Duchess Diaries [2] How to Pursue a Princess

by Karen Hawkins

  Emma’s color deepened.

  “What? I said it wrong?”

  “Yes . . . and no.” She gave an uncertain laugh. “You speak very plainly, Your Highness. I can see you’re a pragmatic sort of man.”

  “I’m a very determined man, and I will have Lily Balfour.”

  Emma regarded him with fascination. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to.”

  “So can you. I can tell you are a woman of strength. It is in your eyes.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t feel very strong where Huntley is concerned.”

  “But you are that strong, Miss Emma. And if you wish to win Huntley, you must remember that.”

  Her expression turned wistful. “I wish I believed that, but I—” Her gaze went over Wulf’s shoulder.

  He turned and saw that Huntley had mounted and ridden his horse to the side of Lily’s carriage. He was leaning down, speaking with her, and she, her bonnet now tied under her chin in a jaunty fashion, was laughing up at something he’d said. She isn’t discouraging him a bit, the little wretch. But then, I knew she would not. “At least they will not be riding together. Huntley is already on his horse and—” Wulf snapped his mouth closed as the duchess said something to Huntley. He seemed to argue, but after Lady Charlotte and then Lily joined in, the earl threw up a hand and—laughing—climbed down from his horse and tossed the reins to a groom standing nearby. Huntley then climbed into the carriage beside Lily and closed the door.

  “Damn it!” Wulf growled.

  Emma’s mouth tightened. “Huntley was to ride with me. It seems that I am forgotten again.”

  Wulf caught the pain her voice. “Emma, if you want Huntley, then you must go get him. Just as I must go and get Lily.”

  “Sadly, Huntley doesn’t wish me to ‘go get him.’ Men don’t like to be pursued.”

  Wulf chuckled. “That is untrue.”

  “Perhaps that’s how it is in Oxenburg, but not in Edinburgh. Besides, even if he did wish to be pursued, I wouldn’t know how to go about it.”

  “Pah. Women pursue men all of the time, they just do it differently. They smile and send glances, drop their kerchiefs, show their ankles . . .” Wulf shrugged.

  Emma’s gaze grew thoughtful. “They do, don’t they? Flirting is a form of pursuit, I suppose. Men flirt, too.”

  “Yes, heavily, like big oxen. Women flitter here and there, featherlight in their touch. Sometimes it is easy to miss their intent.”

  She tilted her head to one side and regarded him for a long moment. “So you think that I should pursue Huntley more openly.”

  “Yes. Men like to know they are wanted, just as women do.”

  “But . . . what if he doesn’t like it? What if he tells me no?”

  Wulf’s lips quirked. “Ah, Emma, that is not the question to ask. The question to ask is, what if he tells you yes? What will you do then?”

  Her eyes widened, but after an astonished moment, she laughed. “What indeed?” She tucked her hand in Wulf’s arm and they walked toward their horses. “Come! Tell me more.”

  He did so, and yet he remained painfully aware of Lily now cozily tucked in the carriage beside Huntley. One day, Lily, you will ride with me and we will both be happier.

  Ten

  From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe It’s always fascinating to watch new love blossom and grow, especially when one has planted those very seeds and can take credit—if one were the sort of woman to do so—for every bloom on every branch.

  While the duchess and Lady Charlotte discussed the various delights packed in the baskets strapped to the backs of the carriages, Huntley and Lily carried on their own conversation about the beauty of the day and how pleasant it was to be outside.

  Lily had just been about to comment on how much she liked the vista from the library windows when she heard Emma’s merry laugh. Lily turned just in time to see Emma slip her arm through Wulf’s as they strolled toward their horses. Wulf was being attentive, his hand over Emma’s, his head bent close.

  A pang twisted through Lily. Emma was gazing up at Wulf as if she owned him. What is she doing? He belongs to me. The thought made Lily blink. No, that’s not what I mean. He doesn’t belong to anyone, least of all me, but he should take care paying attention to women lest they think it means far more than it does.

  Lily wished she could see Wulf’s face, but only the back of his head and his broad shoulders were visible.

