The Rogue Prince (10 page)

The instant wrench of arousal shouldn't have taken him off guard, for this woman seemed always to have that effect upon him. Knowing how responsive she was to his touch had made it sheer torture to sit beside her at the Waverly supper. Even then he'd known that he needed to stay in complete control of their affair, and use it to his advantage. Yet, watching her descend the stairs set off a fierce need in him.

Her gown wasn't particularly alluring, but her pale green skirts hugged her legs as she descended each step. Her bodice was made of some kind of delicate ivory cloth that framed the pretty breasts he'd touched and kissed far too long ago.

Christ, he wanted her now. He shoved his fingers through his hair before he could manage to paste a pleasant smile on his face.

She seemed discomfited as well, and Tom accepted the blame for it, for he was sure she had not expected him to step into her house openly, for anyone to see.

“My lady…” said the butler.

Tom gave Maggie a regal nod, quite aware of the butler's puzzled gaze. “Lady Margaret. I am pleased to find you at home.”

She recovered and descended the rest of the way down the stairs, offering him her hand with a dubious smile.

“What brings you to Hanover Square today, Your Highness?” she asked. Though she kept her voice level, her expression belied her calm manner.

“At the duke's ball, we spoke of an outing to visit my estate,” he said. “I'd hoped it would be convenient for you and your children to accompany me there this afternoon.”

“The children? And me?” She flushed deep red and placed a hand on her breast, but did not dispute his words, not with the butler present and other servants presumably nearby.

“Aye.” It was not what he'd led her to expect, nor was it what he'd originally planned. But he realized his purpose would be better served by engaging her entire family. He'd planted enough seeds with Shefford during last night's ball to pique his curiosity about Sabedorian horses. When Shefford learned that his sister was visiting Delamere House with her children, he would surely make his way there. It was the best scheme for getting the marquess out there without a direct invitation.

Maggie's indecision lasted only a moment. She glanced at the butler. “Mathers, would you please have Nurse Hawkins prepare the children for an outing?”

“Of course, my lady.”

There was a row of buttons spanning from her high waist to her throat. Tom felt a keen urge to unfasten them, to touch the smooth skin he knew lay beneath. Rich, soft curls framed her face and he clasped his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for her when Mathers started up the staircase.

“This is a surprise, Your Highness,” she said. “I didn't think you meant for the children to come out today.”

“I believe it would be best.”

He thought there was confusion in her eyes, but she turned away so quickly he could not be sure. She led him into a drawing room and Thomas closed the door behind him. Then he took her into his arms. “Do not think it's because I do not care to have you alone.”

He tipped his head down and grazed her mouth with his lips. “I do. Very much.”

He felt her swallow just before she stepped away. Standing several feet from him, she folded her hands tightly at her waist, and bit her lower lip, taking a moment to compose herself.

Tom knew she had no idea what a pleasing picture she made, hesitant and uncertain, and completely unaware of her own appeal. He had to remind himself that the situation was completely changed from the day before. She was the apex in his triangle of revenge.

Later. He would think of it later.

He started to close the distance between them, but before he could take her into his arms again, Lady Beatrice Shefford opened the door and pushed into the sitting room. “Maggie, there you are. I've decided you must pay a visit to—”

“Mother—”

“Have you nothing better to wear, Margaret? You are in Town now and there are certain stan—”

“Mother.”

Tom intervened, and made his presence known to Maggie's mother. “Good afternoon, Lady Shefford.”

“Oh!” she cried, whirling to the sound of his voice. Her face altered dramatically, her harsh, authoritarian mask changing into a vision of soft femininity. “Your Highness! What a surprise to see you here!”

The older woman made a polite bow, then started removing her gloves and coat. “It's chilly today, is it not? I hope you do not find our climate too damp, Your Highness.” Like a strange dervish, she turned quickly away from him and spoke sharply once again to her daughter. “Maggie, where is Mathers? Why hasn't he brought the—”

“He is doing what I asked him, Mother,” Maggie said as the butler hurried into the room to serve his mistress's demanding mother.

