To Wed a Wicked Prince

by Jane Feather

  With a nod of satisfaction she headed downstairs to get Ellie’s opinion. “So, will I do?” she asked as she whisked into the parlor.

  Aurelia turned from the secretaire, laying down her pen. “Oh, yes,” she said at once. “Very soignée, Liv. Very elegant.”

  “Whom are you writing to?”

  “Nell. I was wondering whether she and Harry had decided to come back to London before Christmas. She hadn’t made up her mind when I left Ringwood the other day.”

  “I can’t wait to see her…well, all of them.” Livia perched on the arm of the sofa, arranging her skirts around her. “It seems ages since they eloped and her letters have been few and far between.”

  “That’s the fault of the mail service,” Aurelia pointed out. “And if you’d seen Harry’s house way up in the Highlands you’d see the difficulties. Isolated is certainly the word for it.”

  “I suppose so,” Livia agreed. “And it’s what Harry wanted. Long enough out of the social circuit for the old scandal about his wife’s death to die in the gossip mill. His instincts were right. It was on everyone’s tongue for a few weeks after he married Nell, but no one ever mentions it now. I doubt it’ll rear its head once they’re back in town.

  “But still,” she added reflectively, “six months is a long time…the children will have grown out of recognition. Thank goodness Stevie didn’t suffer any lasting effects from the kidnapping.”

  “No, he doesn’t really seem to remember much about it at all,” Aurelia said. “It was over so quickly, of course, and I think Nigel did try to reassure him throughout the ordeal that it was all going to be all right in the end.”

  Livia looked a little skeptical. “How is Cousin Nigel these days?”

  “A reformed character.” Aurelia shook her head. “I don’t understand what could have possessed him to gamble so high and get into so much trouble. He’s not a fool.”

  “No, but he’s young,” Livia said. “And he was running with such a wild, fast set, all much plumper in the pocket than he is. It’s hard to acknowledge that you can’t keep up.”

  “True enough,” her friend agreed. “Anyway, Nigel’s back at Oxford, apparently concentrating so intently on his studies that his tutors are now worried he’ll go into a decline. Isn’t that absurd?”

  Livia laughed and then turned at the sound of the door knocker. “Ah, that will be my escort to the park.” She jumped up. “Everything in order?”

  Aurelia looked her over and nodded. “Absolutely perfect. You look enchanting.”

  “Well, thank you kindly, ma’am.” Livia dropped a mock curtsy and went to the door as the knocker sounded again. “I’d better open the door.”

  She hurried across the hall, waving away Morecombe, who shuffled slowly from the kitchen. “It’s all right, Morecombe, I’ll get it.” She pulled open the front door. “Good afternoon, Prince Prokov.”

  “Good afternoon, Livia…and please would you drop this prince nonsense,” he said, sweeping his hat in a flourishing bow. “It grows irksome.” He straightened and continued before she could summon the words to respond to this. “Ah, you’re not dressed for riding. Enchanting though you look.”

  “You said nothing about riding,” Livia protested, taking in his immaculate buckskin riding britches, pristine white stock, and gleaming boots. “I thought we were going to walk. Besides, I don’t have a horse. I didn’t send to the livery stables.”

  “What they provide can’t truly be called a horse,” he said dismissively. “I have brought you a horse. See for yourself.” He gestured to the street behind him.

  Livia peered over his shoulder and her eyes widened. A groom stood holding the reins of the magnificent Cossack black, but also those of a dainty silver mare, whose elegant lines bespoke the Thoroughbred. “Oh, what a beautiful animal,” she breathed. “A perfect match for the black. Did you bring her from Russia too?”

  “No, I bought her yesterday from Tattersalls,” he said nonchalantly. “Come down and make her acquaintance.”

  Livia needed no urging. The mare raised her head, whinnied softly, and gave a well-bred shiver when Livia stroked the silky length of her neck. “Oh, you beauty,” Livia said, passing her hand over the velvety nose as the animal nuzzled her palm.

