The Perils of Pursuing a Prince

by Julia London

  “Please tell him I shall attend him very soon, but that I must first have a word with the prince.”

  Greer found the prince in his study, a fire blazing at the hearth, his head bent over some papers. He scarcely glanced up when she entered. Cain and Abel, as usual, greeted her enthusiastically. “Yes?” he asked dismissively, as he might inquire of a servant.

  “I have a letter from the marquis,” she said, walking across the room to hand it to him. “It should answer all your questions.”

  “I have no questions,” he said briskly.

  Greer’s eyes narrowed. “It is directed to you.”

  With a sigh, he held out his hand. Greer put it in his open palm, and noticed the haggard look around his eyes, the edge of pain in them. By his elbow sat a tot of whiskey at this early hour. His knee was paining him, she knew.

  He quickly opened the letter, scanning the contents, expressionless. When he had finished, he folded the vellum and handed it back to her.

  “Well, then, there we have it. You are indeed Miss Greer Fairchild of Mayfair.” He glanced down at his desk. “Congratulations. I will send you from Llanmair at the first opportunity.”

  “I think it is best,” Greer said softly.

  “Then we are in agreement,” he responded without rancor. “Unfortunately for us both, the weather is not in agreement.”

  “The weather,” she repeated, trying desperately to gauge his reaction, to detect any hint of regret, any sadness.

  “I don’t think you will be leaving today or tomorrow,” he said, turning his attention back to his work. “You must endeavor to abide Llanmair a bit longer.”

  Greer jerked her gaze to the window and hurried to it, pushing aside the heavy drapes and bracing her hands against the stone sill as she leaned over to see out. Llanmair was an island in a sea of snow.

  And it was still falling.

  “But…but I cannot wait! I am ready to leave now!” she exclaimed. “There must be some way out!”

  “You might walk out, if you think you are capable. But I will not risk man or animal to take you.”

  Now that her decision was made, the thought of staying was excruciating. She couldn’t see him and not feel his pain—or hers, for that matter. “I cannot bear a delay,” she said with some desperation. “It is not to be borne!”

  He moved before she even saw him, was at her back before she could turn from the window, his arm like a vise around her waist, holding her tightly to him, to his broad chest, his powerful legs. “You think you are alone in that?” he breathed into her ear. “Do you think it easy for me? One moment you want my arms around you and the next you cannot bear to look at me.”

  “That’s not true—”

  He abruptly forced her around to look at him. “Do you find me so hideous?” he demanded, his gaze raking over her. “You did not find me so hideous when I was making love to you.” He bent his head, his mouth in her hair. “You enjoyed my touch.”

  She felt the heat of the truth in that statement flow through her body and with both hands she pushed hard against his chest. “Rhodrick, stop.”

  To her horror, he kissed her neck, sending a red-hot jolt of desire through her. “Are you as callous as that, Greer?” he murmured in her ear, his breath hot on her skin. “Can you lie with a man without the slightest care for what is in his heart?”

  She turned her head away, squeezing her eyes tightly shut against a tide of tears that had erupted from nowhere. “God in heaven, Rhodrick, I care more than you know!” she cried angrily. “But I cannot make you happy, nor you me. I don’t belong here, I don’t want to be here! This is the only way.”

  He did not speak at first; she opened her eyes, saw something hard in him had risen up. He dropped his gaze to her mouth and looked at her in a way that made her body erupt with furious longing.

  “So do I care, Greer. So do I,” he said gruffly. “No, you do not belong here, and nor do I want you here. That is why I will send you away as soon as possible.”

  His words were what she had wanted to hear, but instead of relief, they only brought her pain, striking her with such force that tears suddenly began to fall. She could not speak. There was nothing in her throat but sobs.

  He pulled her into his embrace and bowed his head over hers for a moment. “Trust your instincts,” he said, and caught her mouth in a kiss so full of longing that had he not held her up, she would have fallen to her knees.