“Bring tea, Mathers,” Lady Shefford said firmly. “And have someone see to this fire. Maggie,” she added, softening her tone to one that seemed deceptively sweet, “you must give more specific instructions to your staff. You cannot expect them to know how you want your rooms kept.”

“Mother, I—”

“What is the occasion of your visit, Your Highness?” Lady Shefford asked, smiling up at Tom.

“Mother, will you please be seated?”

Tom felt more than a small degree of sympathy for Maggie, whose mother seemed to have no respect for her daughter's position in her own house. He wondered if the woman had always been so overbearing.

“Only if Prince Thomas sits beside me,” Lady Shefford said with a coquettish smile that might have been appropriate for a woman half her age. She took a seat on a worn leather sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

“I'm afraid I will have to decline,” he said, perversely enjoying thwarting the woman for Maggie's sake. “You must excuse Lady Blackmore and I…We were just about to leave.”

 

Margaret could have kissed Thomas for that. She'd never seen her mother so politely rebuked by such a handsome, high-ranking gentleman, especially after turning her most potent charm upon him.

But his request to take the children with them that afternoon confused her. It certainly did not suggest the possibility of an intimate assignation, and Maggie could not help but think he must have changed his mind about their affair. About her.

And yet he'd taken her in his arms only moments ago.

She went to the door to catch Mathers and tell him to cancel the tea her mother requested, but as the children descended the stairs with Nurse Hawkins, she took Lily from the nurse's arms and smoothed Zachary's dark auburn hair.

“Are we going to the park, Mama?” Zachary asked.

“No, darling.”

“Hello, young man,” said Thomas, coming up behind her.

“You're the captain!” Zachary cried, and Maggie cringed inside. It would be beyond awkward if Zachary told Thomas about the drawings and the tale she'd woven about him for the children.

“No, sweetheart. You remember—this is the man who rescued you in the street. And it would be a very nice gesture if you thanked him for it.”

Zachary was prevented from saying anything more by the entrance of his grandmother. She went directly to Lily and pulled her hand away from her face, glaring at Maggie. “You should not allow her to suck her thumb, Maggie. It's a terrible habit.”

Maggie set Lily on her feet and took a deep breath, afraid that it would be her mother who embarrassed her, and not her children. “Shall we go?” she asked Thomas. “Mother, may we drop you at home?”

“No,” Beatrice replied sourly. “I have my carriage.”

“Well then, Mathers will see you out,” Maggie said, allowing the butler to assist her with her pelisse. “Hawkins, I do hope you will enjoy your afternoon's holiday.”

As she started for the front door with Thomas right behind her, she basked in the warmth of his presence, which overrode her mother's cold, irritating conduct.

Maggie knew she shouldn't allow Beatrice to bother her, but she'd hoped her mother's resentment might have relented. After all, it had been years…

She sighed. With her new, secret employment with Mr. Brown, she was going to have to accustom
herself to living in Town. And, if the past few days were any indication, seeing her family on occasion.

“Margaret, you must take the nurse with you,” Beatrice called out.

“Not this time, Mother,” she said with the utmost civility.

“Why, see here. It's entirely improper—”

“The children and I will be just fine,” she interjected before her mother's diatribe could really begin. “Would you mind going ahead?” she asked Thomas. “I need a quick word with my children before we go.”

Thomas escorted Beatrice out of the house and Maggie turned to the children, admonishing Zachary especially, not to mention the story about the captain. She would be mortified if Thomas ever learned she'd drawn his likeness and made up a heroic tale about him.

“Because he is a true hero, you see,” she explained. “And heroes never like to speak of their brave deeds.”

Zachary seemed to understand, and promised not to mention either the tales or the drawings Maggie had made. Lily just jabbed her thumb into her mouth again and nodded.

Satisfied that they would not humiliate her, she trundled the two into Thomas's carriage and followed them inside. A minute later, they were on their way.

