Her cheeks warmed. “Are you calling me beautiful, Freddie?”
He retook her arm. “I do believe I am.”
If only she could keep her ruffian prince. But alas, she could not. For one, she didn’t fit in his world. And two, once the gossip rags got a hold of her story, and considering the anger she’d seen in Meyock’s eyes tonight, not to mention the humiliation, the gossip papers were sure to be filled with every last detail of the debacle. And that was going to destroy Archie.
And she couldn’t let that happen, even if her brother was the biggest buffoon ever to grace this planet.
No, she could not keep her prince.
Or Haven House.
But perhaps by the good graces of Georgiana’s aunt, the current seven children would find new homes and Bosworth new employment.
As for her, she was going to have to sink away from society and settle down in some country cottage, maybe even one of the thatched roof houses on Littlefield Hall estate.
But no matter, Prince Frederick was not hers to keep.
At least not for more than tonight.
Chapter 8
Freddie let go of Eliza’s arm after they entered the bedroom, the scent of violets fading as she moved away from him. Usually, the most his room ever smelled like was ash from the wood burning in the fireplace, and sandalwood from his soap and cologne. Eliza freshened up the cold space, made it feel almost like a place he just might enjoy spending time in if he could share it with her. He could get used to having her in his life again.
“It’s been a long day,” Eliza said, folding the garments she’d previously scooped from the floor, but now settled on the dresser.
“It has and I’m exhausted.” He limped over to the chair. If he could redo one thing in his life, it wouldn’t be his past sins and scandals, it would be the act of having put Eliza in danger tonight.
He propped his cane against the wall before turning around. “Dealing with fallout from tomorrow’s gossip is not going to be easy.”
Eliza faced him. “It would have been worse if I had to spend the rest of my life with Meyock. One day or even one month of whispers are far better than a lifetime of misery.”
“What if isn’t just one day or one month? What if it is permanent? The Ton isn’t always forgiving, they thrive on spurnings and finger pointing and everything else they can do to cast one out of the ranks.”
“I was never in their ranks to begin with, that was all Archie’s territory and he kept it that way. Even with a ruined reputation, I imagine the future won’t be all that different for me.” A solemn look crossed Eliza’s face, almost as if she longed for a life she would have love to have, but knew better than to hope for.
It pained him to see her this way. She deserved more and should never have suffered. If he ever got the chance to meet her brother, Archibald, he was going to give the man a piece of his mind.
He gripped the chair arms behind him and slowly lowered himself to the seat.
“That is not the bed,” Eliza said, shooting him one hell of a wicked scowl.
“Do you do that with the children?”
“Do what?”
“Glare at them like that. It’s enough to give a child nightmares, I’d imagine.”
“Oh, you would imagine, would you? Well, let me inform you, Your Royal Highness, the nightmares you will endure by remaining in that chair rather than venturing to the bed, will be far greater than any I can inflict upon a petulant child.”
He smiled to himself. Eliza was a real spitfire, if nothing else. Though he was starting to see she was a lot more. In fact, she was everything he was missing in his life—kindness, beauty, humor, selflessness. He could go on all night about Eliza’s good qualities. He really should have never let her go. “I may be a cad and God knows what else, but I am not going to steal the bed from you. Now get in and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Not happening.”
“Really, it’s fine. I’m too sore to move.”
“You’ll be stiffer in the morning spending the night in a chair.”
He’d be stiffer spending the night in bed with her. “I’m afraid it must be as nothing can entice me to move at this point.”
“You really are difficult, Your Royal Highness.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
Eliza responded with a lick of her luscious, plump lips.
The woman had no idea the misery she caused him. “If it weren’t for my damn wound, you’d be very sorry for having just done that.”
She shrugged. Then did the unthinkable.
The little minx actually reached for the skirt of her gown and pulled the damn thing over her head. And faced him bare naked.
Freddie coughed. “That won’t work.” How is it that one woman could make him lie so much in so few days? No doubt she was Eve to his Adam. “Still not moving, Eliza.”
“Are you certain about that, Ruffian?”
“I thought you were demure? Shocked even to learn that this was a house of ill repute—which for the record it actually is not, but that tale will have to wait.”
Eliza turned around.
And bent over, reached for the sheets, her perfectly shaped bum directed straight toward him. “I am well learned, despite not experienced.”
Oh, God, she did not really say that.
Then she climbed into bed and did something he really hadn’t expected. The woman actually got on all fours and started fluffing the pillows, her arse shaking and shimmying as she moved. “Do you have pets, Freddie?”
He couldn’t get an answer out.
“Freddie?”
“No. Why?”
“Just, if you had a dog or two or a cat or two, you’d be more inclined to know how they fucked. I’ve read this position, similar to cats and dogs, is preferred by some lovers.”
He brought his hand to his mouth and rubbed his lips and chin. “Eliza…”
She turned around and abruptly flopped back against the now well propped-up stack of pillows. “Yes?”
“You’re far too innocent for this. Far too naïve. And far too good.”
