Great Aunt Annalies bent toward her. “Is everything well, Elise?” she murmured.
“Well enough,” Elise ground out, her jaw flexing. “Except that I am vexed with Ann. I will explain later,” she added as she glanced for the first time toward the fireplace.
The Prince was not watching her this time. Which was as it should be, and a complete relief to her, Elise told herself firmly.
Only, now she found herself reflecting upon his kiss once more and how it had made her feel. She hadn’t known that something as simple as a kiss could unravel a lady’s nerves the way it had. She had been quite mindless—only for a moment or two, she added quickly to herself. Yet for a small moment, she had not held a single thought in her head. She had been aware of her body, every single inch of it, right down to her toes. Everything had tingled or grown warm.
Were all kisses like that? Elise did not know. She had never kissed a man. Richard Devlin had once kissed her when he was eleven and she was nine, although that had been a dry, unmoving moment one year at Innesford, and Richard had utterly forgotten it by the next.
Elise was more than ready to leave the house by the time Morgan and Emma walked them to the front hall, where the butler waited with their shawls and gloves. The Prince—Danyal, she reminded herself—also prepared to leave, which was the polite thing to do. When he offered the use of his carriage to drive them home, Elise drew in an alarmed breath and held it until Great Aunt Annalies shook her head with a small smile.
“I will not take you out of your way, Your Highness,” Annalies said. “We have only a step or two to make and the walk will help us sleep.”
Relieved, Elise hurried outside into the thin night air and was grateful for the chill bathing her face. It cooled her skin and helped her steady herself.
No, she could not possibly have wanted to ride in the man’s carriage!
Yet, just for an instant, when Danyal made the offer, her heart had paused and her body leapt. A few moments more with him, in a dark carriage, might provide an opportunity…
An opportunity for what? Elise railed at herself. You cannot possibly be entertaining the value of a second kiss, Elise Thomsett!
As she and Great Aunt Annalies walked home, putting more distance between them and the prince, the touch of regret grew. As it grew, the truth arrived with it.
Yes, Elise really did want a second kiss from the man.
She pulled her shawl in around her with a flare of discomfort and growing anger. Heat prickled her throat.
Oh, she would strangle Ann when she got home!
Ann, though, was less than contrite. “We’ve never gone out of our way to mention we are twin sisters,” she said complacently. “Did he really kiss you?”
“Yes, and he was deeply embarrassed, afterwards,” Elise shot back.
“He would not have been if you hadn’t insisted on telling him you were you,” Ann replied. She put aside the book she had been reading by lamplight beside her bedroom window, for it was late.
“Because a houseful of cousins who can tell us apart wouldn’t have ruined the effect, anyway,” Elise shot back, her irritation building. “Really, Ann, it has put me in the most awkward position.”
“I don’t see why,” Ann replied. “He apologized and you’re not likely to see him again, for the season is over. Does he kiss well?”
Elise drew back, startled. “Excuse me?”
Ann smiled. The expression held a touch of wickedness. “It should have been me in his arms. You might at least describe the moment for me. Then I will be prepared for next time.”
“Next time?” Elise said blankly.
“The next time Danyal is moved to kiss me.”
“You believe there will be a next time after this?” Elise asked, amazed. “Did you not hear me when I said the man was embarrassed?”
“Oh, it will only help speed matters along when I see him,” Ann said. “Really, Elise, you have no idea how to play with a man’s affections, do you?”
“He is returning to Pandev eventually,” Elise pointed out. “The season is over, there are no society affairs where you might run into him…how do you think you will next see him?”
“I would have seen him tonight, except for this silly work arrangement of ours,” Ann said, resentment coloring her tone.
“This silly work arrangement of ours allows us to remain in London and have at least some time to ourselves,” Elise pointed out.
