‘He cannot harm you,’ Louis assured her softly, sitting across from the ladies and sending them both a reassuring smile.
‘Perhaps not,’ Miss Kazan said softly, ‘but he now knows where we are staying. I wish he did not.’ She looked at her aunt as she spoke but that lady waved her concerns aside and didn’t offer to elucidate.
The journey to the pavilion was a short one, and Louis kept up a light stream of conversation until they arrived, hoping it would divert Miss Kazan from the sight of her former agent.
‘What do you know about the royal pavilion?’ he asked as they approached it.
‘Only that it looks like a very unusual sort of building to find in this country,’ Mrs Costas replied. ‘All of those domes and minarets look rather out of place, especially in the rain.’
Louis laughed. ‘The famous architect John Nash is responsible for extending the building. The prince fell in love with Brighton after visiting his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, who had a residence here. His royal highness was just twenty-one at the time, and the fashionable resort made a lasting impression upon him.’
Louis didn’t add that Cumberland was responsible for introducing his impressionable nephew to the assorted delights of fine cuisine, gambling, the theatre and the fast living that had subsequently defined his life.
‘How fascinating,’ Miss Kazan said. ‘I dare say I will find it easier to appreciate his love of the place if only it would stop raining.’
Louis laughed. ‘I shall have a word with the weather gods for you, Miss Kazan.’
The carriage paused at the entrance, where the gates were opened and it was waved through. Both Miss Kazan and her aunt craned their necks and exclaimed over the grounds. Even through torrential rain and mist, Louis conceded that they were quite remarkable. He looked forward to an opportunity to show Miss Kazan their full extent—if, as she had put it herself a few moments previously, it ever stopped raining.
Louis escorted the ladies into the entrance hall, which led to the long gallery linking all the main state rooms including the banqueting room and, more importantly from Miss Kazan’s perspective, the music room.
‘Goodness,’ Miss Kazan remarked, looking up at walls that were painted with designs of trees, rocks, shrubs and birds, set against a pink background.
‘It is supposed to evoke a bamboo grove,’ Louis told her.
‘How original.’ She tilted her head back, admiring the painted glass ceiling that let in a profusion of light and the frescos adorning the gallery.
The ladies appeared both fascinated and a little confused by the differing exotic styles inspired by the orient.
‘The prince has eclectic tastes,’ Louis explained.
‘So it seems,’ Miss Kazan replied. ‘And he is certainly not afraid of bold colours.’
‘This was the original lodging house,’ Louis told them, conducting the ladies into the banqueting room gallery. ‘As you can see, it now has more grandiose pretentions.’
Miss Kazan’s eyes shone when Louis showed the ladies into the music room.
‘This is one of the prince’s favourite locations in this house. He does enjoy music very much,’ Louis said. ‘You will perform in here tomorrow evening.’
Miss Kazan touched the grand piano with its rosewood case inlaid with brass and shared a look with her aunt. ‘Is it too late to run away?’ she asked.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Louis replied softly, laughing off the remark and hoping she wasn’t being serious.
‘This instrument will display your talent as a pianist to its best ability, Eva,’ Miss Kazan said, lifting the lid and touching a few keys.
‘I very much doubt whether anyone will be listening to me,’ Mrs Costas replied.
Louis smiled at her. ‘I have heard you play, and so must beg to differ.’
‘Papa only allowed Eva to accompany me after I told him I couldn’t manage without her. She and I are so perfectly attuned to one another, quite literally.’
‘I understand.’
It was the first direct reference she had made to her father in Louis’s hearing, and he stored it away in the recesses of his mind for future examination.
‘It is hard to imagine how anyone came up with such a sumptuous interior,’ Mrs Costas remarked, gazing about the room.
‘I can see that you are admiring the colossal porcelain pagodas,’ Louis replied. ‘Well, perhaps not admiring, but you will admit that they are highly unusual. There are six of them in total that were made for the prince in China. In Europe pagodas are associated with leisure and pleasure, and I am sure that you ladies will supply the latter in abundance tomorrow in the form of your superb music.’
