Pleasuring the Prince (9 page)

Fancy glared at the eldest Russian prince. “I have no father.”

“You do have a father, and I am he.” The duke gestured to the chair. “Sit and listen.”

She refused to stay in this room. He had relinquished his right to be heard fifteen years earlier.

Pale and trembling, Fancy turned to the prince. “I want to leave now.”

“The sooner you sit and listen,” Stepan said, “the sooner we can leave.”

Staring into the prince’s black eyes, Fancy knew that he would support and comfort her, no matter the circumstance, but insisted she sit for as long as she could. Fancy surrendered to the inevitable and sat in the chair facing the duke. Stepan stood beside her, lending her his strength.

Fancy sent him a grateful look and then spied the marquess and the eldest prince smiling at each other. She didn’t know what they had to smile about. She found nothing amusing in the situation.

“Darling, you cannot imagine the plans I—”

“Roxie, enough.”

“There is no need for rudeness, Magnus.”

Fancy stared straight ahead, unfocusing her gaze. She would sit here until the duke stopped talking and then escape.

“Fancy, you are sitting but not listening.” His tone was a gentle, fatherly rebuke.

“Call me Miss Flambeau.”

The duke inclined his head. “I know you have good reason to distrust me—”

“I hate you.”

“She doesn’t mean that,” the duchess gasped. “Her anger is speaking.”

“I understand that, Roxie.” Inverary stared at Fancy for several long moments. The longer he watched her, the more agitated she grew.

“Let me begin again.” He gestured to the two men standing together. “Robert Campbell and Prince Rudolf Kazanov are your half-brothers.”

Fancy looked at Prince Rudolf in surprise.

He raised his whiskey in a toast to her. “I am pleased to have made your acquaintance,
Sister
.”

Fancy rounded on her prince, dawning horror in her expression.

“Rudolf and I have different fathers,” Stepan assured her. “Trust me, we do not share bloodlines.”

The Duke of Inverary cleared his throat. “I want you to know that, in my own way, I did love your mother.”

“You loved her so much your neglect put her in an early grave.”

“I could not marry Gabrielle.” The duke leaned forward in his chair. “I had a wife.”

Fancy leaned forward, too, challenging him. “You should have stayed home with her and left my mother in peace.”

“I do regret my youthful selfishness.”

“Thirty years old is hardly youthful.”

“Damn it, Gabrielle became pregnant whenever I got close.”

“Ah, I see. So the blame for my mother’s pain and misery rests with herself.” Fancy gave him a look of supreme contempt, the first the duke had received in his entire life. “Abstinence prevents pregnancy.”

“I accepted my responsibilities,” her father defended himself. “You wanted for nothing and—”

“I didn’t need your money,” Fancy cried, bolting out of her chair. “I needed—” She broke off, unable to finish her thought, and held her hand out to ward off his words.

No one spoke, the silence becoming almost intolerable. Fancy tried to swallow the raw emotion rising in her throat. She turned her back on the duke. “I want to leave now.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“What did you need?” the duke asked in a quiet voice.

Fancy fought to control her emotions, her bottom lip quivering in the struggle. She looked at the prince through violet eyes mirroring her misery, festering bitterness consuming her.

“Tell me what you needed, Fancy.”

Her small hands balled into fists, and she rounded on her father.

“
I needed you.”
Her voice cracked with emotion, and her chest heaved visibly with dry sobs.

“Oh, dear God,” she heard the duchess exclaim softly. She sensed her prince gesturing the others away, and then his arm went around her.

Fancy leaned against him, her gaze on her father’s expression of guilt and regret. Fifteen years’ worth of scathing recriminations slipped from her lips. “You went away and never returned. I stood at the window every day and watched and waited and listened to my mother’s weeping.

“Nanny Smudge couldn’t budge me from that window with a crowbar. Finally, Nanny told me you were dead and would never visit again.”

The Duke of Inverary winced visibly. He gulped his whiskey, as if to fortify himself for the emotional flogging.

“I grieved for you. When spring arrived, I persuaded the boy next door to take me to pick flowers for your grave. Alex knew the truth, though, and brought me to Hyde Park to show me.

“I saw you, hale and hearty, riding along Rotten Row. You were laughing and flirting with a beautiful lady. Not the woman in that portrait over the hearth.”

A bitter smile touched her lips. “I thought God had blessed me with a miracle. Thankfully, Alex held me back.

“You saw me and turned away. I am a bastard by birth, Your Grace, but you are a bastard by nature.”

Her father found his voice through his misery. “I know I deserve your contempt.”

“You deserve worse than my contempt.”

“You will not believe me,” he continued, “but I suffered fifteen years of nightmares after that day.”

“So did I.” Fancy gave the prince a pleading look. “Take me home.”

