Princess in Love (6 page)

“It is no longer
my
purpose,” Leo replied. “It is now yours and yours alone.”

“But you are pledged to Princess Alexandra Tremaine,” the duke said, sounding confused.
“You have been pledged to her since birth. You’ve always known that.”

God help him, Leo had given up everything for the Royalist cause—
everything
—but he was done with that. His encounter with Rose last night had confirmed it.

“If Alexandra is so keen for me to be her champion,” Leo said, “why have we not been
introduced? Why is she now competing with all the other women in England for a chance
at Randolph’s hand in marriage? Don’t look at me as if it were not true. I’ve read
the papers, Father. I know she has been presented at court, and that she has been
provided with gowns and jewels, and she is considered the current favorite to win
a proposal from the future king of Petersbourg.”

The duke sank back into his chair. “Dammit, Leopold. Why must you question everything?”

Leo walked to the window and spoke with bitter rancor. “Because I am not your bloody
pawn.”

He took a moment to make sense of all this and bring his anger under control.

“Do not lose heart,” his father said with concern. “You must continue to be patient.
You know we don’t have the resources to raise an army. This is the most efficient
way to regain Alexandra’s crown and for you to rule beside her one day, as was always
meant to be.”

Leo inhaled deeply, moved to a chair and sat down. “So this is the new plan? Alexandra
will marry Randolph and be crowned queen all on her own without any help from us,
while I simply wait in the wings for the people to realize they prefer true royal
blood on the throne?”

It was a ridiculous pipe dream. It was never going to happen. And quite frankly, Leo
was surprised his father was willing to accept such a passive strategy.

At the same time, Leo felt a great weight lift from his shoulders, for clearly Alexandra’s
marriage to another man constituted a breach of their contract.

His father stood up and circled around the desk. “Yes. Then, and only then, will we
have the power to turn the tide.”

Leo shook his head. “No, Father, not
we.
If she accepts a proposal of marriage from Prince Randolph, I shall consider myself
released from our betrothal and no longer a part of this.”

The duke hesitated. “But you cannot shun your duty. We are Hunts! We are descended
from King Marcus II, while Randolph’s ancestors were butchers and blacksmiths. Alexandra
has no family, and the New Regime may not be kind to her when they discover she is
the secret Tremaine princess. She will need your friendship and the support of the
Royalists when she arrives in Petersbourg. And you are not my pawn, Leopold. Your
duty is to serve the crown, not me.”

It was a convincing argument, one he had heard many times before.

Duty to your true king. Honor for our family
 …

An almost violent rage filled Leo suddenly. He had sacrificed a great deal in the
name of duty and honor, and perhaps if he believed Prince Randolph was a villain,
he might continue to put duty above all without question. But over the past few years
he had come to know Randolph and his brother Nicholas very well—and their sister Rose—and
he could no longer believe that the destiny he’d always accepted as true was the proper
course of action.

As a boy he was too young to understand and knew nothing but obedience to his father.
As a man, however, he had come to recognize that Frederick was a great king, while
his own father was a greedy dreamer and an adulterous husband.

God knows what he would do with the Petersbourg crown if he ever seized that ultimate
power.

“I will have no more of this,” Leo said, backing away. “If Alexandra marries Prince
Randolph and one day sits upon the throne, I shall consider my duty to the Tremaines
fulfilled, and I will pledge my oath to the New Regime.”

“But the Sebastians are common usurpers!” his father argued. “They are not true royals.
Frederick was a soldier. The throne was not his to take. It should have gone to our
family. We were next in line.”

“Careful, Father. You are speaking treason.”

The duke’s cheeks flushed red. “Do you mean to say you are no longer a Royalist? That
you are forsaking your birthright?”

“What if I am?”

The duke paused. “Then you will no longer be my son.”

They faced each other squarely, and Leo’s heart turned stone-cold in his chest.

“If that is your decision, Father, then so be it. Good-bye.”

The duke took a frantic step to follow. “Where will you go?”