 

Maggie's mother was a shrew, and that description was kind. Tom did not understand how such
a woman could have borne a sweet, unassuming daughter like Maggie.

“My mama said I should thank you for saving me in the square.”

“You are quite welcome,” Thomas replied. The boy was just like any other English child, energetic and curious. It was hard not to like him. “I trust you will not be running into the street again any time soon.”

“No, my lord.”

Maggie placed her hand upon the boy's knee. “‘Your Highness,'” she corrected.

“No,” said Tom. “You must call me…Thorne. It's an old family name.”

“Oh, but—”

“I insist,” he said, countering Maggie's objection. The kind of formality followed by high society seemed out of place here. And Thomas felt like a perfect buffoon with a five-year-old calling him Your Highness.

“Nurse Hawkins said you are a prince.”

Tom did not respond, finding it difficult to lie outright to the boy. It should not matter. The brat was Julian's offspring, even though he looked nothing like his pale-skinned, blond sire. Zachary favored Maggie with his robust coloring and intelligent eyes.

“Are you like Prince George?” the boy asked.

Thomas laughed, enjoying his direct, ingenuous gaze.
God, he hoped not
. “No, nothing at all like Prince George. Will you introduce me to your sister?”

He could not help but admit that the little girl was charming, clinging to her mother shyly, with large gray eyes like her mother's and the same dark, auburn curls. Thomas didn't think she could be much older than two, and realized she must have been an infant when her father died. She'd put her thumb into her mouth immediately after leaving her grandmother's company, and Maggie had not corrected her.

Tom admired her for that.

Zachary was lively without being unruly, and Maggie was quite clearly attached to both children. She wasn't a mother who would willingly send her daughter off to Sabedoria to wed a prince, no matter how wealthy he might be.

“Where are we going?” Zachary asked, after he'd made the requested introduction. Lily had looked away pointedly, clutching her mother even more tightly at the mention of her name, and Maggie mouthed the word, “shy.”

“We are going to visit the house I just bought,” Tom said.

The boy's face fell and Thomas knew it was exactly the way he'd have reacted at that age to such news.

“I have several horses there,” Thomas said.

“You do? How many?”

“Twelve.”

“Are they…Thoro-Thoro-”

“Thoroughbreds, Zachary,” Maggie corrected gently.

“Papa had some of those horses. He used to take
them away from Blackmore Manor and race them, didn't he, Mama?”

The boy's words brought Thomas back to reality. He had only one purpose here, and that was to discover what he could about Shefford and his habits, and to lure the man out to Delamere's. He could not dwell upon the captivating sight of Maggie cuddling her daughter on her lap, or her bright young son's engaging questions.

“Yes, he did, Zachary,” Maggie replied. “And your Uncle Shefford races horses, too.”

“Perhaps I should have invited Lord Shefford to join us?”

“No,” Maggie said abruptly. “I mean, I believe he has another engagement.”

Thanks to Andrew Harland, Tom knew otherwise. He also knew that Harland was going to find a way to inform Shefford that Maggie was visiting Delamere House that afternoon. Tom hoped it would be enough to draw the marquess there. “Well, then. I'll just have to invite him out some other time.”

“Do you race your horses, too, Thorne?” the small boy asked.

“Aye.”

Maggie held her daughter close as the little girl's eyes began to drift closed. The movement of the carriage as well as the gentle caress of Maggie's hand in her hair lulled the child to sleep.

“Will there be any other children there?” asked Zachary, but Tom hardly heard his question. His eyes were locked upon Maggie's softly moving fin
gers, and thinking about how they were going to feel on him.

“Thorne?”

“Children? No. I haven't any children.”

“Only horses, then?” the boy asked, and Tom tore his attention from Maggie's hands.

“Yes.” She could not possibly understand the effect she had on him. She might have experience of the marriage bed, but he'd found her curiously innocent of the pleasures to be shared between a man and a woman. But for the climax she'd experienced the previous morning, Lady Margaret was as maidenly as a virgin—chaste and essentially untouched.