The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (36 page)

How had they moved so quickly from military discipline to seduction? She reached up in panic and placed both her palms on his chest.

“Your Highness!” she cried. “You forget yourself. I am a married woman!”

He lifted his head but did not move away, and she saw with a sinking heart that he was undaunted.

“I have not forgotten that you are married,” he said. “Nor have I forgotten your words to me that night at the opera. ‘If only I were not married,’ you said. You gave me reason to believe that you returned my affection.”

She had. Alex was right, it had been a mistake. He was not put off by her declaration. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Indeed, I do have strong feelings for you, but I am married, Sir, indisputably so, and you would surely not have me be unfaithful to my husband?”

“Nobody’s marriage is indisputable, Elizabeth,” he said, smiling.

Her eyes widened in shock. Was he hinting that he would be willing to engineer a divorce for her, in order to make her his mistress?

“I am quite happy in my marriage, Your Highness,” she said, putting as much ice as she dared into her tone. “My husband is considerate and generous and I could not wish for more.”

“You are wrong,” replied the duke, seizing her hand with uncharacteristic fervour. “You could, should wish for more. You should wish for love, and devotion, and passion. Mere kindness and generosity are not enough. You are a beautiful woman, Elizabeth; you need a man to awaken you to the sensual pleasures of life.” He pressed her hand passionately to his lips.

She had a sudden urge to laugh, recognised that it was born of terror, and swallowed it back. She thought rapidly. He seemed to truly believe himself in love with her. He was younger than her in spite of his size and air of authority. Young enough to mistake lust for love.

What had Alex said? Hit him, or scream. No, it had not come to that, not yet. But she could see no way of extricating herself from this situation without offending him, and she hated him for putting her in this position.

“Your Highness,” she said firmly. “I am overwhelmed by your affection for me. But I am married, and I take the sixth commandment most seriously, as I do the vows I made on my wedding day. As much as I regret it, I cannot deceive my husband. I am not accomplished in duplicity, my lord.”

She tried to retrieve her hand from his, but he kept a firm grip on it. For the first time she wondered if she was in physical danger. Alex had said the duke would not force her against her will, but he was a big man and they were alone in the garden. He could easily overpower her if he chose to, and he was a prince. No one would take her word over his. Except Alex, who would, and would kill him without hesitation, regardless of the consequences. She swallowed down her rising panic. She could not lose her head now. She needed all her wits about her.

“I am not asking you to deceive your husband, Elizabeth,” Cumberland was saying. “I am well acquainted with Sir Anthony. He is a most amenable man. I am sure we could come to some mutual arrangement, without the need for any underhand behaviour.”

“No!” she cried, so loudly that the duke started in surprise. She took the opportunity to pull her hand from his grasp. “No,” she repeated, more quietly, but with a marked tone of desperation in her voice. “I do not wish to contradict you, Your Highness, but in truth you do not know him as well as you think. He can be quite jealous, when roused.” That was true, if something of an understatement.

“Are you telling me Sir Anthony is a tyrant in private?” said Cumberland, thunderstruck. “He seems so…docile. My God, he doesn’t beat you, does he?”

Beth could see how the duke might think that. She was trembling and obviously distressed. She was tempted to say for a moment that he did, but realised that would only fuel the argument in favour of divorce, and could possibly result in the besotted young man calling Alex out.

“No,” she said. “He does not beat me. As I said, he is considerate. But he would not be happy at the thought of sharing me with another man, however illustrious and discreet he might be. It would lead to a rift between us, which I doubt could be healed, and would lead to great awkwardness, once you tired of me. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

He couldn’t, not at the moment.

“How could I ever tire of you?” he declared. “You are that most exceptional of women, a delicate beauty of great intelligence who shares all my interests and has a mind of her own!”

She played her final hand. If this failed, there
was
nothing left but to scream and hit him.

“Your Highness!” she said, breathlessly. “Are you proposing marriage to me?”