  Huntley had followed her gaze and now stared at Wulf and Emma with a sharp frown, a crease between his brows. “There’s something about that man I don’t trust.”

  “You don’t trust Wulf?” Lily watched as Emma hung upon Wulf’s arm while gazing at him in what seemed to be an open invitation. “Frankly, I had no idea Emma was such a hardened flirt.”

  Huntley’s jaw tightened. “She is no such thing! Emma and my wife were best friends, almost sisters, so I know her very well. If she’s anything, she’s naïve in the ways of the world, and I hate to see her speaking to a man like Wulfinski.”

  Lily frowned. The prince was a nuisance and socially inept, but he didn’t deserve Huntley’s dismissive tone of voice. From what Lily could see, all Wulf was doing was putting up with the inane giggles of a desperate woman. “You may rest assured, Huntley, that for all of his overbearing ways, the prince would never seduce an innocent. I simply couldn’t believe such a thing.”

  Huntley’s expression softened to indulgence. “Miss Balfour, I fancy that I know the ways of the world quite a bit better than you. Believe me, that man is not to be trusted.”

  One could make many criticisms of Wulf, but untrustworthy was not one of them. If anything, he was too trustworthy, too honest, and far too open with his feelings. “I must disagree. In his own way, he is quite an innocent himself.”

  Huntley turned a surprised gaze her way. “Surely you’re jesting.”

  “He’s not used to our ways,” Lily insisted. “He’s a foreigner, and a prince. I’d venture to say that he’s been very protected.”

  Huntley’s smile could only be called smug. “My dear Lily, I must give your good nature credit for that kind assessment. I’m sure the prince is charming when he wishes to be, and I’m certain he seems like an innocent to you, but he’s not. He’s a wolf in more ways than one.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “And neither do you. Pray do not be fooled by his I-don’t-understand-English-and-so-I-may-say-whatever-I-wish-to ways. He uses that as an excuse to say and do some very reprehensible things, which is why I’ve half a mind to step down from the carriage and put a word of warning in poor Emma’s ear.”

  Lily didn’t think “poor Emma” would appreciate such heavy-handed interference. “And what will you say to her? That the prince will blurt out exactly what he thinks? That she may find his honesty refreshing and some of his comments amusing? Or that at the next ball, he may try to dance with her for every dance, regardless of propriety? Perhaps he will take her too far into his confidence and baldly admit that he has no funds?” At Huntley’s surprised stare, Lily flushed, realizing that she’d revealed too much. “I will agree that Wulfinski is arrogant, but he’s not the sort of man one must warn a woman about. In fact, considering Miss Gordon’s age and the way she’s looking at him now, perhaps the prince is the one more in need of a word of warning.”

  Huntley looked astounded. “Miss Balfour, I’m shocked that you’d even suggest such a thing.” He shook his head, his brows creased. “You don’t know Emma the way I do. There’s not an avaricious bone in her body. She’s been an amazingly devoted daughter. The only reason she hasn’t married is because she took care of her father during his very lengthy illness, and then, immediately after, she came into our house to nurse my wife during her final days. And please don’t suggest that Emma’s on the lookout for a wealthy husband, for she was her father’s sole heir and is very well placed. In fact, from what you’ve said, if anyone could be accused of being a fortune hunter, it would be the
prince!”

  For some reason, knowing that Miss Gordon was well-off made Lily’s unease all the sharper. “I’m certain Miss Gordon’s wealth is to her advantage, but it will do little to fix her interest with the prince. Wulf believes in love above all else.”

  “How do you know?”

  Lily opened her mouth, ready to retort with a firm He told me so, but then realized she shouldn’t admit that she’d had such a personal conversation with the prince.

  To be honest, a good deal of their conversations had been out of the bounds of propriety, as she felt much more comfortable with him than with anyone else at the castle. Well, she did when he wasn’t looking at her as if he’d like to gobble her up like a tea cake.

  Sadly, Lily found herself far too aware of him. Even now, while in the middle of a conversation or walking to breakfast or while combing her hair, the memory of his kiss would force itself into her mind and instantly she would remember the pressure of his mouth on hers, the warmth of his hands as they cupped her so intimately.

