Secrets of a Proper Lady

by Victoria Alexander

  Aunt Lavinia nodded. “As such things often are.”

  “But as time goes on and she continues to meet with him, she discovers he’s a very nice knight. Honest and kind. So while she knows she should tell him the truth, she can’t seem to be able to do so.”

  “I can see where that would be difficult,” Aunt Lavinia murmured.

  “There’s something of a complication.”

  “I like stories with complications.”

  “She’s more or less expected to marry…the duke. A rather unpleasant fellow. The knight is in his service.”

  “That is a complication.”

  “Worse yet, if she doesn’t marry the duke, her fam—her country will be ruined. Financially that is. She’s an orphan princess, she doesn’t have any family.” Good Lord, was this making any sense whatsoever? “It all has to do with exchange rates and national indebtedness and that sort of thing. The consequences for her country could be quite dire.”

  “As well they should be.” Aunt Lavinia nodded thoughtfully. “For a good story that is.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Oh, good, another twist.”

  “Even if the financial difficulties magically disappear.” Cordelia thought for a moment. “The discovery of a long-lost treasure or something of that sort. Yes, I like that. But even then, the knight is not the kind of man she’s expected to marry.”

  “Why ever not? Is he a villain?”

  “No, no.” Cordelia shook her head. “I’m fairly sure he’s the hero of the piece.”

  “That’s right, you did say he was very nice and honest. Handsome too, I would imagine.”

  “Quite.”

  “What would be the point of a hero who wasn’t kind, honorable, and handsome?” Aunt Lavinia scoffed. “Go on.”

  “Even disregarding the duke, she’s expected to marry a prince. The knight is really only a commoner.”

  “That is a problem.” Aunt Lavinia’s brow furrowed. “Does she love him?”

  “She doesn’t know. She’s never been in love.”

  “Well, you have to decide that of course.” Aunt Lavinia paused. “For the story.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  “Then what happens? How does it end?”

  Cordelia sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t written it yet. But I’m afraid the princess has no real choice.” She glanced at her aunt. “I thought perhaps you might have some ideas.”

  “Well, she can sacrifice her happiness for the well-being of her country. Even a princess can’t have everything she wants.”

  “Princesses do have great responsibilities,” Cordelia murmured, a heavy weight lodging in the pit of her stomach. “And my princess is very aware of her duty to her country.”

  “Still, while noble, it’s not a very happy ending, for the princess that is. Perhaps she could find the lost treasure?”

  “I’m afraid my princess is not that clever.”

  “That is a problem.” Aunt Lavinia thought for a moment. “What happens when the knight finds out she’s not a lady in waiting?”

  “I daresay, he won’t like it, he’s very loyal to the duke. Besides, he won’t be pleased to discover she’s deceived him.”

  “One way or the other, he will find out. They always find out.” Aunt Lavinia paused. “Perhaps it’s wise for the princess to tell him herself.”

  “Wise, yes, but the princess is afraid of what might happen if she tells him.” Cordelia sighed. “She has only begun to realize she might indeed have feelings for him she did not expect. She would hate to lose him, even if she realizes he can never truly be hers.”

  “Why don’t you have him find the treasure and have him discover as well that he’s a long-lost prince?” Aunt Lavinia smiled triumphantly. “He would forgive the princess for her deceit because he is the hero after all and heroes are prone to forgiveness. Besides, she only continued her deception because she cared for him. And they would live the rest of their days happily ruling her country.”

  “Yes, that would do.” Cordelia smiled weakly.

  “Or, perhaps your princess could discover the duke is not such a bad sort after all.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Well, if as you say, the princess has no choice, she must make the best of it then.”

  “Yes.” Cordelia raised her chin a notch. “I suppose she must.”

  “It’s only a story, my dear. You can do almost anything you want in a story.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Cordelia.” Her aunt studied her for a long moment. “You don’t have to marry this Mr. Sinclair. Your father has faced financial difficulties before and with or without this business arrangement will no doubt face them again. You’ve not asked for my advice, but if you don’t think you can be reasonably happy in this marriage, I would advise that you tell your father.”

  “No, Aunt Lavinia, I’ve spoken to Father. He needs this marriage and he feels I need it as well. He’s probably right, I do want to marry and this might well be my last chance for an acceptable match.” Cordelia adopted her brightest smile. “I have until the family returns from Brighton the week after next to make my decision. Who knows what might happen between now and then.”

  Her aunt smiled wryly. “A long-lost treasure could be found.”

  And a commoner could become a prince. Cordelia shook her head. “We can certainly hope.”

  Aunt Lavinia laid her hand over Cordelia’s. “It’s not easy being a princess, is it my dear?”

  Cordelia forced a laugh. “As you said, it’s just a story, Aunt Lavinia.”

  “I never thought otherwise.” Aunt Lavinia removed her hand and picked up her cup. “Although it does seem to me, if the princess is going to do what she has to do and sacrifice her own happiness for the good of her country, perhaps she should follow her heart for as long as possible and enjoy the company of the knight.” Aunt Lavinia’s gaze met Cordelia’s. “As long as that did not involve anything of an improper or scandalous or untoward nature. Meetings in the royal park, at coronation balls or other public places, that sort of thing. Even a princess needs a bit of freedom as well as fond memories. But we wouldn’t want our princess’s reputation to be ruined.”