Miss Kazan smiled demurely at the compliment before transferring her gaze to the nine lotus-shaped chandeliers. Mercifully, she didn’t ask what quirk on the prince’s part had inspired them. The magnificent gilded domed ceiling was made up from hundreds of plaster cockleshells creating the illusion of height, while the long windows were dressed with opulent blue silk-satin draperies supported by carved flying dragons. Accustomed to the prince’s quirks, Louis tried to see the room through Miss Kazan’s eyes and wondered if she found it impressive or just a little too gaudy.
They concluded the tour and Louis escorted the ladies home. He wondered how they intended to spend their evening, wishing he could share it with them. But alas, he had his duties at the prince’s court to attend to, so he made do with seeing them safely to their door and promising to collect them at the appropriate time the following evening. They were engaged to dine with the prince prior to performing.
Chapter Three
‘Wake up!’
Chance’s eyes flew open when a cushion landed on his head, immediately alert but disorientated. ‘What the devil…’
He sat up and it took him a moment to recognise his sumptuous surroundings, from which he deduced that he must be in the master bedroom in Falkirk House—Sabine’s home. She’d had it completely renovated, eradicating all signs of her late and unlamented husband’s tenure, and then moved into it herself. She had explained to Chance that she was keen to stamp her own mark on every room, preferring not to be reminded of Kendal’s presence in any of them. A doorway led from her bedroom directly into dressing rooms and thence to the adjoining chamber, slightly smaller, that had once been her own province.
Chance blinked at Sabine, standing over him fully clothed and with the ewer in her hand, no doubt ready to throw its contents at him as well.
‘Not quite the awakening I had in mind,’ he said, yawning and then winking at her. ‘Good morning, my love. Where’s the fire?’ Ace had obviously sneaked into the room at some point and bounded up to the bed, wagging his tail. Chance reached out to ruffle the top of his head.
‘No fire, but look.’ She pulled back the curtains with a dramatic flourish, causing him to blink as sunlight flooded the room. ‘The rain has stopped, at least for now. We cannot miss this opportunity.’
Chance grinned at her attire; tight fitting breeches and long boots, her hair braided and tied off with a ribbon. He didn’t need to ask what pursuit she intended.
‘We have all day,’ he groaned, flopping back on the pillows. ‘I am a night owl, in case you had forgotten. It is positively indecent to be out of bed at such an early hour.’
‘You don’t have a club to keep you up all night here, Lord Jonas,’ she replied, planting her fisted hands on her slim hips, the sight of which sent Chance’s mind in all manner of inappropriate directions.
‘Even so…I am exhausted.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she asked, grinning. ‘Come on, Chance, I’ve been looking forward to this and the rain won’t hold off indefinitely just to oblige you.’
Chance groaned, thinking how easily she could bend him to her will. ‘Am I at least allowed to have breakfast?’ he asked, more in hope than expectation.
‘After we have ridden.’ She sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing up and down like a child anticipating Christmas. ‘We
have the entire day ahead of us.’
Chance snaked an arm around her waist and tumbled her backwards onto him. She shrieked with laughter and half-hearted protests. ‘Stop it! Didn’t you have enough of that sort of thing last night?’
‘A man can never get enough of that sort of thing.’ He waggled his brows at her. ‘Especially not when he has you to tempt him.’
She laughed, kissed his lips and then wriggled out of his grasp.
‘Get dressed!’ she chided. ‘I will wait for you downstairs.’
‘Spoilsport!’
Chance reluctantly swung his legs out of the bed. Ace had disappeared with Sabine to a part of the house that would offer a higher chance of food, so he sauntered into the adjoining chamber, where for appearances’ sake he had deposited his possessions. Murphy was waiting for him with a broad smile and hot water.
‘Mornin’,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Get enough sleep?’