Prince Stepan looked from her to the duke and then back again. He appeared undecided about what to do.

“I know she is hurting, Stepan, but let it play out.” His brother broke the silence. “The wound cannot heal until the poison is gone.”

“I want to make amends and acknowledge you now,” her father said.

“I am no longer a child and do not need a father.” Noting his stricken expression, Fancy went in for the kill. “I will never forgive or acknowledge you.”

“Forgive me or not, my daughters will live here with me,” the duke continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Roxie and I will sponsor you in society”—he glanced at the prince—“and make suitable matches for all of you.”

“I wouldn’t live here to save my soul.” Fancy headed for the door, calling over her shoulder, “Come now, Your Highness, or I will walk home.”

“Do not open that door.” The duke sounded exasperated, stern, and unused to defiance.

Prince Rudolf moved then. He stepped in front of the door, blocking her escape.

“I have the power to ruin your career,” her father threatened.

“Magnus.” Now the duchess’s voice held a warning tone.

“What do you want from me?” Fancy rounded on him. “I can never love or forgive or even respect you. I despise all aristocrats”—she glanced at her prince—“almost all aristocrats. I loathe the ground you walk upon, the air you breathe, the—”

“Such hate is a heavy burden for one tiny woman to carry,” Rudolf said, cutting off her scathing speech.

Fancy ignored him. “Do you want me to announce my paternity after my next performance?” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Or shall I give an interview to that
Times
reporter?”

“I admit I have made a grievous mistake,” Inverary said, “but I have seen my errors and want my daughters.”

“We do not want you, Your Grace.” Fancy cringed inwardly at his stricken expression, surprising herself that some part of her still cared for the man who had hurt her most.

“Do you speak for your sisters?”

“My sisters could not recognize you if they tripped over you in the street. If you want to ruin my career, do your worst.” Fancy showed him her back, her expression demanding that Rudolf step aside. When he did, she reached for the doorknob.

“Belle would not have been slashed if she’d been living here.”

That stopped her as no threat could, and she dropped her hand to her side. Her father had spoken truthfully. He could protect her sisters.

“You can take my sisters,” she said, her gaze still fixed on the door. “Not me.”

“Will they move without you?”

“My sisters will do as I say.” Fancy turned around. “Blaze will not come without her dog. She is the redhead, in case you didn’t know.”

Fancy felt grim satisfaction when her father flushed. Ignorance of his own daughters’ names
should
embarrass him.

Her father inclined his head. “The dog can live here, too.”

“Belle requires a garden, both flower and herb,” Fancy told him. “Serena plays the flute and sings and loves trees, especially willows. Sophia will need canvas and paint. Bliss would appreciate mathematics books.”

“What about the youngest?”

“Raven wishes for everyone else’s talent instead of her own.”

“What is her talent?”

“I will let you discover that yourself.” Fancy glanced at the duchess, a faint smile flirting with her lips. “If I were you, I would hide my fragile treasures.”

She looked at her father. “When do you want them?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I will deliver them in the afternoon.” Fancy turned away, the need to escape overwhelming. She didn’t know how much longer she could control fifteen years’ worth of heartache, bitterness, and insecurity. Weeping in front of her father was not an option.

And then he spoke, nearly felling her with his words. “I regret the coach ride that never happened.”

Fancy steeled herself against his misery. Her back stiffened with pride, and she reached for the doorknob.

“I hope none of your children ever reject you.”

She wanted to shout that he had rejected her, but aching emotion made speaking too difficult. She flicked a stricken glance at her prince, yanked the door open, and escaped the office.

Stepan caught up to her in the corridor. “I swear I had no knowledge of this.”

Tears blurred her vision and rolled down her pale cheeks. “Please take me home.”

Stepan passed her his handkerchief. “Go into the ladies’ retiring room and freshen your face first.”

The retiring room was empty. Staring into the mirror, Fancy wiped her cheeks and dabbed at her eyes. Her hand was shaking, and she needed to steal a moment to compose herself. A darkened corner beckoned her, a retreat where no one entering would notice her.

Fancy sighed and closed her eyes. Her sisters would do well at their father’s since they did not share her bad memories. She would miss them, of course, but could not live with a father who had once turned his back on her.

And her mother.

Many nights Fancy had awakened to the pathetic sound of her mother’s weeping. The Duke of Inverary had consigned her poor mother to an eternity of mourning a lost love. And he wanted her forgiveness? She would see him in hell first.

“Did you see Lady Clarke’s expression when Stepan kissed the opera singer’s hand?”

A throaty laugh. “Lady Clarke appeared ready to die from apoplexy.”

Fancy opened her eyes when she heard the prince’s name. A brunette and a redhead had walked into the retiring room but could not see her where she sat.

“For once, I hope perfect Lady Cynthia will not be given her heart’s desire,” the brunette said.

