Three Weeks with a Princess

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Ah, good,” Jack said, “I see you found him, Miss . . .”

  “Carson, your lordship.” The young woman plunked down on the edge of the fountain and wrapped a protective arm around Amy’s shoulders.

  When Miss Carson came running toward him outside the ballroom, skirts up to her knees and her ridiculous starched collar bouncing in front of her face, Jack had been skating along on the edge of panic. He’d arrived at Welby’s only minutes before, and a quick perusal of the ballroom had not yielded any sign of Lia. Fortunately, the young actress had recognized him from his visits to the theater and hadn’t hesitated. She’d dragged him into a window alcove and blurted out what had happened, telling him she’d been searching for Sinclair to ask for his help.

  Surprised that Sinclair was aware of Lia’s presence at the ball—something he intended to get to the bottom of—he’d sent Miss Carson off to find the man. Jack didn’t know what role Sinclair was playing in tonight’s events, but he was relatively sure he could count on him to lend a helping hand, if necessary, and keep his mouth shut about Lia.

  Sinclair wore a rather stunned expression, but it quickly transformed into one of fury when he took in Amy’s bruised face. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Prudhoe heaved a dramatic sigh. “Really, why don’t we just invite the entire party in to witness our little farce? I’m sure the guests would be vastly amused.”

  “Another word out of you and I’ll kill you myself,” Jack said. “And since I’m more soldier than gentleman, be assured that I’ll not bother with the absurd formalities of a duel.”

  The baronet’s gaze flared with rage, but he was smart enough not to give voice to thought.

  Sinclair bent down to inspect Amy’s face. “Sir Nathan did this?”

  The girl nodded miserably. “But I don’t want any trouble, sir. Please.”

  He slowly straightened and turned to Prudhoe. His odd green eyes took on a deadly cast. “You’re a brave one, beating a defenseless woman.”

  “She tried to rob me,” Prudhoe said. “What was I supposed to do?”

  All three women protested at once. “That’s a lie,” Lia said. “You wanted her to do something she didn’t want to do and you beat her when she refused.”

  Sinclair frowned. “What did he want her to do?”

  When Lia cast Amy a grimace, Jack intervened. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is getting these women safely home.”

  “And hauling Sir Nathan in front of the magistrate,” Lia said, planting stubborn fists on her hips. Her expression defied Jack to challenge her.

  Sinclair looked at Jack. “I can do that, if you wish.”

  While Prudhoe sputtered an outraged protest, Lia gave Sinclair a dazzling smile. “That would be wonderful, sir. Lord Lendale seems reluctant to do so.”

  Her approval of Sinclair and her very evident disapproval of him did nothing to sweeten Jack’s mood.

  “What’s the problem, Lendale?” Sinclair asked.

  “You were at the Leverton ball last week, were you not?” He pointedly shifted his gaze to Lia, who scowled back at him.

  The other man grimaced. “Right. Of course.”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” Lia said. “My reputation is already ruined.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Jack, “No thanks to you, I might add.”

  “Please, I don’t want to go to Bow Street,” Amy tearfully interjected. “It’ll cause an awful fuss and I’ll come off the worse for it.” She sniffed and took Lia’s hand. “And it won’t do you any good either, Miss Lia, so just let it drop.”

  “Lia, I’ll take care of this,” Jack said quietly. “I’ll make sure that Prudhoe won’t hurt Miss Baxter again, I promise.”

  She opened her mouth, clearly wanting to object, but Amy tugged on her hand. “Please, I just want to go home.”

  Lia gave her an odd grimace but then nodded. “Of course, dear. Whatever you want.”

  “What can I do to help?” Sinclair asked Jack.

  “If you could take Miss Carson and Miss Baxter home, I would be grateful. I’ll handle Prudhoe and Miss Kincaid.”

  “You do not need to handle me, Jack Easton,” Lia grumbled.

  Sinclair cast a concerned glance between Jack and Lia. “Is that agreeable to you, Miss Kincaid? I’m certainly happy to take you home if you wish it.”