‘Mind your own damned business,’ Chance replied grouchily, even though he felt totally rejuvenated. A single night in Sabine’s embrace had that effect upon him. He wondered if he would ever get enough of her profound sensuality, and sometimes worried about the power her femininity wielded over him. He had been a solitary individual before she breezed into his life and turned it on its head. Females of all persuasions had deployed ever more inventive wiles in an effort to engage his interest, no doubt attracted by his wealth and position in the prince’s court, but he found them all easy to resist. He needed no such complications in his orderly life—or so he had thought until Sabine, who seemed indifferent to his supposed charm, made him yearn for the previously unthinkable.
Their relationship was fairly common knowledge, and Chance wondered if her neighbours had shunned her as a consequence. She claimed to be a semi-recluse when she was alone, which would account for her disinclination for local society. He somehow doubted that her peers were that judgemental. She was a widow, and a blind eye would be turned. Besides, Chance being one of the prince’s inner circle made Sabine’s position as his mistress more respectable.
Even so, he had not abandoned the idea of persuading her to accept his proposal and put their relationship on a legal footing. He was now simply biding his time, aware that he had rushed her by declaring himself too soon. After her disastrous union with Kendal, she was naturally cautious, but Chance was a patient man and he could wait for her to come round to the idea.
In attaching himself to her, Chance knew that he had revealed a weakness that his many enemies wouldn’t hesitate to exploit. He ground his jaw at the prospect. If anyone attempted to get to him through Sabine, the prospective violence he knew he would be capable of in his quest for revenge frightened him.
‘Anything I need to be aware of?’ Chance asked, as he finished dressing. He had closed the club for the summer since all the high rollers would be at their estates, but there was always something that required his attention during the quieter season. Chance’s trusted inner circle knew where to find him and sent messages if in need of guidance.
‘Nothing that can’t wait. Go off and enjoy your ride.’
‘Thank you for your permission,’ Chance replied in a droll tone.
‘My pleasure,’ Murphy replied, laughing.
Chance joined Sabine and Ace downstairs, dressed for riding.
‘At last!’ Sabine smiled mischievously up at him, causing Chance’s heart to lurch. There was an outside possibility that the smile in question would one day lose its power to enchant him, but probably not for the next fifty years or more. ‘I swear you take longer to get ready than I do. Shall we go?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Not one.’
He laughed as they left the house by a side door. Legacy had already been saddled and shifted impatiently, pawing the ground, keen to be off. Sabine’s dapple grey gelding was also ready to stretch his legs. Chance was distracted by the sight of Sabine’s pert backside encased in buckskin as she walked up to Gandolf, fed him the apple she had taken from the bowl in the breakfast room and then swung easily into the saddle with no help necessary.
Chance smiled as he watched her, delighted with the contrary streak that caused her to ride astride, insisting that no one was likely to see her in these isolated parts and that they wouldn’t take any notice of her even if they did. Chance begged to differ. A man would have to be half-blind and a hundred years old not to be impressed by the vision she created.
‘I worry about you riding out alone when I am not here,’ he said, watching Ace dashing back and forth, nose pressed to the ground, probably attempting to track down rabbits. The dog was clumsy and not much of a hunter, so Chance didn’t feel too concerned for the wellbeing of the local wildlife.
‘I am as good a rider as you are,’ she protested, ‘and seldom take a tumble.’
‘That is not what I meant,’ he said, with a significant glance at her trim thighs, ‘and well you know it.’
She raised the hand holding her long whip, careful not to spook Gandolf by letting him see it. ‘Everyone hereabouts suspects that I now live under your protection,’ she said, fluttering her lashes at him and making him smile. ‘Agnes hears the gossip. Anyway, it would be a brave person who risked annoying you.’
Which was precisely what worried Chance.
The sunshine had proved temporary and a compressed greyness now filled the sea air. Dark clouds scudded across the sky and Chance knew that they would be in for a soaking if they remained out for much longer. They reached the start of a gallop, high up on the cliffs overlooking the resort. Chance could see the waves whipped up by an increasingly strong wind and hear their power as they crashed onto the shingle shore. There would be little or no sea-bathing this year.
