“When will you be returning to Town?” she could not help but ask. Maybe it would be soon, and they might further pursue their acquaintance.
“Never.”
“Oh.” She straightened and met his gaze. “I am very sorry to hear that, Count Nikolai.”
Sorrow crept in under her ribs. Why did this man, who seemed to enjoy her company without the knowledge of her name and reputation, have to leave London, never to return? The knowledge was a stone in her chest.
It wasn’t fair.
“Life seldom is,” he said, and she realized she’d spoken the words aloud.
“Well,” she said, tying the laces of her slippers. She ducked her head so that he wouldn’t see the foolish brightness of tears lurking in her eyes. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.”
“It was.” He held out a stiff arm to help her rise and escort her from the parlor. “I won’t forget you, Mademoiselle Red. Or this night.”
“Neither will I.”
Already the memory of him and their kiss lodged, bittersweet, against her heart. She feared it would haunt her for years.
5
Damnation, he was an idiot. Sebastian escorted Miss Eliana Banning back to the ballroom, made her a low bow, and then left her there. He could feel her gaze burning his back, and he ruthlessly smothered the impulse to return and take her into his arms, to spend the rest of the night dancing with her, making her smile. Talking with her, which had revealed a deeper and more curious mind than he’d ever guessed.
What had he been thinking, kissing her in the garden? She’d nearly recognized him, and only the thick snowflakes had saved him from embarrassing discovery.
He clenched his fists and stalked down the hall to retrieve his coat and hat. The experiment of the masquerade was over, and it had cost him more than he wanted to admit to let his true self out for the evening.
“Good evening, my lord,” the butler said, opening the door for him. A scatter of snow whirled into the entryway. “Would you like me to send for your carriage?”
“No need.” He gave the man a nod, and stepped out into the snowy night. Only when he was well away from the house did he remove his wolf mask and replace it with his top hat and muffler.
In fact, he did not have a carriage waiting. The only one at his disposal was decorated with the royal Sayn-Wittgenstein coat of arms, so instead he’d paid for a hansom cab to bring him to the ball.
He could hail another one, but it was satisfying to be out in the snow. His greatcoat kept him warm, and his boots crunched through the thin coating of snow on the ground.
The gaslights were fuzzy blobs lining the street, and the sky held a luminous glow. He squinted up into the snowfall, which seemed endless, and a sudden wave of homesickness washed over him.
Not a yearning for the palace in Berleburg, though, but for his childhood, when life was uncomplicated and the winter holidays were a time of sheer delight. Before he’d been sent away to boarding school, and learned that showing joy—or any emotion—was a weakness worthy of pummeling.
Tonight, he’d let his guard down. He hadn’t expected to, yet wearing a mask and shedding his title had allowed that boy inside him to peek out. To smile a little, and converse openly, and dance.
And kiss Eliana Banning.
If only he’d realized earlier that she was more than the empty-headed beauty she appeared, he would’ve attempted to make her acquaintance. But after the unfortunate mess with Lady Peony, it was far too late. Her opinion of Prince Sebastian was set, and if she learned how he’d deceived her tonight, she’d despise him even more.
He let out a frosty breath, a plume of frustration into the snowy night.
So, he’d had one night of stepping outside the shackles of princedom. It had been an enchanted fairy tale—one where the wolf sheltered in the warmth of Red Riding Hood’s smile, and then let her go and went back to living wild and lonely in the forest.
The muffled clop of hooves alerted him, and the dark shape of a cab emerged out of the snow. Sebastian hailed it and climbed inside. No use tromping about in the snow any longer. The fairy tale was over.
Back in his rooms, Reece took his coat and hat, and shook his head over the condition of the mask.
“The damp is making the glued seams come open. What were you doing, your highness? Wearing the thing out in the snow?”
“Yes.” Sebastian did not explain further. “Fix it up as best you can. And bring me a brandy. I’ll be in my study.”