  “I’m grateful for your help this evening, Sinclair, but let me make one thing clear,” Jack said before Lia could answer. “Miss Kincaid is my business, not yours.”

  The nabob’s eyes went hard as malachite. “I don’t take orders from you, Lendale.”

  “For God’s sake,” Lia said with disgust. “It’s fine, Mr. Sinclair. Please take Amy and Barbara home. Believe me, I have a few things I’d like to discuss with his lordship.”

  “You’re sure?” Sinclair asked.

  Lia went up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, causing Sinclair to blink with surprise—and causing Jack to want to toss the man into the fountain. He began to wonder if he was losing his mind.

  “You’ve been wonderful, sir,” Lia said. “Thank you for all your help.”

  “It’s my honor, Miss Kincaid. And I hope to see you very soon.”

  “Looks like you’ve got some competition, old boy,” Prudhoe drawled to Jack. The idiot clearly had little regard for his own safety.

  “Prudhoe, empty your pocket,” Jack said as Sinclair wrapped his domino around Amy and then helped her to her feet.

  “Pardon?” the baronet said.

  Jack gave him a lethal stare and held out his hand.

  Grumbling, Prudhoe extracted a small leather purse and handed it over. Jack took out several pound notes before tossing the purse at Prudhoe’s feet, eliciting a string of vile curses.

  “Make sure you get her a surgeon,” he said to Sinclair as he pressed the notes into Amy’s hand.

  “Thank you, sir, for everything,” Amy whispered, giving him a trembling smile.

  “I’ll come see you tomorrow,” Lia said to the girl. “We’ll talk about what to tell my mother.”

  Amy cast her a grateful smile before she limped out, with Sinclair carefully supporting her. Miss Carson dropped a curtsy to Jack, shot a scowl at Prudhoe, and hurried after them.

  “Have we addressed everything to your satisfaction, Lord Lendale?” Prudhoe asked sarcastically. “Might I now be released from one of the most dreary episodes of my life?”

  “You be quiet, you awful man,” Lia snapped. “And, no, we’re not done with you.”

  Swallowing a curse, Jack took her by the arm and steered her to the fountain, plopping her down on the edge. “For God’s sake, please just sit for a moment and allow me to deal with this.”

  Her chin went up at a mulish tilt. After a moment she rolled her eyes and waved a hand as if to say get on with it. He’d seen that disgruntled expression a thousand times when they were young, whenever he’d tried to safeguard her from some little adventure he thought too risky for her. Under other circumstances, he might have been tempted to laugh at seeing it again.

  “You’ve got your work cut out with that one,” Prudhoe said. “But you could always let Sinclair take on the job if you don’t want it.”

  Jack crowded him, almost stepping on his toes. “Another comment like that and I’ll throttle you on the spot, and no one would give a damn if I did. Now, shut your bloody mouth and listen carefully.”

  Hatred sparked in the man’s gaze, but he retreated a few steps and nodded sullenly.

  “You are not to breathe a word about Miss Kincaid’s presence here,” Jack said. “As far as you’re concerned, you have no knowledge of the identity of Miss Baxter’s friends. Are we clear on that point?”

  The baronet affected a careless shrug.

  “Not good enough,” Jack said. “I want your sworn word.”

  “Ha,” Lia said. “As if anyone could trust his word.”

  “What would a stupid whore know about a gentleman’s word?” Pru
dhoe shot back.

  Jack grabbed the man’s throat and slammed him onto an enormous stoneware pot holding an orange tree. When the baronet thrashed, Jack simply leaned into him and shoved the bastard’s face against the bark of the trunk.

  “Don’t ever speak to Lia Kincaid again,” he gritted out. “In fact, don’t even look at her. If I ever hear that you’ve troubled her by so much as a glance, I will destroy you.”

  Prudhoe started to go purple as he struggled, clawing ineffectually at Jack’s hand around his throat.

  “Do I have your word that you will never mention Miss Kincaid’s presence here tonight?”

  “I don’t think he can answer,” Lia piped up from her perch on the fountain. “What with you strangling him, as it were.”

