Pleasuring the Prince (12 page)

“You hurt my feelings,” Stepan said.

“You are naughty.” Lily shook her finger at her eldest sister. “Uncle Stepan is not a boy.”

Roxanne rolled her eyes. “Uncles
are
boys.”

“I love you,” Elizabeth whispered, touching his arm.

Stepan smiled at Mikhail’s shy daughter. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you lots,” Lily told him.

“And I love you lots.” Stepan made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “I love you and you and you and you and you.”

Roxanne gave him a feline smile. “Which one do you love the most?”

Stepan understood Paris’s dilemma when facing Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite. Unlike foolish Paris, he ignored the question by changing the subject. “So, all of you believe I should tell Fancy I love her?”

The five little girls bobbed their heads in unison.

“What if she does not love me?”

“Trust me.” Lily pointed her finger at him. “She loves you.”

Stepan smiled at the four-year-old. Laughter from the doorway drew his attention. He stood and offered his sister-in-law the seat. “I heard you know more than Rudolf.”

“That is true.” Princess Samantha sat in the offered chair, her eyes sparkling with merriment. “Will Miss Flambeau attend the ball this evening?”

“I guarantee her presence.” Stepan glanced at his nieces and then asked his sister-in-law, “What is your opinion of this love business?”

“You should definitely tell her.” Samantha winked at him. “No woman can resist a prince in love.”

“That is settled then.” Six-year-old Roxanne assumed control of the gathering. “Uncle, you will tell us the gossip next week if not sooner.”

“I promise.” Stepan told his sister-in-law, “Your aunt has certainly influenced her namesake.” He circled the table, as was his custom, and gave each niece a peck on the cheek before leaving.

“Uncle!” Lily caught him at the door.

Stepan crouched eye level with her. The four-year-old wrapped her arms around his neck and touched her nose to his.

“Tell the lady
I love you
.”

“I promise.” Stepan kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you, too.”

“Bring the princess here next tea party.”

“Fancy is not a princess.”

“All girls are princesses.” Lily gestured to her mother, her sisters, and her cousins. “We are princesses.”

Stepan traced a finger down her cheek. “Fancy will become my princess when I marry her…”

He was late.

Waiting in her dressing room at the opera house, Fancy tapped her foot in growing agitation and wondered where the prince was. She would have paced the room if it hadn’t been a pigeonhole. Making her operatic debut had not made her this nervous. She would prefer facing a standing-room-only audience to stepping into society.

Madame Janette had delivered an exquisite blush silk gown. The bodice’s rounded neckline hinted at cleavage, the sleeves short and puffed. Blush silk slippers, embroidered silk stockings, and elbow-length white kid gloves completed the ensemble. The modiste had even included a Barege shawl and a mother-of-pearl mirror fan, the latest rage.

Keeping her appearance simple, Fancy had woven her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck, but a few ebony wisps escaped to soften the look. She wore no jewelry, which accentuated her natural beauty.

Seeing her image in the tiny cracked mirror proved impossible. Perhaps if she inspected herself in sections?

Fancy pinched her cheeks for color and then looked at each side of her face. She turned around and glanced over her shoulder, trying to see the back of her head.

Next, Fancy studied the gown’s neckline. The hint of cleavage appeared sophisticated and modest.

Deciding to inspect her backside, Fancy stood on her stool. She twisted her body this way and that like a contortionist but failed to see—

“What are you doing?”

Fancy whirled around, nearly toppling off the stool. Her cheeks bloomed rose red.

Stepan leaned against the doorjamb. Laughter gleamed in his dark eyes.

Fancy stepped off the stool. “I was trying to inspect my appearance in that contemptible mirror.”

“You look beautiful,” Stepan said, “but your red complexion clashes with the pink gown.”

Fancy smiled. “Thank you for the gown.”

“I will purchase you a proper mirror tomorrow.”

“Please don’t do that.” Fancy sighed, wishing she could accept the gift. “I am trying to keep the peace with Patrice. Why are you late?”

“Did you miss me?”

“I’ve been holding my tears at bay.”

“How encouraging.”

“I suppose you’re growing on me.”

“Like a wart?”

Fancy batted her eyelashes at him. “You are more handsome than a wart.”