“That is completely true,” Ann replied, her resentment fading. She gave Elise a small smile. “One must take the lumps with the cream, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” Elise replied, picking up her lamp and opening the bedroom door. “For the pickle you put me in tonight, I am adding an additional lump. An extra day of duties for you, plus the two days you tarried in Northallerton.”
Ann sat up with a snap. “That is not fair! I have been invited to a party next Friday night which I have already agreed to attend.”
“A party with whom?” Elise said coldly. “There is no one left in London.”
“Does it matter?” Ann replied angrily. “I cannot go. I must withdraw my acceptance and humiliate myself…”
“Then you at last understand how I feel about tonight,” Elise assured her and went to bed.
CHAPTER THREE
Beatrice Rose, who was easily the most hard-working of the ladies living in the house, had only a half-day of rest each week.
“You should not attend church at all,” Elise told the girl, as she peered at her pale face across the breakfast table. “You must have some fresh air. All that standing in one place is wearing you down. A turn about the park will do you the world of good. I will go with you.”
“If standing will wear me down, will not walking do so much faster?” Beatrice asked, as she tucked a riotous red curl back behind her ear.
“One would think so,” Annalies said from the end of the table. “But walking does seem to invigorate one…oh, thank you, Ann.” She smiled up at Ann, as Ann placed her breakfast plate in front of her. “It clears one’s thoughts and dispels bad humor.”
“Then I really must walk about the park,” Elise said.
“You have bad humors to be rid of?” Great Aunt Annalies asked, her attention caught.
“She means me,” Ann said, as she filled Annalies’ cup with the first pour from the pot. “I was not considerate.”
“Oh, dear…” Annalies murmured, looking from one to the other. So did Beatrice, with far more intense curiosity.
“But it is done now,” Elise added hastily, “which is why my clinging to bad feelings is uncharitable. A walk about the park, Beatrice, will settle us both, I am sure.”
The theory did not entirely live up to its promise, Elise found. She set out with Beatrice an hour after breakfast, when the sun was fully risen. There were still ladies appearing in the dining room for Ann to serve, as it was Sunday and a day of rest for the entire household except for Beatrice–and Ann, too.
Walking did help dispel the mass of feelings which had been sitting in the middle of Elise’s chest for the entire week, gradually growing larger and making it difficult to concentrate or sit still.
Yet walking also seemed to make thinking smoother. The thoughts which had been plaguing her came back, this time without the usual anxiety that accompanied them, which made it simpler to deal with them.
Beatrice also was lost in her own thoughts, which made it easier for Elise to ruminate over her petty little troubles.
Why did she want to see the Prince once more? Was it simply to sample another kiss? The effects of the first kiss had lingered in her mind, she admitted. But didn’t wanting to experience more make her wicked?
Perhaps it was simply because she had never been properly kissed before, that this one kiss remained uppermost in her thoughts. She could recall every single moment, every sound, every sensation of those few short moments in cousin Morgan’s library. When she did, her body responded almost as it had done when Danyal actually kiss
ed her.
As Elise intended to never marry, kissing should be the last of her concerns. She must find a way to exorcise the memory. Walking was dismantling the physical effects of the kiss, at least.
Beatrice stirred when she saw Hyde Park and Rotten Row. It was still early, but there was already a great many people walking and riding along the wide, tree-lined gravel avenue. “I had no idea…” she breathed, her eyes widening. “I thought everyone left London after the twelfth.”
“Most people do, but there are still a number of society people who remain in London all year round,” Elise explained. “These people are walking before they attend church. Later, more people will walk after church. And even more will walk after their Sunday lunch.”
“My Mama would be so angry if she knew I was not attending Mass,” Beatrice said softly.
“I believe she would understand if you explained that you must restore your body before your spirit and soul,” Elise said. “At least, that is what I am telling myself.”
They both smiled and walked farther. Alongside them, and ahead and behind them, more people walked in pairs, or singularly, or in larger groups. Some people rode horses, too. There were even carriages rolling slowly up and down the Row, although Elise had never understood why one would ride a conveyance when the point of taking a turn about the Park was to exercise one’s own body, not the horses’.
