spoke at last. “Lotharian asked me to create a mechanical false bottom in the document box—which I did. In it, he hid several items from your father’s belongings—items from which he could weave the dark, yet fanciful story that you three young ladies were the secret daughters of Maria Fitzherbert, the prince’s illegal Catholic wife.”

“So, Lady Upperton, you knew of this plan all along?” Laird asked.

She nodded. “I confess did. Most of the time, I did.”

Mary shook her head fiercely. “I do not believe it. The cashmere shawl—it did belong to Lady Jersey.”

“Yes, it did,” Lotharian admitted. “Royle saved many things. Among them was a shawl that Lady Jersey had used to stop Prinny’s bleeding after a bloodletting. Just as she said.”

Elizabeth studied Lotharian closely. His usual cool demeanor was absent. He had to be lying.

“The page from the wedding register that we found inside the book?” Anne asked impatiently.

“I only placed the
Book of Maladies
inside the box because Royle had written all sorts of cryptic notes in the margins. The letter opener, and what was inside the book—both a complete surprise to me,” Lotharian ruefully conceded. “Clearly, you and your sisters have a knack for deductive reasoning, as well as a good deal of pure luck.”

“Why, if this is true, did you include the bottles of laudanum?” Elizabeth probed, still not quite believing Lotharian’s new story. “They were marked with Sir Henry’s insignia.”

“Your father had a great number of bottles and potions. He was a royal physician, as was Sir Henry. I had no notion the bottles bore the baronet’s mark. I included the laudanum bottles because they worked so well with my contrived story. If Maria Fitzherbert was drugged, she would not know whether the babies were born alive or dead. If she did not know, and you truly did have conclusive proof of her lineage, I doubted any of you would dare approach her with such an outlandish story.”

Everyone, except Lady Upperton, his willing cohort in this monstrous lie of all lies, glowered at Lotharian.

“What I do not understand, Lotharian,” Anne said, “is why you went to so much trouble to
create a fantastic history for us, a mystery to be solved.”

“Because if I simply told you the story, you would not be so convinced,” Lotharian explained. “If you uncovered proof of your supposed past yourself, you would be far more likely to believe that you were…princesses by birth. Worthy of the company of the
ton.
”

Elizabeth stood up and set her hands firmly on her hips, the way she’d seen Princess Charlotte do so many times. “Why should we believe you now? This tale is as fantastic as the first.”

“Because your father asked me the favor of seeing you happy—he knew who I was. What I was. That is why, when he first became ill, of all of his many friends, he came to me first. He knew I would do
anything
. I would not stop until the three of you were happy and married. He knew, because of what I was, he could rely upon me to fulfill his dying wish.”

The room was very still.

“I do not know what to believe,” Anne said.

“What is easier to believe, sister?” Mary asked. “That we are the secret daughters of the Prince of Wales and Maria Fitzherbert? Or that some poor farm maid in Cornwall left three babies on our father’s doorstep?”

Elizabeth thrust both her hands outward. “It does not matter what the circumstances of our birth were.” She glanced at Sumner and smiled. “Don’t you understand that? We are all married to the men we dearly love. And, la, Mary, you have already been blessed with a baby born of that love.”

Lady Upperton looked up then. “Elizabeth has the right of it. What matters is not where you come from, it is where you have come. The gift your father left you is ensuring, by whatever means, that his daughters each had love in their lives. Lotharian, though his methods were not the least bit orthodox, made your father’s grandest wish for the three of you come true.”

Lotharian stood at the edge of the gathering, his lean arms folded protectively over his chest.

Elizabeth walked across the library and embraced him. “Thank you, Lotharian.” She turned and looked to Anne, who rose and came to Lotharian as well.

“Though there were times I would have wrung your neck had I known what you were doing, now I can only thank you. For you achieved my father’s goal. I am in love, I am loved, and I am the happiest I have ever been in my life.” She hugged Lotharian tightly.

Mary stood, arms folded, and looked Lotharian hard in the eyes. “What you put us all through…”

“Love is worth the most to you, and its chances are greater of lasting, if you have to work for it,” Lotharian said. “It was a lesson that both you and Rogan needed to learn.”