Stepan grinned. “Thank you, I think.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I found Miss Giggles wandering,” Stepan told her, “so I decided to charm the prima donna.”

“How diplomatic.” Fancy slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. They left her dressing room and walked through the empty opera house to exit on Bow Street.

The coach ride to Montagu House, Prince Rudolf’s residence, passed too quickly. The closer they got to the ball, the more nervous Fancy became, and the worry sickened her.

Coaches lined both sides of Great Russell Street. The spot in front of the mansion had been left vacant for arrivals.

Fancy touched his arm. “You won’t leave me?”

“I will stick with you like a bee on a flower.” Stepan gave her a reassuring smile. “Unless a gentleman invites you to dance.”

Fancy smiled. “The three of us waltzing would seem odd.”

Prince Rudolf’s footmen greeted them at the door. Stepan ushered Fancy across the foyer and upstairs to the ballroom.

“Prince Stepan Kazanov,” the majordomo announced, “and Miss Fancy Flambeau.”

“I wish he hadn’t done that,” she whispered, making the prince smile.

Fancy saw a sea of faces turn in their direction and felt more conspicuous than the night she had sung at the Inverary ball. Some guests stared at them; other guests whispered to each other; a few ignored their arrival.

The ballroom looked similar to that of the Duke of Inverary. An orchestra played at the top of the ballroom. Chairs and small tables hugged the walls, leaving the expanse in between for loitering and gossiping.

“Ready?”

Fancy felt the prince’s hand grasp hers. She looked at him and nodded.

“Good evening,” Prince Rudolf greeted them.

“We’re pleased you could attend,” Princess Samantha greeted Fancy. She slid her gaze to the younger prince’s. “The girls are looking forward to next week’s tea party.”

“Lily told me her father knew everything,” Stepan said, “but her mother knew more.”

Prince Rudolf smiled and looked at Fancy. “My four-year-old daughter adores her Uncle Stepan.”

“Your brothers are at the far end of the ballroom,” Samantha said. “Do not forget what you promised your nieces.”

Fancy looked at Stepan. “What did you promise them?”

“I will tell you later.” Stepan led her away. “Let us greet my brothers.”

Fancy felt interested gazes following her across the ballroom. She refused to look at anyone, knowing she would see their disapproval.

“You remember Viktor, his wife Regina, and Mikhail,” Stepan said.

“Sally spoke endlessly about you after returning from the tea party,” Princess Regina told her.

“My Elizabeth also spoke of you,” Prince Mikhail added.

“How would they know me?” Fancy glanced at the prince, who looked flushed.

“I mentioned you to my nieces,” Stepan answered. “Shall we dance?”

Fancy and Stepan stepped onto the dance floor. He drew her into his arms, one hand on her waist. They swirled around the ballroom, the man and the music mesmerizing her.

“Why did you speak about me to your nieces?”

“I was telling them about the opera.” Stepan gave her his boyish smile. “My nieces invite you to attend next week’s tea party.”

“I would love that. So, inviting me to their tea party was your promise to them?”

The music’s ending precluded the prince’s reply. He ushered her back to their group, now joined by the Duke and Duchess of Inverary.

“Darling Fancy,” the Duchess of Inverary exclaimed, giving her an air kiss. “I am so happy to see you among us.”

“Roxie, there’s no need to gush,” the Duke of Inverary said.

The duchess rolled her eyes. “My sweet Belle refuses to see anyone.”

“My sister needs time to heal,” Fancy said. “Her scars go deeper than skin.”

“She refused to go shopping,” the duchess said, her tone filled with horror.

Fancy bit her lip to keep from laughing and glanced at the prince. He had turned slightly away, probably to stifle his laughter.

“That problem is easily solved,” the Duke of Inverary told his wife. “Invite the shopkeepers to Park Lane. By the time she’s ready to come out, Belle will have a complete wardrobe.”

The duchess gave him a feline smile. “Magnus, only your intelligence rivals your startling good looks.”

Now the Duke of Inverary rolled his eyes. “I’m going to see what’s happening in the card room.”

Fancy watched him walk away. She thought that he and his wife made a good match.

“Good evening, Stepan.”

Fancy turned toward the female voice. A redhead in a daringly low-cut gown was smiling at the prince.

