Pleasuring the Prince (14 page)

“Her Grace excels at relationship strategies.”

Raven laughed and hurried to the third floor. She paused at Belle’s door, uncertain if she should knock. And then she heard her sister’s weeping. Belle needed to heal herself, and no one could help her.

Turning away, Raven almost crashed into two sisters. Bliss and Blaze stood there.

“Thank you for taking my turn with Puddles,” Blaze said. “He loves your company because you let him romp longer than anyone else.”

“He told you this?”

Blaze smiled and nodded.

“Will you do me a favor?” Bliss asked.

“What is it?”

Bliss held up pencil and paper. “Hide inside the duke’s office and take notes on the business meeting.”

Blaze rolled her eyes. “Our darling stepmama insists on shopping for more appropriate gowns.”

“The duchess has two prospective gentlemen coming to dinner next week,” Bliss added.

Raven looked from one sister to the other. “Prospective what?”

Bliss passed her the pencil and paper. “Suitors for us.”

“Highlanders.” Blaze feigned a horrified expression. “We have a plan, though.”

The twins looked at each other and laughed.

“You can take the Flambeau out of Soho Square,” Bliss said.

“But you can’t take Soho Square out of the Flambeau,” Blaze finished.

Raven laughed. “I can hardly wait for the entertainment.”

“The Kazanovs will arrive soon,” Bliss said. “Hide while you can.”

Raven walked downstairs to the second floor. Reaching the duke’s office, she tapped on the door to be sure no one was within. Silence. She slipped inside and walked to the far side of the room to make herself comfortable on the oversized chair, its back to the ducal desk.

While she waited, Raven let her thoughts drift to Alex. She could hardly believe he wanted her help but worried her emotions would inhibit her talent. What she’d revealed to him that night mortified her still.

The Duke of Inverary would not be pleased with that tidbit of gossip about Fancy. Though she hadn’t been named, Stepan realized that all of London would assume the prince’s and the opera singer’s identity. A damage-control strategy eluded him.

“Good afternoon,” Stepan greeted the majordomo. “Am I late?”

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Tinker returned the greeting. “Your brothers arrived a few minutes ago.”

Stepan took the stairs two at a time, his long strides eating the distance to the duke’s office in record time. He knocked on the door but entered without waiting for permission.

The Duke of Inverary and his son as well as his own three brothers relaxed in leather chairs around the ducal desk. Five heads swiveled in Stepan’s direction when he burst into the office.

“I apologize for my tardiness.” Stepan crossed the office to sit in the vacant chair beside Mikhail near the window.

Rudolf’s smile boded ill. “Baby brother, His Grace desires a word with you.”

“Several words,” Viktor added.

“A few more than several,” Mikhail murmured.

Stepan pasted an expression of mild inquiry on his face. “How may I help you, Your Grace?”

The Duke of Inverary gave him a long look. Then he slammed a folded newspaper down on the desk. “Explain this.”

Stepan glanced at the newspaper. “What is that?”

“You know damn well what it is.”

Stepan glanced at his brothers. All three were smiling at him.

“Fancy and I have shared no intimacies.” Stepan ignored his brothers’ chuckling. “Since she is living alone, I wanted only to protect her.”

“You’re ruining her reputation,” the duke growled.

“I want to marry her,” Stepan said, “but persuading her into matrimony could take months. You know she dislikes aristocrats.”

The Duke of Inverary had the good grace to flush. He knew his daughter’s opinion of him and others of his ilk.

“I heard no woman can resist a prince in love,” Rudolf teased him.

The men laughed at that. Except Stepan.

“Your daughters talk too much,” Stepan complained. “Fancy asked me if I loved her.”

“What did you say?” Viktor asked.

Stepan gulped his whiskey before answering. “I asked if she wanted me to love her.”

Mikhail smiled. “And does she?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“What did you reply to that?” the Marquess of Argyll asked.

“I told her to ask me again when she did know.”

Rudolf grinned. “And we thought you were short on sense.”