  “Yes, I’m pleased with her,” Alex said a touch complacently. “How long will it take you to change?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Livia said promptly.

  “I’ll wait here.” He watched her run back into the house with a most unladylike haste and smiled to himself, resigned to a long wait. In his experience no lady could change her dress in less than half an hour.

  Livia, however, was not cut from the usual cloth. She reemerged in just under fifteen minutes, drawing on her gloves as she ran down the steps to the street. “There, I wasn’t too long, was I?”

  “Indeed not,” he agreed. “I’m astonished at your speed.” He ran an appreciative eye over her figure, clad in a form-fitting dark green riding habit, the jacket adorned with epaulettes and hooked buttons in the manner of a hussar’s uniform. Her high-crowned hat sported a debonair curling plume. “Very nice,” he murmured. “Very nice indeed.”

  Livia ignored the comment as she had tried to ignore the scrutiny, but it pleased her nevertheless. There was something very gratifying about such open approval.

  Alex took the reins of the silver from the groom and gave them to Livia, then bent with cupped palm to give her a leg up into the saddle.

  She went up easily and settled into the saddle, noticing the fine grain and supple feel of the leather. Fine tack for a fine animal, she reflected, but it didn’t surprise her that Alexander Prokov should own only the best. There was something so fastidious about him, it was impossible to imagine him coming into contact with, let alone owning, anything rough or inferior.

  “Comfortable?” He ran practiced hands over the girths and stirrup leathers, checking the security and fit of the one and the length of the other.

  “Very, thank you.” Livia smiled down at him, unable to disguise her delight in her mount or her eagerness to try the mare’s paces.

  Alex nodded and swung onto his own horse. They rode out of the square, the groom following at a respectful distance on his own mount, a horse that Livia had already noted was also of a higher caliber than the customary mounts allotted to servants.

  “You’re setting up your stables, then?” she inquired as they turned onto Oxford Street. She checked the mare, who pranced a little at the clatter of iron-wheeled carriages and the bustle of pedestrians and street vendors hawking their wares.

  “To a certain extent,” he agreed, watching covertly to see how she handled the horse, who he thought was probably more highly strung than Livia was accustomed to handling, but he saw quickly that his vigilance was unnecessary; her hands were light but firm on the reins, her voice soft in reassurance, and the mare soon quietened. “I have the black, and two pairs of carriage horses.”

  “And now this beauty,” she said, leaning to pat the mare’s neck.

  “Ah, no, she belongs to you,” he said.

  Livia sat up abruptly and the suddenly startled mare plunged forward. It took Livia a moment to soothe her before she could say anything in response to such an extraordinary statement. When she was able, she stared at her companion. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “There’s nothing ridiculous about it,” Alex stated. “I bought the horse for you. She’s a perfect ride for you. If you don’t have your own stables, then I will keep her in mine, and whenever you wish to ride, you will send a message and my groom will bring her to you. It’s a matter of utter simplicity.”

  Livia continued to stare at him. “I think you’ve run quite mad,” she said. “I wouldn’t dream of accepting such a gift. Even if it weren’t utterly improper I couldn’t possibly accept such an overwhelming present…oh, it’s impossible even to express how insulted I feel.”

  “Insulted?” Alex looked genuinely astounded. “What could be insulting about such
a gift? The horse is beautiful, you said so yourself. I thought only to give you pleasure, and it pleases me to see you riding a mount worthy of you.”

  “How can you not understand?” she said, realizing that he really didn’t understand the impossibility of what he was proposing. “I don’t even know you. We’ve met twice…well, three times now. How do you think it would look?”

  “Does it matter how it looks?”

  “Now you’re being disingenuous,” she accused with exasperation. “I have to live in this society. You may play by your own rules, Prince Prokov, but I can’t. You may think nothing of such an outrageous proposal, but I assure you everyone else will draw the kind of conclusions that I do not want hanging around my neck. I think it would be best if I returned to Cavendish Square.”