He could tell that his valet wanted to hear more about his adventures at the Midwinter Masque, but Sebastian did not want to talk.
“Stop brooding,” his sister used to say. “Really, Sebbie, you are such a lump of coal.”
Then she’d tease him out of his mood, calling him all kinds of ridiculous names until he couldn’t help but laugh.
But Mother had taken Margret and moved far away. And although he’d now been in London for over a year and saw both of them once a week at dinner, he’d never been able to reclaim that closeness. His sister mostly stayed quiet, while his mother let him know the constant, small ways in which he disappointed her.
Reece brought his brandy, and Sebastian took a drink, staring into the fire.
“She must be quite the woman,” his valet said.
Sebastian glanced up. “What makes you think my mood has anything to do with a lady?”
“I know the look, your highness.” Reece gave him a wry smile. “I’ve worn it myself a time or two. The question is, what are you going to do about her?”
Nothing, was his first impulse.
And yet, he’d give much to see Eliana Banning again. She made him feel simultaneously at ease and on fire with desire to know her better—body, mind, and soul. No other woman had ever elicited such a reaction from him. It had confused him into fleeing the ball—and confused him still—but perhaps he might have another chance.
Brandy burning in his throat, emotion like coals in his heart, Sebastian swallowed. “How long will this dye stay in my hair?”
His valet’s smile deepened. “The color will hold another day or two before it begins to noticeably fade.”
“Well then. I believe Prince Sebastian is going to remain ill for another day at least. See to canceling my appointments.”
He wasn’t certain what he was going to do, or how another day would matter in the end. All he knew was that if he let the sweet fire named Eliana Banning slip out of his life, he would regret it forever.
6
The next morning, Eliana blinked at the light filling her bedroom. She rose and went to her window seat, pushing the curtains wide.
Brightness covered the world. The snow had stopped, leaving a thick layer of white over the streets and shrubbery. Sunlight sparked off the frost crystals scattered on the snow, like diamonds stitched over the gauzy skirt of a ball gown. The sky was a bright blue—almost the color of Count Nikolai’s eyes.
She leaned forward and sighed, her breath misting the glass. Must everything remind her of him? The more she tried not to think about the man, the more she could not put him from her mind.
As the snow sparkled outside her window, she considered what she knew of Count Nikolai.
He claimed to be from Kiev, though in retrospect she realized he’d never told her anything about his home. He had long-fingered, strong hands, and a certain way of carrying himself—an almost regal bearing. A wary, melancholy tone in his deep voice. Blue, blue eyes, and black hair. Tall enough that she had to tip her face up to kiss him. Sensual lips, and an embrace that simultaneously made her feel safe and dangerously alive.
Oh dear. This would never do. She could not spend the rest of the holidays pining away for a gentleman she’d met only once—and never really known at all.
“Good morning, Miss Eliana.” Hetty bustled in, carrying a tray. “Heavens, back in bed with you! Your toes must be freezing. Here’s your morning chocolate.”
“It’s not that cold in here,” Eliana s
aid. “The maid was in earlier to stir up the fire.”
Still, she obediently climbed back between the sheets. Really, what could be better than a cup of hot chocolate in bed on a snow-filled morning?
Seeing Count Nikolai again, her traitorous mind whispered.
“I hope you enjoyed the masque last night,” Hetty said. “I fear I was perhaps not as vigilant a chaperone as I ought to have been. I confess I lost sight of you for a time.”
“I danced and tried the mulled wine and went into the garden with a few others to watch the snow fall,” Eliana said.
“That wine!” Hetty made a face. “Really, Lady Entwhistle’s cook needs to find a better recipe. Who did you go out into the garden with?”
Eliana took a sip of her chocolate to postpone answering. Hetty was too perceptive, despite her claims of being an unmindful companion.
“A group of young ladies,” Eliana said. “And a gentleman named Count Nikolai.”
Hetty’s brows went up. “I don’t believe I’ve met the man.”