  In a husky voice she finally answered Huntley, “The prince told me—and I’m sure many other people—that in his country, even though he is a prince, he may marry for love, and that he is determined to do so.”

  “A prince? That’s ridiculous.” Huntley’s gaze narrowed. “I’m surprised he’s mentioned such a personal subject.”

  “He’s an open book.”

  “Hmm. Well, be that as it may, I sincerely doubt he’s thinking of marriage at all.” Huntley’s gaze returned to where Emma stood with the prince by their horses, talking and smiling. “I think the prince has very low goals and only wants that which he cannot have.”

  Across the courtyard, Emma said something that made Wulf laugh long and loud. A twinge of something bitter and painful made Lily clench her hands tightly about each other.

  Huntley’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. “I shall speak with Emma. That man will make a fool of her.”

  Lily had to bite back a most unladylike retort that was as instant as it was unexpected. Good God, why am I so angry with Huntley? He is merely being cautious with the feelings of a dear friend, which does him great honor. Yet I would wager my life that Wulfinski is just as honorable as Huntley, if not more so.

  But such feelings—inexplicable even to her—would not be enough to reassure Huntley, who was scowling at Wulf as if he wished to kill him.

  Wulf waved off a waiting groom and helped Emma onto her horse, lifting her without seeming effort.

  Huntley muttered at this, while Lily merely watched, uncertain at the myriad of feelings rushing through her. I’ve just met this man four days ago; I cannot be jealous.

  The prince adjusted one of Emma’s stirrups, and though he appeared to be listening to whatever she was saying, he turned his head and—as it so often did—his gaze met Lily’s.

  Instantly, her heart leapt against her throat as triumph washed over her. The instant warmth in his gaze, accompanied by a satisfied curve of his lips, told her that he was pleased at finding her attention on him. She almost—almost—returned the smile before she caught herself.

  Emma leaned down and pointed to her stirrup, and Wulf, recalled to his duties, turned his gaze from Lily and set about fixing the stirrup.

  Lily was left feeling bereft. How could he look at me in such a way while paying attention to another woman? Perhaps Huntley is right and the prince is the hardened flirt—not Emma.

  Perhaps she didn’t know him as well as she thought, and she certiaintly couldn’t afford to care. With a jaw that was already aching from how tightly she held it, she turned to face Huntley. “You should put a word of warning in Miss Gordon’s ear.”

  “I shall. I don’t trust foreigners; I never have. And just conversing with a man who isn’t aware of the proprieties can cause harm to your reputation.”

  “I would hate to see Emma suffer.” At Huntley’s surprised look, Lily added, “I’ve spoken to her several times over the last few days.”

  A pleased look crossed his face. “She’s very kind, isn’t she?”

  “Yes.” Finally, something we can agree on.

  “Everyone says so. She came and stayed during my wife’s final weeks and did what she could to make us both comfortable. Then afterward, she made a point of visiting every day while I struggled for . . .” A pained smile touched his lips. “I suppose you could call it sanity. I fear I was very unfit company, but Emma was very kind, and knew that I could not bear to speak of all that had happened. She never once asked me a thing, but brought me soup and cards, and funny poems—anything she could think of—in an attempt to help me climb out of the black hole my wife’s death had left me in.” His gaze locked back on the prince. “Which is how I know Prince Wulfinski—if he really is a prince—is not fit to touch her shoe.” Huntley’s voice had risen, his face flushed.

  “Oh, Wulfinski’s really a prince.” Nothing else could explain his arrogance.

  Huntley patted her hand where it rested on her knee. “Miss Balfour, you’re as much an innocent as Emma. You don’t know how many pretenders there are in the world and—”

  “I beg your pardon, but I’m not a fool, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

  “No, no. You’re just inexperienced in the ways of the world.”

  His condescending air grated on Lily’s nerves. “I’m not—”

  “Oh my,” Lady Charlotte’s soft voice interrupted them. “Margaret, I do believe that Miss Balfour and Huntley are having a disagreement.”

