Her Highness, My Wife

by Victoria Alexander

  Shock colored Dimitri’s face. “Your Highness, I cannot possibly—”

  “Of course you can. I shall make the journey back to Avalonia sometime soon to speak with my family, but for now I would much prefer to stay here.” She lifted her chin. “With my husband.”

  “Your husband? You married him?” Dimitri’s gaze shot to Matthew. “Him? But Your Highness, he… he… he flies!”

  Lord Stephen snorted. “Not anymore.”

  Tatiana sighed with exasperation. “Nonetheless, he is my husband and I will stay with him.”

  “No.” Matthew shook his head. “You won’t.”

  Tatiana stared at him. “Matthew.”

  “Come, now, Your Highness, the return of the jewels won’t be nearly as significant if Captain Petrov brings them back instead of you.” Matthew’s voice was light, as if he were discussing something of no more significance than the weather. “You should go with him. It is, as you have so often said, your duty to safeguard the Heavens.”

  She shook her head. “I found them. I have fulfilled the responsibilities of my title and I see no barrier now to giving it up.” She ignored the gasps of those behind her. “The only title I wish is that of Lady Matthew.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Matthew scoffed.

  A cold hand seemed to squeeze her heart.

  “It was great fun, this adventure of yours. I cannot tell you when I have had a more enjoyable time. I have to thank you for that and thank you for Paris as well. But it is past time to face the realities of life.” Matthew shrugged. “You’re a princess. I’m the youngest son of a marquess. Even in children’s stories that’s not a suitable combination.”

  She stared into his blue eyes, as cool and unconcerned as his tone. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying it was a lark, Princess. For both of us. Granted we went a bit too far, but”—he grinned—“we were carried away. Passion and all that. A grand passion, I might add.”

  “It was more than that.” An odd desperate note sounded in her voice.

  “Was it?” He raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Her voice rose.

  “Perhaps. For a moment. Or rather six days. Not even a full week. Oh, I admit I was upset when you left me in Paris. Pride probably more than anything else, but eventually I came to my senses and realized it was for the best.” He shook his head.

  “You said once that I married a companion to a princess, not a princess, and you were entirely right. I never would have married you if I had known who you are. And, in truth, if you were who I first believed you to be, well, by now I probably would have grown tired of you. I don’t think I’m well suited for marriage, and especially not marriage to a princess.”

  She grabbed his arm. “I will give up my title.”

  “For me? Don’t.” He studied her curiously. “How can you possibly do that and be happy? You have lived your entire life for your country and your family. You cannot turn your back on all that as easily as you once turned your back on me.”

  “Matthew, I—”

  “And I certainly have no intention of trailing after you like a well-trained puppy. I may not have done much with my life thus far, but it has been my life. I would not do well as the consort of a princess.” He shrugged off her hand. “Besides, you told me you would not put another man in that position. Why, I’d probably have a mistress myself in no time.”

  She sucked in a hard breath. “I do not believe you.”

  “Believe me, Princess.” His gaze bored into hers. “Get your annulment. You should have done it a year ago. Whatever we might have had once no longer exists. You have your life to lead and I have mine. It’s as simple as that.”

  She struggled to remain calm. “But you said you were happy that we were still married.”

  “Of course I said that I was happy we were still married. Would you really have shared my bed if I hadn’t?”

  She stared at him in disbelief. Anger and pain flashed through her. She didn’t know what to think. What to believe.

  He lowered his voice and smiled wickedly. “And you did share it exceedingly well.”

  Without a moment’s thought, she cracked her hand hard across his face. The sharp sound of the slap resounded in the room. Her hand stung with the blow.

  “I daresay, Your Highness”—he caught her hand and drew it to his lips—“you do that exceedingly well too.”

  She snatched her hand away. Tears burned the back of her throat, but she refused to let them fall. How could she have been so wrong? About him. About them. About everything.

