Be My Prince

by Julianne MacLean

  Alexandra moved closer. “And what do you believe?”

  He turned and walked to the window. “I have always trusted my brother’s opinions. He has a good sense of the people.”

  Her stomach flipped over with nervous, cautious hope, for she would do anything for a second chance with Randolph. Anything.

  How odd that she had never intended to love the Prince of Petersbourg. In fact, she had hated him—or at least the idea of him—since the day she learned the truth about her real family. When she discovered he would travel to England to seek a bride and future queen, her pursuit of his hand had been an act of duty and vengeance.

  Yet now here she stood, the morning after she’d given her innocence to the man she vowed never to love, and her heart was breaking in two, because he was not the same. Gone were the heated flirtations she had come to live for. Gone was the thrill of their passion, which she had seen in his eyes on so many wonderful occasions. Instead, this morning he looked completely disenchanted with her.

  “For that reason,” he continued, “I wish to make you an offer of marriage. Whatever concerns you may have had in the past for your safety, or the safety of your family, may be put to rest. As my wife, you will be under my protection, and no harm will come to you. Though I warn you now, there will be those who will disapprove of this marriage. The country is divided, remember. You may have your supporters, but we also have ours.”

  This was certainly no fairy-tale ending. In fact, Alex felt slightly ill from the loss of his affection, but she reminded herself that it was not so different from what she had originally envisioned. And perhaps there was still hope. Perhaps in time she could prove to him that her love was true.

  “What about your father?” she asked. “I do not suspect he will be pleased. Will he not wish to have some say in the matter?”

  Randolph looked away. “My father has not been well in recent months, and I doubt he will have the strength of will to oppose it.”

  Not been well? She had not known of this.

  Randolph looked at her intently. Was he waiting for an answer?

  If so, what was she waiting for? This was a marriage proposal from the future King of Petersbourg, a union that would secure the restoration of her family’s proper place in history.

  And she loved him. More than anything.

  “I accept,” she said at last, though for some reason when the words passed her lips she dropped her gaze, for she could not look him in the eye.

  This was not what she had been dreaming of these past few days. It was not even close.

  The clock ticked away in the stony silence of the room until slowly he strode closer. “Tell me one thing,” he said. “Why did you not come to me sooner with this petition? Your benefactor obviously knew that you would have many supporters among the Royalists. Why did you begin with a charade?”

  Alexandra took a seat on the chair opposite the sofa. “It was common knowledge that you had no interest in a political marriage,” she explained. “You wanted to marry for love, so that is what we sought to achieve.”

  His eyes darkened. “Love. You sought to achieve love. Through lies and deceit. Do you feel you succeeded?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “But before you judge me too harshly, remember that you sought to achieve it through dishonesty as well. You lied to the woman you claimed to love.”

  A muscle clenched at his jaw, but his eyes never veered from hers. “We could go on and on like this,” he said, “around and around, knocking the ball back and forth. Clearly we are both guilty of some form of deception.”

  “Indeed we are, and I have forgiven you for yours. Have you forgiven me?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his shoulders heaved with a deep, resigned sigh. “I won’t lie to you, Alexandra. I don’t know what I feel for you.”

  His words were like a knife in her heart, for she and Randolph had come so far to reach this moment. He had taught her to love and had inspired her to give up her vengeance, which had been a driving force in her world for six years. She had never felt so happy as she did on the day she decided to run away with him. But it was all gone now. That happiness was no more. This felt more like a funeral.

  “Is there any hope for us?” she asked.

  He blinked slowly and bowed his head. “I have been hunted all my life by ambitious women and their overbearing mothers, and just when I thought I found the one woman in the world who wanted me for myself, I discover she was a fortune hunter all along.”

  “Please do not call me a fortune hunter,” Alex said. “That is not what I am.”

  They both looked away from each other and said nothing for a grim and somber moment.

  “Where does this leave us?” she asked. “You have proposed, and I have accepted. Now what?”

  His eyes, at last, met hers. “You will accompany me back to Petersbourg, and we will give the public what they want—a spectacular royal wedding.”

  “How lovely it will be for them,” she said.

  “Lovely indeed,” he replied.

  Her heart throbbed painfully, and she was half-tempted to leap out of her chair and shake Randolph senseless for being so unforgiving, because she loved him. She loved him! Could he not see that?

  Yet at the same time she understood his skepticism. She was the true heir to the throne he would one day occupy, and she was a member of the enemy Royalist cause that opposed his father’s rule and deemed him a usurper. And she had practically accused him of murder. How in the world would she ever convince Randolph that she was faithful and true?

  “When will we depart for Petersbourg?” she asked.

  “In three days. Arrangements are already under way. The regent has been informed that I have found the bride I was seeking, and he will reveal my true identity and announce our engagement at a political assembly tomorrow evening.”

  “The regent knew all along?”

  “Yes. We couldn’t have done it without his support and assistance. I daresay he was rather amused and inspired by the whole affair.”

