Duchess Diaries [2] How to Pursue a Princess

by Karen Hawkins

  “I?” Her gaze narrowed. She put her empty plate on a small table. “Why this sudden urge to befriend Huntley?”

  Wulf took a drink of the champagne. “Did you take my advice and tell Huntley how you feel?”

  Emma’s cheeks stained pink. “No.”

  “A pity. Meanwhile, I told Lily that I loved her and have since I first saw her.”

  “What did she say?”

  He finished the champagne and placed it on the table beside her plate. “It was as you said; I frightened her.”

  “I thought that’s how she would react. You are either very brave or very foolhardy; I can’t decide which.”

  “I am in love. And at least now Lily knows I am here and that I will wait for her. She also made me a bargain.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I am to help her in her quest to gain Huntley’s interest.”

  Emma, who’d just taken a sip of tea, choked.

  Wulf looked at her in concern.

  Coughing, she pressed a hand to her throat, finally catching her breath. “Wulf, you cannot help Lily win Huntley! That’s madness.”

  “It is madness. But I have thought of this and it is for the best.”

  “How? Why?”

  “Because if she is with Huntley enough, then one of two things will happen. Either they will grow tired of one another and realize they do not belong together, or—” He didn’t seem to be able to finish the sentence.

  She scowled. “Or they will fall in love and we’ll both be lost.”

  “If that happens, then they were not meant for us, and we must let them go.”

  Emma’s eyes darkened and she was silent a moment, staring into her teacup. Finally she sighed. “You may be right.”

  “Sadly, I am.”

  She set her cup onto the saucer with a clip. “But don’t expect me to help you. Huntley is entranced already, and you said yourself that Lily is determined to wed him for his fortune. I won’t help them.”

  “Emma, they must come to us on their own or it will not matter.”

  “Speak for yourself! I would take Huntley any way I could get him.”

  “Oh? You wish to be an unloved wife? Even Huntley’s unloved wife?”

  She looked away. After a long moment she sighed. “No.”

  “Then we must make them choose, Emma. And they must choose us. It is a devil’s bargain, but it is all we have. And if it will win Moya for me, and Huntley for you, then it is worth the risk.”

  Emma stared across the lawn with unseeing eyes.

  “Well? Will you help me by answering some questions about Huntley? Or shall I ask another of his friends?”

  She sent him a cross look. “What do you wish to know?”

  “I must get closer to him, get him to talk to me as a friend. But he dislikes me. I don’t think it is just because of Moya, though that is part of it.”

  “He thinks you’re too flamboyant. He dislikes people who garner attention. All of his friends are gent—” She caught herself and flushed. “I mean—”

  Wulf chuckled. “Do not apologize. I know what you mean and I am not offended. I have no wish to be a ‘gentleman.’ ” He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels as he considered her words. “So he dislikes people who garner attention. That is good information. Very good. I can use it.”

  “Fine.” Her voice was rather irritated as her gaze scanned the tent and surrounding grounds. “They’re still not here.”

  He checked his watch again. “I will go and find them. If anyone asks where we are, say that you think we are inside the folly.”

  “Very well. But you’d better hurry, for it’s beginning to rain.”

  Twenty-two

  From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe I’m quickly coming to the conclusion that Nature is best observed at a distance.

  Lily stared at the small cove at the end of their path. “This didn’t take us to the folly at all!”

  The earl stood beside her, a chagrined expression on his face. “Apparently not.”

  She swallowed a sharp retort. Twice in the last twenty minutes she’d suggested that the path was heading in the wrong direction, but Huntley wouldn’t hear of it. Oh no, they must press on, he’d said. They couldn’t turn back now, he’d said. He couldn’t possibly be wrong, he’d said.

  Lily wanted nothing more than to smack the man. She turned and marched back to the path, her stomach growling with hunger, her temper just as thin.

  “Lily, wait!” Huntley hurried after her, his voice coming closer. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to follow the path back to where it intersected with the wide path and then follow it to the folly, which is what we should have done to begin with.” She passed through some trees, walking faster.

