Three Weeks with a Princess

by Vanessa Kelly

  To her surprise, Granny wasn’t looking downcast at all. Resigned, yes, but also . . . calculating?

  “What?” Lia asked.

  Her grandmother’s lips parted in a dazzling smile, the one that had apparently been the downfall of many a hardened rake when she’d been in her prime. Lia recognized that smile. It signaled that Granny was about to engage in a bit of ruthless manipulation.

  Heaving a sigh, she trudged back to her seat.

  “You can moan all you want, child,” her grandmother said, “but it’s time to face facts and be practical about our situation.”

  “I’ve been trying to do just that for weeks,” Lia replied. “But you didn’t want to hear any of my suggestions.”

  “Yes, I must admit I allowed myself to hope Arthur had done a better job of things. How foolish.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I failed you, Lia. You have always been my first responsibility. I let my affection for Arthur get in the way of that.”

  “To be fair, he did support us all these years. Despite the odd hiccup now and again, we’ve been comfortable. And happy.”

  Most of the time they had been, and how many people could claim that? She and Granny loved Stonefell, despite the occasional snub from one of the more persnickety locals, or the sense of exclusion they felt on the rare occasions when Lord Lendale’s family had visited.

  And then there was Jack, of course. He’d made everything seem worthwhile, even the snubs, the exclusions, and the leaky roof.

  “My love for Arthur turned me soft,” Granny said. “I believed him when he said he’d always take care of us. I would not have made that mistake when I was younger. I should have asked for more as we went along, and insisted he make some kind of provision for you in writing.”

  This sort of discussion always made Lia feel squeamish. But such arrangements were a simple fact of life for women like her mother and grandmother. She’d been spared that life and counted herself exceedingly fortunate in that respect.

  “You, of course,” her grandmother continued, “will do better than I did. You have an excellent head for business, and I don’t think you’ll ever let a man take advantage of you. That will give you a sound basis for negotiations.”

  Lia had cupped her chin in her hands, but her grandmother’s words had her bolting upright. “What are you talking about, Gran?”

  Her grandmother folded her hands neatly in her lap and stared her straight in the eye. “When you look for a protector, you will negotiate a clear and detailed agreement for your ongoing support in writing. I’ll help you with that.”

  “My protector?” Lia’s voice sounded rather screechy. “Do you mean a . . .”

  “A lover? Don’t be a ninny, dear. Of course that’s what I mean.”

  Aghast, Lia stared at her grandmother, who seemed in dead earnest. “But . . . but you always wanted me to find a respectable suitor,” she stammered. “To get married.”

  For a moment a hollow, grieving look threw up ghosts in her grandmother’s deep blue eyes. But then her gaze shuttered and her chin firmed. “Of course I did, but we know that’s no longer possible. Without a dowry, no respectable man will offer for you.”

  “Well . . . I don’t think that’s entirely true.” Lia felt quite certain the cheesemonger’s son would take her, even over his family’s objections, and then there was—

  “Jimmy Lanstead?” her grandmother asked.

  Lia nodded.

  “Certainly not. No granddaughter of mine will marry a pig farmer,” Granny said in a haughty voice. “Especially one who rents his farm. We may be courtesans and actresses, my dear, but we are also Kincaids. We do have a standard to keep.”

  Her grandmother could be an awful snob, but Lia couldn’t hold back a rush of relief. She had no desire to marry Jimmy Lanstead or anyone else.

  Except Jack.

  She firmly pushed that idea to the deepest recesses of her mind. It belonged in the dusty bin of broken dreams.

  “I agree with you about Jimmy,” Lia said, “but trying to set me up as a courtesan is rather drastic. I’m not you or Mama. I’m not a patch on either of you.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve grown into a stunning young woman. With a little help from me and some financial support, you could very well take London by storm.”

  There were so many things wrong with that plan that Lia didn’t know where to start. “I have another idea, Gran, and I’m convinced it’s the best one we could possibly come up with.”

  Her grandmother had been reaching to replenish her teacup, but her hand halted in midair. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll join Mama’s acting troupe. They’re looking for new company members now that they’re in London. Mama said so in her last letter. And I’m sure I could live with Mama and Mr. Lester in their town house in Kensington.”

  Her grandmother regarded her with a dubious air. “Unfortunately, there are a number of critical drawbacks to that plan.”

  “Such as?”

  “You can’t sing, dance, or act.”

  That was rather a low blow. “I’m not much of a singer, I grant you. But I’m sure I can learn to dance, and you know very well I can act.”

  Lia had been playacting for as long as she could remember and had often dreamed girlish dreams of following in her mother’s famous footsteps. She’d put on any number of recitations for her grandmother and his lordship over the years and had staged skits and little dramas for the servants, often with help from the kitchen maids and footmen. Granny and Lord Lendale had often told her that she was as fine an actress as Mrs. Siddons.

  “My darling, the truth is you’re a dreadful actress,” her grandmother said in a patient tone.

  “But you and his lordship were always so enthusiastic about my performances,” she protested.

  “Because we didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “But what about the amateur theatricals I put on up at the house? The servants all seemed to think I was splendid.”

