The red-headed Rose simply nodded but refrained from uttering a single word.
“We might as well get it over with and go with Mother’s choice, though that tear at the waist will have to be mended.”
“As you wish, Miss.” Rose went for the cerulean colored silk gown and inspected the small rip at the waistband. “I’ll have this fixed in no time, Miss.”
“Thank you.” The gown hadn’t been worn in months due to her having snagged it on a loose piece of bannister as she’d waved her aunt goodbye after the woman had come for tea one Sunday.
“Everything else looks in good order.”
“Perfect.” She watched her maid leave the bedroom, gown in hand.
Once the door closed, Charlotte collapsed onto the gold damask-covered Grecian couch jutting out from the corner.
She really did hate the fact she had to see Victor again. Not that she didn’t care for the man, if truth be told, she never stopped loving him. But after unearthing that bit of information no one should ever have known, she knew better than to think she and Victor could live in peace. It put her in an awful predicament. Being threatened by an unknown assailant was horrible.
“Oh, Vic.” She missed her prince. Wished she could have been truthful with him rather than up and leaving him with no explanation whatsoever. But breaking it off with the man was for the good of everyone involved.
She just hoped all that good wouldn’t turn to disaster over the next four days. Because if it did, not only would Vic suffer, but so too would everyone else whom she loved.
If only she knew which one of this weekend’s guests was the force behind the deadly threats made against her.
Chapter Two
Two hours after arriving at his brother Leo’s frozen palace, and still Vic couldn’t shake the memories of Charlotte gracing his bed, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders to skim the rosy buds that topped her breasts. He wanted those moments back. He wanted Charlotte back, wanted her more now than ever, thanks to Harry’s irksome comment. Of course it wasn’t helping that he was staring at the massive fourposter bed behind him visible in the Cheval mirror in front of him.
Blasted emotions.
He fidgeted with his cravat, the damn thing looking like a wrinkled heap at his neck. What man couldn’t manage a barrel knot?
Thoughts of all the times Charlotte had adjusted his neckerchief with those long, delicate fingers of hers, flooded his mind. As, too, did the thoughts of the times she’d undone the garment.
Damn him to Hades, but he was never going to get her out of his system.
A knock scratched at the door.
“Come.”
Phipps entered the room. “Sorry for the delay, Your Royal Highness. I needed to set Stubbs up before leaving the guests.”
Finally, something other than Charlotte to focus his sinful mind on. “How is the newly minted under-butler?”
“Doing well, sir. Thank you for asking.”
He huffed and tugged at his cravat. “Damn it.”
“Allow me, sir.”
Vic relinquished control of the folds of silk and dropped his hands to his side as he eyed Phipps through the mirror. “I appreciate you taking me on in light of Weatherstone’s broken leg.”
“No problem at all, sir. Glad to do it. Besides, Prince Leopold has suddenly decided my services are no longer needed where his attire is concerned.”
Wasn’t that the truth. One hour after his and Harry’s arrival and Leo’s appearance nearly blinded them. “Yes, I noted the horrendously loud suite he wore when Harry and I met him in his private library earlier.”
A half smile curved Phipps’s lips. “I think the prince might have met his match.”
The man obviously was referring to the delightful Miss Juliana Radcliff, the woman he’d met in the library with Leo. “I pray to God he has, as Miss Radcliff seems quite the remarkable lady. Just what my little brother needs.”
Phipps continued to smile but said no more on the matter. “And what of you, sir?”
Victor bent his arms, tried to get a good feel of his starched shirt and silver-threaded green waistcoat. “Me?” He glanced over his shoulder. “What the devil to you mean?”
“Come now. We’d all be fools not to see that Miss Appleton still has feelings for you.”
Apparently, he was a fool—a lone fool. “The relationship ended three months ago, Phipps. I think it best to forget it.”
“Pity.”
Pity? What the deuces?
“The two of you seemed so good a match.”
“We were.”
“She’d make a fine princess, sir.”
“She would.”
“Such a beautiful lass.”
“She is.”
“You should give it another go.”
“I will.” He huffed. Phipps had him all screwed up in the head now. “What I meant was...”
“No need to explain yourself to me, sir. Your private life is your own.”
Cheeky bastard.
Phipps stepped back. “Anything else, sir?”
Oh, there was plenty else, but unfortunately, he was not the one who could dismiss his brother’s butler. “No.”
“Glad to see all is right, now, sir.” Phipps nodded, then headed into the hall.
All was not right. Not right in the slightest.
Harry showed up on the valet’s exit. “Good, God, you went with the green one. You’re almost as bad as Leo with that ghastly gold ensemble.”
His green trousers and matching waistcoat were nothing like Leo’s monstrosity of a suit. He reached for his dinner jacket folded over the arm of the chair next to the bed. He wished he could comment about Harry’s choice of dress, but the man hadn’t even had a single brown hair out of place. “Phipps thinks I’m wrong about Charlotte.”
“Since when have you started consulting a butler-cum-valet over affairs of the heart?”
“Since he seems to agree with you.”
Harry tapped his lips. A pensive look crossed his hazel eyes.