Stepan let that remark slide. “I need one of you to speak with the
Times
reporter and ask him if he saw anyone else loitering in the vicinity of the Flambeau residence.”

“Is there a Peeping Tom in Soho?” Rudolf asked.

Stepan shook his head. “Someone left decapitated roses on the doorstep.”

“Someone means Fancy harm?” the duke exclaimed.

“That was not the only threat left on the doorstep,” Stepan added. “If the reporter saw someone—”

“I will speak to the man,” Rudolf said.

“I can do that,” Viktor offered.

“Both of you tend to threaten people to get what you want,” Mikhail said. “I will speak with him.”

Rudolf smiled. “The three of us will speak to the reporter.”

“That should relax him,” Stepan said.

And the discussion turned to business matters.

“Our beer and ale cartel with Ginger Evans is making a healthy profit,” Viktor said.

“You mean, Ginger Black,” Stepan corrected. “She married the constable.”

Viktor looked at him. “The Evans Smith Company belongs only to Regina and Ginger.”

Mikhail stood to stretch his legs and wandered to the window overlooking the ducal garden. Stepan joined him there as Rudolf spoke about other joint ventures.

“The damn Seven Doves Company is still undercutting our prices,” the Duke of Inverary remarked.

“Brother, I thought you would speak to the Doves’ owners and persuade them against this suicidal plot,” Rudolf said.

Stepan looked at the others and shrugged. “Six agree to cease this nonsense, but the seventh is determined to pauperize the duke.”

Magnus Campbell banged his fist on the desk. “I want to know the bastard’s name.”

“I am truly sorry, Your Grace, but I have given my word.”

Mikhail spoke then. “Is that one of Inverary’s daughters?”

Stepan peered down at the garden. “Belle Flambeau.”

Mikhail looked over his shoulder at the duke. “Your daughter seems sad and lonely—”

The Duke of Inverary rose from his chair and stood with the brothers at the window. “Belle lost her suitor because of the damn scar. Even Roxie cannot perk her up. Belle refuses to see anyone and even declines her pin money. She says she doesn’t need money because she isn’t going anywhere.”

All the men fell silent. When a woman refused money, she suffered a severe problem.

“Belle is a beauty,” Stepan said, “but the slash on her cheek cut into her soul.”

Mikhail touched his brother’s shoulder and then turned to the duke. His words stunned everyone. “My daughter needs a mother, and the women I have met are unsuitable. I will marry her.”

The Duke of Inverary looked surprised. “You want to marry Belle?”

“Mikhail would never joke about marriage,” Stepan assured the duke. “He always considers other people’s feelings.”

The Duke of Inverary nodded. “I will speak to Belle about your offer.”

“No.”

Raven watched the men turn in her direction. She had caught them off guard if their expressions proved the matter. Bliss popped into her mind, but nothing could be done for being found out. Belle needed her help more than Bliss.

The duke walked toward her, a confused smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”

Raven gave her father a bright smile. “I was eavesdropping and taking notes for Bliss.”

Prince Stepan was laughing, drawing the men’s attention. “Your Grace, I present one of the owners of the Seven Doves Company.”

The duke looked at her. “My daughters are my business rivals?”

Raven shrugged and nodded. “I apologize for our costing you money.”

Her father put his arm around her and ushered her across the study to a chair near his desk. Then he sat down, too. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

Raven wet her lips, gone dry from nervousness. She looked at each of the men, who did not seemed surprised by women owning businesses. Which surprised her.

“Fancy is angry with you,” Raven told her father. “Her method of retribution is pauperizing you.”

“I know Fancy is angry,” the duke said, “but I don’t understand how my seven daughters formed a viable company.”

“Bliss is a mathematical genius,” Raven explained. “She studies commodities and such and then decides where our financial investments will profit most.”

“Bliss reminds me of Ginger Evans,” Stepan interjected.

“Where did you get the money to start investing?” Prince Rudolf asked.

