Her Rebellious Prince (Scandalous Family--The Victorians Book 2)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Ann’s jaw flexed. Her face took on a smooth, neutral expression. “Here, give me your things,” she said, her voice even.

  “I can manage,” Elise said.

  Ann stepped closer and pulled the shawl from her shoulders. “It is my duty,” she said stiffly.

  “Ann…”

  Ann shook her head. “No. No more. Not now.”

  Elsie sighed. This was another difference between them. Ann had always preferred to sulk and think things over. Elise rarely bothered with the waste of time brooding represented. She simply reminded herself of the essential truth and got on with things.

  Ann did brood. Yet, later that evening, as the clock was turning toward eleven, Ann poured a last dollop of brandy into Elise’s glass, which sat beside the stack of books on the table next to her chair.

  “Thank you,” Elise said, glancing at her.

  Ann’s smile was strained. “Perhaps it’s best,” she said. “I wouldn’t like having to live anywhere but here in England, anyway. I hadn’t thought of that until now.”

  “It is best. He’s not suitable for either of us—even if I was looking for a husband,” Elise assured her.

  Ann stoppered the decanter with a firm push of her fingers. “Even after kissing him, you still think marriage is not for you?”

  “More than ever,” Elise assured her. She rested her hand on the pile of books. “He is possibly the worst type of man for me. Any man, any marriage, would be so restrictive and limiting that I would suffocate. Married to a prince would be a thousand times worse. All that formality and protocol...” She gave a little shiver and shrugged her shoulders.

  “And you don’t mind giving up…well, kisses, and…?” Ann said, her tone honestly curious, even as her cheeks blazed.

  Elise struggled to find an answer to that. “I think that yes, I do mind,” she said softly. “But the cost of such…pleasantness…I don’t think it is worth it, Ann. I don’t think any wife is truly happy with her lot. Oh, they smile and say they are content, and that children make up for any lack, that their domestic sphere is perfectly absorbing, but it is still a compromise, do you see? They are finding contentedness inside the limitation imposed upon them.”

  As she spoke, an echo of the heavy wantonness stirred in her middle, reminding her of the power of a simple kiss—that his kiss had over her. She shook her head, denying it. “I will never marry,” she repeated firmly. “I do not like what marriage demands of a woman.”

  Ann moved over to the sideboard and returned the decanter. “It is your choice, I suppose. I, for one, would rather not risk being alone.”

  “You would compromise to avoid it?”

  “Life is full of compromises,” Ann said, her tone sour. “Look at where we are now, as the perfect example. You and I were to be debutantes and have glorious Seasons of balls and soirees, silk and lace. Then that silly bank collapsed.” She grimaced. “We’re trying to find contentedness within these limits, instead of those of marriage, and I don’t like the direction in which this life is taking us.” She pointed to the candle on the table. “Will you take that to bed with you?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Ann. I will see to the closure of the house for the night.”

  “Then goodnight, sister.”

  “Goodnight, Ann.”

  Elise watched her sister leave the drawing room and turn to climb the stairs up to her bedroom. Elise’s heart made the same fluttery, weak movements as it had the moments after Danyal had kissed her. Only this time, it wasn’t because of the power of a kiss.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Days later, Elise’s thoughts continued to circle around Ann’s late-night observation about marriage and compromise.

  It bothered her that she was, in effect, brooding. Mulling endlessly was Ann’s preferred strategy when dealing with a dilemma or a problem.

  Yet there was nothing for Elise to get on with, when it came to this problem. There was her work, small personal matters, and reading. In that regard, she was vigorously doing what she had told Ann was what she wanted from life.

  August turned to September. The leaves lost their color. The equinoctial gales swept through London, scattering the leaves that had fallen and shaking more upon the ground.

  Elise had not realized Ann was brooding, too. It came to her attention when Ann found her in the butler’s pantry and held a letter out to Elise. “I’ve been invited to dine at Lydia’s.”