Legacy, excited by the prospect of a gallop, twisted his quarters and put in a mighty buck, catching Chance at an unguarded moment and almost unseating him. He struggled to regain control of the stallion, cursing beneath his breath, but not quietly enough since Sabine caught the words as they reached her on the wind and grinned across at him.
‘It seems it is not me who needs to fear for their safety,’ she said, laughing as she leaned forward and gave Gandolf his head.
Chance held a prancing Legacy back to give Sabine a head start, and was almost unseated again when he reared up in protest. The stallion leapt forward the moment Chance released his hold on him. His long stride ate up the ground and Chance gloried at the feel of the powerful equine’s flexing muscles as he quickly gained on Gandolf.
They came to the end of the gallop side by side with Sabine laughing, looking exhilarated and delightfully dishevelled. This, Chance knew, was partly why she had declined his proposal. This is what she lived for; the freedom to be herself in a part of the world that she loved, surrounded by nature and the lure of the sea. Being at the prince’s beck and call would delight many ladies who were keen to advance their social positions.
Sabine had to be coerced into attending his soirees.
The prospect of marriage had once terrified him, but if he could one day persuade Sabine to enter into that institution, it would hold no fears for him whatsoever. He knew that in order to do so he would have to change his lifestyle, since he would never ask her to change hers. The club had been a success beyond his wildest expectations and had made him an exceedingly wealthy man. Perhaps it was time to use some of his fortune to make alterations in his life that would allow him to spend the majority of his time with Sabine.
If the prince would allow it.
Chance sighed, aware that he had made himself too useful to the heir to the throne and would never be released from his service. Besides, there was the small matter of the pact that he and the rest of the younger sons who served the prince had entered into in order to protect him. They had vowed always to be on hand to save the prince from his own folly; from having his generosity exploited and his position undermined. These were especially troubled times and Chance would not put his own interests ahead of George’s.
Having a conscience was sometimes deucedly inconvenient.
They drew rein, both breathing heavily. A mud-splattered Ace bounded up to them, wagging his tail, tongue lolling stupidly from the side of his mouth. Sabine’s face was delightfully flushed and her wide smile stole what little breath Chance had remaining.
‘I will beat you the next time,’ she promised, patting Gandolf’s sweaty neck as they glanced down at the chalky escarpment that led to the rocks and the angry sea beyond. ‘Besides, it was a moral victory on my part since I kept Gandolf under control. You cannot say the same for Legacy.’
‘Would you choose to tame such power?’
‘A convenient excuse for your failure to master your horse,’ she replied, grinning.
‘You are lucky to have this stretch of the cliffs more or less to yourself.’
‘My goodness, Gandolf.’ Sabine widened her eyes in disbelief. ‘Lord Jonas just expressed appreciation for the simple life. We will make a countryman out of him yet. What do you think of that, Ace?’
Ace barked, making them both laugh.
‘Is that what you would like, my love?’ he asked.
‘What I would like doesn’t signify.’ Her expression turned unnaturally serious. ‘The surest way for me to lose you is to ask you to be something that you are not. I would never take such a risk.’
‘You will never be rid of me, no matter what you ask of me,’ he assured her.
‘You say that now but…Oh bother!’
Fat raindrops fell on their bare heads and Chance knew their momentary introspection had come to an end. They rode back to the house quickly, resigned to a soaking. Chance wondered what she had been about to say. Were there circumstances under which she would consider becoming his wife? Presumably if she fell pregnant then she would do so, if only to ensure the legitimacy of their child, but Chance would prefer not to force her hand in such a way.
Ace was obliged to endure another bath when they got back to the house but was rewarded by Sabine’s cook with a beef bone. Chance and Sabine spent the day reading, talking and inevitably returning to their bed to rest before the rigours of one of the prince’s parties, which were known to go on until dawn.
Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2) Page 4