“I will sail for Petersbourg in the morning,” Leo replied.

“But this is not over! You will not walk away from me!”

Yes, by God, he would.

Leo gave his father one last threatening glare, then walked out and slammed the door
shut behind him.

St. James’s Palace, London

“How is your wrist this evening?” Prince Nicholas asked Rose as he buttoned his opera
cloak inside the door. “You don’t have to come with us if you are at all uncomfortable.
Randolph and I can make your apologies. The regent will understand.”

They had tickets to a play at Covent Garden, and Randolph was impatient to see Alexandra,
the woman who had captured his heart the first moment they met. Rose had spoken to
her on two separate occasions and found her to be not only beautiful, but gracious
and intelligent as well. She was a good choice for a wife and future queen. Rose approved
of the match.

“It is much better,” she replied, “though my maid had to help me with my gloves. It’s
rather awkward sometimes.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the sore tendons along
her forearm and flexed her fingers. “At least the glove hides the bandages.”

“Yes. No one would ever know you were hurled about in a carriage accident twenty-four
hours past and nearly met your maker.”

Rose chuckled. “It wasn’t quite as bad as all that. Nevertheless, I am made of stern
stuff, Nicholas. It’s the Sebastian in me. We are a resilient bunch.”

“That we are.”

They waited in the front hall for Randolph to join them. He was taking a very long
time to dress. The tall case clock ticked heavily by the door. What was keeping him?

“But what about your heart?” Nicholas asked quietly. “Is it as resilient as the rest
of you?”

As it happened, her heart was still aching quite stubbornly, but Rose did not seek
her brother’s pity. She knew he meant well, of course. He was the kindest brother
in the world, but she did not wish to talk about it.

“Come now,” he whispered. “You can’t fool me, Rose. I was the one who wiped buckets
of tears from your cheeks two years ago and offered to strangle the scoundrel with
a thin rope, remember?”

She couldn’t help but smile, but it was a melancholy moment. “You were very generous,”
she said, “but truly, I am over it. It was a long time ago and I am engaged to Joseph
now.”

Nicholas studied her with concern. “But are you certain that’s what you really want?
You don’t ever have to lie to me, Rose. I know you better than anyone.”

Indeed, he did, for Randolph had always been the special one destined for the throne.
While he was being guarded like a priceless jewel, she and Nicholas could sometimes
escape the watchful eyes of the palace guards and enjoy a little freedom together
as children.

She took a deep breath and peered out the front window at the coach waiting outside.
It was a clear night. There was not the slightest breath of wind.

“If you must know,” she finally admitted, “I cannot purge him from my mind, though
it pains me to admit it.”

“I presume you are referring to Cavanaugh,” Nick replied with impressive intuitiveness,
“and not your betrothed?”

She turned to face him. “Your presumption is correct. I thought I was over him, but
I am not sure I ever will be. Please do not tell Randolph. I don’t want him to know.
He was instrumental in introducing me to Joseph and encouraging our courtship. It
will be a good marriage. I know it will. I do not wish to change my mind. I only wish
I could stop wanting what I know is not good for me.”

Nicholas nodded. “I know all about that.”

They continued to wait in silence.

“Tell me this will pass,” she said.

He considered it. “Of course it will, in time. I’m sorry, Rose. While I am grateful
that Cavanaugh came to your rescue last night, I wish I could have come for you instead.”

She couldn’t meet her brother’s gaze for she feared her composure might crack, and
that simply would not do. Two years ago she had been to hell and back over Leopold
Hunt, but she had recovered. She had learned not to wallow in self-pity. To this day
she could not bear to be pitied by others.

“Do not worry for me, Nicholas,” she said. “I will forget him, just like the last
time.”

But would she, really? Last time, she had built a wall of anger and hate around the
memory of him.

This time she had forgiven him and secretly celebrated the fact that he still cared
for her. She had been overjoyed to learn that, contrary to what she believed, he had
not wanted to end it two years ago. It had been difficult for him, too, but he’d had
no choice in the matter, for it was a contract of betrothal which, as a gentleman
of honor, he could not break.