  She drew rein and attempted to turn the horse back the way they had come. Unfortunately a hackney cab was coming up behind them at a fair clip and the mare, suddenly faced with the cab’s horses, shied and threw up her head with an anxious whinny.

  Alex leaned over and put a steadying hand on the bridle, drawing the silver mare to one side as the cab bowled past, the cabbie cursing them with colorful vigor.

  “Unwise,” Alex said calmly. “Never pull up a horse suddenly in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare.”

  “I know that,” Livia stated through clenched teeth. “Take your hand off my bridle.”

  He didn’t do so immediately. “Let’s go on to the park, it’ll be much safer to continue this discussion out of the traffic.”

  It made sense even to a furious Livia. She couldn’t simply ride home alone on his horse, and neither could they argue in the middle of Oxford Street. She flicked at her reins in an impatient gesture of acceptance and he removed his hand at once, urging his horse forward.

  They rode in silence into Hyde Park and turned their horses onto the tan. It was immediately clear to Livia that they couldn’t possibly continue to quarrel here. London’s Upper Ten Thousand was out in force on a lovely late September afternoon, carriages bowling by on the broad pavement beside the tan, which was itself busy with riders, pausing to greet friends and acquaintances. Speed was impossible, and it was necessary to acknowledge the waves and greetings that came their way, and throughout she was acutely conscious of the speculative eyes on her horse.

  “We can’t talk here,” she said softly after they’d been riding in silence for a few minutes. “I’m willing to ride once around the park and then I would like you to escort me back to Cavendish Square and we can put this ridiculous episode behind us.”

  “I fail to see why a gift should come under the category of a ridiculous episode,” Alex protested, his voice as soft as hers, his smile unwavering. “Your definition of insult, my dear girl, is vastly different from mine.”

  “Be that as it may…oh…” She broke off as a man came riding down the tan towards them. She waved a hand in greeting. “Nick, how are you? I haven’t seen you in an age.”

  “I’ve been out of town, dear lady,” Sir Nicholas Petersham said, drawing rein. He raised his eyebrows as he took in her mount. “What a lovely creature, Liv,” he observed appreciatively. “Has the livery stable improved its stock, or are you setting up your own stable?”

  “Neither,” Livia said swiftly. Nick was an old friend from their earliest days in London and the last thing she wanted was for him to have the wrong idea. “He doesn’t belong to me. Prince Prokov has loaned him to me for the afternoon. Are you acquainted with the prince?” She gestured to Alex at her side.

  “We met at Brooke’s the other night, I believe,” Nick said in his easy way. “How d’ye do, Prokov?”

  “Well enough, thank you, Sir Nicholas,” Alex returned with a nodding bow. “We’re enjoying the ride.”

  “Ah, yes…quite.” Nick frowned a little. He had the feeling that his presence was unwelcome, at least to Livia’s companion. He glanced at Livia, then back at the prince. “Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy it then. Must be getting on myself. Any news of Harry and Nell, Liv? Harry’s last rather brief communication said they were getting ready to return to London.”

  “They’re in Hampshire at the moment, paying a peace-making visit to the earl,” she said. “We’re not sure when they’ll be back in town.” Livia wondered whether to ask Nick to ride with them, and then decided against it. There was something about Prince Prokov’s demeanor that seemed to indicate he would not like company, and for some reason she found that something powerfully persuasive.

  It was all part and parcel of the man’s ability to plough through any obstacle or objection, she reflected with an annoyance that she realized was directed as much at her own inability to resist as at Alex himself. “Call in Cavendish Square, will you, Nick?”

  “Of course, ma’am. Tomorrow, if I may?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  He raised a hand in farewell, nodded at Alex, and rode off down the tan, frowning. Something seemed not quite right to him. Livia was strung as tight as a bowstring.

  “A good friend of yours, I gather,” Alex commented as they resumed their ride.

  “Yes,” Livia said shortly.

  “And do you have many good male friends?” he inquired in a neutral tone.

  “What business is that of yours?” Livia bristled.

  He turned his head towards her and smiled. “I was wondering if I have many rivals.”

