“Ah. Now I see why you have chosen to make my acquaintance, Your Highness. You want me to help you gain admittance to the Carlton House set,” she said.
The Carlton House set was the small, select group of people with whom the Prince Regent mixed. If Christian could manage to become a member, it would be a huge step forward. “I think it would be of great benefit to both our countries if I were able to mix with the right people. From what I can see, the Carlton House clique is exactly where I should be.”
Lady Lynch drew close. Her overbearing perfume assailed his senses. She was a striking-looking woman with her deep hazel eyes and high cheekbones. He suspected many other men viewed her the same way. They had also likely bedded her.
Christian suddenly wished he was back at Stockholm Palace. The women of the Swedish royal court were more discreet with their fragrances and their political maneuvering. He would have to move carefully and not give her the wrong idea. The look on her face told him it was already too late. He was about to seal a bargain with the devil. One who would eventually demand payment.
“I can try and get you invitations to private soirees, but there is one problem you must address first,” she said.
“And what is that?” he replied, assuming she meant his lack of English.
“Prinny doesn’t like floating singles at his parties. Everyone has to be part of an established, respectable couple. Mistresses and lovers are not included, except, of course, his.”
He blinked slowly, while trying to absorb this surprising revelation. The Prince Regent, for all his reputed wildly excessive ways, was somewhat of a stickler for standards in his own home. Who would have thought such a thing?
“Of course, I know plenty of young eligible women whom you could marry. Girls who have been trained in the ways of the world. And who will do exactly as you ask, while turning a blind eye to any discreet liaisons you might wish to enjoy with more experienced women. Just let me know if you require them to be from titled families or if you are seeking an heiress.”
He had found the key to the kingdom. In order for him to gain entry to this secret world, Christian needed to find himself a wife.
Chapter Thirteen
The following morning, Erika and Christian were standing in the narrow shop of Twining’s tea merchants in the Strand, sampling various brews.
“What about this one?” she asked.
Christian took the cup from her hand and sipped it. He screwed up his face and promptly gave it back. She stifled a laugh. He really was quite amusing when he wasn’t being so serious.
“Urgh. It’s bitter. I like my tea mild, even sweet. I don’t understand how the English are so obsessed with it. Everywhere I go I get offered tea,” he replied.
Erika nodded. In Sweden, a houseguest was offered vodka, then on occasion a cup of herbal tea. She had finally, reluctantly, accepted the fact that her country really didn’t understand how the whole pot-of-black-tea ritual worked.
“I know how you feel. England is not home. It took some getting used to things when we first arrived. The food, the drink—everything was different,” she said.
She missed many of the simple things she had taken for granted in Sweden. Everything from pickled herring to caviar, and good old hard Swedish cheese. The first few months in London had been a trial.
And then the boxes had started arriving with the diplomatic bags—treats from home that she now knew had been sent by Christian. His being in London was a mixed blessing. It was wonderful to see him, but it also meant that there would be no more presents arriving on the next boat.
Then again, she did have a backup plan.
“There are places here in London where you can get Swedish food. Well, at least food cooked in the Scandinavian way,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows and gave an encouraging half-smile. “Any sort of good old Swedish food would be a welcome change. I don’t mind the cuisine here, but still, I would love a plate of gravlax and some boiled potatoes.”
For the first time all morning, Christian finally seemed more like his usual self. On the walk over from Duke Street he had been clearly preoccupied, lost in his thoughts. Several times she had asked him a question, only to get silence in response.
Something had happened last night. And it had her worried.
It had been almost an hour before he finally sought her out in the supper room. And even then, he had been vague with his response when she’d asked him about his discussion with Lady Lynch. Erika might not be worldly when it came to matters of sex, but she had heard enough of the rumors to be well aware of the woman’s reputation. If Lady Lynch sunk her claws into Christian, she wasn’t sure she would be able to cope.
He was being so nice to Erika, that at times, she had to stop and remind herself that his sweet words to her were likely all in aid of his grand plan.
Compliments and attention are the currency of diplomats, he is here to do a job and you are simply a friendly face helping him to succeed.
Erika moved to the counter and paid for their purchases, refusing Christian’s kind offer to reimburse her. “It is my treat. A small thank you for all the wonderful gifts you sent Pappa and I over the past couple of years. And as a special show of my appreciation, I am going to take you over to Wapping where the majority of Swedes in London reside. I promise you a big plate of home-style food when we get there.”
Outside the shop, she untied Freya from the street railing while Christian hailed a hack. She badly needed some time alone with him to talk and try to get him to reveal what had transpired between Lady Lynch and himself last night. Erika’s nagging concern was that some of the changes in Christian might not necessarily have been for the better.
If he is planning on using sex to help get this trade deal, I want no part of it.
Erika gave directions as to where they were to go. London was a big city, but he was slowly getting comfortable with its layout. Whenever he got lost, Christian would simply use the River Thames to regain his bearings. His gaze tracked along the river as they made their way to Wapping. “I remember this area from when I first sailed into London with Freya. I will never forget the moment I set eyes on the imposing Tower of London. As a young boy, I had seen drawings of the White Tower, but I must be honest, nothing could prepare me for the experience of seeing it up close,” he said.