Raven glanced at him and then her father. “We invested the money we won at the races.”

“What races?” the duke exclaimed.

“I will tell you everything,” Raven said, “but you must promise not to punish anyone.”

Her father stared at her a long moment. “I do not bargain with my children. Tell me all, and I will decide if anyone deserves punishment.”

Raven hoped her sisters, especially Fancy, would forgive her. “Blaze talks to animals”—she ignored the men’s smiles—“and she knows what animals are thinking and feeling. Bliss and Blaze dress like boys, and Alex—”

“Alex?” her father interjected.

“Alexander Blake.”

“The Marquess of Basildon?”

“Yes.”

“What are you saying?” Prince Stepan asked. “Blake is your neighbor and works with Constable Black.”

“That is true,” Raven said. “Alexander Blake is also the Duke of Essex’s grandson, but Alex refuses to recognize the connection.”

“Continue,” her father said.

“Alex, Bliss, and Blaze attend the thoroughbred races,” she went on. “Blaze walks by the stables and communes with the horses. Then she tells Alex who will win the race, and Bliss decides how much to bet.”

“Is there more?”

“Alex places the bet, the horses race, and we collect our winnings.” Raven gave her father another bright smile. “Then Fancy calls a company meeting, and Bliss explains the best investments. After that, Fancy gives us our pin money.”

The men laughed at that. Even her father chuckled. Perhaps no one would be punished.

The Duke of Inverary relaxed in his chair. “Has Blaze ever chosen a loser?”

Raven shook her head. “She always picks the winner.”

The duke looked at his son and the princes. “I believe Blaze will be attending the races with me this year.”

“I would like to join you,” Prince Rudolf said.

“Of course, you are welcome.”

Prince Stepan drew her attention. “What is your objection to Mikhail’s proposal?”

“I have no objection,” Raven said, “but Belle will never agree unless you go about this the correct way.” She looked at Mikhail. “If she believes you pity her, she will refuse.”

“Then I will meet her by accident,” Mikhail said.

“Belle refuses to see visitors,” she reminded him.

“My wife still owns the cottage on the other side of Primrose Hill,” the duke said. “Roxie will persuade Belle to go there for a few days.”

“Belle will believe His Highness pities her,” Raven said. “Unless he can get her to believe he loves her in spite of her scar.”

“I will pretend to be a commoner set upon by robbers,” Mikhail said. “I will feign temporary blindness and memory loss. I will beg her for help.”

“That could work,” Raven said. “What will prove you were set upon by robbers, though?”

“We will be happy to batter him,” Rudolf said. “A few well-placed bruises.”

“That could work,” Raven said. “Fancy is a problem.”

“I will get Fancy out of London and take her to Rudolf’s estate on Sark Island,” Stepan offered. “Mikhail’s plan will work, and Fancy will be out of harm’s way.”

“My sister won’t go willingly,” Raven said. “I know herbs that promote sleep. You must contrive to get them into her body.”

“Upon returning to London, you will need to marry her,” the duke warned him.

Stepan smiled at his future father-in-law. “You may announce our betrothal as soon as we sail away.” He looked at Raven. “Your Grace, did you know that this daughter can move objects with her mind? Give us a demonstration.”

The prospect of performing held no appeal for Raven. “I never participate in vulgar displays.” She dropped her gaze to the glass of whiskey on the desk in front of him. The glass tipped on its side, sending its contents onto the royal lap.

Stepan leaped out of his chair. Too late, he found that whiskey had soaked his trousers.

Raven caught his eye. “Oops…”

What he wanted was within his reach. Soon the object of his desire would be within his grasp.

Pleased with the day’s events, Stepan slipped into the deserted opera box during the second act. He stretched his long legs out and relaxed in the chair to await the end of tonight’s performance.

Stepan had delivered Fancy to the opera house and returned to the Flambeau residence. Using his own key, he had let himself into the house and packed her possessions, including slingshot and pellets. She would forgive him if she had her belongings.

