Pleasuring the Prince (10 page)

Bliss smiled. “Well, Papa, we own—”

“
We own
,” Fancy interrupted, and then heard her prince laughing. “
We own
many recipes requiring mathematical ability, not to mention drapes and whatnot.”

“I see.” The Duke of Inverary shifted his gaze from Fancy to Bliss. “I think there is more to mathematics than recipes and drapes, but I will wait for the story.”

Escaping his attention, Bliss gestured to the redhead. “This is my twin.”

“Blaze loves animals,” the duke said, “and your red hair marks you the cuckoo in my nest.”

“I’ll call you Papa if you buy me a horse and a monkey,” she told him.

“Blaze.”
Fancy wanted to throttle her sister.

The duke’s sons and the prince burst into laughter. The duchess broke into a dimpled smile, but Blaze’s sisters looked appalled.

The duke smiled at his cuckoo in the nest. “Do you believe I should bribe you to call me Papa?”

“Bribery?” Blaze had never looked more innocent in her life. “A gift is an expression of good faith.”

The laughter from the duke’s sons grew louder.

“Sister, that isn’t nice,” Bliss said.

“Gee, I didn’t hear you refusing those boring mathematics books,” Blaze countered.

“Papa offered the books,” Bliss defended herself. “I didn’t ask for them.”

“You got what you wanted.”

“That is different.”

“It’s
always
different for you.”

“Enough.”
The duke’s stern voice silenced the twins.

“Welcome to fatherhood, Your Grace.” Sarcasm laced Fancy’s voice.

“Your education has been lacking,” the duchess exclaimed, entering the fray. “Accepting gifts is expected but not
those
gifts. You must demand jewels, not books and animals.”

“Roxie, shall I fetch you the hartshorn?” Robert Campbell teased his stepmother.

The Duchess of Inverary gave him a dimpled smile. “You are almost as impertinent as your father.”

“I do not want you to call me Papa until you feel it in your heart,” the duke was saying to Blaze. “I will give you a horse, but we will debate the monkey another day.”

Blaze gave her father a smile brighter than her name. “Thank you, Papa.”

Everyone laughed, including Fancy and her father.

“What is your dog’s name?”

“Puddles.” Blaze looked around, murmuring, “Where did he—
oh, no
.”

The mastiff had wandered across the parlor. True to his name, he lifted his leg and made a puddle.

The duchess gasped and appeared ready to swoon.

“Don’t worry,” Blaze rushed to explain. “Puddles is marking his territory.”

Robert, Rudolf, and Stepan were nearly howling with laughter. The duke’s shoulders shook with silent amusement.

Fancy covered her face with her hand. She had envisioned a different, more genteel scenario than this humiliating fiasco.

“Puddles will remain outside,” the duchess announced.

“If Puddles remains outside,” Blaze told her, “I will remain outside.”

The Duchess of Inverary rolled her eyes and looked at her husband for support. He was rubbing his forehead, as if suffering a headache.

“I am too old for this,” the duke muttered, and then cleared his throat. “Puddles is on probation. We will consider that”—he gestured across the chamber—“an accident.”

Her father moved closer to her youngest sister. “And this is my baby.”

Raven considered the father she had never seen. “Yes, Sir.”

“And what is
your
heart’s desire?”

Raven gave her oldest sister a sad glance. “I wish to stop time so my sisters and I could forever remain as close as we were this morning.”

Her wistful remark silenced everyone, casting a bittersweet spell over all. Fancy felt tears welling in her eyes, and the prince gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“A most worthy wish,” her father said, and then peered at his oldest daughter. “I wish I could
reverse
time and correct my mistakes.”

Fancy dropped her gaze to the carpet, her father’s sentiment tugging at her heart, confusing her resolve. Feeling the prince’s hand on her back, she lifted her eyes and read his expression, urging her to make peace with her father. She looked away in refusal.

The Duke of Inverary approached his sons. “And now daughters, I present your two half-brothers, Robert Campbell, the Marquess of Argyll, and Prince Rudolf Kazanov.”

Blaze shook her head in exaggerated confusion. “What the hell do we call them?”

“Blaze.”
Fancy decided she
would
throttle her sister.