  She felt helpless with desire, weak in her resolve, and worse still, she felt an almost preternatural feeling of love for him.

  But then he suddenly released her, stumbling back, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes blazing with heat and sorrow.

  “Please leave me now, for I am done with our brief acquaintance.”

  She suppressed a sob of grief, gathered her skirt in one hand, and walked out of his study and into the corridor without looking back. It wasn’t until she had turned the corner that she began to run for the privacy of her suite so that she might weep.

  Twenty-nine

  T he snow stopped that afternoon but the wind raged into the night, making the old castle groan like a chorus of old souls. Greer remained in her suite of rooms and did not emerge again until supper that night, looking worn and pale. Lord Harrison joined them, and spent most of his meal making polite conversation while observing Rhodrick with suspicion.

  Rhodrick was grateful when the interminable meal was over for he could not bear to see her face.

  He was feeling absurdly directionless, almost as if he were walking in the blizzard with no sense of up or down. He could not begin to guess how everything had changed so, how he had gone from being euphoric with love to wishing Greer had never come to Llanmair. If he had the power, he would rip the clouds from the sky with his bare hands and drag the sun to beat down on Llanmair, just so that the snow would melt and she could leave here and his torment would end.

  When she was gone, he would return to his life, his simple life, and think no more of her.

  Unfortunately, his mind was refusing to cooperate. He was tortured with dreams of her, of her body on his as she rode him, of her smile, and her blue eyes standing out in a sea of so many faded colors. And when he thought of kissing her, he knew nothing but the memory of her in his arms, the sublime feel of her body against his.

  How could he, a wise man, have been made so desperate for love? Moreover, why had she, his ghost, brought Greer here?

  There was only one possible explanation—just as Alis Bronwyn had come to show him the way to Miss Yates, she had brought Greer here. Nothing else could explain how a dead woman who had been haunting his dreams could be Greer’s mother. When he’d seen the hand portrait Greer carried, he’d been stunned, and he’d known in that instant that there was only one possible way that Greer could have found her way to Llanmair. The knowledge that Alis had reached beyond the grave again was enough to drive him to the brink of madness.

  He slept mostly on the settee in his study, beset by the pain in his knee and the images he could not banish from his mind’s eye. When morning inevitably came, he felt half crazed with his thoughts. He and his dogs wandered the empty corridors of the castle, their breath freezing the moment it left their bodies. At least the sun was shining and the snow was melting.

  His restless wandering took him to the library, where he found Harrison seated at the hearth, quietly reading. The man stood when Rhodrick entered, bowing. “Radnor,” he said.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” Rhodrick said as he crossed to the sideboard and poured a whiskey. “I trust you find your accommodations suitable?” he asked, motioning to the decanter of whiskey in silent question.

  Harrison nodded. “I do indeed, thank you. I regret that we must impose on your hospitality a little longer.”

  Rhodrick shrugged as he poured another whiskey. “It is no imposition,” he said truthfully, and handed the whiskey to Harrison. “Here. It will chase the chill away.”

  Harrison took the
tot and drank.

  “I rather supposed Miss Fairchild would be with you,” Rhodrick remarked, taking a seat across from where Harrison had been sitting.

  “She is in her rooms,” he said, resuming his seat. He took another sip, then held the tot up to examine the color of the whiskey. “In truth, my lord, she seems to be rather conflicted.”

  That brought Rhodrick’s head up. “Did she say so?” he asked, despising himself for sounding so eager.

  Harrison calmly returned his gaze to Rhodrick. “She said quite a lot, actually. Miss Fairchild has developed a rather strong affection for Llanmair and its inhabitants. She talked at length about her visit here.”

  Rhodrick couldn’t help but smile—no one knew better than he how the woman could talk when she was of a mind.

  “She told me about the inheritance,” Harrison added. “That was very kind of you.”

  “Kind?” Rhodrick smiled a little and shook his head. “It is rightfully hers. Frankly, I’d hoped that the sooner she had it, the sooner she’d be gone from my house.”