Fancy was so wonderfully predictable. That could be used against her.

He would invite her to his country estate. Of course, she would refuse. Then he would invite her to supper at his house. She would accept that one because she had already refused his first invitation.

After the final curtain call, Stepan walked downstairs to the lobby. He spoke to several acquaintances along the way, giving Fancy time to remove the theater cosmetics and change into her gown.

“Your Highness,” a woman called.

The voice belonged to Lady Clarke, which meant Lady Cynthia would be standing with her mother.

Stepan managed a smile for them. “A pleasure to see you.”

“I didn’t notice you during intermission,” Lady Clarke said.

“I arrived late this evening.”

“Will you be attending the Randolphs’ affair tonight?” Lady Clarke asked.

“Regretfully, no.”

That answer did not sit well with the daughter. Her eager smile became forced.

“Will we see you at Lord Wilkins’ tomorrow evening?” Lady Clarke asked.

“I do plan to attend.”

“Alone?” Cynthia asked.

“I am an unmarried man,” he hedged. “Will you save me a dance?”

Cynthia gave him a flirtatious smile. “Yes, Your Highness, I will save you a dance.”

Stepan turned away, planning to find Director Bishop. The man needed to be informed that Fancy would be gone for a few weeks. And then he spied an unlikely duo headed in his direction.

Veronica Winthrop and Elizabeth Drummond. Apparently, these two had joined forces to entrap him.

The red-haired Veronica flicked a curl away from her face. “Stepan, will you—”

“I have a prior commitment tonight,” he said. “I will see you tomorrow at the Wilkins’ affair.”

“And will you also see me at the Wilkins’ affair?” Elizabeth Drummond asked, her voice smoother than silk against flesh.

Stepan dropped his gaze to her daringly low-cut gown. “Elizabeth, I am seeing you tonight.”

The sultry brunette laughed throatily. The woman was appealing, but he never tarried with other men’s wives.

“Ladies, if you will excuse me? I must speak with Director Bishop.”

Stepan did not want the
Times
reporter gossiping about his speaking with other women. He wanted nothing to upset Fancy.

“Bishop.” Stepan shook the man’s hand. “I am taking Fancy away for a couple of weeks.”

The opera director did not look happy. “With all due respect, Your Highness, could this trip be postponed until after the season?”

“Someone has been threatening Fancy,” Stepan explained. “I think taking her out of town for a few days is best.”

“I understand.”

“When we return,” Stepan added, “I will be marrying her.”

If the director was surprised, he did not show it. “Fancy never told me.”

“She does not know.”

Bishop laughed. “Will she be returning to the opera?”

Stepan shrugged. “I plan to discuss that when she accepts my proposal.”

“Wasting her beautiful voice seems sinful,” the director said. “I have never heard another singer who could wrench such strong emotions from her audience.”

“I believe a younger sister sings.”

Director Bishop brightened. “I will look into that possibility.”

“The Duke of Inverary has moved his daughters into Park Lane,” Stepan told him. “You will need his permission.”

Stepan left the director and walked through the deserted theater to the backstage area. Unexpectedly, the prima donna’s pet darted out of her dressing room.

Laughing, Stepan scooped the monkey into his arms. “How are you, Miss Giggles?”

The capuchin monkey covered its ears, eyes, and mouth.

“Good girl,” Stepan praised her. He passed the monkey to the prima donna’s husband. “Miss Giggles needs a new trick.”

Sebastian Tanner smiled. “I keep telling Patrice the same thing, Your Highness.”

Reaching Fancy’s dressing room, Stepan opened the door without knocking and walked inside. Fancy turned around and gave him a smile filled with true affection.

His songbird painted a living picture of sultry vulnerability. Her heart-shaped face, generous lips, and disarming violet eyes with their fringe of black lashes combined in perfect symmetry to create a haunting beauty.

Stepan loved her. Of that, he had no doubts. She incited many tender feelings in him.

She belonged to him. He belonged to her.

His task was to convince her of that.