“I know that look. What in blazes are you scheming up now?” He hated when Harry’s brain went into work mode.
“Maybe I should let Phipps in on the bet, raise the stakes a bit.”
For the love of God. “You will do no such thing.”
Harry shrugged.
“And while we’re on the subject of the bet, why did you only wager one hundred and not one thousand? I’ve seen you throw away tens of thousands of dollars on horses.”
“I only play real money when I know I’ll win.”
The statement was an insult to him. “Why bet at all if you think Charlotte won’t have me back?”
“Oh, I have no doubt the lady still has feeling for you. She’d be daft not to, as you are a good chap, Vic. Charlotte was wrong to push you away. It’s you I’m concerned with.” Harry dusted off Vic’s left shoulder.
He slapped his brother’s hand away. “I don’t need your concern, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Charlotte is currently in your loss column and you have the perfect opportunity to win her back and yet you haven’t sought her out.” Harry lifted his watch from the gold fob dangling out of his pocket. “Guess I was off by that hour estimate.” He looked back up. “How do you wish my steward to issue you your winnings?”
Winnings his arse. His brother was too smart for his own good. “Keep up with the cheeky attitude and I’ll hit you with mother’s chair rung myself.”
Harry ignored him as he turned and headed for the door. “Since I’m down by fifty Countavian dollars, I had better up my game.”
“You will do no such thing.”
Harrison rubbed his hands together. “I love it when I’ve touched a nerve.”
His brother had done more than merely hit one nerve, Harry had hit them all. And couple that with Phipps’s comments and things were not boding well for his situation with Charlotte. He’d be lucky if he got through dinner without ending up in a compromising position wit
h the woman.
Curse his soul.
Harry turned back. “Why are you always lagging behind?”
“I’m not lagging....
Harry didn’t let him finish. “You most definitely are. And I’m famished, and I don’t want you holding up dinner.”
He followed his brother out of the room and promptly froze. A trail of violet coursed through the hall.
Charlotte.
His gaze traveled down the stairs and found the bane of all his problems on the lower landing, her pleasant laughter rising to his ears.
God, but how he longed for the woman. And not just for her beauty, though he could not deny his attraction to her. In the candlelight the streaks of red brushing her brown hair brought to mind heated flames as hot and as wild as the spark in her soul. If only she’d turn his way, give him a glimpse of those vibrant blue eyes of hers.
As if Charlotte heard his thoughts, she graced him with a glance up the stairs.
His breath caught.
He was not going to survive four days in the woman’s presence.
CHARLOTTE HADN’T EXPECTED the onslaught of heated emotions that flooded her the moment she gazed up and met Vic’s gray-eyed stare looking back at her. The man was like a mythical god standing tall at the top of the staircase, commanding even the air around him. He could get anyone and anything to do his bidding. The prince was famous for never having lost so much as a single hand of cards. Then she stepped into his life and tarnished his winning streak. The rumors that followed their breakup were horrendous.
She should turn away. Study the red carpet at her feet, pick an invisible piece of lint off her gown, faint...anything would be better than continuing to gaze into Victor’s eyes.
For Heaven’s sake. She was never going to stop loving the man.
She really should talk to him, finally offer an answer for why she’d stopped receiving him, even if it couldn’t be the full truth. Though she wasn’t ready to face him just yet. Perhaps tomorrow.
Victor started down the steps.
Oh, God, but this can not be happening.
The beat of her heart rang out like thunder at her ears.
If only she could run, but there was nowhere to escape to as the crowd of guests waiting to be led into the dining room gathered in her path like a flock of crows picking at a dead rat. And half those crows were her own family, all eyes on her, gawking to see what happened next between the prince and his minx.
Her mother turned around. And smiled one of those impish little grins typical of mothers who are seeking unmarried princes for their daughters. She furrowed her brow. Then looked up at Victor.
Charlotte leaned in. “Really, Mother. You’re making a scene.”
“How is that possible when I haven’t even said a word about His Royal Highness?”
“Your over obvious stare is hard to miss. As is that smirk on your face. You look like the toad who’s caught the fly.”
“That’s the cat who’s ate the mouse, dear. Were all those lessons with the tutor for naught?”
She really must have been hatched in a field, as these people surely were not of her blood.
Her aunt, with her ringlets of gray hair piled high atop her head, joined the conversation. “What am I missing?”
She didn’t dare voice the words that just popped into her head.
“Nothing more than your niece being the problem child again,” her mother said.
Her aunt frowned, her plump cheeks drooping along with her lips. “There is no hope for you, Charlotte.” She shook her coiffed head. “No hope at all, child.”
“What are two about?” Mr. Woodbury asked.
“It’s nothing Uncle.” Better to stop this now or her relatives would be raising their voices in no time and the words to accompany said voices would all be aimed at her. Then she’d be the one accused of causing a scene.
“Ah, the princes have arrived!” George Mudley proclaimed, ogling up the stairs.
His twin John, clapped.
For wealthy solicitors the pair hadn’t a clue about proper attire. One was more foppish than the other and neither in a good way. They’d outshine Brummel any day.
