Pleasuring the Prince (13 page)

Mikhail escorted her off the dance floor. Cynthia Clarke was clinging to the prince’s arm. His expression registered polite resignation.

“Cynthia, darling, why do you always wear white?” the duchess asked.

Lady Clarke flicked a glance at Fancy and then answered for her daughter. “Cynthia’s white gowns symbolize her maidenly virtue.”

“Cynthia will never attract a husband.” The duchess shook her head. “The blond hair, pale skin, and white gown make her disappear into the background.”

Lady Clarke and her daughter left soon after that remark. Retreating to the safety of another group seemed wise.

Stepan looked at the duchess. “Your tongue draws blood.”

She gave him a dimpled smile. “Thank you, darling.”

“Do you consider my sisters and me a challenge?” Fancy asked her.

“How refreshingly direct you are, my dear.”

“You did not answer my question.”

“Your stubbornness reminds me of your father.” The duchess smiled to soften the scolding. “Darling, I consider finding husbands for my stepdaughters a new, hopefully short-lived project.”

Fancy opened her mouth to argue.

“I felt the same about my three nieces,” the duchess added.

Fancy shut her mouth, postponing the argument.

“Miss Flambeau, may I have this dance?”

Fancy smiled at Prince Viktor Kazanov and accepted his invitation. She glanced at Stepan, who followed her with his eyes.

“I have waited a long time for this moment.” Viktor winked at her. “The sight of my brother so smitten pleases me.”

Fancy blushed and stepped into his arms. “Mikhail advised me to let him dangle.”

“Stepan is our favorite target for teasing.”

Fancy smiled at that. These Kazanov brothers treated each other as commoners would.

As Viktor and Fancy swirled around the ballroom Fancy noted Stepan waltzing with a sultry brunette gowned in red.

Viktor’s gaze followed hers. “Lady Elizabeth Drummond wants Stepan for her lover. She married a man old enough to be her father.”

Fancy had never heard of anything so scandalous. Surprise etched itself across her delicate features.

“Stepan would never consider a married woman,” Viktor said, “nor has he kept a mistress. Though, my brother is no saint.”

Viktor and Fancy returned to their group when the music ended, and Stepan joined them, sans Elizabeth Drummond. The Duke of Inverary had returned from the card room and stood with his wife.

“Fancy?” Her father turned to her and offered his hand. “Will you honor me with this dance?”

Fancy didn’t know what to do. She dropped her gaze from his face to the offered hand, a tense silence descending on the others.

“I understand your reticence.” He started to turn away.

Acting on instinct, Fancy reached out and placed her hand in his. He closed his fingers around it and led her to the dance floor.

Fancy stepped into his arms, her daydream of dancing with her father at a grand ball becoming reality. They waltzed in silence for a time, keeping their gazes fixed on each other. She didn’t know what to say or even the reason she had accepted his invitation.

“I have dreamed of this moment for a long time,” her father told her. “I pray my daughters allow me to escort them down the aisle to their husbands, though I do not deserve the honor.”

Fancy gave him a sparkling smile. “We will need to find grooms before that can happen.”

The duke returned her smile. “I do not anticipate any problems with that.”

Her father escorted her off the dance floor and paused to lift her hand to his lips. “Thank you, Fancy.” He looked at the prince. “My daughter is yours, Your Highness.”

“I appreciate the confidence, Your Grace.” Stepan acknowledged the unspoken message. The duke was trusting him to protect his daughter and approving a match between them.

Stepan touched Fancy’s hand, a smile on his lips. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Stepan led her onto the dance floor and drew her into his arms. Exuding sophisticated grace, he swirled her around and around the ballroom. His gleaming black gaze held hers in thrall.

“Your beauty shames every woman here.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I see you have found no employment.”

Stepan laughed, drawing curious glances from nearby couples. “Loving you is a full-time career.”

Fancy missed a step. “What did you say?”

