The Trouble With Princesses (3 page)

And she was passionate, throwing herself fully into any endeavor she pursued.

She danced with passion as well, he noticed, the skirts of her vivid green dress billowing in a lively flourish around her trim ankles.

He gave an imperceptible shake of his head, a smile playing across his mouth. Only she would be brazen enough to wear such a shade when she was yet unwed. Unmarried young women—even ones with numerous Seasons to their credit—confined themselves to white and a few light, muted shades.

But not Ariadne.

She defied the rules of propriety at every turn. He thought she sometimes did things for the express purpose of flouting social convention, as if she were daring Society to find fault and kick her out of its exalted ranks. If she wasn’t careful, and pushed the boundaries too far, he feared she might get her wish one of these days.

The music ended, the dancers drawing to a halt. He expected her partner to escort her across the ballroom to where Emma sat chatting with a group of young matrons. Instead, as Rupert watched, Ariadne rose up on her toes to whisper something into the man’s ear. He gave her a nod and a smile, then turned away.

Ariadne moved into the throng exiting the dance floor, half disappearing into the crowd. But Rupert’s height allowed him to keep track of her, especially given her green dress and the red-gold hair that set her off like a beacon.

He followed her progress across the room to the main doorway that was packed elbow to ankle with a mad crush of party guests. Then suddenly she was gone, vanished somewhere into the house beyond.

For a moment he considered trailing after her to see what sort of mischief she might be up to—since Ariadne was always up to her pretty ears in one kind of trouble or another—but then he decided it was none of his business. He and Ariadne managed to live in his sister’s house in just the same manner, by a judicious and carefully honed talent for mutual avoidance.

Yet her escape had given him an idea.

Why not follow her lead and escape the party for a brief while?

“This has been fascinating, Ambassador,” he said, interrupting the man in midsentence, “but if you will excuse me, I really must be going.”

The man’s white eyebrows flew high as a pair of flags on his lined forehead. “Oh, o-of course, Your Highness. M-my pleasure as always.”

Rupert didn’t remain long enough to acknowledge the other man’s bow as he strode away.

He managed to make it halfway across the ballroom before he was stopped again.

And again.

And yet again.

It took him more than fifteen minutes to extricate himself from everyone who urgently craved his attention.

Finally, he made it into the refreshingly cool atmosphere in the rear of the house, not sure where each corridor led and not really caring so long as he found some peace and quiet. The noise from the party grew more and more distant as he moved away from the ballroom. Occasionally he passed other guests who had also wandered away from the festivities, but none of them sought to stop him, as they were too preoccupied with their own interests to wonder about his.

He turned into a dimly lit hallway and approached a door that stood partially open. To his pleasure, he discovered it was the study. He moved into the darkened chamber, where a cozy fire burned in the grate.

He was halfway across the room, his goal a comfortable-looking armchair, when he realized he was not alone. A couple stood huddled in one corner, locked in a passionate embrace.

He shifted on his heel, aware that he should leave, when he noticed a telltale glint of familiar reddish-blond hair.

Softly he cleared his throat.

The pair sprang apart and he looked directly into Ariadne’s luminous green eyes. He expected to see chagrin or passion or perhaps even annoyance.

What he saw instead was relief.

•   •   •

Ariadne gazed at Prince Rupert across the darkened study, silently grateful for the intrusion. Not that she had any intention of letting Rupert know that, but his unexpected entrance was exactly the excuse she needed to put an end to a tryst that had not gone at all as planned.

In the two weeks since she had actively begun looking for a lover, the search had proven a great deal more difficult than she had imagined—and a lot more bothersome.

As part of her effort to choose her first paramour, she had decided to kiss a few of the top contenders. As important as mutual interests and like-mindedness might be, physical compatibility was essential as well. How else was she to know if she wanted a man in her bed if she hadn’t so much as kissed him first?

So far, though, her kissing trials, as she thought of them, weren’t proving nearly as satisfactory as she’d hoped. Still, she’d held out high expectations for Mr. Knightbridge when she’d agreed to a tryst with him here in the study.