“Call me Robert,” the marquess said, “and call him Rudolf.”

“If you are a prince,” Blaze asked, “does that mean I am a princess?”

“You are a poor relation,” Fancy said.

Blaze looked at the prince for verification. Rudolf shrugged and smiled.

Fancy should have known her sister would not let the matter rest. Once this sister grabbed hold of an idea, she refused to let go.

“I don’t wish to remain a poor relation,” Blaze announced. “Papa, will you take me to the thoroughbred races?”

“Keep those lips shut.” Fancy could not mask her growing irritation.

The duke looked from one sister to the other. “Why do you want to go to the races?”

Blaze threw Fancy a sullen look. “Never mind.”

Drawing Belle with her, the Duchess of Inverary rose from the settee. “Come, darlings. We will settle into our bedchambers and then return here for tea.”

Raven approached Fancy. “Do not fail to practice your slingshot.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“What does she know?” Blaze asked.

Fancy took a deep breath. “I will not be living here with you.”

Ready for battle, Blaze rounded on her father. “Why can’t she live here?”

“I chose to remain in Soho Square.”

Blaze whirled around. “We need you.”

Fancy closed her eyes against her sister’s pain, knowing the others would be wearing the same expression. She opened her mouth but could not find the words to soothe them.

Her father rescued her. “Fancy needs more time but may change her mind in a few days. She knows she is welcome here.”

The sisters marched across the parlor to hug Fancy. Even Puddles gave her a good-bye lick.

“I promise to visit,” she told them, “and want you to visit me.”

Fancy watched the duchess usher them out of the parlor. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she heard the two voices drift into the room from the corridor.

“Puddles sleeps with me,” her sister said.

“Oh, dear Lord above.” The duchess’s appalled horror was apparent. “How will we ever find you a husband?”

“I would prefer a monkey.”

Robert and Rudolf looked at each other and laughed.

“Roxie may have met her match,” Robert said.

“I think you are right,” Rudolf replied.

The Duke of Inverary glanced at the three younger men. “I want to speak privately with my daughter.”

“Listen to what he says.” Stepan touched her cheek. “I will wait in the foyer.”

The duke approached and took her hands in his. “Will you change your mind?”

Fancy wanted to forgive him, but that long-ago day in Hyde Park prevented her from accepting his offer of love. Though her heart ached, she forced herself to refuse. “I can’t do that.”

Regret flashed across his expression. To his credit, her father banished the look and drew her across the parlor. “I want you to see this.” He gestured to the portrait hanging on the wall.

Her own mother’s image stared down at her. This was a mother she had never seen, a woman whose innocence clung to her like a sensual perfume, her eyes alight with coy invitation.

“She’s so young and carefree.” Fancy shifted her gaze from the portrait to her father. His gaze had fixed on her mother, his eyes clouding with warmth, longing, and regret. Perhaps he
had
loved her mother.

“I commissioned the portrait six months after we began our affair,” her father told her, a smile of remembrance touching his lips. “After my first wife died, I brought Gabrielle here. Throughout the years, I have sat here wishing circumstances had been different, wishing I hadn’t abandoned her and my daughters to the care of others, wishing I could unravel the damage I had done.

“Your mother would have been a countess in France. Her heart never mended from losing her whole family in the Terror.”

Her father looked at her. “Your mother was pure aristocrat. She came to my bed a virgin and remained faithful her entire life. If I had been free, I would have married her.”

“Thank you for telling me that.” Raw emotion clogged her throat.

He lifted her hands to his lips. “I ask that you think about my offer and join your sisters here.”

“I will consider it.” That was the best she could do.

“Whenever you are ready.”

“What if I am never ready?”

“I will still love you.” Her father put his arm around her shoulder and led her toward the door. “May I inquire about your relationship with Prince Stepan?”

“I don’t have a relationship with the prince.”

The Duke of Inverary smiled at her. “Prince Stepan appears to believe you share more than a friendship.”

Fancy shrugged. “I cannot control what the prince believes.”

“Do you have tender feelings for him?”

“Stepan has been kind,” Fancy admitted, “but princes do not marry opera singers.”

Her father gave her a sideways hug. “Princes
do
marry the daughters of dukes.”