  “Rivals for what?” she demanded, wondering why she was perversely amused by his effrontery.

  “For the attention of the most fascinating and attractive woman in London,” he returned promptly.

  “Fustian,” she stated. “I have no patience with these empty and extravagant compliments, Prince Prokov. Any more than I care for your equally extravagant gestures.”

  “Ah, it must be my Russian blood,” he lamented with a heavy sigh. “We are not a race known for our moderation. It would seem, alas, that such cultural differences are harder to bridge than I imagined.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it,” she said roundly. “I don’t believe your Russian blood or your so-called Slav temperament have anything whatsoever to do with your behavior. You’re playing a game, and for some reason I seem to be the object of that game. But permit me to tell you that your present tactics will not achieve whatever it is you wish to achieve.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment or two as they continued to ride. “Then I suppose I had better change them,” he said finally. “Would you tell me what tactics would work? I learn quickly, you know.”

  Livia frowned at him, puzzlement and a hint of unease in her clear gray eyes. She was suddenly certain that this was no game. “Why are you pursuing me so purposefully, Alex?”

  “I don’t seem to be able to help it,” he responded. “From the first moment I saw you, I needed…wanted…” He shrugged with a disarming smile. “Couldn’t you simply be flattered and accept the compliment?”

  It sounded innocent enough, and she was too honest to deny the strange frisson she got from his attention. And far too honest to deny that it both pleased and flattered her. “Perhaps I can,” she said with an attempt at nonchalance. “But I’ll accept no more presents…not so much as a bunch of flowers.”

  “That’s a pity. I do so like to give presents.”

  “Oh, now you’re making me sound ungracious and mean-spirited,” she protested. “Surely you can see the difference between a bunch of flowers and an entire garden, or between a silk scarf and a Thoroughbred horse?”

  “Not really. A suitable present is one that suits the recipient and pleases the giver. However, will you at least accept the loan of the mare whenever you wish to ride her?”

  His eyes held hers, and there was an unmistakable appeal in their depths that she found irresistible. At this moment he didn’t seem arrogant or presumptuous, merely charming and a little vulnerable. If the man liked to give, what right had she to deny him? Firmly she put away the little voice that told her she was being disingenuous.

 
“Yes,” she said. “I would be happy to accept the loan, Alex, and I thank you for it.” She leaned forward and stroked the mare’s neck. “She is a delight to ride, but I’d love to try her paces somewhere less formal and rigid than Hyde Park.”

  “Then let us go to Richmond,” he said promptly. “The rides there are broad and long and you could give her her head.” He urged his black forward as he spoke and the horse broke into a trot.

  “Not now,” Livia exclaimed, realizing that he had every intention of riding off into the sunset in the direction of Richmond Park without a second thought. “It’s almost evening.”

  “Tomorrow morning, then. I’ll bring her around at ten o’clock and we will have all day. We shall take a picnic.” He nodded decisively.

  Livia looked at him in some exasperation. “You’re doing it again, Alex.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Assuming that I have nothing better to do than to fall in with your plans. You heard Sir Nicholas tell me that he would call upon me tomorrow.”

  “Oh, but that’s of little importance,” he declared with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If you’re not in, he’ll leave his card and call another time. Besides, you could write him a note or ask your friend to receive him and explain.”

  “Aurelia might have other plans too,” Livia pointed out aridly.

  “Then write him a note or leave one with your butler. I predict a beautiful sunny day tomorrow and we should take advantage of it. One can never be certain of the weather at this time of year,” he observed gravely.

  “You’re incorrigible,” Livia said.

  “One of my finer qualities,” he agreed with a laugh. “Now, what will you name the mare?”

  “She’s not mine to name,” Livia stated.

  “I have a poor imagination and I’d probably call her something ordinary like Silver, so you’d do both me and the horse a favor by taking on the task. The naming of a horse is a most important matter.”

  He was a totally overpowering force, Livia reflected. “I won’t argue with that,” she said, yielding because the struggle seemed fairly pointless. “But I’ll need some time to think about it.”