  The duchess’s gaze flickered between the two of them, a displeased look on her face. “What’s this? What are you two arguing about?”

  “Nothing important,” Huntley said before Lily could speak, his smile noticeably tight. “Miss Balfour and I were talking about Prince Wulfinski . . . if he is a prince.”

  “He’s definitely a prince,” the duchess said, looking none too happy. “I wrote to Roxburghe and had him make some inquiries. Both Prince Wulfinski and his grandmother are who they say they are.”

  Lily swallowed a very unladylike Ha! Instead, she said as demurely as she could, “Of course they are.”

  Huntley’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply.

  Lady Charlotte and the duchess exchanged glances, but no one ventured another word.

  The duchess finally interrupted the silence with a dry “I’m sure we’re all famished. It does make for short tempers.” She waved to MacDougal, who stood waiting in the center of the courtyard. At her signal, he bowed and then nodded to the coachman at the front of the line. Instantly, the coaches and carriages began to move. There was a bit of a scramble as those who’d been standing near their horses now hurried to mount up. “We’ll all feel better once we’ve had some sustenance.”

  “In the meantime, it would be pleasant if we all agreed.” Lady Charlotte looked from Huntley to Lily. “Of course, sometimes we have to agree separately.”

  The duchess looked at Lady Charlotte. “What does that mean?”

  “I was only saying that agreeing is very pleasant, but that sometimes one cannot, and so one must agree by oneself even if one doesn’t agree with others about—”

  “Charlotte, please, don’t say another word, I beg you.”

  “I was just tying to explain—”

  “Yes, yes. But you were making no sense. Not even a little. So for the love of peace, leave it be.”

  Lily, her irritation subsided, hid a sigh. This was not the way to make her case with the earl. The duchess had gone to great lengths to help Lily and her family and she was ruining it over a conversation about the reputation of a man she barely knew.

  I must remember my purpose in coming here. She slipped Huntley a look from beneath her lashes and then cleared her throat. “The earl and I agree on one thing: that Miss Gordon is a delightful woman and deserves a suitor who is as good as she is, if not more.”

  Huntley, who’d been sitting stiffly, gave a surprised chuckle. “I suppose we did agree on that. Miss Balfour, I don’t k
now how we came to argue in such an odd manner. I certainly had no intention of upsetting you.”

  “I feel much the same. We were talking, and then out of the blue, we were arguing.” She spread her hands. “Perhaps her grace is right and we’re both hungry.”

  “Of course I’m right,” the duchess said, looking pleased. “We all have little tiffs. It is very good to air out your feelings now and then, or so I tell Roxburghe when he gets upset after I’ve had to point out that he’s wrong about something.”

  “Which happens far more frequently than one might imagine,” Lady Charlotte said helpfully.

  Lily and Huntley exchanged amused glances, and just like that, their equanimity was restored. Surely the fact that we can overcome an awkward moment so quickly is a good sign. “I hope Miss Gordon will join us when we eat.”

  “I can’t think why she shouldn’t.” Huntley beamed at Lily. “You are too good to think of her.”

  The duchess tapped a finger to her chin. “I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before, but Miss Gordon needs a suitor. She is a lovely woman.”

  Huntley’s gaze jerked toward the duchess, his smile fading. “She doesn’t need or want a suitor.”

  “All women need suitors.”

  Lady Charlotte nodded. “All.”

  “Not Emma,” Huntley said firmly. “She’s told me time and again that she’s quite happy not being married.”

  “Nonsense,” the duchess declared. “It is a woman’s purpose in this world to be married. How else is she to find fulfillment if not as a wife and partner?”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry, Huntley. I shall put my mind to it right away and find her a delightful suitor who will—Oh my! Prince Wulfinski has just pulled his mount next to Miss Gordon’s.” The duchess regarded them over her hooked nose, her mouth pursed in thought. “Hmm. That’s interesting. I wouldn’t have imagined, but . . . Yes, they might do very well together.” Her gaze flickered to the brougham that was now lined up with the others. “I daresay it would upset the grand duchess, though.”

  Lady Charlotte brightened. “It would, wouldn’t it?”