  “Lily—Miss Balfour—wait! I’ll come with you.” He caught up, his boots crunching on the path. “I’m sorry if I misjudged the direction. I assure you that it was an innocent mistake.”

  She was sure it was an innocent mistake, but there was no excuse for the way the earl had dismissed every suggestion and opinion she’d had.

  “Lily, please!” He grasped her arm and pulled her to a stop.

  She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. I can’t afford to take offense at every little thing. Think of Papa. Think of Dahlia.

  “Lily?”

  She opened her eyes and found the earl looking at her with such genuine contrition in his sherry-colored eyes that her irritation fizzled like a snuffed candle. He was just doing what he thought was best. He’s always doing what he thinks is best. Somehow, that annoys me worse than someone trying to do his worst. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m being dreadfully ill-tempered, and I don’t mean to be. I’m just famished.”

  “I’m sorry I led you astray.” He grimaced. “I let my dislike of the prince prod me into making a hasty decision. I just don’t like how he’s always flirting with Emma. And then there are times he looks at you as if— But that’s still no excuse.” The earl took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Come, we’ll walk as quickly as we can.”

  They walked in silence for most of the way. Lily couldn’t imagine being in such a silent state with Wulf. For one, the man had never met a silence he didn’t wish to fill. If he didn’t fill it with words, then he filled it with kisses. The kind that made her heart race and her—

  Her stomach growled and she placed her hand over it, glancing at Huntley, who was looking off into the forest, a polite expression on his face.

  Her face heated, more embarrassed by Huntley’s reaction than her own. What had promised to be a lovely day was now tense and uncomfortable; it couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  But she was wrong. It started with a plop here and there. Rain. She tugged the hood of her cloak over her head as, without a word, they picked up their pace. Soon, the rain fell in a gentle shower all around.

  Moments later, they rounded a bend and a deep voice met them. “Ah, there you are.”

  Wulf was leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked handsome and calm, an amused glint in his eyes.

  Huntley inclined his head. “Wulfinski.”

  The prince shoved himself from the tree and delivered a proper bow. “Huntley. Miss Balfour.”

  “It’s raining and I wish to get Miss Balfour to shelter.” Huntley settled his hat so that the brim shadowed his eyes. “How far away is the folly?”

  “Ten minutes, but you’re just two minutes from the boats. It would make sense to head straight there and return to the castle. Once this rain begins in earnest, everyone will leave. The boats will have to make several trips to fetch all of her grace’s guests and I fear that the last batch or so will be very wet before they reach the opposite shore.”

  The rain increased, striking now with more force, bending leaves and tapping across Lily’s hood. “He’s right, Huntley. Let’s return to the castle. We will eat once we get there.”

  Huntley frowned. “Where’s
Emma?”

  “She’s at the folly with the other guests.” Wulf glanced at the sky. “The duchess was just ordering the servants to pack up the food when I left.”

  “I’m not leaving without Emma,” Huntley said firmly.

  Wulf shrugged as if Emma were the last thing on his mind.

  Huntley’s face grew sterner.

  Lily hid a groan. “Huntley, please, Wulf is right. With the rain coming, the duchess will send everyone home. Emma will be here soon enough.”

  “She’ll have to come here,” Wulf said. “The tent’s not large enough to offer shelter for all of the guests.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to find Emma.” The earl held out a hand for Lily. “Shall we?”

  She managed a tight smile and said to Wulf, “I should—” Her gaze locked on his hand, which had just slid into his coat pocket. He pulled it out and there was a linen napkin. Smiling, he unwrapped it and revealed a flaky tart.

  Her stomach rumbled and she pressed a hand to it.

  Wulf’s eyes gleamed with humor. “Peach.”

  Huntley frowned. “Peach? What are—”

  Lily whirled on him. “I’m going with the prince.”

  “No,” the earl snapped.

  Lily raised her brows.