Her father leaned against the wall directly opposite her, arms folded over his chest. He looked as drab as did his black suit. He scowled.
She needed a miracle to sweep her away from this madness.
A strong hand cupped her elbow.
Charlotte spun around, excitement stirring her nerves.
At seeing Prince Harrison, her heart sank. “Your Royal Highness.” She curtsied to the prince, who abruptly dropped his fingers from her arm.
“Forgive me for having bumped into you,” Harry said.
“Apology accepted.” How silly was it of her to have thought Vic would have swept down the staircase to rescue her from this disaster? She’d be lucky if the man didn’t speak a single word to her the whole four days as he had the right to blast her, in public, if he so deemed. And he should after the rumors she’d caused.
Harrison brushed by her as he made his way through the small throng of house guests still gathered on and below the landing. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Appleton.”
She smiled, but only faintly.
A burst of sandalwood permeated her space.
Victor.
Turning around, again, was not an option.
Charlotte searched the hall for an out.
Lord Asta, Parliament’s newest earl, glanced her way. “I do say,” the man said walking toward her. “I hear you’ve kept yourself quite busy this past year, Miss Appleton.”
The last thing she needed was a sniffling little snit of a snake to bring up all the times she’d made the gossip rags over her breakup with Victor. “I have always kept a full schedule, my lord.”
“I’m sure you have.” He motioned his hand to his side.
A young lady stepped forward. “This is my daughter, Lady Gabrielle. I’m sure the two of you will make great friends.”
She curtsied to Gabrielle.
The earl returned to his wife, who was just as odd as was he. The two were akin to a couple risen from a Gothic novel. Her favorite genre of books.
Lady Gabrielle leaned in. “You’ll have to forgive my father. He and my mother both live for status, and if I may be frank and lewd, he’s enamored with your father’s wealth as it tops his.”
Charlotte stifled a laugh.
“Please don’t choke on my account, Miss Appleton. I’d laugh at the man myself if I didn’t find the notion of his ways so absurd. Some days I need to pinch myself just to make certain my world is real. And I do mean that in the most horrendous way possible.”
She liked Lady Gabrielle.
“And besides,” Gabrielle continued, as she closed the gap between them, “You and I have quite a lot in common.”
“We do?”
A sly smile curved Gabrielle’s full lips. “Yes. We’re both in love with a Baine. Though officially, I have only met my prince here. Even my father does not know of our secret relationship and I prefer to keep it that way as Harry and I wish to enjoy ourselves before the gossip mongers start in. He hasn’t even yet told his brothers about us.” The woman’s words were barely above a whisper.
“Am I truly that obvious? I mean, about Victor?”
“Well, it definitely shows on your face, though no less than the Prince’s feelings show on his face, for you.”
Oh, shite. The whole world knew of their situation. “I’m sure the man hates me.”
“I wouldn’t know, as Harry hasn’t commented on the matter. And trust me, I have pressed him on it. But there’s a thing to a man’s silence. Sometimes no words spoken conveys far more than a shouted mouthful.”
She was definitely going to get along fine with Gabrielle. And the thought pleased her as she needed an ally over the next four days to survive the whole Victor debacle.
That whiff of sandalwood was back again.
Heat radiated at her spine.
She swallowed and focused her attention elsewhere. Anywhere but on the prince, who she knew now stood directly behind her, his silence unnerving.
The creak of a door drew her in.
At the end of the hall, walked a young lady dressed in pink. At least she was a formidable distraction, far better than the carpet.
“That’s Miss Radcliff,” Gabrielle said. “I must catch a word with her. Until later.” She bobbed her head, her brown curls skimming her chin. She wandered away leaving Charlotte alone with the looming Victor.
“Miss Appleton.” The prince’s deep and velvet smooth voice sent ripples of delight through her veins.
She sucked in a breath, though whether it was due to panic or pleasure, only God knew, for she doubted she could sort out her name at present.
Charlotte slowly pivoted. “Your Royal Highness.” She curtsied.
Victor stared straight ahead. “I trust you are well?”
“I am. And you?”
“The same.”
“Then all is good.”
Vic didn’t answer. He descended the last three steps and now stood eye level with her. He turned. “I’d like a word with you, Miss Appleton. Perhaps after breakfast tomorrow?”
The formality of his tone sent a wave of ice through her, dissipating the warmth she’d felt only moments ago. “If that is your wish.”
A mocking half-smile crossed Vic’s mouth. “What I wish, Charlie, is that we never came to this position.” He walked away.
No one called her Charlie save for Victor. Hearing him say the name was most unsettling as it brought back a flood of memories, one more heated than the last.
She remained on the landing, her hands twisting the ribbon at her waist.
At least she’d gotten through her initial meeting with Vic which meant dinner should be a peaceful meal.
She had an entire night before she had to face the man again.
And for that, she was grateful.
Chapter Three
He wasn’t in his chair more than five minutes when Harry spilled a glass of wine on him, or rather poured a glass of wine on him in a very obvious manner.
“I’m terribly, sorry,” Harry said with no real substance to his tone. He reached for a napkin and began dabbing Vic’s trousers.
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 68