“I’m far too gone, Freddie. That is the truth of it. I’m twenty and three, on the verge of being bandied about in the gossip rags, my family name on the brink of being forever tarnished, and my house and funds are about to be stolen from me. So, yes, while I may be innocent, I really don’t have anything left to lose. And because of that, I would like one night where I throw caution to the wind. Besides, what do you have to lose? You’ll be doing me a favor as I have no hopes for a proper match. Not after what happened tonight.”
“Do you think that is fair to me?”
She gave him a confused look.
Christ. She had no clue he was starting to care for her.
“You can’t spend the night in that chair.”
“I can.”
“Are you really certain about that?” Eliza spread her legs, wide, exposed her thatch of dark brown curls exclusively for him. Then she brought one hand to her pink mound and flicked herself.
“Stop.” He was such a fool. “Now.” He stood, the pain in his ribs ratcheting up not one, but three notches.
He hobbled over to the bed. “Fine. You’ve won, Lady Eliza. I will share my bed with you, but solely to sleep.” He reached over and pulled her hand away from her enticing clit, the scent of her sex lingering in the air as he moved her arm.
The deflated look on her face made him want to rip his own heart out. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But truly, I physically cannot do a damn thing tonight.”
She smirked and pulled the sheets out from under her bum. “And you say I am innocent and naïve.”
Bloody hell, she knew she was safe all along. “Hellion.”
A soft giggle escaped Eliza as she snuggled under the covers, the shape of her curvy body filling the sheets nicely.
He’d give anything to run his fingers over the outline of her hip. But he had no intention of taking advantage of the woman. Even if he hadn�
��t had a gaping slash in his chest.
Kicking off his slippers, Freddie then removed his trousers and shirt, and climbed into bed.
The light aroma of violets blanketed his sheets. Damn, but he was not going to get a fucking minute of sleep tonight.
Chapter 9
There was nothing better than waking up to the smells of his favorite meal of the day. Freddie fluttered his eyelids opened and took in a deep breath, the aromas of ham, eggs, and fresh baked muffins teasing his nose.
He pushed himself up and stared at the end of the bed.
At his feet sat Eliza, her back reclined against the footboard, a sheer white gown with cranberry embroidery draping her frame. Her nose was buried in one of those damn gossip rags, her feet bare, and her mouth edged with biscuit crumbs. She pulled her hand away from her lips to lick a line of melted butter running down the crease of her palm.
He wanted to be that butter.
Stretching, he grabbed Eliza’s toes. “Good morning, My Lady.”
“You’re up!” She pushed the silver tray of food off her thighs to settle it on the mattress, and scooted up the bed, gossip paper still in hand. “I’ve succeeded.”
“In what?”
“Ruination.” She handed him the printed sheet. “Meyock’s name has been conveniently left out, but they’ve mentioned me at least ten times, and Archie, as well. The poor man. He must be having fits this morning. And Hannah.” She paused to nibble the pad of her finger. “I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen to my sister-in-law. I feel horrible about that.”
“I’m sure she’ll survive.” He took the paper from her hand and tossed it to the floor.
“Don’t you want to read it?”
“No.”
“But it’s such an exaggerated story, I was certain you’d find it entertaining.”
There was nothing amusing about ruining Eliza. He pulled her close, brought her soft body up to his. “I’d much rather write my own tale when it comes to you.”
She blushed. “You are such a flirt, Freddie.”
He wasn’t teasing and hadn’t meant to tease her. True, he’d spent most of his life acting more a devil than anything else, but when it came to Eliza Littlefield, he suddenly wanted to be the man she thought him to be. Which was going to take a massive amount of work, considering he was anything but that soul.
“I need to come clean,” he said.
“About what?” Eliza gazed at him with those big, brown eyes. She was making this a hell of a lot harder than he’d planned. But he had no choice. The truth had to come out.
“That other night in the alley…I was there working covertly, hunting a serial killer.”
Eliza propped herself up on one elbow. “That’s dangerous. Doesn’t the palace have guards to do that?”
“Yes. But this case is a bit different as the murderer is also an anti-monarchist. My brothers and I have reason to believe the man is targeting peers who have been the staunchest of my father’s supporters. And we don’t think this is a one-off situation. Our villain could very well be the brains behind a growing movement to take down the Crown. At any cost.”
Eliza remained silent, her lips pursed as if she were contemplating his every word.
He had to admit, this wasn’t the best conversation to be having with a woman in his bed. Right about now he should be trailing his fingers over her shoulder, pulling down the neckline of her gown, brushing his lips along her smooth, silky skin. Not talking about throat-slashers and politics.
And yet Eliza hadn’t backed away. In fact, she appeared intrigued by his revelation. “I hope you understand the severity of the situation.” He wanted to be as clear as possible on this matter because her life was now at stake since the damn gossip papers had linked her to him.