“Nor will you. He’s leaving London today.” No doubt he was already gone.
“Don’t look so downcast, my dear. Perhaps he’ll return soon. Now, what gown would you like today? The green wool?”
The next half-hour was spent in dressing and arranging her hair, and when Eliana went down to breakfast she felt somewhat restored.
The scent of freshly baked dough and cinnamon filled the breakfast room, along with sunshine streaming through the windows. The warmth of the scene—her mother and father sitting at the table, cups of tea at hand, their hound Beatrice lying near the hearth—helped ease the tightness around Eliana’s heart.
“What a fine day,” her mother, Lady Blake, said. “Cook was inspired to make sweet rolls.”
“A pity it doesn’t snow more often,” Lord Blake said, patting his stomach.
“Perhaps that’s a good thing.” Lady Blake gave her husband a look. He was overly fond of Cook’s baking.
“A letter came for you early, my dear.” Her father nodded to her place, where a cream-colored envelope sat beside her breakfast plate.
Miss Eliana Banning was written in bold handwriting, followed by their address.
“I don’t recognize the hand,” Lady Blake said.
“Neither do I.” Eliana picked up the envelope.
Could it be from Count Nikolai? Her pulse sped at the thought.
She slit the paper open and drew out the short letter.
Mademoiselle Red, it began, and her heart pounded so loudly that Eliana was certain her parents would hear.
I admit I could not put you from my thoughts last night, and prevailed upon Lady Entwhistle to reveal who the lady in the red cloak was, along with your address.
I am writing to say that I am staying in London another day, in the hopes that we might meet again. Might I take you for a sleigh ride in Hyde Park this afternoon?
Regardless of your answer, I will call upon you at 1pm. I cannot depart town without laying eyes upon you once more, even if it is simply to have you send me on my way.
Yours most respectfully,
Count Bastian Nikolai
Eliana felt as though she’d swallowed a shard of sunlight—hot and bright and sharp. She re-folded the paper, her fingers trembling slightly.
“What is it, my dear?” her mother asked. “Is everything well?”
“Yes. I’ve received an invitation to go sleigh riding this afternoon.”
“From whom?” Her father’s voice held an edge.
“Count Nikolai of Kiev.” Eliana cleared her throat. “I was introduced to him last night, at the ball. He seemed to be a respectable gentleman.”
More or less. Rather less, if one counted the kiss in the garden.
Her mother’s eyes widened slightly, as if she suspected Eliana was not being entirely truthful. “Do you want to go?”
“Oh, yes.” Eliana suspected she’d spoken too quickly. “That is, it’s a lovely day to go out, and the count is pleasant company. I believe. From what little I saw of him.”
Blast it, she could feel her cheeks heating. She busied herself with pulling her sweet roll apart, though she did not think her parents were deceived.
Her mother let out a little cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “If you say so.”
“The gentleman in question will introduce himself to me immediately upon his arrival,” Lord Blake said. “And Hetty will go out with you, of course.”
“Of course,” Eliana said, relieved her father wasn’t making a bigger fuss about an unknown gentleman coming to call upon his daughter. Perhaps her mother was gently kicking him beneath the table. “I’m sure Hetty will enjoy the sleigh ride as well.”
“From Kiev, you say?” Lord Blake let out a harrumph. “I fear the Russians are not the most trustworthy of allies. They’re in thick with the Ottomans.”
“I agree that the situation in the Bosporus is likely to turn unstable,” Lady Blake responded, “but perhaps we might refrain from political discussion at the breakfast table.”
“Don’t mind me,” Eliana said, and took a last bite of her sweet roll. “I need to make ready for Count Nikolai’s visit.”
It wouldn’t take her three hours to prepare, of course, but she needed to escape before her parents thought up any more awkward questions that she could not answer.
7
“You’re taking rather a chance, your highness,” Reece said as he helped Sebastian into his greatcoat. “What if someone recognizes you?”
“I’ll keep my hat low and my muffler high,” Sebastian said.