  The remark seemed to give Harrison pause. “I beg your pardon, but I am certain she did not mean to impose.”

  “Oh,” Rhodrick said with a flick of his wrist, “I think you mistake my meaning. I mean only that this is no place for a young woman such as Miss Fairchild. It is time she returned to her family and her life.”

  “Yes,” Harrison said, and drained the tot of whiskey in one gulp. “I will happily see that she is safely returned.” He smiled as he put the tot aside. “Thank you for the whiskey. If you will excuse me, I shall go and see her.”

  “Of course,” Rhodrick said, and looked broodingly at the fire as he listened to Harrison’s footfall moving away from him.

  When supper was announced, Lulu asked Greer if she would dine with Lord Harrison, as his lordship had retired.

  “Retired?” Greer asked. “As early as this?”

  “His leg, miss. I think it bothers him greatly today.”

  “Oh,” she said weakly, feeling a sharp pain of empathy for him.

  She and Harrison dined alone, seated side by side before the hearth, the better to keep warm.

  “You haven’t much of an appetite tonight,” Harrison remarked.

  Greer smiled miserably. “It’s too cold, I think.”

  Lord Harrison nodded and took another bite of beef stew. “The cold makes me ravenous,” he said. “It’s nature’s way of fattening us up for the long winter months.”

  “Ah,” Greer said, and speared a bite of potato. But she couldn’t eat it—her nerves had her stomach in knots. “I beg your pardon, Lord Harrison, but would you think ill of me if I excused myself? I am feeling a headache coming on.”

  “Again?” he asked, looking at the stew.

  “The cold,” she said weakly.

  “Of course,” he said, and stood instantly, helping her out of her chair. But as Greer walked away, he stopped her. “Miss Fairchild?”

  She paused and looked back at him. “Do you think your headaches will diminish once you reach London, or do you think they will worsen?”

  She could feel herself color. “I…I don’t rightly know, my lord,” she said truthfully.

  “Perhaps you should consider which place better suits your health,” he said, and smiled, then resumed his seat and his meal.

  Greer walked out of the dining room, feeling weaker with every step she took. It was a fair question, she supposed, for she could scarcely bear the thought that she’d never see the prince again, that the next time she left the castle, it would be for good.

  There were so many things tumbling about in her mind these days, so many conflicting emotions and questions about what was important in one’s life.

  Yet there was one question that she could not explain away, one question that kept everything at sixes and sevens. How had the prince known where to find the body of Miss Yates?

  Thirty

  H arrison sent his driver to Rhayader the next morning to check the conditions of the roads. The man returned shortly after noon and declared the roads muddy but passable.

  “I should return her to her family,” Harrison said as he stood in Rhodrick’s study. “Unless, of course, you think it is unsafe to travel,” he said, looking at Rhodrick pointedly.

  “No,” Rhodrick said, averting his gaze. “If your man says the roads are passable, then by all means, you should go.”

  Harrison looked at him a moment longer, than nodded curtly. “We’ll leave today,” he said, and walked out of the study.

  Rhodrick swallowed down another bitter swell of disappointment and limped to the bellpull. When Ifan appeared, he said, “Have Miss Fairchild’s things readied. She is to London today.”

  As Ifan quit the study, Rhodrick stroked Cain’s large head and stared at the clear blue sky visible through his window. It was time, he told himself, to put this dream aside and move on with the business of his day. It was time to forget.

  His only fear was that he’d spend every single day of the rest of his life forgetting.

  Lord Harrison found Greer in the library, reading. “The coach is ready, Miss Fairchild. We can leave for London today.”

  “Today?” Greer exclaimed, startled.

  “Today,” Harrison reiterated. “Have you packed your things?”

  Stunned, Greer shook her head. She had known this moment would come, but had thought there might be a bit more warning than this. “Are you certain a coach can leave today?”

  He smiled almost sadly. “I am.”