  Huntley flushed, but after a brief hesitation said, “You may if you wish, of course, but—”

  “I do wish.” God, she could almost smell that peach tart. “Huntley, go. Emma will be waiting.”

  Huntley couldn’t have looked more disapproving, but the patter of the rain seemed to make up his mind. “I’ll see you both back at the castle.” He bowed stiffly and stalked off.

  The second he was gone, Lily held out her hand. “The tart, Wulf.”

  “When we get to the boat.” He took her hand and tugged her down the path to the shore.

  “No. I want it now.” Her stomach growled again.

  He chuckled and handed her the rebundled tart.

  She eagerly unwrapped it from the thick linen napkin. “There’s two!”

  “You may have them both.”

  The scent of warm cinnamon and peach assailed her. She tugged her hood so that it hung well over her face and she could eat the tart without the rain softening the lovely crust. She’d already devoured one before they reached the shore.

  Forced to wrap up the remaining tart before climbing into the punt, she barely noticed that Wulf had waved off the footman and had taken the pole himself.

  As soon as she was seated, he planted the pole and pushed the punt out into the lake, the rain pattering softly all around.

  She took the opportunity to unwrap the second tart. Her thick cloak soaked in the rain, but as long as she had her tart, she couldn’t care less.

  “It’s good, hmm?” Wulf was watching her with a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he navigated the punt across the lake.

  “It’s heavenly.” She finished the final flaky bit, wiping her fingers on the napkin before she tucked it into the pocket of her cloak. “I don’t imagine you were carrying peach tarts in your pocket for any reason other than to tempt me.”

  “I knew you would be hungry.”

  “I was. I was famished, in fact.”

  “I don’t blame you. You walked quite a long time.” Wulf wiped the rain from his eyes with his sleeve and raked a hand through his wet hair, revealing the strong lines of his face. Her gaze roamed over him, touching on his broad shoulders and chest, and finally coming to rest on his hands. Instantly she was hit with a memory of the night before, and a tremor raced through her.

  “Are you cold?”

  “A little.” She tugged her cloak more tightly about her. “As delicious as they were, it was very underhanded of you to lure me into your boat with peach tarts.”

  “I’m surprised that you find it surprising. I’ve been very clear, Moya. I will stop at nothing until I can call you my own.” His jaw firmed. “Even if it means letting you spend more time with Huntley, which I do not like, but I promised, so I will do so.”

  Lily had just spent several hours with the earl, and right now she felt that to be enough. Yet other than his stubbornness in choosing the wrong path, she could find no fault with his behavior. He was a bit pompous and too concerned with being right, and he hadn’t listened to a single one of her suggestions, but he had recognized his shortcomings and apologized.

  Still, she’d spent two hours with him—alone, too. But because of her temper and his pride in refusing to admit he was lost, they hadn’t spent their time well at all.

  From under her lashes, she watched Wulf as he confidently guided them across the lake. “How did you get the duchess to put you back on her guest list?”

  “I asked my grandmother to apologize to her.”

  “And she did?”

  “With a little persuasion, yes.”

  “This ‘persuasion’ didn’t involve holding a pistol to her head, did it?”

  He laughed. “No, that was not necessary. But I did tell her that if she did not fix what she’d broken, then she would be returning to Oxenburg on the next ship to live with my parents. She does not like my father, so after thinking it through, she decided that she was ready to apologize after all.”

  “My, you are a miracle worker.”

  His gaze touched hers. “I am motivated, Moya. I moved that mountain for us, and I will move more. I will move however many I must.”

  If only her problems were so easily solved as his. They reached the dock and Wulf secured the pole and threw the rope to one of the footmen who waited. As soon as they climbed out of the punt, a footman hopped into their boat to return to the island, where the other guests could be seen gathering on the shore.

  Wulf took the umbrella from the footman who held it over Lily’s head and sent the man to have his horse brought to the front door.

  The prince held the umbrella over them as he slipped a possessive arm around her waist. “Come, Moya. We cannot wait here or you will be wet through and through.”