“Meet Lady Veronica Winthrop,” Stepan said to her. “Lady Veronica, I present—”

“I know who she is,” Veronica interrupted, ignoring Fancy. “Your brother’s expectation that we socialize with opera singers surprises me.”

Fancy felt the prince grasp her hand. Though he and his family accepted her, she should not have come and inflicted her presence on others.

“Miss Flambeau is Inverary’s daughter,” Stepan said.

Veronica Winthrop looked at Fancy, the accusation
bastard
stamped across her expression. She returned her attention to the prince. “I’ll see you later.”

Fancy watched the redhead turning away. She had just been given the cut direct.

“Veronica, darling, I love the gown.” The Duchess of Inverary shook her head. “Though, that particular blue combined with your red hair reminds me of the Union Jack.”

Fancy coughed to cover a laugh. Veronica Winthrop glanced at her and then curled her lip at the duchess before walking away.

The Duchess of Inverary touched Fancy’s arm. “Wise women appear cool and calm, no matter the provocation, and we always hit back. You must learn the fine art of insult.”

Prince Rudolf approached her. “Miss Flambeau, may I have this dance?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Fancy placed her hand in his and stepped onto the dance floor. This prince danced as well as his brother, with the grace of a man who had waltzed hundreds of times.

“How is my secret sister this evening?” His smile reminded her of Stepan.

Fancy gazed into his dark eyes so reminiscent of those of his youngest brother. “Stepan promised to stay by my side unless a gentleman invited me to dance. I thought three of us waltzing would seem odd.”

Prince Rudolf laughed at that, drawing curious gazes from those around them. “Relax and enjoy the evening. You are among friends.”

Fancy gave him a rueful smile. “I doubt Lady Veronica considers me a friend.”

“My youngest brother is a wealthy, eligible prince, much chased by society ladies.”

“That explains his aversion to the word
no
.”

“Babies of the family believe themselves irresistible,” Rudolf said. “The eldest—like us—shoulder the burden of responsibility. Though, since he met you, Stepan has requested more participation in Kazanov Brothers.”

Fancy smiled, pleased with herself. Apparently, she was influencing the prince for the better.

Prince Rudolf escorted Fancy back to their group when the music ended. Her spirits dropped, though, when she saw an older woman and a young blonde, gowned in white silk, speaking with Stepan and the duchess.

“Fancy, meet Lady Clarke and her daughter Cynthia.” The duchess made the introductions.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintances,” Fancy said.

Both mother and daughter gave her a polite smile. Their blue eyes were ice crystals.

“Your Highness,” Lady Clarke addressed the prince. “You haven’t danced with Cynthia.”

“Your thoughts mirror mine,” Stepan said, oozing smooth sophistication. “Lady Cynthia?”

Instead of being embarrassed by her mother’s interference, Lady Cynthia preened beneath the prince’s invitation and placed her hand in his. She cast Fancy a smug smile and headed for the dance floor.

The surge of jealousy that swept through Fancy surprised her. And then she realized the prince had had no choice except to dance with the twit. Refusing would have been too cruel.

“Miss Flambeau?”

Fancy turned around.

Prince Mikhail Kazanov stood there. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes, you may.” The prince’s brothers were certainly welcoming her presence among them.

Fancy and Mikhail stepped toward the dance floor but heard Lady Clarke say to the duchess, “Your niece’s choice of guests surprises me. A gentleman bringing his mistress into respectable society makes me uncomfortable.”

“Poor darling,” the duchess commiserated. “If you feel uncomfortable, perhaps you should leave.”

Fancy had never felt more humiliated. Her complexion colored a deep scarlet, and she would have preferred leaving to waltzing.

“Do not let her remarks bother you,” Mikhail said. “Lady Clarke is angling to catch my brother for a son-in-law.”

“Many women are angling for Stepan.”

“My brother is in no danger of being caught by that woman. Stepan has been hooked already.”

Fancy caught his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“For the first time in his life, Stepan has fallen in love,” Mikhail answered. “The gossips are already spreading the news.”

Her expression mirrored her confusion.

“My advice is this,” Mikhail said. “Keep him dangling a bit longer and then reel him into marriage.”

Fancy laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

“I would never joke about affairs of the heart.”