“Do you feel any better at all?” Elise added.
“A little,” Beatrice admitted. “I believe the fresh air has contributed more than the walking itself.” Her shoulders slumped. “I just get so tired of the work, you see…”
“I do see,” Elise admitted. “Can your employer not provide a stool, at least? Or let you walk about the room occasionally?”
“I am paid for each completed collar and cuff set, or each completed doily,” Beatrice explained. “If I pause to walk the room, I cannot complete as many.”
“You must be a very fine lace-maker,” Elise murmured.
“My Mama taught me the Irish way of it,” Beatrice said. “And her mother taught her, back in Ireland. Her mother was an Irish gentlewoman on an estate and everything, but my Mama ran away, you see, because they wouldn’t let her marry my Da.”
“Your father was a commoner?”
“Worse than that,” Beatrice admitted. “He was with the Army.”
For a moment, Elise struggled to grasp her meaning. “Oh, you mean the Irish rebels.”
“Nationalists,” Beatrice amended primly. “Mama’s family cut her off when she ran away with him, so now I must make lace.” She turned her face toward the still-low sun as it peered between the trunks of the trees lining Rotten Row. “I think I must dream the stitches while I am sleeping,” she admitted.
“At least you can make quality lace, and someone is willing to pay you for the work,” Elise pointed out.
“There is that,” Beatrice admitted. “Perhaps I might ask for a stool, this afternoon.”
“If you are so good at making lace, I am sure they will not release you just for asking.”
“I had not thought about it that way,” Beatrice admitted, wrinkling her nose. “It still seems wonderous to me that I am paid real money just for crocheting a few little pieces.”
“And you are wasting away because of it,” Elise added firmly.
“Mm…” Beatrice said thoughtfully. She readjusted her shawl. “Would you mind terribly much if we returned to the house? I have enjoyed the walk, but I really feel the need to rest before I return to the factory this afternoon.”
“Miss Elise!” The call came from behind them.
Elise knew even before she turned who was calling out to her. The voice was distinct because of the mild foreign inflection.
The people behind them tsk’ed and moved around them as the pair of them turned to look back.
Prince Danyal raised his walking cane in greeting, took off his hat and came up to them. He gave a stiff smile and an even stiffer nod of the head. “It appears the concierge was correct—everyone in London really does appear here, sooner or later.”
“This is not a usual practice of mine, I assure you,” Elise said, her heart stirring as she considered the line of his jaw and the darkness of his eyes. She veered away from staring at his mouth. Then she remembered Beatrice by her side. “Oh, I apologize, Beatrice. Your Highness, may I present to you Beatrice Rose O’Halloran, a daughter of Irish society, and a resident of the boarding house I manage. Beatrice, Prince Selâhattin Danyal Bora of Pandev.”
“Manage?” Danyal said, his brow lifting. Then he remembered himself. “Miss Beatrice.” He nodded.
Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Prince Selâhattin,” she managed, without stumbling. Her pale cheeks reddened. “We were just leaving,” she added, with a pleading glance at Elise.
“Leaving? Ah…” Danyal frowned. “And here I was just thinking that it was fortune to come across you here. Perhaps…may I take you home, the two of you? My carriage waits by the curb, back there.” He lifted a gloved hand toward the row of private carriages that waited upon the road at the edge of the park.
“Oh, that would be heavenly…” Beatrice began. She hesitated. “Would it not?” she asked Elise. “There is two of us,” she added.
“Yes, there is,” Elise said. “Very well, to save your poor feet, Beatrice. Thank you, Danyal. We accept your offer.”
He looked grimly pleased. “This way.” They moved through the tide of people, toward the footpath beside the road. “If I may, Miss Elise…you mentioned managing a boarding house? You are in employment?”