The redhead agreed. “Cynthia will need to set her sight on something less than a prince.”

“Charles Wingate and his domineering mama,” the brunette replied. “What do you think of the opera singer?”

“The prince will make her his mistress,” the redhead answered. “Stepan will bed the little bastard but marry society.”

The two women left the room, leaving Fancy alone in her misery.

Their cruel words had been a jolt from Above. What, in God’s holy name, did she think she was doing? She had vowed never to become involved with an aristocrat.

She was outdoing her mother. If the duke refused to marry the woman who had borne him seven children, would a prince consider a woman who refused to bed him?

Fancy knew she was beginning to love the prince, but her pride refused to allow surrender. She would never marry or bed him. The daughter had learned hard lessons from the mother.

Loving but resisting.
Mon Dieu
, she felt like a fly entangled in the spider’s web.

Fancy stood and crossed the room to the mirror. She dabbed at her eyes again, preparing to rejoin the prince.

A hand touched her shoulder. “May I help you, Miss Flambeau?”

Fancy looked at Princess Amber and shook her head. “I have had a disturbing interview with my long-lost father.”

The princess gave her a blank look. “I do not understand.”

“Though my mother was a French countess and my father an English duke, they never married,” she explained. “My mother passed away several years ago, and now my father—who ignored us for fifteen years—wants us to live with him.”

“Us?”

“I agreed to send him my six sisters, but I will be alone without them.”

“I understand loneliness because I have been alone my whole life,” the princess said.” The life of a princess is not as wonderful as it appears. Come, my cousin is worried about you.”

Princess Amber returned to the ballroom with her husband. Stepan and Rudolf stood in the corridor.

The prince took her hand in his. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.” She managed a faint smile. “Will you help me move my sisters tomorrow?”

“I was planning on it.”

“Miss Flambeau…”

She looked at Rudolf. “You may call me Fancy.”

“Thank you, Fancy. Very soon, we must have a long conversation.” He looked at his brother. “Until then, take good care of my sister.” And then he returned to the ballroom.

“I will take you home now.” Stepan ushered her toward the stairs.

“I don’t want my sisters to know I won’t be moving with them,” Fancy said. “If I tell them in advance, they will refuse to go, too.”

Stepan wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We will get through this together, I promise.”

Fancy sat at the head of the table, facing the windows, and watched her sisters at breakfast the next morning. Never again would they sit together like this. Life would change when she delivered them to Park Lane.

A breeze flirted with the French lace curtains, giving her a glimpse of a wren in flight. Carried on the wind, the flower garden’s perfume wafted into the dining room.

The table was laden with a special breakfast, egg-batter fried bread with blueberry preserves. Sausage, kippers, and coffee accompanied the main dish.

Fancy looked at Raven on her right. “Why did you make us this delicious breakfast?”

“Do I need a reason?” Her youngest sister shrugged, a meaningful look in her eyes. “I awakened early and decided to treat my sisters this morning.”

“Raven, you are a treasure,” Blaze called from the other end of the table. “Puddles loves your sausages.”

Fancy looked at each sister and knew she had made the right decision. Her father was correct. They would be safe at Park Lane. Belle would not have been injured if they had sought his protection. As the oldest, she should have visited her father’s solicitor to ask for that protection after Nanny Smudge had died. She had failed in her duties, and her sister had paid the price.

Now her responsibility was to get her sisters moved with the least amount of resistance. To that end, Fancy decided to pretend to move with them. She would pack her clothing and unpack when she returned to Soho Square.

Setting her fork on the plate, Fancy cleared her throat and pasted a bright smile on her face. “Sisters, I have exciting news to share.”

All six sisters looked down the table at her. Leaping onto the chair at the opposite end of the table, Puddles cocked his massive head to one side as if giving her his attention.

“Dogs do not sit at the dining table,” Fancy informed her sister.

Blaze looked confused. “Is that the exciting news?”

Everyone, including Fancy, laughed at that. Puddles raised his head and howled, eliciting more laughter.

“I spoke with our father last night,” Fancy announced, “and he wants us to live with him.”

That grabbed their attention.

“Pack your clothing and valuables, but leave everything else for another day.” Fancy managed to smile at their stunned expressions. “Prince Stepan will move us to Park Lane this afternoon.”

“Park Lane?” Belle echoed, sounding impressed.

“Our father lives in a mansion on Park Lane. He will acknowledge us and—and—etcetera.”

“What do you mean by etcetera?” Blaze asked.

“Father plans to launch us into society and find us husbands worthy of a duke’s daughters.”

“Who
is
our father?” Raven asked.

Fancy shifted her gaze to her youngest sister. How sad for their father to sire seven daughters, six of whom had no knowledge of his identity.

Her gaze wandered to each sister before answering. “Magnus Campbell, the Duke of Inverary, is our father.”