  Cordelia nodded slowly. “Of course not.”

  “Now then, let’s talk about your book, shall we? Your father told me a publisher has expressed interest. How is it progressing? And Cordelia, do drink your tea.” Aunt Lavinia cast her a pleasant smile. “It will do you a world of good.”

  “Does it make you feel as if you’re back in Egypt?” Warren’s voice sounded behind her. But even before he’d said a word, she’d somehow known he was there.

  Odd how in the British Museum’s huge Egyptian gallery, filled with colossal sculptures and fragments of statuary as well as the vague presence of the kings and priests depicted here in cold granite, she’d sensed his very real presence before he had said a word. What had the man done to her?

  “No, I’m afraid not. Although I wish it did.” Cordelia heaved a resigned sigh. “I loved Egypt. More so perhaps than anywhere else I’ve visited. Although,” she glanced over her shoulder at Warren. He smiled down at her with his dark eyes and her heart skipped a beat. “Have you ever heard of Petra?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s in Arabia and is quite the most amazing place I’ve ever seen. The city is all tombs and palaces hewn from rose-colored rock walls. It fairly glows at certain times of the day, depending on where the sun is. It’s exceptionally difficult to get to but well worth it. One can’t help but believe in magic in a place like that.”

  “Do you believe in magic, Sarah?”

  Good Lord, he was calling her Sarah now in a most casual and personal manner. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. And why not? He had kissed her and asked to call on her. She certainly thought of him as Warren. And she did think of him, a great deal.

  “Magic, Warren, is nothing more than seeing only what one expects to see or
not seeing what one doesn’t expect to see. Misdirection as it were.” Even as she said the words she wanted to take them back. She sounded so prim and more like a governess than anything else. “Still, there are places in the world where magic does indeed seem not only possible but inevitable.”

  “I like that.” He laughed. “Inevitable magic.” He paused. “And what about magic between people?”

  “Between people?” She forced a lighthearted note to her voice. “Are you speaking of love?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” he said under his breath. He stared at her and she realized he was as unsure about whatever was happening between them as she was.

  “Do you like history, Warren?” she said abruptly, breaking the tension that now hung in the air.

  “Do I like the study of names of those who are long dead and dates of battles long past? Not especially. I’ve always found it quite dull. But this,” he waved at the Egyptian kings and queens surrounding them. “This is different. This is, I don’t know, alive if you will.”

  “I think that’s why I like to travel. In many parts of the world, life is as it has been for centuries. It is as though one is walking through history.”

  “You like history then?”

  “I do. Even before I had so much as stepped a foot out of England, I’ve always been fascinated by the past.” She glanced at him. “We have a rather impressive history in this country you know.”

  “I am well aware of that.” He chuckled. “It’s almost impossible not to be. London is an ancient city and in spite of the modern bustle of its streets today, one still has the sense of being surrounded by history. One can’t help but appreciate it.”

  “It’s a pity Mr. Sinclair doesn’t feel the same,” she said dryly. “His letters to Lady Cordelia indicate he has no appreciation whatsoever for history or heritage. And no particular respect for hers.”

  Warren paused for a long moment. “It’s a sham, you know.”

  Cordelia scoffed. “I doubt that.”

  “You should understand, about Mr. Sinclair, that he is, well, scared I think.”

  “Scared? Of what? Surely not of Lady Cordelia?”

  “Of the situation.” Warren shook his head. “Believe it or not, this is as awkward for him as it is for her.”

  “She’s the one with the most to lose. She’s faced with marriage to a man she doesn’t know as well as the prospect of leaving the land of her birth for life in a country she’s never seen.”

  “His position is no less difficult. Aside from everything else, he is in this spot not out of his choice but because his father has given his word. Regardless of his own feelings, he would not renege on his father’s promise.” Warren shrugged. “Beyond that, he feels much the same way she does. Apprehensive, to say the least, about marriage to a woman he doesn’t know. About taking her to a country that’s remarkably different from her own. And wondering if he can make her happy.”

  “Does he care about her happiness?”

  “Very much so,” Warren said staunchly. “He wonders as well if eventually affection might grow between them or if they will spend the rest of their lives resenting one another. It’s not a pleasant prospect and it is a cause for concern. He has no desire to be unhappy for the rest of his days or see her unhappy. However, as he is an honorable man, there’s nothing he can do about it, the marriage that is.” He paused. “The decision is in Lady Cordelia’s hands. She does have a choice.”

  “Even princesses can’t have everything they want,” she said under her breath.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “No.” She drew a deep breath. “She has no choice, Warren. The terms of the business agreement between her father and the elder Mr. Sinclair added to the fact that her family’s finances are at stake means she can’t refuse this marriage. How could she? It would be terribly,” she wrinkled her nose, “self-centered of her to think only of her own desires.”