Stepan leaned against the banister, his arms folded across his chest, and worried about what was happening upstairs. If only she would make peace with her father, Fancy could make peace with herself, but he could not force her to see reason. Her emotional scars would last a lifetime, as his own did, but refusing to forgive meant the wound would fester.

Magnus Capmbell carried the burden of many sins on his own wounded soul. Not only had he hurt the mother but also his oldest daughter. The duke would always live with the anguish of guilt and regret unless his daughter forgave his trespasses.

His brother and the marquess loitered in the foyer and talked business. The ducal majordomo had resumed his duties nearby.

“My baby brother is behaving like a man in love,” Rudolf remarked.

“Or an expectant father,” Robert Campbell said.

“Ah, the agony and the ecstasy of true love,” the majordomo murmured, eliciting chuckles from the marquess and the oldest prince.

Feeling like a baited bear, Stepan gave his brother and the marquess a grim stare. He heard a muffled squawk, but when he looked at the majordomo, the man’s expression was somber.

Stepan heard footsteps on the stairs. With his arm around her shoulders, the father escorted the daughter to the foyer. That seemed encouraging, until he lifted his gaze and saw her expression. His songbird had the dazed look of a fledgling warrior in the midst of his first battle.

“Wopsle will attend us the day after tomorrow,” the Duke of Inverary said to the three men.

Stepan glanced at Fancy. Her gaze pleaded for silence.

“This Alex Puddles has that dog’s name,” Robert Campbell said.

“Let us pray he did not earn his name as the dog did.” Rudolf looked at Stepan. “I thought you were taking care of this matter.”

“I spoke with the Seven Doves Chairman.” Stepan struggled against a grin. “A cartel of seven owns the company.”

“Where did you see him?” Rudolf asked.

“We met at the opera.” Stepan flicked a glance at Fancy, who appeared ready to explode with laughter.

“What did the bloke say?” the marquess asked.

Stepan shifted his gaze to his brother. “Kazanov Brothers is ancillary damage.”

“Do you mean this cartel wants to pauperize me?” the Duke of Inverary asked.

“Yes, Your Grace, the Seven Doves has targeted you.”

“Who are these damn people?”

“I cannot answer that question.”

“Cannot or will not?”

Stepan met the furious duke’s gaze and shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture, which incited the man to a growl of anger.

“Where is your loyalty?” Rudolf demanded. “This cartel is undercutting Kazanov Brothers. More important, the enemy of our friends is our enemy, too.”

“I warned the chairman to cease undercutting prices,” Stepan said. “If my warning does no good, Kazanov Brothers has two choices. Either we divest ourselves of our interests with the Campbells”—he gave the duke an apologetic grin—“or we pauperize the Seven Doves Company.”

Fancy cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “I will be late for the opera if we don’t leave now.”

Stepan nodded at the three men and escorted Fancy out of Campbell Mansion. He helped her into the coach and then sat beside her.

“Thank you for your silence.”

“I believe the Seven Doves will soon review its pricing policy.” Stepan placed his arm on the leather seat behind her. “Until then, Kazanov Brothers can afford to lose a few coins.”

Fancy remained silent for a long moment and then turned to him. “My mother’s portrait hangs in his parlor. I-I think he loved her truly but fate—” She shrugged.

“Can you forgive him?”

“No.”

“You are a stubborn wench,
ma petite
.”

“I am what I am.” Fancy gazed out the coach’s window. “Tell Harry he took the wrong turn. I am going directly to the opera house.”

“I believed you would not feel well enough to perform,” Stepan said. “I contacted Bishop for another night off.”

“You are not my keeper.” His acting on her behalf without her knowledge made her feel controlled, which irritated her. She had lived for many years without a man telling her what to do and intended to retain her independence. “You had no right to speak with Bishop on my behalf.”

Stepan grinned. “Have I mentioned how adorable you are when angry?”

The prince was a condescending swine. Fancy opened her mouth to give him a verbal flogging, but he was faster.

“I was teasing you.”

Fancy narrowed her violet gaze on him. “I need to sing tonight.”

Stepan raised his brows.