She watched as he took an involuntary step backwards, his face registering his shock momentarily before he composed himself, and knew she had the upper hand again. He could not marry her, an untitled, divorced woman, without defying his father. Prince William knew about duty. He was a slave to it. She was gambling on the fact that he would never go against the king’s wishes, no matter how passionately he felt for her.

“Elizabeth,” he said desperately. “There is nothing I would like more. But I am a prince. I cannot marry for love, you must know that. But I am sure, if you feel for me as I do for you, that some way can be found…”

“I am sorry,” she said unhappily, interrupting him. “You put me in an impossible position. Whatever my feelings for you, I am a woman and am therefore vulnerable, in a way that you, as a man, and a prince, are not. If I did as you asked, I would have failed in my duty to my husband. I would be ostracised from society and my reputation would be in shreds. No one would have the temerity to say anything against me while I held your favour, but afterwards…I would be ruined. I could not bear it.” She lowered her head modestly. “Please, Your Highness,” she continued in a small, distraught voice. “If you care for me as you claim to, do not ask this of me, I beg you.”

Arrogant, somewhat narrow-minded and a strict disciplinarian the Duke of Cumberland was; he was also intolerant of rebellion or disobedience in any form. But he was not an uncaring man by any means, and he believed himself at that moment to be in love with Beth. She had defeated him, although he did not realise it then, seeing only that he had distressed the object of his affections, which was the last thing he had intended to do. He took her hand again, tenderly, and this time she did not attempt to withdraw it.

“Please, I had no wish to upset you,” he said, fighting to recover his poise. “Of course I understand your position. Your sense of duty and regard for your good name are truly commendable. I should have expected nothing less from such a woman as yourself. I am sorry. We will say no more about it.”

They walked towards the house in silence, the beauty of the Christmas roses forgotten. He would not beg her to become his mistress, that was clear, but she was still unsure as to whether he was offended or not.

“May we at least remain friends, Your Highness?” she said anxiously as they approached the door.

He looked down at her, the misery in his pale blue eyes quickly veiled.

“Of course,” he said politely. “I would not have it any other way.”

He was struggling to master himself, she realised, and as she watched him walk away to change out of his outdoor clothes, she felt a pang of sympathy and of guilt for having deceived him. It was not her fault that she was beautiful, she told herself determinedly as she returned to the salon. If she could switch off whatever it was that was so appealing to men she would, willingly. She had not encouraged him in any way. He had insulted the Highlanders, her people. He had insulted
her
, by proposing that she become, effectively, his whore. He was horrible, and fat, and pompous, and a usurper.

By the time she reached the salon, she had managed to revive all her feelings of revulsion for the Elector’s son, and she entered the room flushed with emotion, her eyes sparkling with indignation, looking so lovely that even the king, looking up from his place on the sofa, smiled in appreciation.

Sir Anthony did not. He looked at the flower in her hair, which she had completely forgotten about, and then at her rosy face.

“You have been a very long time, my dear Elizabeth,” he said. “I was starting to worry. Did you lose your way?” His voice was casual, perhaps slightly concerned. His eyes were cold. She shivered involuntarily and reached up to pluck the flower from her hair.

“Er, no,” she said. “I met Prince William, who offered to show me the gardens.”

“
Ach, so!
” said the king. “
Wilhelm interessiert sich sehr für gartenarbeit!
”

“I’m sure he does,” said Sir Anthony, without translating. “And did you enjoy what he showed you?”

She could hardly say no in front of the king, and she didn’t want to say yes, as his question clearly had a dual meaning, and it was obvious that Alex was singularly unimpressed that she had spent the last half hour strolling round the gardens with the man he had expressly told her to avoid being alone with at all costs.

“It was very interesting,” she said, her eyes sending a silent plea for understanding. She fiddled nervously with the flower, and he moved towards her, taking it from her hand and replacing it in her hair.

“The duke has excellent taste,” he said, smiling only with his mouth. “But you’re shivering. You are hardly dressed for the outdoors, my dear.”

She opened her mouth to say that the duke had lent her his coat, then closed it again. Better she explain later.

