Three Weeks with a Princess

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Hmm. If I’m being honest, I must say I enjoyed that interlude quite a lot. So, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

  “Will you enjoy doing it with men who are virtually strangers?”

  Her barely suppressed grimace suggested not. “I’ll just have to get used to it, won’t I?”

  “If you don’t, you might have trouble with the other physical requirements, too. And some men have very particular tastes. Peculiar might be a better term.” Yes, he was laying it on rather thick, but it was the truth. “Ask your mother if you’d like a more detailed explanation.”

  She’d been leaning against the back of the bench, absently chewing a fingernail, but that comment brought her upright in a flash. “My mother is the last person I’d ask,” she said sharply. “So don’t suggest it again.”

  Something was clearly wrong—well, even more wrong than their demented conversation had been up to this point.

  “As you wish.” He found it interesting—and disturbing—that she was so rattled. Obviously, it had something to do with her mother. But he knew Lia well, and the subject was closed, at least for now.

  She came to her feet and slapped the bonnet on her head, tying the bow with brisk efficiency.

  “I take it our discussion has concluded,” he said.

  “Indeed.” She gave him a look more suited to a governess or disapproving spinster than a budding courtesan. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions in the future. For now, though, please be clear on the basics. You have three weeks to decide whether to accept me as your mistress or help me find a suitable candidate who will. Are we clear?”

  “As clear as crystal,” he said with a gentle smile.

  “Good. Then I suggest we return to the house. The others will be wondering where we are.”

  He snagged her by the arm. “In a moment. I have a condition, too.”

  Although she was several inches shorter, Lia still managed to convey the impression that she was glaring down her nose at him. She looked very much like the princess she should have been.

  “Which is?” she asked.

  “I insist on having veto power.”

  “Veto power over what exactly?”

  “Over your potential protectors, of course. If they don’t pass muster with me, you have to reject them.”

  She looked momentarily flummoxed, but then her gaze narrowed and her brows leveled into an irritated line. “That’s ridiculous. Knowing you, you’ll never approve of any man.”

  “That’s my only condition. If you want my help, I suggest you accept it. If not, you’re on your own. And we both know how well you’ve done so far.”

  She glared at him for several long seconds. “You can go straight to perdition, Jack Easton,” she finally said. Then she pulled out of his grip and stalked off.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You truly wish to marry me?” Lia blurted out. It seemed impossible. She’d been branded a pariah by the Ton, and yet here was another eminently respectable offer of marriage, her second in as many weeks.

  Jack’s proposal had been understandable because he felt responsible for her—even though that was nonsense. This one, however, was quite surprising.

  Sebastian Sinclair, sitting next to her on the settee in the Hunters’ drawing room, seemed taken aback by her astonished response. “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. I would never jest about something as serious as marriage, Miss Kincaid.”

  When the baby snuffled a protest, Lia realized she was holding Dom’s little body tight to her chest. She loosened her grip and settled him on her shoulder.

  “I have to admit to feeling confused,” she said. “You were adamant at Mr. Welby’s masquerade ball that you neither wished to marry me nor take me as your mistress.”

  “I would never insult you by proposing a carte-blanche. But as for the other . . .” He shrugged. “You caught me off guard. Young ladies don’t usually propose marriage to gentlemen of fairly short acquaintance.”

  “Or ever,” she said wryly. “Especially not at a scandalous masked ball, where the atmosphere isn’t generally conducive to clear thinking. I imagine all the scantily clad women would be quite a distraction, for one thing.”

  A flush colored his tanned skin. “Perhaps it’s best we leave that unfortunate occasion in the past, where it belongs.”

  Lia found it interesting that the men in her life seemed more squeamish when it came to sexual matters than the women. While amusing, it was also annoying because it prevented one from having frank discussions when most needed. “Very well, but I’m still surprised by your offer, sir. Although flattered, naturally,” she added.

  “You don’t sound flattered,” he said dryly.

  When Dom squirmed, half-awake, she patted his back. “I’ll grant that we get along well when we meet at social engagements, but aside from that, I can’t imagine one good reason why you should wish to make an offer.”

  “Can’t you?”

  His smile was warm enough to make her flush, although more from discomfort than pleasure. True, he was a very handsome man, with his wheat-colored hair and striking green eyes. And as Gillian had pointed out he was terribly rich and came from a good family. A marriage proposal from Sinclair would be a godsend to most women.

  “You’re very kind,” she said, forcing a smile. “But marrying me would not further your position in polite society. The opposite, in fact.”

  “I don’t give a hang what society thinks of me. Besides, you’re hardly a cutpurse from the streets. Indeed, you have the support of some very powerful and highborn members of the Ton.”

  Lia shifted the now-sleeping baby into a more comfortable position on her shoulder as her tired mind scrambled to come up with an adequate response. She wished she could crawl off to some quiet corner and fall sleep, too. Life seemed to be growing more complicated by the minute and a marriage proposal from Sinclair simply added to the pressure.

  When she didn’t answer, he flashed her a truly enticing, seductive smile. “No, I wish to marry you because I like you,” he added. “A lot, as I’m beginning to discover.”