He was strong, handsome, and athletic, a Corinthian who moved across the dance floor like a dream. She’d been sure he would be the one to set her senses afire with his kisses. But almost as soon as their lips met, she’d known he was not the one for her.

Not that his kisses weren’t acceptable—she was sure some women found his technique quite enthralling—and at least he didn’t grope at her like a couple of her other gentlemen prospects had tried to do.

But, sadly, she found herself detached from the whole exercise, more aware of the overly spicy scent of his hair pomade, the soft weave of his superfine coat under her fingertips, and the quiet pops of the logs burning in the grate than she was of his kiss.

Never one to shrink from a challenge, though, she had determined to give their embrace more of a chance. Closing her eyes, she’d thrown herself into the enterprise with gusto. But after another long two minutes, she’d known it was just no good. Kissing him was about as exciting as drinking a cup of tepid tea. She needed far, far more from the man to whom she would gift her innocence.

Apparently he’d enjoyed their embrace a great deal more than she and had interpreted her response for genuine enthusiasm. Which was why she’d found it far from easy to end their kiss.

For the first time in her life, she could genuinely say she was thrilled to see Prince Rupert.

Taking advantage of the interruption, she stepped sideways, putting space between herself and Knightbridge.

For his part, Knightbridge looked startled and not a little annoyed. He was plainly not happy to see Rupert.

“Your Royal Highness,” he said in a clipped tone.

Rupert, arrogant as few men could be, spared him barely a glance before turning his sights on her.

“Princess Ariadne.”

“Prince Rupert. What brings you here, so far from the party?”

Rupert raised a sardonic brow. “I could easily ask you the same, although it seems rather unnecessary given the circumstances in which we find ourselves.”

Deciding that Shakespeare was right and discretion really was the better part of valor on certain occasions, she linked her hands in front of her and did not reply.

He turned suddenly toward Knightbridge. “You may return to the party. You will, of course, say nothing of this to anyone. I presume I make my meaning plain?”

Knightbridge, who was every inch as tall and muscular as Rupert, flushed like a schoolboy at the reprimand, the ruddy color staining his cheeks visible even in the low light. “Of course not, Your Highness. I would never think of besmirching the princess’s good name. She and I . . . well, we were . . . That is—”

“Whatever you
were
, pray spare me the details. I do not wish to know,” Rupert said, cutting the other man off in midstammer.

Knightbridge closed his mouth. He frowned, his gaze moving uncertainly between Ariadne and Rupert.

But he did not leave.

“Have we been speaking English?” Rupert demanded with cool impatience when Knightbridge continued to hover.

The other man’s frown turned to confusion. “Y-yes, Your Highness, we have.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Knightbridge’s face flushed again, and he gave a pair of jerky bows. After a last look at Ariadne, he exited the room.

She waited until Knightbridge was out of earshot. “That was cruel. There was no need to mock him.”

“If he doesn’t wish to be treated like a fool, then he ought not act like one. Whatever do you see in him?” He paused, then held up a hand. “No, do not answer that. Again, it is more than I wish to know.”

“Well,” she said, smoothing a hand over a wrinkle in her skirt, “that being the case, I believe I will take my leave too.”

But she managed only three steps before his words drew her to a halt again.

“Not so quick, Your Highness. There is the little matter of your behavior tonight.”

She drew a calming breath and turned. “Yes? And what of it?”

“You and that cloth-headed pretty boy were kissing when I came in.”

“He is pretty, isn’t he?” she interjected, knowing the remark would annoy him. “But I thought you weren’t interested in details.”

Rupert’s jaw tightened. “I am not. But as the brother of your best friend, I think it my duty to advise you—”

“You overstep yourself, Your Royal Highness. You have no duties where I am concerned and I require no advice.” The gratitude she’d felt at his earlier timely interference had melted away.

“And you underestimate the amount of influence and goodwill you enjoy among the English
Ton
. They are a fickle lot and turn on each other like hungry dogs fighting for prey. You would do well to be careful.”