“Are you ready?” Stepan asked, answering her smile with his own.

Fancy rose from the stool. “Ready for what?”

“Since your next performance is Tuesday,” Stepan answered, “I thought we could pass the weekend at my country estate.”

“I think not.”

Stepan assumed a disappointed expression. “Will you sup with me at my house?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Stepan smiled, pleased with himself. Apparently, the best way to handle his songbird was always to offer her two choices, an unacceptable choice and what he really wanted her to do.

Half an hour later, the royal coach halted in front of the prince’s residence. Stepan climbed down first and then assisted Fancy. Bones opened the door before they reached it.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” the majordomo greeted them. “And a good evening to you, Miss Flambeau.”

Fancy greeted the man, “Good evening, Bones.”

“Feliks is preparing a delicious supper,” Bones said. “I will serve you directly, Your Highness.”

Fancy looked at the prince and lost her smile. “How did Feliks know we would be supping here?”

“I-I…” Stepan searched for a plausible excuse and then realized she would believe the truth. “I thought you would not want to travel to my estate and left word for Feliks to prepare us supper.”

“Will we eat in the dining room?”

Stepan relaxed. “The dining room is this way.”

After helping her into the chair beside his, Stepan sat at the head of the table. He watched her scanning the chamber and tried to see the room through her eyes.

The rounded-end mahogany table sat twenty. A glittering chandelier hung over the table. Fine porcelain and crystal goblets and silverware waited for them on the table.

Bones served them from the sideboard and then left the dining room. As promised, Feliks had cooked them a light supper of vegetable souffle, potted ham, and toast.

“I am relieved not to see that disgusting caviar,” Fancy said, making him smile. “Since I am your guest, Your Highness, shouldn’t I have been offered the seat at the head of the table?”

“Have I mentioned how much I admire your wit?”

“You have mentioned it several times.” Fancy spread potted ham on a small triangular piece of toast. “You mention my wit to avoid a direct reply.”

Stepan avoided that remark by asking, “Will you join me in a glass of wine?”

“I don’t want to get drunk,” she declined.

“You do not sing until Tuesday,” he coaxed her. “Surely, you will join me for a rare drink.”

“Very well,” she agreed. “How did your business meeting go?”

Stepan walked to the sideboard to pour them wine. “Your father is concerned about the Seven Doves Company.”

“He can afford to lose a few coins,” Fancy said. “Especially since his loss brings me pleasure.”

Stepan slipped the sleeping draught into her wine and stirred it. He returned to the table and set the crystal goblet in front of her. “You are the most vicious songbird. Some vile crow must have married with one of your ancestors.”

“Thank you for the praise.” Fancy lifted her goblet in a salute and then drank the wine.

“How was your evening at the opera?” Stepan asked.

“Patrice has been less hostile.”

“Is it possible you have misjudged her?” Stepan finished his wine.

Fancy drank when he drank. “I did not misjudge the prima donna.” She yawned and giggled. “The wine was delicious. Perhaps I’ll have another.”

“One is enough, princess.”

Fancy yawned again. “I feel tired tonight.”

“You have endured an anxious week.” Stepan took her hand and drew her to her feet, saying, “Come here.” He pulled her onto his lap, his arms encircling her. “Rest your head on my shoulder.”

Fancy closed her eyes and snuggled against him.

“You are a comfortable pillow, Your High—” She dropped into sleep.

Success.

Stepan cradled her in his arms and rose from the chair. He left the dining room and found his majordomo lurking in the corridor.

“Did Harry bring the coach around back?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Bones fell into step beside him and opened the doors along the way. The two of them cut through the garden to the alley in back of the mansion where Feliks and Boris waited.

Stepan grinned at his majordomo’s anxious expression. “What worries you?”

Bones shook his head. “May God have mercy on you when the lady awakens.”

“Come, Puddles.”

Raven opened the door for the mastiff and followed him inside. The drudgery of escorting the dog into the garden was grating on her nerves. Between favors and swaps, she was beginning to feel solely responsible for the mastiff, and now she had promised her sister to assume her turns with the dog for a week.