  “I suppose you have a point.” He loosened his grip to let the baronet draw in some air. “Do I have your word?”

  “Yes, damn you,” Prudhoe managed in a gasping voice.

  When Jack released him, the baronet stumbled, clutching at the rim of the pot to keep his feet under him.

  “You filthy scum,” he spat out as he tugged frantically to loosen his cravat. He’d flushed crimson and sweat poured down his face. “Have a care, Lendale. You’re not as powerful as you think you are. Your bloody pockets are to let, from what I hear.”

  “You hear wrong. And you forget that Miss Kincaid also enjoys the protection of the Duke of Leverton and Sir Dominic Hunter, an exceedingly influential magistrate. He’d be most distressed to hear of these events. He might well want to take some sort of action on Miss Baxter’s behalf were I to explain matters to him.”

  “I told Sir Nathan exactly that,” Lia said in a triumphant tone. “But he refused to believe me.”

  “Do you believe it now, Prudhoe?” Jack asked.

  The baronet gave another angry nod. “Now are we finished?”

  “Yes, you can go.”

  When he tried to brush by him, Jack grabbed his arm. “And leave Amy Baxter alone as well. My protection extends to her, too.”

  Prudhoe yanked his arm away. “I wouldn’t touch that whore if you gave me a purse full of gold coins.” He stormed away, knocking over a planter as he rounded the corner and disappeared. His pounding footsteps faded, then the door to the orangery slammed shut. A quivering silence settled over the room, broken only by the splash of water falling from the cherub’s jug into the fountain.

  When Jack turned to face Lia, she regarded him with narrow-eyed disapproval. “Now what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She jumped to her feet and stalked over. “Aside from the fact that I’m thoroughly sick of men in general?”

  “Yes, besides that.”

  “You let that awful brute off much too lightly.”

  “In other circumstances, I would agree. But in addition to the fact that Miss Baxter wishes to avoid the notoriety from such a scene, you do realize I’m trying to protect you, do you not?”

  She batted that aside with an impatient gesture. “Thank you, but I don’t need protecting.”

  He felt torn between wanting to shake some sense into her and snatching her into his arms and never letting go. “I suppose you didn’t need any protection when Prudhoe was molesting you?”

  Her shoulders climbed up around her ears. “He wasn’t actually molesting me. He was just trying to . . . um . . .”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted an eyebrow.

  “Oh, blast,” she muttered. She absently tugged on her bodice, trying to pull it up. It didn’t help. Her breasts were still spilling over the gauzy trim of the absurd costume.

  “I’ll grant you that he was trying to molest me,” she said, “but I’m fairly confident I would have been able to fight him off.”

  “Oh my God,” he said, shaking his head.

  “But I’m very grateful you appeared when you did.” Then she paused to peer at him with a puzzled frown. “What are you doing here anyway? I was expecting Mr. Sinclair to come to our aid, not you.”

  “About that; how did he know you were here?” He propped his hands on his hips. “And do not tell me you arranged to meet him at a Cyprians’ ball. If you did, I’ll have to murder him.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Jack. It was merely an unfortunate happenstance that I ran into him. He recognized me behind the mask, which was quite unnerving.” She gave him a rueful smile. “You’ll be happy to know that he was very perturbed to see me. In fact, he was quite insistent that I leave and return home.”

  “Clearly, you didn’t listen to him.” He took her by the wrist and started hauling her with him along the path.

  “Wait one moment, please,” she said, tugging back.

  Although just as delectable as any pale London beauty, Lia was a sturdy country girl and she was strong enough to slow him down.

  “First, tell me how you knew I was here,” she said, digging in. She impatiently slapped away a vine trailing down from a hanging pot, which had caught on her filmy sleeve. “More importantly, who else knows?”

  The anxiety in her voice was certainly understandable. Her family would fall into fits over this escapade—except for Gillian, who would view it as a corking adventure.

  “The Levertons invited me to the opera tonight.”

  “Along with Sir Dominic and my aunt.” She looked disappointed. “You were going to scheme about me, weren’t you?”