  If Lia had a brain in her head, she’d leap to accept his proposal, but it would appear she’d been rendered brainless by the events of the last several weeks—and by Jack.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Kincaid,” he said, “and you’re kind, intelligent, and exceedingly practical. You don’t prattle on about the latest gossip and fashions and you don’t care about the idiocies of the beau monde.” He reached out and fleetingly touched the baby’s head. “You care about normal, everyday things like children. And from what I can tell, you prefer life in the country, as do I.”

  While kind, his recitation sounded more like a shopping list than a marriage proposal—dry and rather too normal.

  “In fact,” he added, “I think we share a similar view of the world, one that should stand us in good stead as a wedded couple.”

  “And what is that view?” she cautiously asked.

  “We’re both outsiders who forged our own way. We’re not dependent on others for our happiness, nor do we allow them to stand in the way of what we wish to achieve. If we have to go it alone, we do it. All that makes us very well matched, and we would have a good, satisfying life together.”

  His assessment was probably true, but Lia was heartily sick and tired of standing on the outside, looking in on someone else’s family and longing to be part of it. Just once, she wanted to belong—truly and completely belong. As nice as he was, she was sure she wouldn’t find that belonging with Sebastian Sinclair. There was something about him that seemed almost detached, albeit in a friendly sort of way, as if strong emotion was more a bother than something to be desired.

  “Sir, I truly am flattered by your proposal, but—”

  “But the answer is no,” he said wryly. “I expected as much, but I thought I’d give it a try.”

  She gaped at him. “You expected me to say no?”

  “Your heart belongs to someone else, I belie
ve,” he said gently.

  She couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but Jack and she certainly couldn’t marry someone as nice as Sinclair. He deserved more than a gloomy wife who pined for another man.

  “I’m sorry,” she said helplessly.

  “You needn’t be. I’ve enjoyed my time with you and I hope we can continue to be friends.”

  “Of course.”

  As much as he liked her, his sanguine expression told her that she hadn’t broken his heart. In fact, his fleeting glance toward the door suggested he was now as eager to end their awkward interview as she was.

  Cradling the baby close with one arm, she extended him a hand. “Thank you, sir. Please believe me when I say I truly value your friendship.”

  He held on to her hand, his gaze penetrating and sincere. “You don’t have to do it, you know.”

  She lifted an eyebrow.

  “Take a protector,” he said. “My offer of marriage will stand. If you ever feel you have no other choice, please remember that you do.”

  Lia had to blink for a few seconds. “Thank you,” she finally whispered.

  He was bowing over her hand when the door opened and Jack strode into the room. Smithwell scrambled behind, a pained expression on his features. “The Marquess of Lendale,” the butler announced with pointed dignity.

  “What the hell are you doing, Sinclair?” Jack all but growled as he stalked up to them.

  “I’m bidding Miss Kincaid a good evening,” Sinclair said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “It is when my betrothed is having an intimate tête-à-tête with another man.”

  “You and Lendale are engaged?” Sinclair said to Lia, obviously surprised.

  “No, we are not,” she said firmly.

  “We just haven’t announced it yet,” Jack said at almost the same time.

  When Sinclair studied him for a few moments, Jack’s returning glare was so hostile it raised the hairs on the back of Lia’s neck.

  “I see,” Sinclair finally murmured. Then he smiled at Lia. “Well, then, I’ll bid you good night. Please remember what I told you, Miss Kincaid. I do mean it.”

  “I will,” she replied.

  He gave Jack a brief nod. “You’re a lucky fellow, Lendale. I hope you realize it.”

  Jack’s animosity didn’t abate a jot. He scowled at Sinclair until the man left the room, followed by Smithwell.

  “What was all that about?” Jack asked, his attention swinging back to Lia.

  “To paraphrase Mr. Sinclair, none of your business.” Dom had started fussing again, so Lia carefully lowered him into the cradle next to the settee, gently patting his little chest. “And please lower your voice. You’re disturbing the baby.”

  “Very well,” he said quietly. “But I still want an answer. And why the hell were you alone with him in the first place?”

  She was about to scold him when the door opened again. Chloe, dressed in a shimmering gown of wine-red silk, entered the room.

  “Good evening, Lord Lendale,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “How nice of you to visit. You can sit with Lia while we’re at Lady Fernton’s party.”

  Jack gave her a brief bow. “Lady Hunter, I didn’t realize you would be going out. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve come to call.”

  “Goodness, why would I?” she asked.

  “Because I’ll be without a chaperone?” Lia said in a hopeful tone. She truly didn’t want to be alone with Jack right now. He was sure to pester her about Sinclair’s visit and start yet another argument over marrying him.

  Chloe waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. Lord Lendale is like family, is he not? You’ve said so a hundred times, my love. Besides, I don’t want you to become bored or lonely, sitting here all by yourself.”

  More likely Chloe and Sir Dominic were afraid she would sneak out and do something scandalous, like attending another masked ball or some equally salacious affair. Lia couldn’t help wondering if they’d asked Jack to come serve as her watchdog.

  “I’m happy to stay home and rest,” she said. “In fact, I’ll probably go to bed early. I’m still rather worn out from yesterday’s, er, delightful excursion to Lord Peckworth’s villa.”