“Performing exhilarates me,” she explained. “The audience loves me, and I love the audience.”

Stepan gave her a long look. “Have you considered their fickleness? An audience that loves you tonight may despise you tomorrow.” He slid a finger down her petal-soft cheek. “Do not confuse illusion with enduring emotion.”

Fancy remained silent, her gaze sliding away from his. The prince sounded like a man in love.

That frightened her. She knew he could never make her a permanent part of his life. Princes did not marry opera singers. If she surrendered to him, she would end her days like her mother.

Reaching Soho Square, Fancy led the way to her front door. She paused a moment, searching for her key, stalling before entering the empty house. Only Gabrielle Flambeau, Nanny Smudge, and she would reside here now. More spirits than living bodies.

“Allow me.” Stepan reached around her and unlocked the door.

“Where did you get that key?”

“Belle had no further use for it.”

Fancy walked into the foyer, her lips a grim line of displeasure. “Leave the key when you go.”

Stepan gave her a boyish smile. “I think not.”

Fancy opened her mouth to argue when the sounds of his coach departing registered. “Are you walking to Grosvenor Square?”

“Harry is fetching my retainers, who will serve us supper.” Stepan closed the front door. “I assumed you would not want to dine out tonight.”

Fancy stared at him as if the prince had suddenly turned purple. She could not credit that he’d instructed his servants to cook dinner and serve them here. “I would have cooked us supper.”

“I knew I had chosen well.” Stepan gestured toward the parlor. “Finding a woman willing to cook for her man is difficult, if not impossible.”

Fancy gave him a rueful smile. “You are not my man.”

“I consider you my woman.”

“I belong to me.”

Fancy prevented his reply by turning her back on him, her gaze scanning the foyer. Without her sisters, the house seemed empty. She even missed the mastiff barreling down the stairs to greet her. Loneliness would rule her life from this day onward.

“The silence hurts my ears,” Stepan said, his words echoing her thoughts. “How will you bear the silence after living with a crowd?”

Unfastening his cravat, Stepan sauntered into the parlor. The prince tossed his jacket and then his cravat onto a nearby chair. Making himself comfortable on the sofa, he lifted his legs and rested them across the coffee table.

“Sit with me.” Stepan patted the spot beside him.

Surrendering to the inevitable, Fancy plopped onto the sofa. The prince was an irritating, tenacious bulldog too accustomed to getting his own way, but she would be completely alone if he hadn’t forced himself into her heart and her home.

Her heart?
Did that mean she loved him? Sitting so close his thigh touched hers, Fancy inhaled his arousing sandalwood scent. It comforted her, as did the heat emanating from his body.

“I do not want you alone tonight.” Stepan slipped his arm across the back of the sofa behind her. “I will remain with you.”

“You can’t sleep here,” Fancy exclaimed, her expression appalled. “If you insist, I-I-I’ll fetch the authorities to make you leave.”

“I do not plan to seduce you, merely to pass the night to ease your transition from living with a crowd to being alone.” Stepan cocked a dark brow, teasing her, “I hope you are not planning
my
seduction?”

Fancy blushed but fell in with his drollness. “I do not plan seducing any prince at the moment”—she shrugged—“but if I changed my mind, I would choose you.”

Stepan gave her an easy smile, his gleaming dark eyes mesmerizing her. “Being the chosen one flatters me.”

Fancy longed to throw herself into his arms, press her body against his heated strength, surrender all she was into his care. Her mother had walked down that path and died unhappily. Even her seven daughters could never console her. Their combined hearts and love would never equal what she had felt for Magnus Campbell.

“You may sleep in my sisters’ bedchamber for one night only. I will lock my chamber door, and you must promise to leave at dawn.”

“I promise.” Stepan winked at her. “Shall I also cross my heart and hope to die?”

Fancy smirked. “That will be unnecessary.”

Stepan heard someone banging on the front door. “My retainers have arrived.”

Smiling to himself, Stepan walked down the hallway toward the foyer. His songbird wanted him but feared soaring to the heights of love. In view of her mother’s unhappy history, he could not fault her skittishness.

Even he was not unaffected by his childhood. His own lack of parental attention and his mother’s sad history colored his adult behavior. Which was one reason he savored his brothers’ children and had never contemplated using a woman for his own purposes.