“Yes. It’s the part of the journey where you realize that you have truly arrived in England,” she replied.
The vista out the window slowly changed from the fine, wide streets of central London to the crowded narrow lanes and nooks around the docks. Christian shifted in his seat as the hack slowed and turned right, heading toward the river.
“This is Princes Square, home of many Swedes and Danes in London,” she said.
When his gaze fell on a tall multi-level turret, his heart leapt. Right in the middle of all this foreignness was a Swedish Lutheran church. “Can we please stop? I wish to go inside.”
Erika rapped on the window of the hack, and the driver pulled over to the side of the street. The carriage had barely come to a halt before Christian leapt out. He had taken three steps toward the high-railed enclosure before he caught himself and quickly raced back to help Erika down and onto the stone pavement.
“They built it last century. It has a small but dedicated congregation. Pappa and I come here once a month for the services,” she said.
She let Freya off her leash and the dog bounded away to scamper between the headstones of the graveyard which sat to the right of the church’s entrance.
Christian reached out and took a hold of Erika’s hand and towed her toward the front gate. Her footsteps hastened and she drew alongside him. As they walked up the short set of steps which led into the church, he glanced down. Her hand was still held in his.
If only it could be this way always. You and I waking hand and hand through life.
But Count Jansson had made enough remarks about Gustav for Christian to know that Erika was destined to marry hi
s older brother. Even she seemed resigned to that fate.
But what if?
He tripped on the second topmost step and stumbled. Erika tightened her grasp of his hand and helped to prevent him from falling.
“Mind your feet,” she said.
The church was empty of parishioners. On the left-hand side was a raised pulpit, at which a balding gentleman in a dark grey suit stood. He waved a hand in greeting to them as Christian and Erika made their way up the aisle.
“God morgon. Gud välsigne dig,” he said.
“God morgon to you,” replied Erika.
The priest hurried down the long set of wooden steps and crossed the white tiled floor to them. Erika started forward, but Christian gently pulled her back. “Could you let me do the introductions?”
He held out his hand and offered it to the priest. “I am Christian Lind. I have recently arrived from Stockholm.”
The man’s gaze went from Christian to Erika. He shook Christian’s hand, but an odd look sat on his face the whole time.
Erika turned and smiled at him. “Reverend Ferrner knows who you are, Christian.”
“Ah. I see,” he replied. There went my plans for seeing the area while incognito.
The reverend bowed low before him. “Welcome to London, Your Highness. We are honored to have a member of the royal family staying in England.”
“Thank you. Though I would prefer it if people didn’t know who I was. I am keen to get to know the Swedish community here without them feeling they have to temper their remarks in front of me,” he replied.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Christian gritted his teeth. It was going to be harder than he had hoped to get people like Reverend Ferrner to treat him as just another Swedish émigré.
“I was going to show Christian around Wapping. He is yearning for some good old Swedish home cooking. I thought we might take our midday meal over at Mrs. Kalm’s shop down by the river,” explained Erika.
“Ja, it’s a perfect place. Hot food and lashings of it,” replied the reverend.
It was good to be standing somewhere that made him feel like he was back home in Sweden. Even conversing in Swedish with a new acquaintance had Christian smiling. The easy camaraderie of his fellow countrymen was a welcome change to the often-stilted connection he shared with the English.
Hopefully, in time, that feeling of being a complete outsider would diminish. He could understand why people coming to a foreign country would gather and live in clusters such as the Swedes had done in Wapping. There was safety and comfort among your own folk.
After bidding Reverend Ferrner a farewell, with the promise of attending a church service in the near future, Christian and Erika collected Freya before heading down to the nearby river. Along the water there were many small taverns and alehouses, quite a few filled to the gunnels with drunken sailors.
When he frowned at the sight, Erika laughed. “Welcome to the waterside. It is always busy.”
He wasn’t so much disapproving the sailors or their drink, but the fact that Erika was walking among them had Christian ill at ease. A woman of her gentle breeding and station should not be exposed to such things. He was glad they had the dog with them.
She slipped her arm in his as they stopped outside a rough, but clean-looking red-brick establishment. The sign above the door showed a picture of a fat blackbird, and under it was the single word hemkomfort.
Home comfort—exactly what he needed.
“Are you still playing Christian Lind incognito prince?” she asked.
He nodded. Being among his own people without them bowing or scraping to him was what he wanted. He didn’t need them feeling uncomfortable.
There was also another reason for him wishing to drop all formalities when he was within the Swedish community. Erika, whether she realized it or not, was more relaxed around him when they were able to just be Christian and Erika. And the more comfortable she was in his company, the better the chance he had to convince her of becoming a part of his plan.
“Yes, I like just being me,” he replied.
“And who are you?”