  “Has it slipped your mind that you were to attend the opera as well? Charles thought this might be an acceptable way to introduce me back into your circle of friends without causing too much gossip.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Sorry. I didn’t know that was the plan.”

  “I thought you were avoiding me by claiming a headache because you never have headaches.”

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I might very well be getting one now. And I’m not avoiding you on purpose.”

  “To quote you, ha. In any event, my suspicions were aroused, particularly because Gillian had seen you for tea only a few hours earlier and claimed you were perfectly healthy. I was annoyed until Lady Hunter took me aside at the interval. She said she’d found your behavior these last few days worrying and suspected you were up to something. Not wishing to alarm the others or embarrass you, she asked me to excuse myself to check on you.”

  Lia winced. “Aunt Chloe is alarmingly perceptive, I must say.”

  “Indeed she is. At the Hunters’ town house, Smithwell informed me that you were abed. After I asked him to check, he returned with the unhappy news that you had absconded from the premises. He was quite stunned by your ability to slip away undetected.” He tweaked one of the bedraggled curls tumbling down from her disheveled coiffure. “From what I’ve heard, no one slips anything past Smithwell. How did you do it?”

  “I went from Aunt Chloe’s study to the terrace and then over the back wall of the garden. It was easy to cut through the back alley to the street.”

  “Splendid,” he said. “Nothing dangerous about that at all.”

  “It wasn’t anything I haven’t done a dozen times before at Stonefell.”

  “May I note that you’re no longer in the country? No respectable woman would go lurking about the city alone. It’s insane.”

  “I didn’t lurk. I simply walked a few blocks and caught a hackney to the theater. It was a completely uneventful journey.” She frowned up at him when he muttered a low curse. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

  “You don’t want to know. Anyway, Smithwell guessed that you’d gone to the Pan, so that’s where I went. There was a lad watching the stage door—”

  “Sammy. He’s there on nights when the theater is dark.”

  “Yes, the lad informed me that you and your companions had raided the costume closet and then met Prudhoe. Fortunately for me, young Sammy made a point of eavesdropping on Miss Baxter and Miss Carson’s conversation regarding tonight’s outing, which led me here.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t think to swear Sammy to secrecy. I suppose that was
a flaw in our plans.”

  “Just one of many.”

  “You needn’t be insulting, Jack,” she said, sounding wounded. “Everything would have been fine if not for the fact that Sir Nathan is a monster. I still think we should report him to the magistrate, even if we have to keep Amy’s name out of it.”

  He had to battle the urge to rip out his hair. “I’m trying to keep you from being ruined, you daft woman.”

  She clapped her hands together and briefly pressed them to her lips. “Jack, you need to get it through your thick skull that I am already ruined.”

  “Not yet, although you’re doing your best to get there. Please tell me that you kept your mask on at all times tonight.”

  “Of course I kept my mask on. I’m not a complete nincompoop.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  She let out an outraged squeak and tried to push by him.

  “Wait,” he said, holding her back. “Aside from Prudhoe and Sinclair, you’re positive no one else recognized you?”

  She started to glare at him, but then her full lips pursed up with uncertainty.

  Jack sighed. “What?”

  “It’s nothing,” she finally said, shaking her head. “I was very careful to conceal my identity. I don’t want anyone to find out who I am until I’m ready to move ahead with the next step in my plan.”

  He did his best to keep the frayed threads of his patience intact. “Your plans, which I have no doubt are entirely demented, must remain unfulfilled. I will not allow you to destroy your life this way.”

  “It’s not your choice to make, Lord Lendale,” she said, shoving past him. She all but charged along the path to the exit.

  “Put on your damn mask,” he yelled after her.

  He caught up with her at the door as she was struggling to retie her mask. Jack brushed her hands aside and untangled the ribbons. After properly fitting the mask to her face, he secured the ribbons in a sturdy bow at the back of her head. Every second he gazed at the tender curve where her neck met her shoulder, he was tormented by an insane urge to bite that very spot.

  One moment he was roaring mad at her and the next he wanted to drag her behind a potted plant, fling up her silly, frothy skirts, and have his way with her. She was turning him into a lunatic.