  “They’re in London?” Elise asked, putting down the silver cloth and the candlestick she had been polishing, and taking the letter, instead. Lydia was a Northallerton woman, whom they had played with as young girls, for her father was a tenant farmer upon their estate. Lydia was a warm beauty who had caught the gaze of Baron Lewiston when he was hunting in the area. They were married barely four months later and, according to Lydia’s letters, she was madly in love with her husband and ecstatic about her life as Lady Lewiston.

  Lydia and Ann were in agreement upon the matters of marriage and finding a husband, which was why Lydia gravitated more to Ann’s company than Elise’s. Elise didn’t mind, though. She found conversations about the acquisition of linens and flatware tedious to the extreme.

  “They’re in London for only a week, for business,” Ann said. “Lydia wants to see everyone she knows who has lingered in London this year, including me. She has arranged a dinner party with all her friends.”

  “It is on Thursday,” Elise pointed out, reading the details at the bottom of the short note. “I am the butler right now, so there is no issue in that regard.” She lowered the letter, studying Ann. “Or is there?” she asked gently, for Ann looked less than happy.

  Ann pressed her hand to her belly. “I…just do not want to go,” she confessed. “Lydia will spend the entire evening talking about her children and…and…well, domestic matters.”

  “Which you adore discussing,” Elise pointed out.

  “I just don’t think I’m in the mood to hear about that sort of thing right now,” Ann said. “It is all your fault, too,” she added, her brows coming together.

  “Mine?” Elise jumped.

  “All that chatter about compromise and how marriage limits a soul.”

  “I’ve been saying that for years.”

  “Only, this time it has stuck. In here,” Ann said, tapping her temple. “I keep wondering if I’m an utter fool about the whole matter. I’ve been reading that magazine, the Suffragette one.”

  “Women’s Suffrage Journal?” Elise asked, for she kept the back issues of the magazine upon the dining room sideboard, for anyone in the house to read as they wished. She had never expected that Ann might pick up a copy.

  Ann nodded. “That one. They make marriage sound like prison, Elise!”

  Elise smiled. “They do tend to err upon the side of poetic license,” she pointed out.

  “Even so, they are not wrong in their assertions,” Ann said. “I simply hadn’t considered marriage in that light before.”

  “I suppose I should be pleased that something has made you consider the matter more closely, even if it was not my years of insisting it was so,” Elise said, trying not to be grumpy about it.

  Ann pressed at her temples. “I must think about it. It’s all jumbled in my head.”

  She needed time to sort out her thoughts, as usual, Elise realized. “You really should consider it very closely, for as long as you need.”

  “Can you see why I cannot bear the idea of speaking to Lydia right now? She will confuse things. I will not be a good friend. I won’t be able to sit still and listen to her gossip. Not now.”

  Elise pushed the letter back toward Ann. “I know what you are thinking and I will not consider it.”

  “But you must,” Ann insisted. “As this is all your fault to begin with.”

  Guilt touched Elise, but she shrugged it off. “No, Ann. I can no more sit and listen to gossip about domestic concerns with any more grace than you. I will not.”

  “If you do this for me, I will read every m
agazine upon the sideboard, from cover to cover,” Ann said. “I will even discuss them with you.”

  Elise glared at her. “That is a horrible thing to do to your own sister,” she muttered.

  Ann smiled. “I will put my peach evening gown upon your bed for you.” She kissed Elise’s cheek and hurried out of the pantry.

  “The dinner is three days away!” Elise called after her.

  “You won’t change your mind!” Ann called back and ran up the servant’s stair, her boots rattling upon the wood.

  “I have already changed my mind!” Elise protested…but there was no one to hear her.

  Lydia slid her fingers around Elise’s arm. “It is so good to see you, Ann!” Her voice was warm. “It has been so very long since we saw each other. Letters simply aren’t the same as a face-to-face conversation!”

  For this moment and for the glowing pleasure in Lydia’s face, Elise was glad that she was here. “We must find a moment after dinner to have a good, long chat,” she said.

