Princess in Love (22 page)

Nicholas regarded her with great care and sensitivity. “I beg your pardon, Rose, but
I must ask the question. Are you truly ruined?”

She knew what he was asking. This was all so dreadfully unpleasant.

“If you wish to know if I am still a virgin…” She paused. “No, I am not.”

A muscle flicked at Nicholas’s jaw and his hand curled into a fist. “How do you feel
about the archduke now?” he asked, not putting her through the agony of explaining
the sordid details. “Do you think you might be able to care for him if he still wanted
to marry you? Because I believe he would be very willing to come to your rescue. He
was devastated over the loss of you. I am sure he would do whatever it took to save
your reputation, for clearly you were deceived in the worst possible way.”

Rose looked down at the letter again. “I couldn’t use Joseph like that.”

“But would you be using him? You were willing to marry him before. Now, after all
of this, do you not think you could genuinely care for him?”

She sat down again and cupped her forehead in a hand. “I don’t know, Nicholas. What
about Leopold? I did love him, and I think, despite everything, I still do. How very
foolish I am.”

Nicholas knelt down before her and clasped both her hands in his. “His entire family
is headed for disaster. The duke will likely be stripped of his title and property,
and may very well hang for his crimes. It’s difficult to say what will happen to Leopold.
It depends on what the court decides. He denies knowledge of the arsenic, but even
so the rest of it makes him guilty of treason and conspiracy to overthrow us.”

“It all seems very bleak.”

“Yes, but we must be thankful that we discovered the plot in time.”

She thought about everything for a long moment. “What should I do?”

He sat back on his heels. “I think you should go with Randolph to Vienna when he returns
to the Congress. Talk to the archduke. Be honest and tell him what happened. If he
will still have you, then be happy, Rose, for I know Joseph. There is no doubt in
my mind that he is worthy of you.”

She could no longer hold back her emotions. She wept into her hands while Nicholas
kissed the top of her head and promised that everything was going to be all right.

When she had managed to wipe away the tears and recover her composure, another knock
sounded at the door.

Nicholas went to answer it. “What is it?” he said to the footman.

“The
Chronicle
has arrived, sir. You said to deliver it immediately.”

Nicholas shot a rueful glance at Rose. “I did not mean for it to be brought
here
.”

“Please do not apologize,” she said. “There is no point hiding it from me. I will
see it eventually.”

She reached for it before either of them could stop her and read the headline:

PRINCESS IN LOVE

OR LUST?

NEW SEBASTIAN MONARCHY

DISGRACED AGAIN

Frantically, she read the full story and nearly exploded in a fit of rage when she
saw her private letter to Leopold printed in black-and-white for all the world to
see.

Meet me at noon at the stables … Do not be late. I long for your touch …

Crumpling the newspaper in her hands, she clenched her jaw in anger and pitched it
into the fire.

She had never in her life felt more betrayed by anyone.

Why hadn’t Leopold told her about his engagement to Alexandra? He’d already broken
her trust once before, but he’d led her to believe he deserved a second chance.

Clearly she had been very wrong to give him one.

*   *   *

The prison door slammed shut behind her, and she jumped at the sound of it—like a
judge’s gavel—while her gaze fell upon the man she had come here to confront.

He was already standing in the center of the cell, as if he had known it was she outside
the door. She, who had once adored him. Trusted him. Desired him.

He wore the same fashionable clothing from a few short hours ago when he was arrested
in the palace courtyard and dragged away for high treason and attempted murder.

For he had tried to kill her beloved brother.

Her heart squeezed like a wrathful fist in her chest, and for a moment she couldn’t
breathe.

“You seem surprised to see me,” Rose said, lifting her chin and resisting any urge
to rush forward into his arms and beg to hear that he was safe and unharmed, for his
welfare did not matter. She should not care about that. He deserved to rot down here
with the rest of the rats, and she hoped he would.

