The Accidental Princess

by Michelle Willingham

  She took her seat among the other ladies, hoping to see the Lieutenant. A glass of sherry was passed to her, and she sipped at the drink. It was smooth and sweet, and she felt herself beginning to relax. It wasn’t nearly as wicked as her mother made it sound. She set it down on a table beside her, feeling her skin flush.

  Two of the gentlemen moved the screen away, revealing a large pile of personal belongings.

  ‘My friends, I know many of you are familiar with the game of Forfeit,’ the Viscount began. ‘However, tonight, I am suggesting that we use this game to raise money for an appropriate charity rather than strictly for amusement.’

  He exchanged a glance with his wife and daughter. ‘Ladies may bid to win a forfeit from the gentlemen, and gentlemen may bid on the ladies’ items. The winning bidder shall send the promised amount to the poor and orphaned children of London. The owner of the item shall perform a forfeit of the bidder’s choice.’

  It was a scandalous game, one that could involve public humiliation or even a kiss. From the way the sherry, wine and brandy continued to be passed around, Hannah suspected things might indeed get out of hand.

  ‘The winner of the auction will return the item to its owner, after the forfeit is paid.’ Viscount Brentford reached behind the screen and picked up a black cravat. He cast a wicked look toward the ladies. ‘Shall we start the bidding?’

  Poor Henry Vanderkind, the owner of the cravat, was forced to crawl about on all fours while singing ‘Woodman Spare That Tree’. Lady Howard, a widow nearing the age of sixty, howled with laughter and promised to send fifty pounds to the orphan fund.

  As revenge, Henry Vanderkind bid thirty pounds on Lady Howard’s quizzing glass and made her bleat like a goat in order to get it back again.

  As each item was auctioned off, Hannah found herself wiping her own tears of laughter. She’d lost count of how much sherry she’d drunk, for a waiter kept all of the glasses full.

  The room seemed to tilt, the voices buzzing in a haze. She pushed the glass aside, hoping that another headache would not come upon her. Someone passed a plate of cheeses, and she took a slice, thankful for the food to settle her stomach.

  At that moment, she caught a glimpse of the Lieutenant. He didn’t look at all entertained by the revelry.

  But when he caught Hannah looking at him, his hazel eyes narrowed with interest. He rested his hands upon the back of a carved dining-room chair, and for a moment, she felt like the only woman in the room. The rest of the crowd seemed to melt away, and her body grew warmer as she met his gaze.

  It was improper, certainly, but she couldn’t stop herself from staring back. Her dress felt too tight, her heartbeat quickening. Though she finally looked away, she was aware of him taking a glass of wine. His mouth pressed against the crystal in a sip, and she again imagined his lips upon hers.

  The Lieutenant crossed the room to stand at the other side, effectively distancing them. Hannah noticed that only two items remained on the table: her own handkerchief and a man’s pocket watch.

  The Viscount gave a silent nod to his daughter and lifted the watch. From the tension emanating from the Lieutenant, she supposed it must be his.

  ‘The last gentleman’s item is this pocket watch. It’s quite heavy, I must say—no doubt made of the finest gold. Shall we start the bidding at five pounds?’

  A flurry of female hands rose into the air, and Hannah saw Michael’s discomfort rising. He held his posture stiff, his eyes staring off into the distance. He had loosened his cravat, while his black cloth jacket was unbuttoned to reveal a bright blue waistcoat. The pocket watch he’d worn was missing.

  The bidding rose higher, the women laughing at the thought of the forfeit they would ask.

  ‘With a handsome one like that, I’d ask for a kiss,’ one woman remarked.

  Another giggled. ‘I’d kiss him without the auction, if he asked me to.’

  Hannah didn’t join in, but neither did she want Michael to pay a forfeit that would embarrass him. From the way he eyed the doorway, it wouldn’t surprise her if he left the room. He didn’t seem to care whether or not the watch was returned to him. It probably belonged to the Graf von Reischor.

  When Miss Nelson held the highest bid of eighty pounds, the Viscountess shook her head sharply, whispering in her daughter’s ear. Hannah didn’t like the look of it. They were plotting against Michael, she was sure. It angered her, for she didn’t want him to be the target of anyone’s humour.