He considered his response for a moment, carefully choosing his words. “Christian. Someone who enjoys being with you. Erika, you mean a lot to me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicion evident in her manner. “What are you up to, Christian? You have been behaving strangely all morning.”
Damn. I am going to have to speak to her today. I can’t afford to have her putting up her defenses. She has to trust me.
“Let’s go inside and have some food. Order anything you like, I am paying. Once your belly is full then we can talk.”
Christian followed Erika inside the tavern, all the while praying that they served good strong vodka and plenty of it. He had a horrible feeling that he was going to need every drop before he could summon up the courage to ask her what he needed her to do.
As they settled into a cozy wooden booth and ordered their first drinks, he once more considered the question which had been rolling around his head for most of the morning.
How do you ask a woman to become your fake fiancée?
Chapter Fourteen
“Are you mad? That is a ridiculous idea.”
Christian held his hand up in front of her. “No, it’s not. Just hear me out, Erika.”
Erika wasn’t sure whether she should be hurt or just plain offended at his offer of a fake betrothal. In fact, she was still trying to figure out whether she had heard him correctly in the first place. Any wonder the blackguard had offered to pay for her meal, not to mention the half-dozen large glasses of potato vodka he had insisted she drink.
A woman would have to be half drunk before she seriously considered such an outrageous proposition.
They would pretend to be engaged for a time, work together at the most exclusive of private parties, and get Christian well entrenched into the upper echelons of London society. Through their combined efforts, he would gain valuable influence and leverage.
And I will gain a sullied reputation . . . How fabulous.
“You don’t have to do anything other than help translate for me. Oh, and of course look your usual, stunningly beautiful self. And . . .” he added.
She glared at him from where she sat on the low sofa opposite to his chair in the sitting room. He was going to have to try harder if he thought she was going to succumb to his sweet words.
I now understand why you have been so attentive toward me. You are just like my father and your brother.
At least he had had the decency to wait until they’d returned home before springing his nasty surprise on her. If he had been so foolish as to ask her while they were still in Wapping, there was every chance Christian would have found himself in the River Thames. And then she would have set the dog on him.
“And what?” she replied.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the chair opposite to her. He looked out the window, then to the floor, before finally meeting her gaze.
Please don’t let there be anything else to this madness?
“And you have to pretend to be in love with me. This has to look like more than just an arrangement,” he said.
An arrangement. That was exactly what they were going to be—a ruse to fool London society. The cheeky devil wanted her to show everyone that she loved him while all the time living a lie.
This would be so easy if I did not love you. Why do I have such a foolish heart?
Erika picked up her cup of tea and took a sip before setting it back on the nearby coffee table. She ignored the sweet cinnamon bun—it was hard enough to get the tea down her throat. “And what of yourself? Are you going to be staring all lovelorn at me? Or is this a one-sided love affair, with me just being grateful that I am allegedly marrying into the Swedish royal family?” Her words sounded cold and brittle. In her heart they were.
Anger boiled up inside her at such a furious rate, Erika feared she may not be able to contr
ol it. She got quickly to her feet and took the handful of steps which the cramped room afforded in order for her to reach the window. She turned and made the short journey back to the door, before resuming her progress to the window. If she kept this up, there would soon be a nice worn track in the middle of the rug.
Christian sat forward on the chair; hands gently clasped together. She hated him for the earnest expression on his face. He was serious about his request. “I promise to show you as much affection as you feel necessary while we are in public. That will include standing close to you. Dancing. And of course, sharing sweet terms of endearment, such as ‘I love you.’”
Erika flinched. She wasn’t certain she could hear them and not believe them to be true. She forced a tight smile to her lips, all the while praying Christian would tell her it was all some wicked jest he had created. They would both laugh it off and never speak of a fake betrothal ever again.
When he didn’t offer up a release, Erika grasped for the last straw of hope. This insanity had to end, and there was one person who she could count on to stop it all. Her father. “I don’t think Magnus will agree to this scheme. He is not one to put me in harm’s way.”
“Why would you be in any danger? This is merely a fake engagement,” he replied.
Erika halted her angry pacing as the door opened and her father poked his head inside. She made a beeline for him.
Oh, thank god. Sanity will prevail. There is no way Pappa would agree to such an arrangement.
“How are things going, Your Highness?”
Christian shook his head. “Not good. She doesn’t think it a sensible idea.”
Erika’s eyes grew wide. Her father knew about Christian’s plan. Not only that, but he was in favor of it. Had the world gone mad? “But I don’t understand. What happened to your grand plans to marry me off to Prince Gustav?”
Count Jansson came to his daughter and took her gently by the hand. The calm calculated look on his face immediately set her ill at ease. “Plans change. Besides, I am sure Prince Stefan will agree that our country’s needs come first. He will see the merit of the temporary arrangement. With any luck, Christian will be able to make headway with the Prince Regent’s inner circle within a matter of weeks, and thereby have a positive impact on the trade agreement negotiations. After we secure the agreement, we can discuss your future.”
Promised to the Swedish Prince Page 7