“Yes,” he replied. “And no, because all I’ve done since they dragged me here was pray
you would come to me. I could think of nothing else.”

Rose scoffed. “There it is again. The flattery and seduction. Did you imagine I would
learn of your peril and try to rescue you? Did you think I would drop to my brother’s
feet and beg him to set you free, because I had fallen in love with you? Even after
what you did to my family and how you used me?”

He stepped forward, but she held up a hand. “Stay where you are, sir. I know everything.
My brother told me of your plot to replace him on the throne. I know how you came
to the palace to win the queen’s affections. I know that your father has been planning
your marriage to her since the day you were born so that you would one day rule this
country at her side. You have been deceiving us all, and for that reason I came here
to tell you that anything I felt for you in the past is annihilated. Nothing I said
remains true any longer for I was misled, and I certainly have no intention of helping
you escape your sentence, whatever it may be.”

Her heart broke into a thousand pieces as she spoke the words. She nearly doubled
over in agony.

He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re lying. If you felt nothing for me, why did
you come here? If I did not matter to you, you would simply watch my head roll.”

Her fury erupted again, for he was not wrong. She was not indifferent, but damn him
for recognizing it. Damn him for pointing it out.

The chill of the prison cell seeped into her bones, and she rubbed at her arms. “I
will never forgive you,” she said.

He stared at her. “Yes you will, Rose, because you know I am innocent.”

She felt nauseous suddenly. A part of her wanted to weep at the loss of him. Another
part of her wanted to strike him and shake him senseless until he confessed that he
had treated her wrongly and that he was sorry. That he regretted all the lies and
betrayals, and that this was all just a bad dream.

“I know no such thing,” she replied nevertheless. “My brother was poisoned with arsenic
just like my father, who is now dead. You of all people know how much I loved my father.
Yet you, as a devout Royalist, were behind the plot to kill him.”

He made a fist at his side. “No, I knew nothing of that, just as I knew nothing of
the attempt on Randolph’s life. I love you, Rose. You know that. You know I would
never do anything to hurt you.”

He tried to move closer again, and what was left of her heart split in two. He was
still the most beautiful man she had ever known, and despite all her cool, contemptuous
bravado, she could never forget the passion they shared, how his touch had ignited
her whole world into a boundless, shining realm of happiness.

But she must push those memories aside, for she was devastated by his betrayal and
by the total destruction of her first love.

How could she have been so foolish? How could she not have seen the truth? He fooled
her once before. How would she ever recover from this?

“Please,” he said, spreading his arms wide in open surrender. “Tell Randolph I had
nothing to do with the arsenic. I confess I was raised as a Royalist, and yes … my
father wanted to remove your family from the throne and I knew it. But since the day
we met on that muddy road in England, Rose, I have cared less and less for politics
and thrones. I fell in love with you. You know it in your heart.” He inhaled deeply.
“Speak to Randolph on my behalf. Tell him I am sincere. I knew nothing of the attempt
on his life or your father’s murder. Treason, yes … I am guilty of that. I was part
of the plot to take back the throne, at least in the beginning, but I am no killer.”

Her heart was beating so fast she feared she might faint, but it was not like before,
when her heart raced simply because Leopold Hunt, Marquess of Cavanaugh, entered a
room. This was different. Everything had changed. She was not the same naive girl
she was six months ago, and her infatuation was now crushed.

“It will fall on the court to determine whether or not you are a killer,” she told
him. “I cannot help you in that regard, for clearly I am incapable of sensible judgments
where you are concerned.”

“That is not true.”

A part of her wanted to believe him, but she clung to the dark shadow of contempt
that had taken over her soul.

“Yes it is,” she replied, “for you were the worst mistake of my life.”

All the color drained from his face—as if she had thrust a knife into his belly.

“I pray you will not feel that way forever,” he said.

She laughed bitterly. “Why? So that there might be a chance for us? Or perhaps you
hope my feelings might change in time to reduce your sentence.”