  ‘One hundred pounds,’ she heard herself saying. If nothing else, she might prevent the Lieutenant from being made into a fool.

  A ripple of gasps resounded through the crowd of ladies. One woman sent her a dark look, as though she wanted to stab Hannah with a hat pin.

  ‘One hundred and ten pounds,’ Miss Nelson countered.

  ‘Two hundred pounds.’ Hannah didn’t know whether the sherry had loosened her tongue or where this daring feeling had come from. All she knew was that she didn’t want to lose the bidding war.

  You can’t have him, she wanted to say to Miss Nelson. But it seemed her bid of two hundred pounds had silenced the young woman. Viscount Brentford asked for any final bids, but none was forthcoming. Hannah rose from her seat, grasping the arms of the chair for support. With a determination she didn’t quite feel, she moved towards the watch.

  ‘What forfeit will you ask from Lieutenant Thorpe?’ the Viscount asked.

  Hannah looked into Michael’s face. His hazel eyes held a rigid expression, his hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t know why she’d bid upon him, and the tension in his stance suggested he had no intention of doing her will.

  ‘No forfeit at all,’ she whispered.

  His eyes stared at her in disbelief for a long moment. When she brought the pocket watch to him, there was a barely perceptible acknowledgement.

  ‘Now, now, Lady Hannah. That isn’t playing by the rules,’ another matron protested. ‘He must pay his forfeit to get back his pocket watch. Perhaps you should have him sing. Or give a demonstration of his fighting skills.’ The woman’s gaze shifted to Michael’s muscled form beneath the tightly fitted jacket.

  ‘I’ll reserve the right to ask for my forfeit later,’ she said. The ladies squealed in delight, and Hannah instantly regretted the scandalous remark. A moment later, their attention was turned to the last item—her handkerchief.

  Viscount Brentford lifted up the handkerchief, sending her a mischievous smile. ‘Gentlemen, should we start the bidding for this lovely embroidered handkerchief?’

  Michael stood from his seat. ‘A thousand pounds,’ he said softly.

  There was a flurry of discussion over the exorbitant amount.

  ‘For what, Lieutenant?’ Viscount Brentford asked.

  ‘For Lady Hannah’s handkerchief.’ His eyes never left hers when he added, ‘That is my bid.’

  The room grew uncomfortably quiet, and Hannah wanted to sink beneath the table. Dear God. Did he realise what he’d done? Now, the entire room would believe they were having an affair. She was mortified to think of it.

  There were no other bids. Michael took the handkerchief and pocketed it, leaving the guests behind as he exited the dining room. He asked for no forfeit, and Hannah knew she was expected to follow him.

  The Graf silently shook his head in disapproval. Hannah didn’t know what to do. The game was not yet at an end, not to mention, Michael did not possess a thousand pounds.

  Her embarrassment rose even higher as she overheard two ladies speculating about their relationship and whether or not Michael would offer for her. She knew, full well, that it would never happen.

  Miss Nelson insinuated herself beside Hannah. ‘Aren’t you going to return Lieutenant Thorpe’s pocket watch?’

  It took Hannah a moment to realise she was still holding the watch. ‘Oh. Eventually, I suppose.’

  ‘Why did he bid a thousand pounds for your handkerchief?’ Miss Nelson asked. ‘Are you betrothed to one another?’

  Hann
ah shook her head. ‘I’m not certain why. I suppose it gave him an excuse to leave the game.’

  Her explanation didn’t appear to satisfy the young woman. ‘Would you like me to return the watch to him?’

  Hannah’s fingers curled over the gold. It was a way out, a means for her not to see the Lieutenant again. She looked over and saw the hopeful light in her eyes. Miss Nelson honestly believed that Lieutenant Thorpe was a marriageable man, an officer from a noble family.

  ‘No, thank you.’ Hannah stood from her chair. ‘I’ll take care of this.’

  The other ladies had begun a new game of Look About, searching for a hidden item. After several minutes, Miss Nelson joined them, seemingly disappointed that Hannah had not accepted her offer.