  “I fear it’s too late to worry about that.” They walked back to the castle and she was aware of the strength of the arm around her. Although her cloak was growing heavy with rain, she walked slowly, aware that as soon as she was indoors, they’d go their separate ways.

  She never felt sad to see the earl go. And while she could easily see him holding an umbrella for her, walking her to the door, or even punting her across the lake, she couldn’t imagine that she’d feel the way she did when Wulf did those things.

  They reached the portico that protected the front doorway of the castle just as Wulf’s horse was brought from the stable. The door opened and MacDougal appeared, ready to take the umbrella and her wet cloak. They were surrounded by servants.

  Wulf took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Until tomorrow evening, my dear.”

  “Tomorrow evening?”

  “Why, yes. For dinner. The duchess said there would be dancing, too.”

  Lily could barely contain her smile.

  He gave her hand a squeeze, and then he turned and went to his horse.

  Wet from head to foot and cold through and through, Lily stood under the portico, the rain tinning across the roof as she watched Wulf ride out of the courtyard.

  And then, her heart filled with a hundred unanswerable questions, she turned and went inside.

  Twenty-three

  From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe The trip to the Roxburghe folly was lovely. Everyone enjoyed it . . . until it began to rain. I had no idea rain could collapse a tent in such a way. Sadly, the majority of the water landed upon the unsuspecting heads of poor Lady MacInnis and Miss Gordon, neither of whom could walk, their skirts and shoes were so filled with water.

  The next morning Wulf strode up the winding road to his large manor house, the air especially brisk since his overcoat was still draped over a bench to dry in front of the fire at his cottage. Fortunately the walk to see Tata Natasha had warmed him and he was no longer chilled.

/>   As he arrived, a servant threw open the door and then stood at attention as Wulf entered the foyer. Blue Chinese-silk paper featuring exotic birds cavorting among flowers adorned the foyer walls, while large windows—reflected several times over in a series of ornate, gold-framed mirrors—gave the impression of splintered light. Wulf rather liked the patterned marble floor and the curving staircase that swept up in a grand arc, but he had no use for the gilt furnishings his grandmother loved to tuck into every corner.

  A servant took Wulf’s hat and gloves. “Welcome home, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you. I’m only here for a few moments. Arsov is to bring my horse around at ten.”

  “Very good, Your Highness.”

  Wulf reached into his pocket and withdrew some missives. “These need to be delivered to my father as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. The messenger he sent is still resting, but is to begin his journey home later tonight.”

  “Make it so. Where is my—”

  A set of wide, ornate doors opened in a dramatic burst. Framed by the doors and dressed in a black gown and black lace, Tata Natasha pointed a trembling finger at him. “You!”

  “Yes, it is I. How are you this morning?”

  “I am dying for all that you know!”

  He looked her up and down. “Actually, you look quite charming today. Is that a new gown?”

  She sniffed and crossed her arms over her thin chest. “No one invited you here.”

  “Need I remind you that I own this house and everything in it?”

  Her chin lifted, her black eyes sparkling. “You may own it, but you do not live here, nor are you welcome.”

  “I’m banished, eh?” He bent to kiss her withered cheek, and though she batted at him, reminding him of a fluffed-up cat, it was halfhearted and he knew she was pleased he’d come to visit. “I have a horse being brought around. If you don’t wish me here, I could just lea—”

  “Come.” She turned and walked into the sitting room.

  Smiling, he followed. The furnishings were sumptuous and had cost him more than he liked to remember. The walls were covered in red silk, the windows flanked by red curtains tied with large, gold tassels, and red-and-gold-striped pillows were tossed onto a bevy of red settees and fat, gold chairs. The entire place looked as if a Chinese silk merchant had dumped all of his wares into this one room and then run away. Wulf stifled a sigh. It was his own fault, as he’d left the furnishing of his new house to Tata—well, all of it with the exception of the master suite. Wulf had asked Arsov to oversee that task, which had irked Tata no end. But thanks to Arsov, the master suite, a monstrous room indeed, was done in a masculine but elegant style.