“It has nothing to do with that.”

For a flashing instant, her thoughts flew back to that muddy road in England when
the world was a different place and she still believed in heroes and fairy tales.
She quickly pounded the life out of that memory and shoved it into a deep grave.

“If I must repeat myself, I will,” she replied. “I want nothing more to do with you.
I want to forget what happened between us and move on with my life. I wish you luck
in the trial, but I will not be here to witness it, for I will be leaving Petersbourg
as soon as possible. I intend to marry the Archduke of Austria as planned.”

“Rose, wait—”

Again, he took a step closer but she swung around, fearful that he might touch her,
hold her, weaken her resolve. She rushed to the door and rapped hard against it with
a tight fist. “Guard!”

The bar lifted and the door opened. Rose rushed out.

“Is everything all right, Your Highness?” the guard asked, looking more than a little
concerned.

“I am fine,” she lied.

While she struggled to resist the treacherous urge to change her mind and return to
Leopold’s side, the door slammed shut behind her.

Suddenly, to her utter shame and chagrin, she wondered what would happen if she spoke
to Randolph on Leopold’s behalf. Would he show mercy? Life in prison perhaps, instead
of death?

No. No! She would do nothing of the sort! She was a Sebastian and had a duty to fulfill.
Her brother’s new monarchy had only just begun. She must remain strong, serve her
beloved country, and marry Joseph.

She would forget about Leopold Hunt, and she would be more sensible from this day
forward. She would not spend another moment wondering how this unthinkable heartache
had come to pass, nor would she wonder what she could have done differently to avoid
it.

What was done was done. He was dead to her now. It was time to leave Petersbourg.

Chapter Twenty-two

January 14, 1815

“Are you sure you have everything?” Alexandra asked as she dropped to her knees to
help Rose lower the lid of the last trunk and fasten the buckles.

“I believe so.”

Rose stood and looked around her bedchamber—the place where she had grown from a young
child without a mother into a woman of the world, who had seen far too much of it
lately, and learned many painful lessons.

She was sorry to be leaving. She would miss her family, the palace, the people of
Petersbourg, who had rallied to support her after the scandalous story in the
Chronicle
. Shortly thereafter, blame had fallen squarely on the Duke of Kaulbach and his son,
Cavanaugh. Rose’s innocence in the plot had been recognized.

“Are you sure about this?” Alexandra asked. “Because it is not too late to change
your mind. If you arrive at the Hofburg and Joseph is unforgiving, or if you discover
you could not be happy there, you can always come home again. Randolph and I have
discussed it. We would support you in any decision.”

Rose picked up her reticule and opened it to check the contents. It contained something
very important, which she must deliver to Nicholas before she left.

Two footmen entered the room to collect the trunk. Randolph followed them into the
room.

“Do you have everything?” he asked.

“Yes. This is the last of it.”

They waited for the footmen to carry the trunk into the corridor before Alexandra
moved forward to hug Rose. “I will miss you very much. Promise you will write as often
as you can.”

“I will, but do not fret. Your sisters will be arriving in Petersbourg soon, and you
will have plenty to do, arranging their debuts.”

Alex smiled bravely. “Indeed I will.”

Randolph regarded his wife with regret, for he was leaving for Vienna as well and
must say good-bye to her, too. “The time has come,” he said, “but before we leave,
Rose, I must have a word with you in private.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Concerning what, exactly?”

He gave her a look that answered the question quite definitively, and she was forced
to steel herself against the raw emotion that rose up within her.

“If it concerns the marquess,” she replied, “there is no need to keep it from Alexandra.
I have told her everything. I would like her to stay.”

Alexandra had been a great comfort over the past number of days. She had stayed and
listened to Rose express her anger, and had passed her handkerchiefs and embraced
her when she wept.

“Very well, then,” Randolph said as he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew
a letter that bore no seal, which could only mean it had come from the prison.