  Graf von Reischor caught her arm as Hannah reached the door to the staircase, warning beneath his breath, ‘Don’t, Lady Hannah. It would do your reputation no good.’

  ‘Whatever was left of my reputation, Lieutenant Thorpe just destroyed with that bid. He’s going to answer for it.’ She tightened her lips and strode forward.

  There were less than twenty-four hours where she would be permitted to make her own decisions. Escort or not, the Graf would not control her actions tonight.

  ‘I’m going to return the watch,’ she said.

  The Graf opened the door for her, gesturing for her maid to accompany them. Lowering his voice, he asserted, ‘Regardless of what there might have been between you once, do not compromise yourself. He cannot wed you.’

  Marry Lieutenant Thorpe? A man who had said she was nothing but a complication he didn’t want? Frustration poured through her, and Hannah clenched her fan tightly. ‘You see things which are not there.’

  ‘I see more clearly than you, it seems. And neither your mother, nor your father, would allow you to speak to a man alone.’

  She took a calming breath. ‘I will not be alone. And you insult me by implying that I am trying to seek out an affair.’

  ‘An affair is all you could ever hope to have with him.’

  ‘Why? Because you think he’s related to the royal family of Lohenberg?’

  The guess was an impulsive prediction, but the Graf’s face paled. ‘Keep such theories to yourself, Lady Hannah.’

  She closed her mouth to keep from gaping. ‘You’re not serious.’

  ‘I have eyes, Lady Hannah. Any Lohenberg native who encounters Lieutenant Thorpe would see it. He looks like König Sweyn, enough to be his son.’

  ‘You have no proof of his birthright.’

  ‘No. But I intend to find out the truth.’ He rested his hand upon the stair banister. ‘You should be aware that any contact with him bears a risk.’

  She took the remaining steps and rested her hand upon the door leading to the promenade deck. ‘I am returning a watch, nothing more. I see no reason to be afraid.’

  As she left, she heard the Graf speaking softly. ‘He has enemies you can’t even comprehend.’

  Michael tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, contemplating whether or not he dared ascend to the upper deck. The sea waves were still rough, the ship swaying in spite of the roaring steam engines and paddle wheel.

  He wanted fresh air and the coolness of the night. As he entered the upper deck of the Orpheus, the rocking motion of the ship became more pronounced. Wind billowed through the sails, and he heard the groaning of ropes straining against their knots.

  The game of Forfeit had taken a turn he hadn’t intended. He’d been angry at becoming an object for ladies to bid on. Lord Brentford had practically offered his daughter’s hand in marriage, when he’d only just met the girl. No doubt if she’d won the bid, Miss Nelson would have asked him for a kiss. He wouldn’t have given it. He despised people staring at him with expectations he couldn’t possibly fulfil.

  But Lady Hannah had intervened, casting a bid to guard his privacy. She’d faced down the women, protecting him from having to make an idiot out of himself.

  There wasn’t a man at the dinner table who hadn’t wanted her to pay their choice of a forfeit. The thought of any man touching her was enough to make him snap a silver fork in half.

  She’s not yours. Never will be.

  He knew that. And he’d done his best to keep his hands off her. She was a woman of Quality, a diamond who needed a polished setting in order to shine.

  But he wasn’t a damned saint. He desired her, knowing exactly the way he wanted to worship her body. He wanted to taste her skin, to run his mouth over her flesh until she cried out with pleasure.

  What did it matter whether or not a gentleman bid upon Lady Hannah’s handkerchief? She deserved the opportunity to make a good marriage. Certainly, the gentlemen on board the ship had no idea of the scandal.

  For so long, she’d been trapped in her father’s cocoon. Now was her chance to rip away the rigid rules and gain her freedom. He was a selfish bastard, wanting her to surrender to him.

  Michael rested his hand upon the wooden railing, staring out at the dark waters. What was it about her that drew him in, like a seedling to the sun? She wasn’t anything like the women he’d known while he was in the Army. Kind-hearted, well-bred and beautiful, she belonged with an English lord who would sleep in a separate bedroom and let her plan the household menus and entertainment.