  “What are her desires?”

  “She wants what any woman wants. She wishes to marry for love.”

  “Does she? I thought you told me love was of no consequence in this situation?”

  “It’s not, but as the inevitable meeting between the two of them grows closer, I believe she is beginning to realize love is of great importance after all.”

  He paused for a long moment. “If the stipulation for marriage was removed from their father’s arrangement—”

  “She would dance in the streets with sheer joy and utter relief,” Cordelia said without thinking. “Wouldn’t Mr. Sinclair be relieved as well?”

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I think he’s starting to, well, admire her.”

  “Admire her?” She raised a brow. “She gets no sense of admiration from his letters.”

  “Sometimes, he’s not as smart as he should be.”

  “Only sometimes?”

  “He’s been known to get into difficult situations that he is then hard-pressed to extricate himself from.”

  “Then they may well suit one another after all,” Cordelia muttered.

  “And what of you and I?” His gaze meshed with hers, his eyes intense and endless and once again she felt as if she were falling. And, as much as she knew it was foolish, this time she had no desire to save herself. “Do we suit one another?”

  “I really haven’t given it any thought,” she lied.

  “It seems to me we have a great deal in common.”

  “Do we?”

  He leaned closer, his voice was low. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  Her breath caught.

  “And what’s more, I think you’re falling in love with me as well.”

  “I think that assumption is rather…arrogant of you, Mr. Lewis.”

  He grinned. “Or accurate.”

  “And what if I am?” She raised her chin.

  “We should talk about it, don’t you think?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Although I don’t hear you deny it.”

  She should deny it but somehow the words wouldn’t come. “We really don’t know anything about each other.”

  “We know enough,” he said in the manner of a man who had already made up his mind.

  She ignored him. “I have no idea of your likes or your dislikes or anything of that sort.”

  “Very well.” He thought for a moment. “I like sweets, the occasional good cigar, a fine bottle of cognac. I like history when it surrounds me but not as much when I simply read about it.”

  She smiled. “I did know that.”

  “I like to travel but I’m ready to return home. I was born in a small town called St. Dennis and my family home is still there, I now reside in Baltimore and have for many years. I find I miss it. I like the theater and I’m particularly fond of Shakespeare. I can be prevailed upon to go to the opera but I’m unenthusiastic about it, although I might have to reconsider that. I like large families, mine is very small, and large dogs. I think small dogs are a waste of time.”

  She laughed.

  “I like the direction of my life. I like my vision of the future. I like the idea of trains, my trains, linked together to get people and goods quickly and efficiently and easily from one point to another. Even you must agree one of the more unpleasant aspects of visiting new places is the difficulty of travel.”

  “Yes, although that can be quite adventurous.”

  “If one is traveling for pleasure. But if one if traveling for purpose, it should be less of an adventure and more of a convenience, don’t you think?”

  She considered the comment then nodded. “I will concede your point.”

  “I like…” He gazed off into the far end of the gallery and his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I like the smell of the air right before snow, so crisp and clean you can almost taste it. And storms over the ocean, like the angry hand of God. I like…” His gaze met hers. “Green eyes the color of the sea just before that storm.” His gaze slid to he
r mouth. “Lips that look as if they aren’t sure whether to pout or invite.”

  She resisted the urge to bite her lips.

  “I like how the absurd hats that would look silly on anyone else don’t look the least bit silly on you. I like the way your hair.” He reached forward and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Seems determined to escape those hats. He chuckled. “One can scarcely blame them.”

  “It’s the latest fashion,” she murmured.

  “I like the way determination squares your shoulders and resolve lifts your chin and you get this stubborn look in your eye.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And I very much like the way you felt in my arms when I kissed you, as if you were meant to be there.”

  She stared in stunned silence.

  He straightened and grinned. “And what do you like, Miss Palmer?”

  “I like…I like…” She swallowed hard. This was absurd. It didn’t matter what she did or didn’t like. “Travel, of course. And history and, um…hats.” Dear Lord she could scarcely think straight. All she wanted was to throw herself into his arms this very minute right in front of the handful of tourists in the gallery and Osiris and Horus and whatever other Egyptian gods might be watching. But regardless of what she wanted, what she should do is leave. Turn right now and flee through the hallowed halls of the museum and all the glories of ancient Egypt itself, and not stop running until she was far, far away from the dark eyes of a pirate and the promises they held.

  Still, even a princess needed memories.

  “I like autumn and champagne and chocolates. I like…” She thought for a moment. “Not knowing what’s around the next corner in a city I’ve never been to before or around the next bend in a country I’ve never before visited. I like waking up in a new place and for just a fraction of a moment not being entirely sure where I am. Then realizing I’m in Athens or Rome or Vienna and it’s just the start of a glorious new day of adventure. I like having seen the sun rise over the sea and I like having seen the sun set over the sea.

  “I like being in places like this and understanding that I am insignificant in respect to those who came before me, and I like standing at the edge of an endless desert and realizing that I am insignificant in respect to the vastness of God’s creations.” She smiled slowly. “And I like storms over the ocean.”