  “It will cause quite a stir,” Alex replied, “when members of the ton discover they have been tricked.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied, “but the dust will settle soon enough with the announcement of our military alliance.” He paused. “You see, I did not come here for the sole purpose of seeking a bride. My father has commissioned four new navy ships to be built here in England. Compared to that, our little royal wedding is merely incidental.”

  Making a sincere and noble effort to maintain her dignity before such a clear reminder that she was no longer the center of his world, Alex stood up and held her head high. “Ah. Then it will be a most auspicious event tomorrow evening. I must consider what to wear.”

  He stood up as well. “In that regard, I hope you will accept this symbol of our engagement.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a ring, which he held up in front of her.

  “Is that a ruby?” She felt almost dizzy at the sight of it. It was a magnificent stone surrounded by diamonds.

  He reached for her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. “Yes. It belonged to your mother.”

  Alex’s heart flipped over in shock as she admired it.

  Her mother’s ring. It fit perfectly. How could this not be some divine act of providence? How could her and Randolph’s accidental meeting on the terrace that first night have been anything other than fate?

  She laid her hand over her heart. “This means so much to me, Randolph.”

  He stood before her, tall and handsome in the morning light, his strong physical presence a vivid reminder of the intimate pleasures they had shared the night before, and despite everything, she clung to the hope that one day he would love her again.

  “I will speak to your stepmother now,” he said, “and make the necessary arrangements. Then I will send the coach to fetch you tomorrow evening at seven o’clock.”

  “Very well.”

  As he walked out th
e door and she imagined the first formal night of their engagement taking form at last, she had no notion that those carefully laid plans would not come to pass.

  She did not know that the coach would not come for her.

  Nor would there be a political assembly at the palace to announce their engagement, or any celebrations in Petersbourg.

  All because of a letter that was delivered to St. James’s Palace that afternoon.

  A letter that would change everything …

  Chapter Eighteen

  After Rand spoke to the dowager duchess about his intentions and received her blessing for his and Alexandra’s marriage, he stepped into the coach and told the driver to circle once around Hyde Park before returning to St. James’s Palace.

  As soon as the door swung shut behind Rand and the vehicle rolled forward, he tipped his head back against the seat and shut his eyes while struggling to focus on what he had achieved. Not only had he committed to a marriage that would produce his future heirs, but he had also found the fabled Princess of Petersbourg and ensured that her presence on the throne beside him—as his wife—would keep her from raising another rebellion as his enemy.

  Had she trapped him with this charade?

  Yes, she most certainly had, but he had done the only thing he could. Not only did he maintain his honor as a gentleman, but he also would cast a strong and sturdy net over her in return.

  Why, then, was his chest aching with regret?

  He sat forward and bowed his head very low as he rested his elbows on his knees and lamented over the manner in which this had unfolded.

  He had wanted so badly to love her. He had wanted it more than anything. His insides were pitching and rolling with frustration over the fact that when he woke up this morning he had resented her so bloody much.

  But he had been burned once before. How could he be anything but bitter?

  Was there really no hope for him?

  Lifting his head and leaning back in the seat, he chided himself for such thoughts. He was a future king, dammit, and he had made his choice. He had done what would be best for his country and the monarchy.

  It was time, therefore, to lay indecision aside. No matter what he felt, no matter how disappointed he was about this turn of events, he would do his duty. He would not dwell on the past or long for what could not be. He would do everything in his power to make this a workable marriage, and he would make love to Alexandra again as soon as they were wed, in order to produce at least one male heir.

  That part, at least, would not be unpleasant, for despite all the lies and this incomprehensible agony, he still desired her with a lust that was so powerful, it made him wonder how he would ever keep his mind on the callings of his reign.

  A short while later the coach arrived at the palace and Rand barely had a chance to step out before Rose and Nick hurried out the door to greet him.

  “Thank heavens you’re back,” Rose said. “We received a letter this morning.”

  He noted his sister’s pale complexion and red puffy eyes. “What is it?”

  Nick gestured for him to join them inside. “The letter has come from John Edwards.”

  Edwards was their father’s Chief of Staff at Petersbourg Palace.

  Rand’s heart skittered sideways as he entered the main hall. “What does it say?”

  They paused briefly while Spencer took Rand’s hat and gloves.

  “Edwards wrote that Father has taken a turn for the worse,” Nick explained. “The palace physician does not believe he will last more than a fortnight. The letter was dated a week ago. We are not even sure if he still lives.”

  Rand faced them both. “Then we must leave England straightaway.”

  “That would be best,” Rose replied. “Whatever plans you have made must be canceled. We must try to get home before…” She couldn’t finish.

  Rand pulled her into his arms. “Do not worry, Rose. All will be well. Think only of our reunion with him. Perhaps the physician is wrong. Maybe by the time we arrive, Father will be up and about, eating strawberry sugar cakes and calling us all fools for doubting his fortitude.”

  Rose withdrew from Rand’s embrace and spoke bravely. “I hope so.”