  She didn’t belong with a man like him. A man with baser urges, who would much rather unravel those sensibilities than uphold them.

  When he’d made the ridiculous bid of a thousand pounds, it hadn’t been a true charitable contribution. It had been a warning to the other men to stay away from Lady Hannah, or they would regret it. Like a beast marking his territory, he’d laid claim to her.

  But now what was he supposed to do?

  Footsteps sounded behind him. He didn’t turn around, expecting Hannah to move beside him.

  Instead, a rope slid around his neck. Stars glimmered in his consciousness, his lungs burning for air. Michael fought against the tight noose, throwing himself to the decking and knocking his assailant’s feet beneath him.

  Tearing the rope away, he reached for the man, intending to find out what in God’s name was going on.

  Chapter Eleven

  A strong wave shook the ship, and Michael skidded backwards. His head struck one of the masts, and he grimaced at the impact. Salt water sprayed the deck, while in the distance, he heard the crew shouting orders to one another.

  When he scrambled to the place where he’d been attacked, there was nothing. Not a trace of the man, as though his assailant had been a phantom. Only the raw abrasions on his throat gave any evidence that he’d very nearly been strangled.

  ‘Lieutenant Thorpe?’ Lady Hannah called out to him. She hadn’t seen what had happened, from the questioning tone of her voice.

  Michael didn’t turn, his attention fully upon the shadows. He didn’t want to endanger Hannah if his attacker returned.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she enquired, drawing closer to stand beside him. ‘You seem distracted.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ His voice came out hoarser than he’d intended, and he coughed to disguise it. He withdrew her handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and offered it back. She took it, handing him his watch. Her fingers lingered upon his palm.

  Behind him, he heard a slight shuffling. He didn’t know whether it was another passenger or the assailant, but he didn’t intend to remain standing about.

  ‘We need to get off the upper deck. Now.’ Without waiting to find out who the intruder was, he grasped Hannah’s hand and pulled her through a door. The stairs led to the private state rooms, and Michael continued through the maze of first-class rooms until he located hers. Thankfully, she didn’t argue with him, but let him escort her back.

  ‘Where is your maid?’ he demanded. ‘Why are you alone?’

  ‘I dismissed her to our room a few moments ago. I didn’t think—’

  ‘It’s not safe for you to be alone on this ship. Not ever.’ Though he didn’t mean to snap at her, he didn’t w
ant her risking her well-being on his behalf.

  Before he could open the door to her room, Hannah reached up to his neck. ‘Dear God, what happened to you? You’re bleeding and the skin is raw.’

  ‘Don’t concern yourself over it.’

  He was about to leave when she held up her hand. ‘Wait over there while I send away my maid and Mrs Turner. And if you disappear, so help me, I will seek you out. We are not finished talking.’

  He didn’t doubt that. She was stubborn, far more than was good for her. But once she had entered her room, he ducked behind the corner to wait.

  Several minutes later, the cabin door opened, and he saw her maid Estelle leading the way down the hall, followed by Mrs Turner. Michael waited until the women reached the far end, and then approached Hannah’s door.

  She stood waiting for him, her expression hesitant. He knew, as she did, that it was entirely improper for him to even be near her cabin, much less inside it.

  ‘You didn’t need to send them away.’

  ‘You wouldn’t tell me the truth if they were here. And it’s best if no one knows about our conversation.’ Hannah steeled her posture, nodding. ‘Come in and let me tend that for you.’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned and went to her dressing table.

  She poured water into a basin, dipping her handkerchief into the liquid. When she risked a glance at his neck, she gave a perceptible wince. Though her intentions were good, he doubted if she’d ever tended a wound before in her life. To avoid embarrassing her, he took the damp cloth from her and swabbed at his throat, surprised that there was more blood than he’d thought.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ she demanded, keeping her gaze firmly fixed upon his eyes and not the abrasions. ‘I want the truth.’

  ‘Someone tried to strangle me, just before you came.’

  ‘Were they trying to rob you?’