His songbird believed he was an unscrupulous rake. He
was
a mind-bogglingly wealthy and incredibly handsome aristocrat. That much was true, but wealth and good looks did not make him a libertine. Though, if pressed, he would admit he was no saint.

Stepan yanked the door open, allowing his retainers entrance. Bones, Feliks, and Boris bustled into the foyer, leaving Harry guarding the prince’s coach. Each man carried several covered serving platters.

“Follow this corridor to the kitchen,” Stepan instructed them, “which opens onto the dining room.” He returned to the parlor. “Shall we dine?”

Fancy rose from the sofa. Hand in hand, they walked through the French doors to the dining room.

Leaving the head of the table for himself, Stepan led Fancy to the chair on his right. He realized the symbolism had not escaped her.

Fancy looked from the side chair to the head of the table and then at him. “This is not my place.”

His songbird needed to overcome this tendency to rule. There could be one head of their household, and he intended to be that person.

Stepan startled himself with the thought of living with her. Was he actually contemplating marriage?

Stepan gifted her with his most charming smile. “Surely, you do not begrudge your guest his choice of seats?”

Fancy looked from the side chair to the head chair. Settling the matter, she sat in the side chair.

Stepan sat at the head of the table. Their relationship was definitely progressing.

Feliks and Boris walked into the dining room with their dinner of grilled tenderloin steak with béarnaise sauce and asparagus. Behind the two Russians came Bones, carrying a bottle of chilled champagne and two crystal flutes.

The burly Russians nodded and grinned a hello to Fancy before leaving. Bones remained long enough to open and pour the sparkling white wine.

Stepan lifted his glass in salute. “To the sweetest songbird England has ever heard.”

Fancy touched her glass to his, sipped the champagne, and giggled. “The bubbles tickle my nose and throat.”

They ate and drank in comfortable silence for a time. And then, as Stepan knew it would, her conversation concerned her missing family.

“I wonder how my sisters are faring at Park Lane,” Fancy said. “Do you think they will miss me?”

“I am certain they are thinking of you now.” Stepan refilled her champagne flute. “My sympathy lies with the duchess, who may not survive your sisters.”

“Blaze was already rebelling against authority.” A smile lit her disarming violet eyes. “You don’t think there’s a chance the duchess will return them to me?”

Stepan shook his head. “Rudolf mentioned the prospect of mothering your sisters and you excited the duchess. You knew she raised her three nieces?”

“She never had children of her own?”

“None. Though, the Duke of Inverary is not her first husband.”

Fancy cut a tiny piece of steak and chewed it slowly. Then she reached for her champagne and looked at the prince.

Stepan crooked a finger at her, beckoning her closer, and leaned toward her at the same time. He touched his lips to hers, his tongue flicking out to lick the corner of her mouth.

Fancy pulled away, a blush rising on her cheeks. “What…?”

“I adore béarnaise sauce,” Stepan drawled, “and you had a dot clinging to the corner of your mouth. Besides your spirited innocence and brutal honesty, what I love about you is your ardor. Most society ladies are shallow, but you erupt with passion like a volcano.”

Fancy stared into his dark eyes. “I do hope searching for employment appears on your agenda for tomorrow.”

“Only you would insult a man for offering you flattery.”

“How would a society lady respond to your compliments?”

“The young lady would flutter her eyelashes at me. Like so.” Stepan demonstrated as he spoke, her laughter filling the dining room. “Then she would lift her chin to expose her swanlike neck, perhaps in the event I proved a vampire. The married and widowed ladies would
accidentally
brush their breasts on my arm.”

“What sluttish behavior.”

“My opinion matches yours.”

Fancy relaxed in her chair, her gaze on the remains of their meal. “I could easily become accustomed to servants cooking and cleaning for me.”

“You have only to ask, and I will grant your wish.” Stepan smiled at her skeptical expression. “By the way, Rudolf is expecting us at his ball tomorrow night.”

“Us?” Fancy arched an ebony brow.

“Do not feign ignorance.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

“That problem is easily solved. Expect Madame Janette to deliver another gown with accessories to your dressing room.”