  Jack snorted, making his opinion of her absurd statement crystal clear. Lia glared at him.

  “I understand completely.” Chloe’s eyes twinkled with amused understanding. “And it’s very sweet of you to watch Dom while Nanny is feeling a trifle under the weather. But my maid will be happy to put him to bed, so you needn’t play nursemaid if you don’t wish to.”

  “He’s no trouble at all,” Lia said. “I enjoy it, truly.”

  Chloe peeked into the cradle to examine her son, smoothing a gentle hand over his tumbled curls. “I think he’ll sleep for the rest of the evening.”

  “I’ll put him to bed in a little bit,” Lia said.

  “Yes, after we talk,” Jack said.

  Blast.

  There was clearly no escaping the dratted man. Lia didn’t know how much longer she could keep resisting him, especially when he looked so handsome in the severe but beautifully tailored coat that set off his broad shoulders to such wonderful effect. No one looked more attractive in evening wear than Jack.

  Chloe gave Lia a quick kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy your chat with Lord Lendale, my dear.”

  “Yes, I’m quite looking forward to it,” she replied in a dry tone.

  Her aunt nodded to Jack and glided to the door, pausing to give Lia a roguish wink before exiting.

  It seemed Lia’s entire family conspired against her. If they had their way, she’d be married to Jack before the week was out.

  Of course, if they knew what Lady Anne had revealed, they might change their minds. Lia had been too disturbed—and mortified—to tell even Chloe or Gillian.

  But she’d have to tell Jack. Nothing she’d tried so far had knocked him off course, including her ridiculous requests for his assistance in finding her a protector. No matter what she threw at him, he feinted. That left one weapon in her arsenal, but she loathed the idea because it would wound him as much as it would her.

  Thunderstorms still lingered in his gaze, but above the black clouds lurked sunlight and warmth and so much concern. Lia had to resist the impulse to fling herself into his arms and burst into tears. She was so tired of batting aside one problem only for another to take its place. In the past, Jack had always been there for her, smoothing out the disturbances that had troubled her life. The temptation to let him do so again was so strong it frightened her.

  She had to remind herself that he was now the cause of many of her troubles. If Jack would simply get out of her way, she could put into action the plans to support herself and Granny. And then he could get on with his own life, finding a suitable bride and caring for his estate.

  “What’s wrong, love?” he asked gently.

  It took a second before she could answer. “Nothing. I’m just a little weary.”

  “Then come sit and let me take care of you.” His seductive smile pulled her inexorably toward him. “I’ll massage your feet, if you like. I know how much you enjoy that.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” she said, trying to sound scandalized. He’d done that more than once when they were children, after they’d tramped through the snow or gone for rides in damp weather. Her feet had always gotten cold because her boots were invariably worn thin and were often downright leaky. And Jack had invariably worried that she would catch a chill.

  “Then just come sit and talk to me.” He took her hand and coaxed her down to the settee with him.

  “There, now, isn’t that better?” he murmured as he draped a casual arm over her shoulder. His fingers teased the little puff at the top of her sleeve.

  “Not really. In fact, you’re behaving very improperly.”

  “You and Sinclair were also behaving quite improperly, from what I could see. And it’s time you answered my question. Why were you alone with that bounder anyway?”
r />   She twisted out of his loose hold. “Sinclair is not a bounder and it’s none of your—”

  He gently grasped her chin, silencing her. “Yes, sweetheart, it is.”

  She glared at him, but he was entirely unmoved. “You’re so annoying,” she said.

  “I know, but you love me anyway.”

  Because she couldn’t dispute that, she stuck her tongue out at him instead.

  “Do that again and I’ll have to kiss you,” he said, the seductive gleam back in his eyes.

  “If you must know, Sinclair proposed marriage,” she said, knowing it would irritate him.

  Well, it was rather more than irritation, given the flare of anger in his gaze. His features turned hard as marble. “Bloody hell,” he growled. “That bas—”

  She slapped a hand on his chest. “I refused him, so don’t start blustering.”

  “I should damn well hope you refused him; you’re going to marry me.”

  “I’m not marrying you either, Jack. We discussed this yesterday. You know very well what my terms are.”

  “I know you’re insane if you think I’m letting you embark on some misguided venture to become a courtesan.” He paused for a few seconds. “Or to marry anyone else but me.”

  “It’s simply impossible and you know it,” she said, starting to feel desperate.

  He caressed her cheek. “Love, it’s not. I’ll grant you there are a number of inconveniences to manage, but we do have the support of your family. That counts for a lot. The Levertons and Hunters will do everything they can to smooth the way, and I’m sure we can even persuade the Dowager Duchess of Leverton and Gillian’s grandmother to come on board.”

  “But your family won’t come on board.”

  “Anne will be fine—she’s said as much. As for my mother, she’ll grow used to it, especially when she has the chance to truly get to know you.”

  “No, she won’t.” Lia pressed her lips tight against the sick feeling welling up in her throat.

  “Is that what you and Anne discussed yesterday?”

  She nodded, hating that she would be forced to tell him. Her chest constricted, making it hard to suck in a full breath.