His words had been a mistake. “Merely a figure of speech,
ma petite
.”

When she relaxed in his arms, Stepan knew to beware. This particular beauty distrusted men of his ilk, especially those who professed love as her father had.

Stepan suffered the feeling that she would never accept his proposal of marriage. If only he knew how to win her trust, the love would surely follow.

“Princesses Roxanne, Natasia, and Lily Kazanov,” the majordomo announced.

Stepan slid his gaze to the stairs where his brother’s three daughters stood in their nightgowns. Their little faces shone with amazement at the glamourous sight of society in their finest.

“I want you to meet three of my nieces.” Stepan ushered her off the dance floor and headed toward the stairs.

Fancy glanced around and saw most of the guests smiling. Prince Rudolf and Princess Samantha had already reached the stairs. Rudolf held the youngest in his arms while Samantha clutched her older daughters’ hands.

“Uncle,” Lily called.

“Miss Flambeau, I present Princesses Roxanne, Natasia, and Lily,” Stepan introduced them.

Fancy smiled at the three girls. “I am pleased to make your acquaintances. Your uncle has spoken of you.”

Natasia stared at her. “You look like a princess.”

“Uncle said she is not a princess,” Roxanne corrected her sister.

“She’s Cinderella,” Lily exclaimed.

Everyone, including Fancy, laughed at the four-year-old. Lily yawned at their appreciation.

“Say good night,” Rudolf told his daughters.

“We didn’t say hello,” Lily said. “How can we say good night?”

Rudolf glanced at his wife. “This is
your
daughter.” He looked at his older daughters, asking, “Where is Nanny?”

“We tied her up,” Roxanne answered.

“And gagged her,” Natasia added.

“We tiptoed down the stairs,” Lily finished.

Princess Samantha looked at her husband. “Those are
your
daughters.”

Natasia turned to Stepan. “Did you tell her, Uncle?”

“No.”

Fancy watched, fascinated, as the prince’s complexion reddened. She wondered what embarrassed him.

“I told you boys were silly,” Roxanne said.

“I want to dance,” Lily said.

“Princess Lily,” Stepan said, “may I have the honor of this dance?”

Lily smiled and nodded, but Roxanne placed her hand on her uncle’s arm. “Darling, the eldest dances first.”

The Duke of Inverary looked at his wife. “She sounds like you.”

The duchess gave him a dimpled smile. “Isn’t darling Roxie the sweetest?”

Stepan escorted the six-year-old onto the dance floor. Roxanne stood on top of his shoes, and their waltz began.

A hand touched Fancy’s arm. She smiled at Natasia.

“Uncle will make you a princess,” the girl said in a loud whisper.

“Will Uncle give me a crown?” Fancy asked.

“Uncle will marry you.”

Lily spoke up. “Uncle loves you.”

Fancy blushed and glanced at the adults. “I-I don’t think—”

“Uncle said he loves you,” Natasia insisted.

“Uncle never lies,” Lily said. “Do you love Uncle?”

Her complexion heating with embarrassment, Fancy did not know what to say with the prince’s relations waiting for her answer. His return with Princess Roxanne saved her from responding.

She watched the prince circling the dance floor with Natasia. Clearly, his nieces adored him, and he adored them. The prince had all the makings of a wonderful father.

Lily touched her hand. “Do you love Uncle?”

“I-I…”

“She loves him, darling,” Princess Roxanne drawled, sounding exactly like her great-aunt. “She can hardly speak.”

Fancy felt her face flaming when the adults laughed at the six-year-old. What had the prince said about her at the tea party? Had he really professed his love for her?

Stepan returned for Lily. He lifted the four-year-old into his arms and waltzed her around the ballroom, her laughter making the other dancers smile.

“Come along, girls,” Princess Samantha said when the dance ended. “Let’s untie Nanny.”

Prince Rudolf carried the four-year-old. Lily waved and called, “Good night, Cinderella.”