Indeed, the very recklessness of it made his mind feel clearer than it had in months. He’d become mired in routine and expectation. It was beyond refreshing to break out, to feel like he was living life on his own terms, even if it were only for the space of one evening and one day.
He’d spent a restless night, unable to put Miss Eliana Banning out of his mind. At first light, he’d penned her a note and sent Reece to make sure it was delivered. Only then had he been able to sleep—a deep, revitalizing slumber that had left him feeling ready to face anything.
True, so far their interactions had been based on deception. But there was something more there, something he’d be a fool to ignore.
Or perhaps he was simply deluding himself.
Either way, he had to meet her once again, to be sure. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life unhappily moldering away in London. It was time for a change—and if Eliana Banning wasn’t the change he needed, then he would bid his mother and sister farewell, and go back to Berleburg. He and his father disliked one another immensely, but surely there was something a royal prince might do, even if he was in the wrong line of the family to actually inherit the throne.
“The sleigh is waiting for you a block over, your highness,” Reece said, following him to the back door. “I wish you well on your adventure.”
Sebastian nodded his thanks. Perhaps he was acting like an idiot, but at least his blood was flowing, his steps strong and sure. His boots crunched over the snow as he strode to the gate set in the snow-encrusted brick wall and let himself into the alley.
As promised, the brightly painted sleigh waited at the end of the next street. A groom stood beside the horse, holding the reins and looking a bit chilled.
“I am here on behalf of the prince,” Sebastian said in his Russian accent. “Please inform Lord Ramsey the sleigh will be returned by dusk, with his highness’s due thanks.”
“Good to see the contraption get some use, now that milord’s children are grown and gone,” the man said. He thumped the gray mare on the shoulder. “Be gentle with Belle. She’s got a sensitive mouth.”
“I will take good care of the horse and the sleigh.” Sebastian gave the man a handful of coins, still warm from his pocket.
“Very good, sir.” The groom bowed, then headed briskly back down the street, hands tucked in his armpits for warmth.
“Well then, Belle.” Sebasti
an stripped off his glove. He let the mare snort her warm breath into his palm, then patted her soft nose. “Let us go courting.”
Less than a quarter hour later, Sebastian pulled to a stop outside Lord Blake’s town house. His heart thumped uncomfortably beneath the heavy wool of his greatcoat, but he took a deep breath of frost-scented air and willed himself to remain calm as he dismounted from the sleigh.
That fragile balance tipped the moment the front door opened and Miss Eliana Banning stepped out. Her golden curls spilled from beneath a winter hat of white ermine that matched her muff, and she wore a bright red pelisse, glorious scarlet against the white snow and subdued bricks of the buildings.
Without the mask, she looked less mysterious, and even more beautiful. It would be easy to believe there was little more to her than a pretty face—in fact, until last night, he had. Yet there was far more to Miss Banning than met the eye. And perhaps more than even she herself suspected.
“Good day, Mademoiselle Red.” He swept her a low bow, then nodded at her scarlet coat. “You are living up to your name, once again.”
“Hello, Count Nikolai,” she said. “You found me out easily enough. Please come inside. Father wants to meet you.”
“Ah.” This was a complication he’d not expected. “Of course. Will someone—”
“One of the footmen will come out to tend the sleigh.” She glanced at it, her eyes bright with anticipation. “It’s lovely. Wherever did you get a sleigh on such short notice?”
“An acquaintance of my mother’s is in possession of a number of unusual carriages and other vehicles. I thought of him this morning, and he was kind enough to lend me his sleigh.”
“I thought you had no family in London?”
“She met him some time ago.” Sebastian skidded over the truth. “Tell me, is your father a dragon that I must appease to win your company this afternoon?”
Her cheeks blushed a soft pink. “I believe most fathers are protective of their daughters. He wants to ensure that you are not a wolf, waiting to gobble me up.”
Prince for Yuletide: A Victorian Christmas Novella Page 4