She fisted her hands at her sides. “Having cut my eyeteeth among those at my father’s court, I am quite familiar with fickle people and their deceitful ways. Your concern is unnecessary.”

She glared at him, her pulse beating hard, and he glared back.

“The man you were with tonight may be a fool, Ariadne, but you are not. What if it had been someone other than I who caught the pair of you together? Unless there is something you are not telling me and you have a happy announcement to make.”

She stared for a moment as his meaning sank in. “Heavens no. There is no understanding between Knightbridge and me. We are most definitely not engaged.”

“Then it really is a good thing I happened by or you might even now be making plans for your wedding.”

Slowly she shook her head. “But I would not. Being compelled to marry for the sake of my reputation supposes that I care what Society thinks of me. I do not.”

He scowled. “Even if I believed that, which I am not sure I do, what of the scandal that would surely ensue?”

She shrugged. “What of it? People will talk or not as they like. It would be no concern of mine.”

“Then what of Emma? As your close friend, she would naturally suffer from any rash actions you might take—or have you no care for her feelings?”

“Of course I care about Emma. She is like a sister to me, as you well know. Which is the reason I am doing everything I can to be discreet in my efforts. Even so, I cannot live my life solely for the sake of others. What use is there in protecting my good name and reputation when they do nothing but stifle me? You are right that I would be sorry to hurt or embarrass Emma and Dominic. Very sorry indeed. But I must do what I must do, you see.”

Rupert crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh? And what is that?”

Should she tell him? Never in a million years would she have imagined she might consider the idea. But the notion of telling him, of seeing his expression, made it somehow all worthwhile. And really, would it matter if Rupert knew her secret? He wasn’t her guardian, and she would be coming into her majority and her inheritance soon anyway. There would be nothing he could do to stop her, even if he decided to try.

“Well,” Rupert repeated imperiously, “what is this grand scheme that is so important you care nothing for the scandal it may cause?”

She hesitated for a moment, then plunged ahead. “I have decided to take control of my independence and pursue my own goals, aspirations, and desires. Rather than suffer the misery of a loveless marriage that I do not want, I have decided instead to take a lover.”

Chapter Three

R
upert stared at her for several long moments, then tossed his head back on a hearty laugh. “A lover?” he repeated between guffaws. “
Ach, liebchen
, you have a better sense of humor than I ever realized. How amusing.”

Ariadne’s mouth tightened. “It is not meant to be amusing. I fail to understand why you and Emma both find the idea so preposterous.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “And I am not your
liebchen
!”

He laughed again, but as his merriment began to subside, her words started to sink in. What did she mean that she wasn’t trying to be funny? Surely she wasn’t serious?

His laughter ceased abruptly. “What is this about Emma? You have told her this as well?”

“Yes. And she laughed at first too. Until she realized that I am in dead earnest.”

“But you are unwed.”

“She said the same thing. I’ve never thought the two of you had much in common as siblings, but now I see that I was mistaken.”

“What else did Emma tell you? Surely she did not encourage this insanity.”

“No, she tried to talk me out of it, but my mind is made up.”

“You really are insane.”

“I am nothing of the sort. Women take lovers all the time.”

“Yes. Experienced,
married
women who know what they are getting themselves into and all the things that may happen, good or bad.”

“No one can know all the things that may happen in a relationship,” she countered dismissively. “At least I will not be committing adultery through my actions.”

“No, you will just land yourself in the boughs and ruin any chance you may ever have of making an acceptable marriage.”

“I told you how I feel about that. I have decided to live my life as a woman of independence without need of a husband.”

“I’ve always known you were a willful, headstrong creature, but this . . . well, this is just absurd.” He paced a couple of steps before a new thought occurred to him. “Don’t tell me that is why you and what’s-his-name, the pretty boy, were in here together tonight. Surely the two of you aren’t actually . . .” He twirled a pair of fingers through the air to finish his sentence.