“In a way,” Elise admitted. “My great aunt takes in lady boarders to offset the expense of running the big house, which belongs to her family. Ann and I, between us, act as, well, butlers.” She glanced at Danyal to see if he was shocked. “My father was a butler. A very good one,” she added.
“I have met your father. It does not surprise me in the slightest. He is the type of man who can turn his hand to anything and do it well, simply because shirking is not in his nature.” He paused. “Your great aunt would be the Princess Annalies, if I remember the structure of your family correctly.” He hesitated again. “She must offset the household expenses with boarders? Then she did not escape your family’s downfall when the bank collapsed?”
“Not entirely,” Elise admitted. “Also, her husband passed several years ago, so she must fend for herself. I believe most of my extended family have felt the effect of the bank’s collapse, to a greater or lesser degree.” She did not feel embarrassed speaking about the very public disgrace and downfall of the family’s reputation. If it served to keep the Prince at an arm’s length, it would have at least one positive outcome.
“My Mama was caught up in that, too,” Beatrice murmured. “That’s when I started looking for a position.”
“Even the far corners of my family felt the impact,” Danyal added.
“Really?” Elise said, shocked.
“We are distant cousins, remember?” Danyal pointed out. “My uncle, Kosta, was deeply immersed in your family’s affairs. He was undyingly loyal to the British branch of the family tree, to the extent of investing in family concerns, here and there.”
“You aren’t so loyal, then?” Beatrice observed.
“I have nothing against England,” Danyal replied. “But I do not believe my family’s fortunes will rise or fall according to Queen Victoria’s friendship. We have concerns of our own, these days.” A frown appeared between his brows.
“You are referring to the Balkan Separatists? Have you had much trouble with them?” Elise asked.
“You know about the Separatists?”
“My Great Aunt explained to me about the situation in Macedonia,” Elise said.
“You have rebels, too?” Beatrice asked the Prince, sounding amazed.
“Here we are,” Danyal said, opening the door of an unmarked carriage. He held his hand out to Beatrice. “We do, indeed, have rebels, Miss Beatrice, and they have almost the same
reasons for rebelling as your Irish army does.”
Beatrice beamed as she climbed into the carriage.
Danyal held his hand out to Elise. “Miss Elise.”
“You knew it was me, this time,” she said.
“I will never make that mistake again,” he assured her, his voice low, as he helped her up. Then he turned to give the address to the driver.
When the carriage had eased out of the crush at the side of the road and was clopping along Park Lane, Beatrice said politely, “You spoke about your uncle, Your Highness. Your father was not the Prince before you, then?”
Danyal, who sat on the backward-facing bench by himself, shook his head. “My uncle, Konstantin, was the Prince for many years. In 1876, the emperor at the time, Abdülaziz, returned the principal territories to Kosta for services to the empire—for he had forged strong ties with British, which Abdülaziz approved of. My family all returned to Pandev and resettled. My father died many years ago, so when Kosta died last year, the title became mine—which was not what any of the family planned, but there we are.”
“The family doesn’t like you being the Prince?” Beatrice asked. Her cheeks turned pink again. “I mean, I’m sorry, that is direct, isn’t it?”
Danyal smiled easily. “I think what I meant is that I didn’t expect to take on the title, even though for years, I was the heir presumptive. I kept hoping my uncle would produce a son at the very last moment and save me from it.”
“You don’t want to be the Prince?” Elise asked curiously.
Danyal rested his hands on the gold head of the walking cane. He was perfectly turned out, indistinguishable from English gentlemen. “I did not,” he said easily. Honestly. “The Separatists have a point. Macedonia—all the countries in Macedonia, including Bulgaria and my own principality—we should be free of the Ottoman yoke. Especially, we should be free of this Emperor, for Abdul Hamid does not care for the western edges of his empire. He faces east, always.”
Her Rebellious Prince (Scandalous Family--The Victorians Book 2) Page 3