  He turned to Nick. “Has the regent been notified?”

  “Yes. I sent a messenger this morning, and I have already arranged for a ship to take us across the North Sea. We will travel with the same captain who brought us here. He assured me that he will have his crew ready to depart the moment we reach the docks.”

  Rand paused to consider these developments.

  “I will need to inform Lady Alexandra. She has just agreed to become my wife and must therefore accompany us.”

  Rose’s eyebrows lifted, and she frowned with concern. “So it is settled, then? She has accepted you?”

  “Yes.”

  Nick laid a hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

  Rand looked his brother in the eye and knew they were thinking the same thing—that Rand might return to Petersbourg to find himself king.

  “Send word to the regent. Tell him I will not be able to attend the assembly tomorrow evening. Explain why, and also tell him that in my absence he may announce my engagement to Lady Alexandra and the official amalgamation of our naval fleets. You may also tell him that I shall marry Lady Alexandra on board the ship.”

  “During the crossing?” Rose asked. “Good Lord, Rand! Are you sure you should rush into this so quickly? Nicholas has told me everything about her charade. She is a Tremaine! What if she is not to be trusted?”

  “Leave that to me,” Rand replied. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Besides, it was too late to reverse it. He had already taken her virginity, and she could be carrying his child. He couldn’t very well cut her loose and presume she would not eventually use that child to lay claim to his throne.

  He and Nick had decided it would be best to keep her close … especially if she was not to be trusted.

  “This makes no sense to me,” Rose said.

  “I will explain everything to you later.” Rand turned to Nicholas. “Go and meet with the Petersbourg Ambassador today and make the necessary arrangements. And Nick…” He paused. “Do whatever it takes, for we must keep Lady Alexandra in our sights and, most importantly, within our power.”

  * * *

  “I beg your pardon?” Mr. Carmichael stood from his chair in the library. “He means to leave the country tomorrow?”

  Lucille strode all the way in. “Yes! Alexandra is packing her things at this very moment. Upon my word, I’ve never heard of such a rushed marriage that was not attached to some horrendous scandal. You don’t think he has deflowered her already, do you? Good heavens.” Her eyes went wide as saucers. “In which case, we must do all we can to hasten the marriage. On land or at sea. Whatever the prince wants. Which is why I wasted not a single moment in coming to you, sir, to inform you about what has transpired.”

  Carmichael said nothing for a moment while he considered the situation. Then he invited Lucille to sit down.

  “At least he has proposed,” he said, tapping his finger on the armrest. “And I agree. The sooner they are legally wed, the better. Let us not worry about the extravagance of a large wedding. Even a small shipboard ceremony will suit just fine. At least this way, she will enter the country as their future queen and there will be no reversing it.”

  Lucille settled herself into the soft chair opposite the desk. “She may do better than that if the king is as ill as they say. He may be gone by the time they arrive, and Randolph will wear the crown.” She wiggled her bottom on the seat and fought to suppress a hopeful grin. “Wouldn’t that be just the thing? Imagine it.”

  Mr. Carmichael poured her a cup of tea. “Your Grace, though I understand your aspirations, you must make an effort not to say such things in the presence of others. Some might consider it treason, to wish for the king’s demise.”

  She covered her mouth wi
th a hand. “Good Lord, I do beg your pardon.” She accepted the dainty teacup he offered. “But please be assured I would never express myself in such a way among others. I only confess my thoughts to you because I believe we understand each other. We both want the same thing.”

  He set the teapot down on the silver serving tray. “We do indeed. You have been a loyal friend through all of this, Your Grace. I couldn’t have managed any of it without you. If it weren’t for your generous support, the House of Tremaine might have disappeared completely into oblivion, but now I feel quite assured that the true monarchy will be restored.”

  He raised his teacup as if to toast to her contribution, and took a small sip.

  “And what will become of you, Mr. Carmichael?” she asked. “Petersbourg is your home country. Will you return to bask in the glory of your accomplishment, or will you remain here in England?”

  He set down his cup and saucer and considered the matter carefully.

  “I will travel home to Petersbourg,” he replied. “And I will make it my own personal goal to keep an eye on our girl. She may find the new city to be a challenge in many ways. If she seeks advice, I shall be only too happy to oblige.”

  “You are very kind.” Lucille set her own cup down as well. “I hesitate to confess it, sir, but I shall miss our frequent meetings to discuss my stepdaughter’s future. It has become such a wonderful source of stimulation in my life. I daresay I have not felt so happy or useful in a great many years.”

  He leaned forward, reached for her gloved hand, and kissed the back of it. “You, in turn, have been my shining light, Lucille. Without you, none of this would have been possible. How will I ever repay you?”

  She regarded him shrewdly. “Mr. Carmichael, what a shameless flatterer you are.”

  “Please call me Nigel.” He leaned back in his chair with a smile and crossed one leg over the other.

  “When exactly will you arrive in Petersbourg?” she asked, casually raising an eyebrow.