Fancy waved at the girl and then noticed two gentlemen advancing on their group. Ross MacArthur and Douglas Gordon had saved her from Crazy Eddie the night she’d walked home. She listened to them greeting the Duke of Inverary and realized they were her father’s kinsmen.

“Well, here’s a familiar face,” Douglas Gordon said, his gaze on her.

“I’m glad to see ye, lass,” Ross MacArthur greeted her. “And where are these sisters of yers?”

“If they’re half as lovely as you,” Gordon added, “I’m smitten already.”

“Fancy and her sisters are my stepdaughters,” the Duchess of Inverary told the Scotsmen. “I guarantee each girl is a beauty.”

“Is that so?” Gordon said.

“I dinna think Her Grace would fib us,” MacArthur said.

“You would enjoy meeting Bliss and Blaze,” the duchess said. “Come to dinner one night next week.”

“Aye, we’d like that,” MacArthur said.

“I canna think of anythin’ I’d like more,” Gordon agreed.

“I’ll send a note confirming which evening.” The duchess gave them a feline smile as the Highlanders drifted away. Then she turned on her husband. “Magnus, darling, you should have reminded me of those two when we discussed possible matches.”

“I was hoping to become acquainted with my daughters before you haul a big catch,” the duke said, a smile tempering his words. “I’ll need to start honing my matchmaking skills.”

“I didn’t know you had any,” his wife replied.

Fancy swallowed a laugh. She looked at the prince, who also seemed to be struggling against laughter. Insulting the duchess by laughing was unwise.

Stepan winked, grasped her hand, and drew her away from their group. “I need a glass of champagne,” he said. He ushered her out of the ballroom down the corridor to the refreshment room.

“Champagne or lemon barley water?”

“Champagne, I think.”

Stepan raised his brows. “What are you celebrating?”

Her expression was pure innocence. “Nothing special, Your Highness.”

“What did you discuss with my nieces?” Stepan asked, handing her the champagne flute.

“We spoke about tea parties.” She gave him an ambiguous smile, but her blush made him suspicious.

Stepan did not doubt his nieces had talked about tea parties, but he knew the conversation had not ended there. His songbird’s smile made him uncomfortable. She knew a secret and dared him to question her.

They left the ball before supper was served.

Relaxing in the coach’s leather seat, Stepan rested his arm behind her. He studied her delicate profile and savored her scent of amber, rose, and feminine sensuality. No one who saw her would guess how stubborn and cantankerous she could be, but he enjoyed every moment passed in her company. If they married, would he feel the same in ten or twenty years?

Stepan climbed down when they reached Soho Square and then lifted her out. He waved at Harry, put his arm around her shoulder, and ushered her toward the front door.

“What are you doing?” Fancy asked.

“I am passing the night here.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Stepan added, “Someone left you decapitated roses, and I refuse to risk your well-being.”

Stepan unlocked the front door and followed her up the stairs to the second floor. Outside her bedchamber, he lifted her hand to kiss her palm and then leaned close to press a kiss on her lips.

What he wanted more than anything else was to make love with her, feel her soft nakedness against his bared flesh. Stepan did not want to frighten her or lose her trust and so held himself in check.

Fancy gazed at him through her disarming violet eyes. “Do you love me?”

Now Stepan knew what his nieces had talked about. He traced a finger down her rose-petal cheek. “Do you want me to love you?”

“I don’t know.”

His thumb caressed her lips. “Ask me again when you do know.”

Leaving her there, Stepan headed for the bedchamber he had used the previous night. He stripped down to his peacock blue silk drawers and opened the window a crack. Then he lay on the bed, his arms pillowing his head.

His songbird was a temperamental twit, but he loved her. Their relationship was progressing.

Stepan would have kissed her into oblivion if she hadn’t been set against his sleeping here. No matter what, he would never stop protecting her even if she ordered him out of the house.

The next morning Stepan dressed and walked downstairs. He could hear Fancy humming to herself as she prepared breakfast, the scent of coffee brewing calling out to him.