  “Captain,” she said, still staring at the amused expression on Matthew’s face, “you are right. We should be off at once.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Dimitri murmured.

  She drew a steadying breath and turned to Natasha. “I cannot thank you enough for all you have done to keep the Heavens safe through the years.”

  “My dear cousin.” Natasha took her hand and met her gaze. “I have done nothing save keep my knowledge to myself. But perhaps I should have said or done something long ago.”

  “Not at all.” Tatiana forced a smile. “You did exactly what was expected of you. Regardless of the circumstances of your life, the blood of the House of Pruzinsky flows in your veins as it does in mine and with it comes obligations and duties. I shall not lose sight of that again.”

  “My dear child.” Natasha pulled her close, her voice for Tatiana’s ears alone. “You nave a great deal of courage and I suspect you will need it. Do not let your responsibilities to position blind you to the obligations owed to yourself. Even a princess has the right to happiness.”

  “But apparently for a princess, Cousin,” Tatiana said softly, “happiness is as difficult to grasp as the heavens above.” She pulled away and turned to the small group still gathered, avoiding any glance at Matthew. “Thank you all. I shall never forget your kindness.” She nodded at Dimitri. “Captain.”

  “Your Highness.” He stepped to her side and they started toward the door, Dimitri’s men following.

  She held her head high and spoke in a low voice. “Is everyone staring?”

  “Indeed they are, Your Highness,” he said softly.

  “Then we shall have to show them how insignificant that unpleasant incident was.” She wanted to cry, to weep, to throw herself in her friend’s arms and sob until she could no longer think or hurt or feel. But she was a princess and such things were not allowed.

  “And was it, Your Highness? Are you all right?”

  They approached the door and a butler opened it without hesitation. Princess Tatiana Marguerite Nadia Pruzinsky of the Kingdom of Greater Avalonia paused and looked back at the small group of Effingtons and Beaumonts and… Westons. She nodded, favored them with her most regal and blinding smile perfected by generations of princesses well versed in the art of keeping their feelings to themselves.

  “Dimitri,” she said quietly through the smile that reached no farther than her lips. “I shall never be all right again.”

  ———

  She was every inch a princess. And as fine a liar as ever. Her expression was every bit as false as her stories. Her smile, every bit as meaningless.

  And his heart broke at the sight of her.

  Tatiana turned toward the door and swept out of the room and out of his life. Forever.

  “That may well have been the stupidest display I’ve ever seen,” Stephen said at his side. Matt wondered when his brother had joined him in a silent gesture of brotherly support.

  “Not at all, Stephen.” Matt swallowed hard. “But it was the most difficult.”

  “That’s what I meant.” Stephen shook his head in disgust. “It’s obvious how much you love her.”

  “He’s right, my lord.” Natasha stepped closer and gazed up at him with a look of pity. “You really are something of a fool.”

  “A noble fool,” Lady Beaumont added, moving to her mother-in-law’s side. “But a fool nonetheless.”


  “Well, if we can see that”—the duchess joined the trio—“perhaps the princess will see it as well?”

  “I don’t think so.” Lady Helmsley shook her head and took her place beside Her Grace. “She was far too overset to see much of anything. It’s obvious he hurt her deeply.” She shot Matt a scathing look. “You were quite despicable.”

  “Pardon me for pointing it out, ladies.” Matt glared indignantly at the four women confronting him like an army of angry Amazons. “But this really is none of your concern.”

  “It is now, my lord.” The duchess wagged her finger at him. “You played out this drama in front of us. You cannot now complain about the reviews.”

  Lady Helmsley folded her arms over her chest. “And none of us especially liked the ending.”

  “I know I had to fight back tears.” Natasha sniffed. “As much as I wanted to smack him myself.”

  “It was horribly sad and quite nasty.” Lady Beaumont’s eyes narrowed. “And I think we should do something about it.”