“Yes,” she said, feeling suddenly annoyed. What right had he to behave so coldly towards her? She had just succeeded against all the odds in fending off the prince without incurring his displeasure, while Alex had been merrily quaffing wine and discussing military tactics. “I do feel somewhat cold, suddenly.” Their eyes clashed, and then he turned away, towards the king.

“If Your Majesty would be so gracious as to allow us to leave?” Sir Anthony said, bowing deeply. “Pleasant as I am sure the gardens are, the season is somewhat inclement, and I would be distressed beyond measure if my dear wife were to catch a chill. I think it better if we return home as quickly as possible, with your permission, Sire?”

“
Ja, naturlich,
” said the king. “Of course. I cannot imagine what William was thinking of, my lady, to ask you to walk outdoors in such weather. I trust you will take no harm from it.”

“I am sure I will not, Your Majesty,” said Beth pleasantly. “My husband is too protective of me at times. I am not as weak and feeble as he seems to think.”

Sir Anthony placed her cloak on her shoulders, folding it around her in a gesture that was tender, and then took her hand in a gesture that was not.

The moment they were out of the room, she freed her hand from his and they walked to the coach in frozen silence, which they maintained until they reached home and there was no danger of them being overheard.

“I tellt ye, I ordered ye, not to let him get you alone,” Alex said hotly, the moment the front door was closed.

She rounded on him so quickly that he took an involuntary step backwards.

“Yes, you did,” she said. “And I tried. I had no idea he’d even come home until he was standing behind me. And before you say that I should have pointed out how cold it was, I did, and he put his coat round me and then led me out before I could stop him.”

“Ye should have refused to go out wi’ him, like I said, Beth,” he fumed, pulling off his wig. “And what the hell were ye doing, letting him put flowers in your hair? I tellt ye…”

“I know what you told me!” she shouted, tearing the rose from her hair and throwing it at him. “You told me to scream and hit him, but if I’d done that I’d have looked ridiculous, and you’d never have been invited back to the palace again. You weren’t there, so you don’t know a damned thing about how it was!”

“I know you looked bloody guilty when ye came back,” he roared. “What else did ye let him do so that I could be invited back to the palace?”

“Nothing!” she cried. “I wasn’t guilty, I was angry! Clearly you think as little of me as Cumberland does, if you assume I’d let him seduce me in the bushes!”

He had the grace to look shamefaced at this.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldna have said that, but I canna stand the thought of ye letting him even touch you. I ken ye wouldna have let him go too far, even if it did mean risking our position at Court.”

“No, you’re wrong,” she said, her eyes blazing. “I can’t stand him. I wouldn’t, I didn’t, let him go anywhere at all. He put a flower in my hair and held my hand, briefly. That’s all. The man thinks he’s in love with me. What I
did
manage to do was to reject him in such a clever way, though I say so myself, that he’s upset but not offended, and your position at Court is unaffected. It wasn’t easy but I did it, and you should be congratulating me, not prancing about in a jealous rage!”

“I am not prancing about in a jealous rage!” he said indignantly.

“Yes you are,” she replied. “You have no more right to be jealous of what I’ve done with Cumberland than I had to be jealous of you and Anne Maynard!”

“Anne Maynard?” he said incredulously. “That’s a different matter entirely. I felt sorry for the lassie, that was all. There was never anything between us, as you well know!”

“Not on your side there wasn’t,” retorted Beth. “Any more than I have any feeling for Cumberland. But she was besotted with you, just as Cumberland is with me. The only difference was that she didn’t have the courage to show it, and he did. And I wasn’t stupid enough to be jealous, and you are!”

He looked at her for a moment, speechless.

“I’ve told you before, Alex,” she said, in a normal voice this time. “I’m beautiful. Men are attracted to me. I can’t help that. You’re handsome. Even as Sir Anthony, women are attracted to you. You can’t help that, either. But we can both help being jealous. It’s ridiculous, when we’re supposed to trust each other.”

“Were you jealous of Anne, then?” he asked, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had flared. He moved closer, the corners of his mouth lifting in the beginnings of a smile.