“Hunting a killer is always serious. I understand that fully.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s more than that. The killer knows who I am. Just like he’s familiar with every other member of the Baine family. The royal family has never lived behind closed doors. It’s not been our way. And my father and mother are more transparent about things than any of the kings and queens who’ve come before them. And they spend a good deal of their time among their subjects, as do my brothers and I. And now you’ve been linked to me.”
The blank stare that settled in Eliza’s eyes told Freddie she only now realized the true degree of danger last night’s episode had put her in. “I’m sorry, Eliza. If I had known it was you in my bed, I probably wouldn’t have…” He stopped. The lying had to stop now. “I probably wouldn’t have done anything different. And for that I am truly sorry.”
She pulled away. “Archie always said I had a way with infuriating people. In fact, I do believe you made a similar comment the night in the alley.”
Now she thought all this was her fault. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Eliza rolled over and slid off the bed. “I’ve achieved what I had set out to do and the rest will just fall into place as Fate deems.” After slipping her feet into a pair of slippers, she headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To do what I should have done, the moment I first arrived here.”
“And what is that?”
She didn’t comment.
“Eliza?”
She was out the door before he could swing his legs off the bed.
***
Not for a single moment had she thought about the ramifications her actions would cause Archie or Hannah. Or even Bosworth and Georgiana, for that matter. Now she’d placed them all in danger and for what? To avoid the best offer of marriage she’d ever had? The only offer of marriage she’d ever had?
But what about the children…
“As I’ve said many times before, bugger off, conscience.”
But Archie was set to turn the children out on the street or worse. And the Royal Children’s Bureau is indeed worse than the street.
“Oh, really, Lizzie. Do you seriously think you were really doing all this for a handful of orphans?” How much more was she going to have to argue with her damn conscience?
Eliza rounded the staircase and descended the steps two at a time, her feet barely touching the marble treads.
“And another thing…what gives you the right to entrap a royal prince in your scheme?”
The Countess Montgrieve stopped dead in her tracks in the center of the entrance hall. “Is everything all right, Lady Eliza?”
She really needed to curb the self-talking. “I’d like to join your crusade.”
“Excuse me?”
She stepped off the stairs. “I have no life to go back to. And considering the fiasco I caused last night, it is the least I can do. Specifically, to pay back Freddie. I mean, Prince Frederick.”
Countess Montgrieve clutched the red leather box in her hands, against her chest. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I’ve already hired the woman who I thought you originally were. She did show up last night.”
“I see.”
“However, while Montgrieve House is no longer seeking a new courtesan, we can use someone to keep our secrets in order. I would think managing your house of orphans did require you to handle similar things?”
Lady Montgrieve had no idea the secrets she’d kept, or rather fudged, to sustain her illegal business. “It did indeed, though I feel horrible admitting to such deceitful behavior. But yes, I did what was necessary to give the children as best a life as I could.”
The countess grinned. “Then perhaps we can come to an agreement. Shall we discuss it in my office?”
She nodded and followed the countess down the corridor. “Please call me Lizzie. I don’t feel much like a lady at the moment.”
“Lizzie it is. And in case you hadn’t noticed last night, I prefer to be called Ari.”
The loss of formality gave Eliza a bit of hope. Maybe now that Haven House could no longer be, she could find a new life at Montgrieve House.
“He didn’t comment about his pain, so I think he might have been feeling a little better.”
“He’s hard on himself. It’s not easy being seventh in line to the throne, as being that far down the ladder, I think he sometimes felt he didn’t count or that he had to prove himself in some way. But he’d never admit that to my face. It’s just my guess based on what I’ve witnessed growing up around the princes.”
No wonder Ari acted like a royal, she was raised among them. “You’ve known Frederick his whole life?”
“Just about. I came to live at the palace when I was ten. Freddie was five at the time.”
She would have loved to have known Freddie growing up. Though if what happened last night was any example of the trouble the two of them could get into, together, it was probably a good thing they hadn’t known each other that far back.
In the office, Ari placed the leather box on her desk, lifted its lid, and then removed a small stack of what appeared to be sketches. “I need these drawings of weapons sorted, then paired with the appropriate written account pertaining to its ownership.”
Eliza approached the desk and bent to look over the papers. “I know these.”
“You’re familiar with these particular weapons?” Ari’s tone bordered on shock. As did the look on her face.
“Not exactly the weapons, though that pistol does look similar to the one the man at The Wharf shoved into my back.” She pointed to the sketch of a gun with a jeweled snake design on its handle. “But I know the designs. Archie is a member of the Knights Venomous. He joined the first year he attended King Bertram University. Though I hadn’t associated my pistol-jabbing attacker with the group until now. Perhaps it was the shock of the whole situation that the realization hadn’t dawned on me at the time.”
Ari bit her bottom lip as she tapped the desk, lightly but repeatedly, with her fist. “Do you think your brother can give us information about the men in the group?”
Archie would do no such thing. Not even upon the pain of death. At least, not when it came to giving up his dull-witted friends. “He won’t be reliable. Of that I can assure you.”
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