Either way it was tragic. She still desired Leopold Hunt, but it could not be. Not
then, not now. Not ever.

“Who is the woman to whom he is pledged?” Nicholas asked suddenly with a curious frown.
“And why did he never speak of it before? We have been friends for years.”

Rose shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that she is English,
and that is why he is here. But he is leaving again, very soon, apparently.”

Nicholas paced around the front hall. “It’s odd. He hasn’t met her yet, but plans
to leave as soon as he does? Will he take her with him?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Help me forget him, will you? Don’t ask me about
him again. I want to enjoy the play tonight.”

Their brother Randolph came bounding down the stairs just then. Rose was relieved
to see him. It would take her mind off things.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said. “I feel like a love-struck schoolboy. Someone
hit me over the head, will you?”

Rose smiled. “You are referring to Alexandra, I presume?”

“Of course. My future wife, for I will have no other,” he said with confidence.

“Remember, she must choose you first,” Nicholas reminded him with a note of caution.

“Oh, she will. I
know
she will.”

Rose took Nicholas’s arm and walked out the door, hoping that for Randolph’s sake,
Alexandra did in fact return his affections—for it was never easy to mend all the
pieces of a broken heart when such a love was not returned.

PART II

The Road Home

Chapter Six

Petersbourg, July 1814

Leaning into the wind, Leopold urged his mount into a faster, wilder gallop across
the fertile green fields and relished the heady exhilaration that always came when
he traveled at such speeds. It was nothing like a battlefield charge, when he was
surrounded by a thundering army of soldiers overcome by one of two things: savage
bloodlust or heart-wrenching terror. Nothing about this resembled that at all. The
warm, humid scents of the morning filled his nostrils with clean fresh air and filled
his head with an almost unrecognizable sense of peace. Holding tight to the reins,
he pressed his horse into a dangerous leap over a high stone wall, then tried to put
all thoughts of war behind him.

He had come home to Cavanaugh Manor with a clear purpose to embrace his title in the
new realm and begin anew. He had just spent the afternoon consulting with his steward
about building three new cottages down by the river and making improvements to some
of the existing ones where the tenants had lately been complaining of leaky roofs
and poor drainage.

There was much to be done and he was glad of the distraction. It kept his mind off
certain other things and helped him to sleep better at night when he found himself
reliving particular moments from the past.

The scorching sun was high in the sky when he trotted into the stable courtyard, dismounted
and handed the reins to a groom, then stalked to the house for an early luncheon with
his mother. The soles of his boots crunched heavily over the loose gravel as he pulled
off his riding gloves and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead.

Leopold looked up at the sky and wondered if Petersbourg had ever known such a hot
summer before. He certainly couldn’t remember one. It was impossibly sweltering and
damned uncomfortable, and he wished the heavens would open up and dump some cold rain
on his head.

After changing out of his riding boots and donning a clean shirt and light jacket,
he strode into the luncheon room where his mother was already seated at the white-clothed
table reading the
Petersbourg Chronicle.

She set it down when he entered. “Leopold, I’m glad you’re back. Have you seen the
paper?”

He stopped in his tracks, for she had that look about her. Something had happened.

“I had an early start this morning. Why? What is it?”

He pulled a chair out to sit across from her while she folded the news sheet and handed
it to him. He read the headline quickly while working to control the sudden rapid
beating of his pulse.

When he finished the article, he set the paper down on the table. “Well, then,” he
said. “This confirms it. I am a free man.”

“It appears so.”

It was good news, but shocking all the same, for the woman he had been pledged to
marry since birth—the secret Tremaine princess—had just wed Randolph Sebastian, future
king of Petersbourg.

The article implied it was a brilliant love match, the stuff of fairy tales, for whilst
in England, Prince Randolph and his brother Nicholas had switched identities to ensure
Randolph found a lady willing to marry him for love, not his crown. Randolph had wooed
Alexandra the old-fashioned way.