  “Perhaps we should wait for better weather,” she suggested anxiously.

  “Greer,” he said quietly, “your family is waiting for you. I don’t think I need to tell you that to stay a moment longer than is absolutely necessary is unwise, for a variety of unpleasant reasons.”

  He referred to her reputation, of course.

  “And besides,” he continued gingerly, “your family wants you home where you belong.”

  Blast it, she could feel the salty sting of tears welling in her eyes. “Yes, of course you are quite right, my lord,” she said. “I must return to my cousins.” And how frightfully tedious that sounded. Now that Ava was married, Phoebe could not be far behind, and Greer—well, even if her reputation wasn’t in tatters, she had no real prospects. She’d be a burden to them both.

  She glanced up at Harrison. “All right,” she said, and stood. “I’ve got quite a lot to do.”

  With the hour now upon her, she felt a jumbled mess of raw nerves. Out of habit, she put her hand to the necklace she always wore, the one the prince had said was a Welsh amulet.

  She certainly didn’t feel any magical force.

  Two hours later, Greer was dressed, her trunk had been taken from her suite, and all that was left was to seat herself in the coach and go. Mrs. Bowen and Lulu were waiting for her in the small foyer, and as Lulu helped her on with her cloak under Harrison’s watchful eye, Rhodrick appeared, his shoulder propped against the wooden door, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Greer pulled the hood of her cloak over her head so that she could not see his face, and said good-bye to Lulu and Mrs. Bowen.

  “The address of my cousin’s house is on my vanity,” she said to Lulu. “Will you write me?”

  “Of course, miss,” Lulu said.

  Greer smiled and squeezed her hand, then looked at Mrs. Bowen. “Thank you…for everything,” she said, fighting to keep back the tears. “You have been too kind.”

  “We shall miss you, Miss Fairchild,” Mrs. Bowen said warmly.

  With a nod, Greer forced herself to turn and face the prince.

  She had no idea what to say or do—it seemed absurd to curtsy to him after what they’d been to one another, but she did so without thinking. He watched her closely, his expression void of emotion. It seemed cruel that she should be the only one to feel this painful parting so deeply.

  He pushed away from the wall, reached into his breast pocket, and withdrew a folded vellum tied wit
h ribbon. “I took the liberty of writing to your brother-in-law to vouch for your conduct and the watchful eye of Mrs. Bowen during your stay at Llanmair.”

  The act of kindness astounded her. His letter would go a long way toward protecting her reputation. “I…thank you,” she said.

  He gave her a short nod, then pressed his lips together as his gaze roamed her face. “Very well, then,” he said quietly. “I wish you Godspeed in your journey home.” His eyes drifted over her body, lingering on her eyes.

  “Miss Fairchild,” Lord Harrison said from somewhere near the door.

  The prince turned and began to walk away, his gait slightly uneven, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side.

  “Wait!” Greer said, and hurried after him. She reached up, unclasped the charm she wore around her neck. “I want you to have this,” she said, holding it out to him. “It…it belongs here.”

  He glanced at the necklace, then at her.

  “Please,” she whispered, and took his hand and dropped the necklace in his palm. He closed his hand tightly around it, then put it in his pocket.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He nodded, and walked on. She watched him go, then turned uncertainly to Mrs. Bowen and Lulu.

  “Cook prepared a basket for you, miss,” Mrs. Bowen said. “It’s filled with cheese and bread.”

  “How kind,” Greer said absently, thinking about Rhodrick’s walking away from her. “You must thank her for me.”

  “I put in the book of Wales you read,” Lulu added. “His lordship said that I might.”

  “Oh,” Greer said, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, once again seeing Rhodrick walking away, walking out of her life. “Thank you. That is…really, that is too kind.” She forced a small smile, adjusted her hood once more, and glanced at the door Ifan had opened. A wintry blast of cold air filled the small foyer, and just beyond the door, in the courtyard, she could see the coach, the breath of the horses coming out in great plumes of white.