  Her grandmother rolled her eyes.

  She couldn’t help feeling daunted, but she had no intention of conceding—especially if the alternative was to become the next Notorious Kincaid. Lia was convinced she’d make an utter fool of herself as a courtesan, especially because her heart wouldn’t be in it.

  “I don’t care what you say,” she said. “I’m writing to Mama tonight and telling her I’m coming to London. I can at least try out the notion on her and Mr. Lester and see what they say.”

  Her grandmother seemed to waver for a moment, but then she grimaced. “I feel certain your mother will not be amenable to you taking up the theatrical life.”

  “But she will be amenable to me becoming someone’s mistress?” Lia asked with disbelief.

  Granny starched up. “It was good enough for me, was it not?”

  “Look how well that’s turned out.”

  “I’m sure under certain conditions your mother will agree to this plan,” Granny said, clearly determined to ignore Lia’s objections.

  “And what are those conditions?”

  “That won’t become entirely clear until I’ve had a chance to speak with Jack.”

  Lia’s mind blanked for a few moments. “What in heaven’s name does Jack have to do with me becoming a courtesan?”

  Granny’s eyebrows lifted with delicate incredulity. “Because you’re feeling a little squeamish about this plan, I think he should be your first.”

  Lia got a very bad feeling—which was something, considering how alarming the entire discussion had been thus far. “First what?” she asked, praying she had misunderstood.

  “Your first lover, of course. But only if I can persuade him to agree to our terms.”

  Chapter Three

  “Jack, please wait,” called the sweetly lilting voice he knew as well as his own.

  He turned to see Lia hurrying along the garden path that cut up from the stables. She was dressed in a faded blue day gown with a light scarf around her shoulders. Her lustrous hair was pul
led back in a simple knot, as if she’d been in a hurry to dress.

  He couldn’t help thinking how pretty she looked as she came to meet him—a domestic version of Flora, as fresh as spring and just as wholesome. He’d always found it ironic that the daughter and granddaughter of two exceedingly experienced women glowed with innocence. Lia was the epitome of a fresh-faced country girl destined for a happy life as a wife and mother. He hoped more than anything that he could still give that to her, even if he would never be the lucky man to claim such a prize.

  Claim such a prize?

  Jack had never thought of Lia in such terms and wouldn’t start now. Besides, he couldn’t afford to marry a penniless girl. His mother had made that point in yet another anxiety-filled letter just this morning. She’d included a list of the heiresses she’d vetted, each one a more than acceptable candidate for the role of Marchioness of Lendale.

  “Good Lord, such a fierce scowl,” Lia said when she reached him. “What’s put you in such a bad mood this early in the day?”

  “I’m not in a bad mood. Just got a bit of dust in my eye.” She looked dubious, but he didn’t give her a chance to dispute it. “You’re out and about rather early. Have you had breakfast yet?”

  “No, just a cup of coffee. I wanted to catch you as soon as I could.”

  “Ah, then it must be important.”

  She grimaced. “Rather, I’m afraid.”

  “Come into the library and I’ll ring for something to eat. It’s never a good idea to discuss important matters on an empty stomach.”

  She smiled as she fell into step beside him. “I won’t say no to a roll and another cup of coffee.”

  “I think we can do better than that.”

  “You’re up early yourself,” she said as they turned the corner of the house and headed along the main path through the ornamental gardens.

  The day promised to be fine, with clear blue skies and a light breeze. Swallows flitted through the trees, twittering like mad, and bees darted from one heavily laden rosebush to another. It was the most bucolic scene one could imagine.

  “I was awake early, so I thought I’d take a ride across the downs before starting my work day,” Jack said. They would be his only moments of peace before once more surrounding himself with ledgers, bills, and aggravating letters from his bankers.

  “Yes, I know. I just missed you. I stopped by the stables to check on Dorcas.”

  He cast a quick glance down at her lovely face. Lia had always had the run of the entire estate and countryside. Her roaming about so freely had never bothered him—until now. “You seem to be spending quite a bit of time in the stables. I know you like to assist Markwith, but it’s not appropriate.”

  Her elegant brows winged up in an almost comical slant. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about? I’ve been helping out at the stables since I was a little girl.”

  “But you’re no longer a little girl. You’re a grown woman, Lia. And you seem to wander around a great deal without a chaperone.”

  She stared at him with complete incredulity. “It’s my home, Jack. Everyone knows me. And it’s the country, after all. I’m perfectly safe.”

  He found her naïveté appalling. “Still, it’s not a good idea for you to be hanging about the stables. If you want to ride, simply send your maid up with a note to Markwith. He’ll have your mare saddled and ready for you.”

  Lia stopped in the middle of the gravel path and regarded him with an expression that suggested she thought him dicked in the nob. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have my own maid. We have one young girl who helps Sarah, and the poor thing is run off her feet as it is. Goodness, Jack, what’s got into you this morning?”

  As he struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t offend, a surprisingly cynical expression transformed her features. He’d seen that look on her face a few times yesterday afternoon during that gruesome talk at Bluebell Cottage. He didn’t like it.

  “Afraid I’ll be dallying with the stableboys, are we?” she asked sardonically. “Dear me, Lord Lendale, such a vulgar assumption to make about your old friend.”

