Princess in Love (9 page)

Rose swallowed hard over a sudden wave of astonishment. “I am sorry to hear it did
not work out.”

He spoke with a hint of bitterness. “Well. There is nothing to be done about it now.
I will begin anew and endeavor not to nurse too many regrets.”

A footman came by just then. Rose picked up a glass of champagne.

“It is frustrating sometimes,” she said, “how life does not unfold the way we plan.
Just when we think we know which way we are headed, the path takes a turn or splits
in two directions, and one must choose.”

He considered that. “Yes, although sometimes one does not have a choice. Sometimes
one is pushed to the left, when the right is much more desirable.”

“I know the feeling, exactly.”

She had become quite familiar with it when she was forced to forget the man she loved
and move on with her life. She didn’t even want to consider the possibility that the
path was again diverging before her. She had finally come to terms with her future
in Austria and had accepted her duty, and did not welcome any complications.

But Leopold was free now. He was no longer pledged to another, and clearly he still
had the power to stir her blood, arouse her passions. Though she tried not to feel
any of those things.

Heaven help her, what if a life in Austria was not her true fate? What if
this
was?

Rose glanced up at Leopold’s handsome profile. He was watching Alexandra and Nicholas
with notable concern. Perhaps he, too, could recognize an argument when he saw one.

Rose scanned the room, wondering how many others had taken notice of her brother’s
disinclinations toward their new queen, but everyone appeared oblivious. Most of the
guests were too busy laughing and enjoying the champagne.

“Is there something not quite right between them?” Leopold asked, as he leaned a little
closer to Rose.

“You are very observant. I must confess I had my doubts about Alexandra at first.
The piece Nicholas wrote for the
Chronicle
was very romantic, but there have been a few bumps and hurdles along the way, as
you can well imagine. I believe Nicholas still has some doubts. You know how protective
he is of Randolph.”

The music came to an end, and Nicholas escorted Alexandra back to her stepmother,
the dowager Duchess of St. George, then promptly walked off.

Leo turned his attention back to Rose. “Your doubts are now alleviated?”

“Yes. Alexandra and I have come to know each other very well since the crossing. I
am convinced she wants to see Petersbourg united again and bring an end to the conflicts
between the Royalists and New Regime. I am also certain that she loves my brother
with all her heart.” Rose took a sip of her champagne. “Nicholas will see that, too,
soon enough. His problem is that he doesn’t understand about true love. You know what
he is like. He enjoys turbulent affairs that promise to be both brief and disastrous.”

Leo bowed at a couple as they passed by on the way to the dance floor. “I suspect
there is hope for him, yet,” he said. “Remember … you once thought the same of
me
.”

She chuckled lightly at his roguish remark, though there was nothing light about it,
for she could sense the flirtation simmering beneath the surface and it excited her
to no end. “I suppose I did.”

Another set began, and she knew it was long past time for them to part ways. She set
her empty glass down on a table and caught Nicholas’s eye.

“It appears my brother is sending me signals,” she said. “He wishes to remind me that
I promised to dance with Lord Bramberry.”

“Bramberry?” Leo smiled with teasing charm. “Is he still alive?”

Rose nudged him with her elbow. “Now, now, Leopold. He’s not that old.”

“Of course not. But do try not to wear him out, darling. There is a spark about you
that can give a man dangerous heart palpitations—and at
his
age…”

She smiled at the flattery. “You are positively wicked, sir, and I am going to pretend
you never said that, because if he drops dead on the floor at my feet, I will blame
you completely for floating such ideas into the air.”

She curtsied and made a move to leave, but Leo touched her arm. “Do you still like
to ride in the mornings?”

Now it was
her
turn to experience dangerous heart palpitations. What was he getting at? “Yes, in
the park, mid-morning. And you?”

His eyes glimmered with resolve. “I’ve been riding in the country lately, but mid-morning
is my preferred hour of the day as well. It’s quiet. There is less wind.”

“And the dew has a chance to leave the grass.”

They stared at each other for a tantalizing moment. He nodded in agreement, and as
she turned to join her brother, she realized with a disturbing mixture of excitement
and self-reproach that they had just arranged a secret rendezvous in the morning,
without ever openly mentioning it.

Oh, he was smooth. A part of her feared it, for what if his intentions were dangerous?
She knew how he liked to win. Perhaps he only wanted to prove that he still had the
power to seduce her, and that he could steal her away from her fiancé in a heartbeat
if he so chose.

When she reached Nicholas and turned to look back, she saw that Leopold had already
crossed to the other side of the ballroom and was striking up a conversation with
Alexandra. They spoke privately for a few minutes until he bowed and took his leave.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said to her brother as she turned to face him. “It
was just a dance, nothing more.”

He held up his hands as if to profess his innocence. “I said nothing about it.”

“Good. Let us keep it that way. Now where is Lord Bramberry? He promised me a dance.”

“Here he comes now.”

Rose turned and gave the aging viscount a warm and affectionate smile, while her thoughts
ventured uneasily to the temptations she might find herself confronting in the morning.

Chapter Nine

Petersbourg Palace stood at the southern edge of the city. Beyond it stretched miles
of peaceful country meadows and forests. On the morning after the banquet, a warm,
hazy humidity hung low over the park as Rose walked Zeus to the crest of a lush, green
hill and cantered down the other side into the river valley below.

She headed for the bridle path along the river, which meandered through the woods
to the top of a high ridge where she could look out over the palace and city to the
north.

She had galloped out of the stables earlier that morning with her groom as an escort—a
strict and necessary rule of protocol—and wished, for once, that she could enjoy the
freedom of riding alone, but such was her life as a royal. She had been following
rules forever, doing exactly what was expected of her. Freedom was a luxury she had
rarely dreamed of, but as she slowed Zeus to a walk and entered the cool shade of
the trees, she found herself resenting her lack of it more than ever before.