Mary exhaled a small laugh. She closed the space between her and Lotharian and embraced the old man.

“All is forgiven?” he asked tentatively, then looked to the Old Rakes, who came and reached out their hands to him.

Then Lotharian silently turned to the three young men. “I suppose the three of you will take me outside now.” He grinned nervously.

“Only if we cannot shake your hand here, good fellow,” Sumner said.

“You brought us each a great gift,” Laird added. “I am grateful.”

“A rake is a rake…until he marries,” Rogan said. “I ought to know. So, how could I possibly fault you for your less than wholly honorable methods?” He clapped Lotharian on the back.

“Exactly, lad,” Lotharian replied. “But I have come to believe that I have lived my life as a rake long enough.” It took some doing for his old bones to manage, but he knelt down before
Lady Upperton. “Will you, dear lady, do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Oh, my goodness.” Lady Upperton’s eyes rounded and she clapped a hand to her chest. The old woman took a moment to steady her breathing before replying. “Have you got my father’s consent?”

Lotharian blinked in confusion for a moment and then grinned. “I have not, my lady, so I suppose it will be a Gretna Green wedding for the two of us. But I must know, my dear gel, just how fast is your father’s horse and how is his aim?”

Everyone laughed.

That is, until they realized Lotharian’s proposal was no ruse.

And that in two days time their presence would indeed be required in Gretna Green, for the long-shot marriage of the season—that of the old rake, Lord Lotharian, and Lady Upperton.

T
he rain trickled down the window panes, squirming and wriggling like the earth worms Mrs. Prudence Winks had flung with her cane from the walk into the sodden garden bordering her niece’s residence as she arrived for her visit.

Her niece sat very still. Her expression was as somber as the afternoon sky.

“You can change your mind, Maria,” Prudence said. “The fact that the gels are all married means nothing. You can always come forward—and tell them.”

Maria Fitzherbert raised her blue eyes to Prudence. “No, I cannot. There is no need.”

“There is.” She had posed as the sisters’ great-aunt for two years, and had come to love them
as though they were her own. “They would wish to know you.”

Maria shook her head slowly. “It would do no good.
He
would hear of it, the Church would learn of their existence, and their lives would never be their own again.”

“But if they could choose between knowing you and a life of normalcy—”

“They shall never have the need to choose, Prudence. I have chosen for them.” A lone tear trickled down Maria’s cheek. “I made my decision more than twenty years ago. And we all must live with that choice.”

“But Maria—”

The corners of Maria’s pink mouth lifted. “They are happy, you say?”

Prudence smiled gently. “They are.”

She turned her gaze to her folded hands upon her lap. “Then, I do not regret my decision.”

Heat stung Prudence’s eyes. There was no more to be said.

Maria turned her eyes back up to Prudence. “Cherie has requested that she remain with you. I gave her my blessing.”

“Truly?” Prudence swiped at the tear catching in her lashes.

“I have managed well enough without her
services as a maid, but I will miss our weekly chats about the sisters,” Maria admitted softly.

“There is no reason those cannot continue. No doubt she and I will see the gels often,” Prudence said. “Though they may have to adjust to the knowledge that Cherie can speak, and is only very quiet by nature.”

Maria chuckled silently. “Isn’t it something that when someone does not speak, those around forget she can hear.”

“Even when she is…sleeping.” Prudence grinned.

How sad that her part in Lotharian’s grand scheme was at an end. But the relationships she had enjoyed were not.

Prudence pressed the tip of her cane into the Aubusson carpet and slowly came to her feet. She faced her dear niece one last time before departing. “Thank you, Maria.”

The thin skin around Maria’s eyes crinkled. “Thank you, Prudence? For what?”

“Never mind, my dear. Just…thank you.”

As Prudence caned her way through the front door, tears blurred her vision, but she was smiling.

In becoming, in all ways, the sisters’ great-aunt, she would be loved and cared for into her
late years, just as she had been for the past two seasons with the Royle sisters.

She would never be alone again.

And for that she would always be grateful for the gift Maria had given her.