  “Yes, we must. Oh, I have so much to tell you, Ann!” Lydia tugged on her elbow. “Let me walk you around the drawing room. You are my guest, after all. Come along.” She led Elise to the drawing room. “All this tedious business of Charles’ has ruined every dinner party for months,” she added, lowering her voice. Her lovely face didn’t lose an inch of its beauty, even when she was frowning.

  “I still find it astonishing that Charles is involved in business at all,” Elise said, for she had heard Ann say the same thing.

  Lydia nodded as they moved into the drawing room. “He calls it diversifying,” she murmured. “But here we are,” she added more loudly, as they came to the first guest, a gray haired lady in emerald green. “Baroness Allston, may I present to you a very good and dear friend of mine from Yorkshire, Miss Ann Thomsett? Ann, this is Maria, Baroness Allston.”

  At Lydia’s introduction, one of the guests standing in the circle of men before the fireplace turned on his heel, his sherry glass in hand.

  It was Danyal.

  “Baroness Allston,” Elise murmured, struggling to maintain her composure, for Danyal stared at her with one brow lifted.

  “Miss Thomsett,” the Baroness replied in a rasping voice. She quizzed Elise on her Yorkshire roots and her family, to which Elise politely replied. The Baroness apparently found Elise’s answers wanting, for she waved toward the butler with her empty sherry glass raised, dismissing Elise.

  Lydia drew Elise toward the fireplace, rolling her eyes a little. “She is much nicer in the mornings,” she added softly.

  Elise had no trouble interpreting Lydia’s comment. The Baroness liked her tipple, but it did not enhance her personality. In the mornings, before she had taken her first drink of the day, the Baroness was pleasant.

  Unfortunately, there were many people in society who were more pleasant and tolerable in the morning.

  Elise didn’t bother being affronted by the Baroness’ rudeness. All her attention was upon Danyal. He had made no move to return to the conversation he had been part of. Instead, he watched Elise throughout her conversation with the Baroness. As Lydia led Elise closer to the fireplace, he stared openly.

  Elise’s heart hurried. She was appalled to realize it was not merely the masquerade she was playing which caused it.

  Lydia stopped before Danyal, as he was already paying attention. She should have introduced Elsie to Danyal first, as he was the highest-ranking peer in the room. However, his title was foreign and his English peerage was that of a Marquis—and Baroness Allston had been closer. Lydia was far more relaxed about protocol than most society hostesses would be.

  “Your Highness,” Lydia said to Danyal, “It is my pleasure to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, whom I have not seen for far too long. Miss Ann Thomsett. Ann, this is Prince Selâhattin Danyal Bora of the Principality of Pandev.”

  Elise’s heart was trying to climb out from behind her ribs. It beat in her throat as she curtsied. “Prince Selâhattin,” she murmured.

  “Miss Ann—it is a pleasure to see you again,” Danyal replied.

  “Oh, you know each other!” Lydia said, her tone startled, her hand at her throat.

  “Indeed. We are actually distant cousins, if one traces the family tree back far enough,” Danyal replied. “I spent a few days in Northallerton last month and met Miss Thomsett there.” He raised his sherry glass toward Elise.

  A tiny trickle of relief ran through Elise. He knew she was not Ann, but he would not reveal her duplicity to anyone, especially Lydia. “It is good to see you again, Your Highness,” Elise replied.

  Her middle relaxed—not altogether, for he was standing far too close for comfort, even though a good three paces separated them. Was it possible she had grown even more sensitive to his presence in the intervening days since his last kiss?

  She realized her hand trembled and threatened to spill her sherry. She squeezed the other hand into a fist, hidden between the gathers of the peach evening gown.

  “Are you enjoying the autumn in the city, Miss Ann?” Danyal asked.

  Elise squeezed her fingers even tighter. He was addressing her incorrectly. As the younger daughter, Ann was “Miss Thomsett.” Elise was sure Danyal would know that. He called her “Miss Ann” to jolt her. “I was enjoying the weather, but it has suddenly grown chilly.”

  Danyal’s brow raised. His gaze would not release her.

  Lydia laughed. “Yes, it has grown cold all of a sudden, hasn’t it? It is like summer suddenly gives up and slides away. We had to order extra coal for the house this week.”