  “No,” Matt said sharply. He glanced at the respective husbands and, in two cases, sons as well, of the ladies confronting him and knew from the identical expressions on the faces of the duke, the marquess and the viscount, and more from the way each and every one refused to meet his eyes, that he could expect no help from that quarter.

  He drew a deep breath. “Ladies, I well appreciate your concern, but I cannot allow you to interfere.” He met Natasha’s gaze. “Tatiana was willing to give up her title because she was afraid of what being nothing more than a consort to a princess might do to me. She said she would not put a man she loved in that position.”

  His gaze shifted to Lady Beaumont. “She has a great sense of the responsibility of her position, to her country and to her family. It’s what spurred her to search for the Heavens. It’s part of her very nature.”

  He turned to the duchess. “You understand such things, Your Grace. Can such a woman truly abandon the duties she was born to, has lived her entire life for, without losing her soul in the process?”

  Matt’s gaze locked with Lady Helmsley’s. “You told us you write stories, my lady. Can you write an ending for this that will satisfy us all? I cannot.

  “In the name of love, she would give up all she is for me.” He struggled to find the right words. “If I love her in return, how can I allow her to do so?”

  For a long time no one said a word. As one, the ladies stared at him, a tear in more than one eye, a tremble on more than one lip. It would have been quite satisfying if he hadn’t meant every word he said and didn’t feel so wretched about it.

  “You have apparently done the impossible, Lord Matthew,” the duke said over the head of his wife. “You have succeeded in silencing a group of ladies I know full well to be stubborn and opinionated. And rarely silent. You are to be congratulated.”

  Matt smiled wryly. “Thank you, Your Grace. Ladies.” He nodded at the women still lined up before him, the once-formidable group now firmly on his side. “It was an honor to have”—he paused—“incurred your wrath.”

  He glanced at his brother. Stephen nodded. The brothers made their farewells and a moment later headed toward the door.

  “Surely there is something…” Lady Beaumont murmured behind them.

  “Let it be, Jocelyn,” Natasha said softly. “He is right and it may well destroy him.”

  “I must say, little brother, I am impressed,” Stephen said in a low voice. “Those ladies would have done anything for you in the end.”

  Matt chuckled. “Women are always moved by sentiment. It is in their nature.”

  A footman let them out the door. They stood on the front steps for a moment. Matt pulled in a few deep, refreshing breaths of cool evening air. Not that it lessened the catch in his throat or the weight in the pit of his stomach or eased the numbness of his heart.

  “Was she right, Matt?”

  “Was who right about what?” An overwhelming weariness washed through him. He could not believe he had truly sent her away. This time she would not be back. He had made certain of it. And he suspected it would take a lot longer than fifteen months, three weeks and four days to recover. It would take the rest of his life.

  “The one who said this might well destroy you?”

  “That’s a question for another night, Stephen.” Matt forced a grin. “Right now, we’d best do something about this arm of mine. It throbs like the dickens. After that, I propose we make it our mission to sample every decent and every not-so-decent tavern in London.”

  Stephen eyed him cautiously. “To ease the pain?”

  “In my arm, Stephen. Only in my arm.”

  “Of course,” his brother muttered in obvious disbelief.

  It was pointless to put off Stephen’s question. Matt already knew the answer.

  Natasha was wrong when she said losing Tatiana might well destroy him.

  It already had.

  … and indeed, Ephraim, as I have related the details of the princess’s adventure, the significance is not in the miles we traveled, or even the importance of finding of what was lost.

  If I had your gift of words or the skills of Byron or Keats, I would call it a journey of the heart, but I am a man whose mind is more attuned to the intricacies of mechanics or the nature of seafaring or, one hopes, the solidity of business, and such expressions seem to me overly sentimental and silly.

  But it is, in truth, the emotion of it all that has caught me in its grip. Until her, love had always seemed an ethereal sort of thing, elusive and ill-defined. Not something you could hold and feel. Now I know it does indeed have substance, for it lies heavy at the bottom of my heart and the pit of my stomach and in the weight of my step.