They were behaving like married commoners. He liked that.

Stepan opened the front door to verify no threatening gifts had been left during the night. He waved to his coachman, who had returned to drive him home.

Apparently, Harry had left the morning
Times
on the doorstep. His man had opened the paper to the page three society column.

Cutting through the parlor to the dining room, Stepan sat at the head of the table and read the column.

Stepan set the paper aside when he heard a certain opera singer carrying their breakfast into the room. “Good morning.” He greeted her with a smile.

Fancy placed their breakfast on the table. “You have stolen my seat again.”

“I am a guest. Remember?”

“Your presence speaks more of a tenant behind on his rent.”

Stepan laughed. “You cannot imagine how much I admire your wit and intelligence.”

Her lips twitched at his compliment. “Will you be seeking employment today?”

“I plan to attend a business meeting at your father’s,” Stepan answered. “After that, I belong only to you until your Tuesday performance.”

“Are you my jailer or protector?”

Stepan sipped his coffee. “You brew the best.”

“Do not become accustomed to its taste.” Her gaze fell on the newspaper. “Is that the
Times
?”

“Harry left it for me on the doorstep,” Stepan answered. “There is nothing of importance.”

Fancy grabbed the newspaper and turned to page three. “Damn that reporter,” she exclaimed.

“Do not worry about gossip,” Stepan said. “I will marry you and save your reputation.”

Fancy stared at him for a long moment. “If the society reporter saw you leaving at dawn, do you think he saw the person who left those decapitated roses?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I will investigate that possibility.”

Raven stood in her father’s garden and watched Puddles searching for the proper spot to conduct business. She and her sisters rotated taking the mastiff out every two hours in an attempt to keep the duchess happy.

The garden was an oasis of tranquility with its blooming trees and dark green shrubs and primary-colored flowers. Overhead, powder-puff clouds meandered across a bluebell sky.

Closing her eyes, Raven inhaled the mingling scents and then called to the dog. “Come, Puddles.”

The mastiff galloped across the garden. She opened the door and followed the dog inside.

The duke’s majordomo stood in the foyer. The mastiff raced past him and disappeared up the stairs.

Tinker moved when someone knocked on the door. Raven stopped, hearing Alexander Blake’s voice.

“I want to speak to Raven Flambeau.”

“I am uncertain if she is receiving visitors today.” Tinker flicked her a sidelong glance. When she nodded, the majordomo opened the door and allowed him entrance. “The lady will see you.”

Alexander and a short middle-aged man stepped into the foyer. Raven met his smile without expression, a new trick she’d learned from the duchess.

“What can I do for you?”

Alexander gestured to his companion. “Barney assists Constable Black, too.”

Raven slid her gaze to the older man. “A pleasure to meet you, Barney.”

“Constable Black requests you meet him at my house tomorrow,” Alexander said.

Raven arched an ebony brow at him. “Does the constable suspect—?”

“Amadeus thinks you could help with the investigation,” Alexander told her.

My, my, my. Her hocus-pocus could solve a crime. How satisfying to know Alex was forced to swallow his words and his contempt for her.

“Will you help us?”

Raven gave him a feline smile, another trick learned from the duchess. She placed an index finger across her lips as if pondering a weighty matter. His irritated expression pleased her.

“What time?”

“Two o’clock?”

Raven inclined her head like a queen granting her courtier a favor. “Two of the clock, it is.”

Alexander gave her a long look and walked out the door. The older man smiled at her and the majordomo.

“Nice place,” Barney said before leaving.

“We like it,” Tinker drawled.

Raven turned away to start up the stairs. She hoped the remainder of her day was as satisfying as the past few minutes.

The majordomo’s voice stopped her. “You are a fast learner, Miss Raven.”

She turned around. “Learner at what?”

“The most effective way to torment men.”

“The duchess is giving us stepdaughters the accelerated class.”