  “I am sure you know exactly what to do to disperse the chill,” Danyal said to Elise. He ignored Lydia altogether.

  Lydia looked baffled.

  “I am afraid there is nothing I can do about the chill,” Elise told Danyal. “It is out of my hands.”

  Lydia gave a soft laugh. “As if anyone can do anything about the weather!”

  Danyal glanced at his hostess. “You are quite right, of course. The cold is inevitable, I’m afraid.” His glance shifted towards Elise.

  Elise had to remind herself not to grip her sherry glass too tightly, or she would break the fragile stem. Yet it was difficult to find another response to the white heat in his eyes.

  She sipped her sherry. It did little to calm her heart although it let her avoid looking at him. Looking at Danyal did not help her composure at all.

  A soft clap sounded at the drawing room door. The butler announced dinner.

  Never had a dinner announcement arrived with such welcome timing.

  Elise thought it was a good thing she had been seated on the same side of the table as Danyal and at the far end from him. As Lydia’s friend, Ann was placed close by Lydia’s left hand. As the guest of honor, Danyal was placed to the right of Lydia’s husband.

  Elise presumed that not being able to see Danyal at the table would be a blessing, yet it made things worse. She realized as she nibbled her way through meal, her appetite completely gone, that she was straining to hear Danyal’s voice. Danyal was not challenged by maintaining a polite conversation with his host.

  As Elise could not lean forward and look along the table to see him, she instead said very little to Lydia, while she tried to hear everything Danyal said. Lydia did not notice Elise’s distraction. As Baroness Allston sat on Lydia’s right as the other guest of honor, Lydia spent the meal maintaining her side of a rambling conversation about Baroness Allston’s garden, which had resisted all the Baroness’ attempts to maintain order.

  Elise heard nothing of the conversation, except for mentions of runaway weeds and lavender bushes which refused to grow in orderly rows.

  Toward the end of the meal, after Elise had refused the dessert, Lydia leaned toward her. “Are you quite well, Ann? You have eaten very little. It isn’t like you to refuse a dessert.”

  Lydia’s concern gave Elise the excuse she needed. “I am afraid I have a terrible headache, Lydia. I am so sorry. I must return home and
lie down with a damp cloth and no light.”

  Lydia nodded, as if she had deduced this already. “Dinner is almost over. I can ask the butler to fetch your things, so that once the men move into the library, you can leave straight away.”

  “I really am very sorry,” Elise told her. “I did want so much to sit down and talk with you. We haven’t spoken together, except by letters, for the longest time.”

  Lydia patted her wrist. “There will always be another time. That is the value of friends. They are always there for you. I will write to you in a day or so and make sure you are recovered. We can find another day to talk. It isn’t the season, but you could call around for tea one day.”

  Elise let her relief show. “I think that would be far more conducive to conversation.” Also, it would mean that Ann would talk with her friend, instead of Elise fumbling her way through a less than satisfactory conversation.

  The butler eased out Lydia’s chair as Lydia rose to her feet. The gentlemen at the table also rose and assisted the other ladies to their feet, including the silent man on Elise’s left.

  “To the library, shall we, gentlemen?” Charles asked.

  “Splendid idea,” one of the guests said.

  “Ladies, I have Madeira in the drawing room,” Lydia told her female guests.

  The dining room emptied as everyone moved to their appropriate room. Elise instead walked to the front hall and beckoned to a footman who was passing through. “May I have my coat and things, please? And could someone step out and hail a cab for me?”

  “At once, Miss,” the footman said. He lifted the decanter he was holding toward the library. “I’ll just drop this off in the library and come right back.”

  Elise waited in the front hall for his return. She supposed she could step out and hail a cab for herself, but she had slipped into the habits of society without thought. She smiled to herself. It would not even occur to some upper-class women that they could step upon the pavement outside, raise a hand and beckon a cab for themselves. They would continue to stand in the front hall until a footman or a gentleman did the service for them. If no man came along, they would continue to wait helplessly.