  It was that vile emotion that made me do what I thought was best. How could I allow her to sacrifice so very much? Her family and her country? Love would not permit it.

  So she is gone.

  And I am left to wonder if again I have made a mistake. I did not follow her when I should have, and now I know I cannot.

  We have come full circle, she and I.

  She is once again my wife, and I am once again alone.

  Chapter 22

  SIX WEEKS LATER…

  Ephraim closed the journal slowly and tossed it on his desk. He stared at the book for a long moment, then raised his gaze to Matt’s.

  “You’re a wicked man, Matthew Weston.”

  “Am I?” Matt raised a brow. “Why is that?”

  “You let me read all this”—he waved at the journal—“but I know full well you will never allow me to publish it.” He heaved a sigh of frustration. “You are the worst sort of tease, Matt.”

  Matt chuckled. “My apologies.”

  “Why did you let me read it at all?”

  “Well, I did write it for you,” Matt said lightly. He paused for a moment, then met Ephraim’s gaze. “You are my closest friend and the only one who knows everything about Tatiana and myself. I seem to need someone to talk with about all this.”

  “Very well,” Ephraim said gruffly. “But it is only because we are friends that I will overlook your taunting me with something my readers would salivate over and make me a wealthy man in the process.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands. “Although, while it would certainly boost circulation, I daresay no one would like the ending.”

  “The ending does reek.”

  “So…” Ephraim drew the word out slowly. “What do you plan on doing about it?”

  “Well, I thought I’d rewrite it. Or add an epilogue.” Matt settled back in his chair and wished he had thought to bring cigars. “It’s been more than six weeks since she left. I spent the first two weeks drinking at a steady rate here in London.”

  “Here?” Ephraim huffed with annoyance. “I wasn’t even aware you were back.”

  “Apologies, old man. My brother did the honors with me this time. At any rate, two weeks,” he said pointedly. “That’s about how long it wo
uld take her to travel from here to Avalonia. I spent the next two weeks at Weston Manor, still drinking, but not nearly as much, and feeling extremely sorry for myself. And thinking about”—he paused—“my wife every minute of every day. Wondering how she was faring. If she’d delivered the Heavens to the great acclaim of her family and people. If indeed she was still my wife at all or if she’d had her father nullify our marriage.

  “And I’ve spent the last two weeks coming to the realization that I cannot live my life without her.”

  Ephraim studied him for a long moment. “And?”

  “And.” Matt spread his hands in a wide gesture of inevitability. “I’m going to Avalonia. I’m going to be the consort of a princess, if that is what’s necessary to have the woman I love in my life.”

  “Then you were wrong to send her away?”

  “No.” Matt got to his feet and paced before the desk, trying to pull his thoughts into words. “That was the best thing I have ever done. I couldn’t ask her to sacrifice her life when I was unwilling to sacrifice mine.”

  “And now you’re willing to sacrifice yours?”

  “Yes, actually, I am.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I have the means now to do whatever I wish. I do not intend to be merely the husband of a princess. Surely I can find something useful in government or commerce.” He grinned. “I could become the minister of the fleet.”

  Ephraim’s brow furrowed. “I believe Avalonia is landlocked. It has no fleet.”

  “Then I’ll build a fleet. Of balloons, perhaps. Or I’ll find a place to invent odd, useless devices like systems to heat air with oil and brandy. Or I’ll learn all I can about the distilling of spirits and dedicate the rest of my life to the improvement of Avalonian brandy. God knows it could use improving.”

  “And it won’t bother you? Being nothing more than a husband?”

  “Certainly it will bother me, but being without her bothers me more. Frankly, Ephraim, I don’t know that I can do this. She told me once that she thought it would take a man of extraordinary strength to survive being a spouse to royalty. She thought I could manage it. But”—he met the other man’s gaze—“she never asked me.”