Sophia could read other people’s emotions from the color of their auras, so Raven had asked her sister to accompany her to Soho Square. She wanted the companionship and the knowledge of Alexander’s and the constable’s emotions. If she knew their emotions, she would know their thoughts. Or so she supposed.

Raven found her sister waiting for her in the corridor and chatting with Tinker. “Let’s go, Sophia.”

Her sister smiled at the majordomo. “I am glad you feel happy today.”

“I am in the pink,” Tinker drawled.

Raven and Sophia walked east on Upper Brook Street to Regent Street. Soho Square was one mile from Park Lane. Though a respectable address, Soho Square lacked the money and exclusivity of Park Lane.

That late spring day had been created for outside activities. The temperature was comfortable for walking, and marshmallow clouds dotted a bluebell sky.

The idyllic day did nothing to calm Raven. If her talents failed her today, no one would believe her again.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You cannot lie to me,” Sophia said. “The speckles of dark red in your colors indicate agitation.”

Raven gave her sister a sidelong glance. “I invited you along to tell me how others feel.”

Sophia ignored the comment. “Life does not seem the same without Fancy. Shall we visit her afterward?”

“Fancy won’t be home,” Raven answered. “Prince Stepan and she made plans for today.”

The sisters reached Soho Square and walked directly to the Blake residence. Both gave their old home a wistful look, their former lives seeming years in the past.

Genevieve Stover answered their knock. Apparently, the blonde was spending her free time with Alexander.

Raven had not thought of that. She blushed with embarrassed dismay and wondered if Alex had shared her declaration of love with the blonde. She hoped that her concentration would not be impaired because of it.

Genevieve opened the door wider. “Alex and the constable are waiting for you.”

Raven walked into the Blake residence, her sister following behind. Being invited into a house she had once considered her second home did not sit well with her.

“You remember Sophia.” Raven glanced at her sister.

Wearing a strange expression, Sophia was staring at the blonde. Raven could not imagine what was wrong.

Sophia recovered her composure. “A pleasure to meet you again.”

“How is Belle’s recovery progressing?” Genevieve asked.

“Belle is improving slowly,” Raven answered. “She is resting at our father’s country estate.”

“Thank you for asking,” Sophia said.

“Do either of you sing like Fancy?” Genevieve asked, leading them down the hallway toward the parlor.

“I paint,” Sophia answered.

“What about you, Raven?”

“I have no talent.”

Raven noticed the blonde behaved like the mistress of the house. Her spirits plummeted even lower. Winning Alexander’s love would never happen if that was true.

Genevieve stopped at the parlor door. “Can I bring you coffee or tea?”

“No, thank you.”

The blonde left them at the parlor door and walked toward the kitchen at the back of the house.

“Genevieve seems at home here,” Sophia whispered, her gaze fixed on the blonde.

Raven gave her a disgruntled glance.

Her sister touched her arm. “Lose your temper and lose your gift.”

Raven took several deep breaths. “Are my colors better now?”

“The red is gone,” Sophia said, “your gold glitters like the sun, and your white is brightening.”

Raven and Sophia walked into the parlor without knocking. Alexander and Constable Black rose from their seats. Dressed in somber black, the constable appeared a no-nonsense man.

“Constable Black, meet Raven and Sophia Flambeau,” Alexander introduced them.

Raven looked at the constable. “I hope you don’t mind Sophia accompanying me.”

“Your sister is welcome,” Amadeus Black said. “Do you enjoy the same talents as Raven?”

“My talents lie elsewhere.”

“Please sit,” Alexander invited them.

Raven sat on the sofa, thinking she’d never needed an invitation to sit in the Blake house before today. Sophia sat beside her.

“Alex told me about your visions,” the constable said, “and Fancy insisted your holding objects could facilitate them.”

“That is true.” She peeked at Alexander, who wore a skeptical expression.