Perhaps it was the death of her father and a greater awareness of her mortality that
caused this restlessness in her. Life was short, after all. There were no second chances.

Or perhaps it was the weight of her increased responsibilities in recent months, for
it was no light matter to marry a future emperor.

Or perhaps it was something else—the lure of the forbidden …

As they entered the forest, Zeus’s ears pricked and he tossed his head, as if he’d
scented something that required a warning. A secret thrill ran through her veins.

“What is it, boy?” she asked, giving him an encouraging pat on the neck while her
own instincts escalated to a heightened state of alert.

Sure enough, the sound of approaching hooves and the nicker of another horse broke
the silence of the wood, and she reined Zeus in to a full stop on the path. Her groom
stopped behind her.

Just as she anticipated, a handsome rider appeared from around the bend and trotted
to meet her. They faced each other with mutually mischievous and knowing smiles.

“Lord Cavanaugh,” she said. “What a delightful surprise to see you here.”

He fingered the brim of his hat while she took in his appearance atop the impressive
chestnut mare. This morning he wore a dark gray riding jacket, pale gray breeches
with tassled Hessians, and a fine silk cravat tied loosely at his neck.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he gallantly replied. “Are you headed to the lookout?”

“Yes, I am. Would you care to accompany me?”

“I would be most delighted.”

Without hesitation, she turned in the saddle and spoke to her groom. “Thank you, Casper.
It appears I have a most capable escort. You may ride back to the palace now and wait
for me there.”

“But madam…”

“Rest assured, sir,” Leo added. “I shall take every care with the princess and see
her safely returned within the hour.”

The groom glanced uneasily between the two of them, then bowed his head and obediently
walked his mount out of the wood.

Rose waited for Casper to break into a gallop on open ground, and regarded Leo feistily
in the humid air.

“He appears to be gone,” she mentioned as she nudged Zeus with the heel of her boot.

“Alone at last,” Leopold replied.

The suggestive intimacy in his tone provided her with an enjoyable rush of pleasure
that felt very wicked and very wrong. She had no intention of turning back, however,
for she needed to explore this path before she accepted another that had been laid
out for her by others.

Together they fell into a leisurely walking pace along the river while the birds chirped
cheerfully in the leafy treetops.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Leo asked.

“Tremendously,” she replied. “The mood has been somber at the palace since my father’s
passing. I think we all benefited greatly from the company of others.” She glanced
across at Leopold, who was painfully gorgeous in the dappled shade of the morning
sunshine. “Randolph mentioned you bestowed another wedding gift upon Alexandra—a portrait
of her parents, King Oswald and Queen Isabelle.”

“Yes, my father has been its guardian since the Revolution, but he felt its rightful
place was now with our new queen.”

“I believe she was very touched by the gift. She will have it mounted today in her
private chamber.”

They continued on in silence for a moment or two while Rose fought to resist the wanton
urge to admire Leopold’s powerful muscled thighs as he rode beside her. And his gloved
hands, so big and strong in the chocolate brown leather gloves … It was impossible
not to stare.

There was one other thing she could not resist either: the desire to speak openly.

“It has been a long time since we enjoyed a morning ride together,” she said, recalling
how they had once sneaked away during the shooting party at his estate two years ago.
“So much has happened since then.”

Leopold gazed at her in her dark riding habit and top hat, which she had intentionally
perched forward on her head at a flirtatious angle. His eyes were as blue as the summer
sky. “Yes,” he replied in a low, husky voice that stroked her like velvet. “You became
engaged, while I became …
un
engaged.”

“That is true,” she said, “but it is minor in comparison to your accomplishments in
the war.”

She glanced across at him, but he looked away in the other direction.

“When we met in England,” she continued, “I told you I had thought of you very little
since our parting, but I feel I must confess the truth.” That seemed to garner his
full attention. “The fact is,” she said, “I
did
think of you often when you were abroad. I prayed for your safe return, and I was
happy for you when your heroics were recognized.”

He regarded her doubtfully. “You were happy for me? Truly, Rose? I find that difficult
to believe.”

“Why?”

He chuckled. “I know you too well. You probably tossed the newspaper into the fire
when you read it. Didn’t you?”

He was referring, of course, to the announcement of Napoleon’s downfall the previous
October. Leopold had distinguished himself in battle and received the Petersbourg
Medal of Honor for his bravery. It was also noted that he had never been defeated
in battle, not once. He had come home to a mad crowd of cheering admirers who tossed
flowers at him in the street, and a nation of women who openly adored and desired
him.

Rose swallowed uneasily at his probing question, for he had hit too close to the mark.
For a moment she considered how best to respond and convince him that she had been
pleased about his triumphs, but she could not tell a lie. It was no use anyway. He
would see straight through her, for it was exactly as he described. He knew her too
well.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Fine. I admit it. I crumpled the paper and threw
it into the fire. There. Are you happy now?”

He regarded her steadily. “I am happy that you told me the truth, but sorry that you
remained angry with me for so long.”

The humor of the moment vanished as she looked into his striking eyes. “Yes, I was
angry,” she finally confessed. “But I was angry at myself for caring. I
did
think of you and I worried for your safety. I hated the fact that I knew nothing
of what you were enduring. I wished you could have written to me. I didn’t like being
kept in the dark and reading about the battles in the newspapers. There were so few
details.”

He nodded with understanding. “It was better that way.”

“Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t have enjoyed hearing about what it was really like. It’s not
for a lady’s ears.”

“Now, see here,” she argued. “You know as well as anyone that I am not like most women.”

She had watched her father strangle a man dead when she was not yet old enough to
tie her own shoes. It was an image she would never forget. It had both hardened her
heart and fueled her passion for life.