  “For God’s sake, Lia, of course I’m not making such a ridiculous assumption,” he said, quickly becoming exasperated.

  “Then what is the problem?”

  “I don’t want anyone treating you with disrespect or making assumptions about your character. You’re safe on the estate, but the countryside is changing, especially with so many men coming home from the war. The world is a rough place, Lia. I won’t have you exposing yourself to unnecessary danger.”

  When she started to roll her eyes, he scowled at her. “I mean it,” he said. “You’re more vulnerable than you know.”

  “I’m not a peagoose, Jack. I know that Granny and I have very few resources at our disposal. I know how vulnerable we are.” She grimaced. “It’s a wretched situation, I’m afraid.”

  “Sweetheart, there’s no need for drama. You and Aunt Rebecca have a home here at Stonefell for as long as you desire.”

  She crossed her arms and regarded him with a thoughtful air. “Really? And what happens when you get married, Jack? I wonder how your wife will feel about having a former courtesan and her bastard granddaughter living in the dower house.”

  Bloody hell. He’d had more than one tussle with his mother about Lia and Rebecca and what to do with them. But he hadn’t yet contemplated how a wife would react to them living on the estate.

  “I’m not planning on getting married any time soon, so it’s not a problem,” he hedged.

  “But you will eventually marry, and I’m sure the average aristocratic miss will look askance at the notion of having the Notorious Kincaids living just down the lane. You think people talk now? Just wait until you pitch a gently bred young lady into the middle of that mess.”

  A footfall on the gravel had them turning to see old Merton coming along the path, trundling a wheelbarrow full of gardening tools.

  “We are not discussing this for any Tom, Dick, or Harry to overhear.” Jack took her by the elbow and started to propel her toward the terrace.

  “Stop making such a fuss.” She resisted his efforts to get her moving. “Merton, you should check the rosebushes by the arbor. They’re showing signs of blight.”

  The old man gave her a fond smile. “I’ll do that, miss, ye can be sure.”

  “Thank you. I’ll come see you once I’m finished with Lord Lendale. I’d like to talk to you about some ideas I have for the kitchen garden, too.”

  “Aye, Miss Lia, I’ll wait for ye.”

  Jack cursed under his breath as she finally let him march her up onto the stone terrace.

  “And now what have I done to annoy his lordship?” she asked.

  “It seems to have escaped your notice that you don’t actually work here at Stonefell. There’s no need for you to be running about instructing the staff. They’re quite capable of doing their jobs without direction from you.”

  She yanked her arm away, coming to a halt in the middle of the terrace. “Yes, they are. But, again, in case you’ve failed to notice, Stonefell is severely understaffed and the servants are quite overworked.” She glanced away and blinked several times, as if she’d gotten a speck in her eye.

  “I’m only trying to help,” she added in a tight voice.

  Jack breathed out an irritated sigh. He had no damn business taking his frustrations out on her, especially when she did everything she could to make his life easier. “I don’t seem to be able to keep my blasted foot out of my mouth this morning, do I? You might as well give me a kick in the backside and get it over with. I certainly deserve it.”

  Her startled gaze flew back to him.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I didn’t mean to insult you. But you’re not a servant here at Stonefell. I don’t ever want you to feel you have to earn your keep.”

  She gave him a quizzical smile. “Stonefell is my home, and your people are the closest thing Granny and I have to famil
y. If I can help them, I’m happy to do so.” Her shoulders lifted in a practical little shrug. “And although I wouldn’t quite phrase it as earning my keep, we do owe the Lendales a great deal. Your uncle supported us for almost twenty years, and now you’ve pledged to do the same. And you, I might add, get nothing out of the deal, unlike the previous lord.”

  He found her cynical assessment unnerving. “That’s a rather hard-hearted way to look at it.”

  “But it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  He shoved a hand through his hair, hating the discussion. He’d always done his best to shelter Lia from the more unpleasant facts of life, but she’d grown into a woman who had a decidedly unvarnished view of the world. He realized now that he’d been a fool to think he could protect her from the realities of immutable circumstance.

  When she was a little girl, they’d all pretended there was nothing out of the ordinary in her upbringing, or in his uncle’s relationship with Rebecca. Selfish and stupid was what they’d all been, and poor Lia would pay the price.

  She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Jack, we can’t go on pretending nothing’s changed, or that nothing’s going to change. That’s why I came up to the house so early. I need to talk to you before Granny does.”

  “What does Rebecca want?”

  She nudged him toward the open French doors of his library. “Trust me, you do not want to have this particular conversation with her.”

  The morning sun cast bands of light across the library carpet and gently highlighted the faded shades of blue, cream, and rose. Lia wound her way between the scattered chairs and low tables of the comfortable room, then flopped into one of the creaky leather club chairs in front of his desk. Even when she flopped she managed to look graceful, although Rebecca would surely read her a lecture for reclining so casually, with her booted feet propped up against one of the desk legs.

  Those boots looked familiar.

  “Lia, are those the boots I bought for you when you were sixteen?”

  She gave him a sheepish smile. “I suppose they are.”