Serena smiled. “That explains his kindness to us the night of your debut.”

“How strange to speak with a man but remain ignorant of his true identity,” Sophia remarked.

“How sad.” Belle’s words echoed Fancy’s thoughts. “Why does he want us after all these years?”

“His Grace regrets neglecting us,” Fancy explained, “and he blames Belle’s injury on his neglect.”

“His Grace?” Raven murmured. “Is that what we call him?”

Fancy shrugged. “I do not know his preference.”

“I’ll call him Grace,” Blaze announced, making her sisters laugh, “and we’ll call his wife Gracie.”

Belle appeared worried by the reminder of his duchess. “Will his wife welcome us?”

“Her Grace is his second wife, married after Mother passed away.” Fancy hoped her smile was encouraging, though her face was beginning to hurt from the strain. “The prospect of our living there excited her. I gather she has no children of her own.”

“What about Puddles?” Blaze asked.

“Puddles is moving with us.”

“What will happen to the Seven Doves?” Bliss asked.

“Our plan for revenge stands.” Fancy looked at each sister, her expression challenging them to disagree. “Alex comes to the theater each night to escort Genevieve home. I will give him our instructions then.”

Serena laughed, drawing their attention. “We can eavesdrop on his business meetings and steal his secrets.”

“This move could prove financially sound,” Bliss said.

“Will Grace buy me a horse?” Blaze asked. “I’d love a monkey like Miss Giggles, too.”

Blaze’s question broke the dam of their surprise. Everyone started talking all at once.

Fancy felt a hand touch her arm.

“Practice your slingshot,” Raven advised her. “I don’t know the reason yet.”

“What is troubling you?” Sophia asked. “You are not as happy as you want us to believe.”

“Nothing troubles me.” Fancy wished her sisters were not so talented. Almost nothing escaped their notice.

“Your secret sadness will affect my mood,” Serena warned, “and then we’ll be moving in the rain.”

“Grace is a stranger to us,” Belle explained, “but Fancy cannot forget he is the father who abandoned her.”

Fancy needed to divert their attention. “I have more news.” She looked around at their expectant expressions. “We have two half-brothers.”

“Brothers?”
six voices echoed.

“Robert Campbell, the Marquess of Argyll, is the duke’s legal son and heir. Prince Rudolf Kazanov is his son born out of wedlock.”

“Grace liked the ladies in his younger days,” Serena said.

“You mean
loved
,” Sophia corrected her twin.

“Grace had a roving eye for the ladies,” Bliss said. “Many men do.”

“Humph.”
Blaze looked at her twin. “Grace had more than an eye to produce seven daughters and one son on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“Do you think there could be others?” Raven asked.

The sisters grew silent, even Fancy. How many children
had
the duke sired?

Raven broke the silence. “I will miss Soho Square.”

Fancy looked around at her sisters. “We enter a new world this afternoon.”

“I like the old world,” Raven said. “What if I don’t like the new world?”

Fancy raised her hand and gestured that problem away. “We still own our home in Soho Square.”

“Technically, Grace owns it,” Bliss reminded her.

“What if he won’t let us come home?” Raven asked.

“We will worry about that another day.” Fancy felt her irritation rising. She needed to move her sisters with as little trouble as possible. Her father would blame her if they refused to go, and she cared too much to let him down in spite of her bad memories. If only she could erase the past from her mind.

“I think we should worry before we move,” Blaze was saying.

Raven nodded. “That will save us the return trip.”

“Our father will not keep us prisoner,” Fancy assured them.

Blaze would not quit, though. “What if he does?”

Fancy’s temper flared. “What if the sky falls? What if the earth opens to swallow us? What if the Thames rises up to drown us?”

Silence greeted her outburst.

Belle touched her hand. “Sister, all will be well.”

Looking as miserable as she felt, Fancy met each sister’s troubled gaze. “I am sorry.” She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “How do
you
feel today, Belle?”

“My face hurts but I will live.” Belle looked across the table. “Thank you for the excellent stitching.”

“Thank you for being my sister.” Raven’s voice sounded hoarse with emotion.

Tears threatened Fancy. She moved to rise from her chair, but her youngest sister reached out and stayed her.

“May we forever be as close in our hearts as we are at this moment,” Raven said.

“Amen,” six voices chorused.

Fancy stood then. “We need to pack.”

“Good afternoon, Tinker.” Prince Stepan greeted the ducal majordomo and led his charges into the foyer.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

Fancy gave the man a nervous smile when he shifted his gaze to her, saying, “Good afternoon, Miss Flambeau.”

Stepan turned to the Flambeau sisters. “Meet Tinker, your father’s majordomo.” Then he gestured to each and told the man their names. “Belle, Bliss, Blaze, Serena, Sophia, Raven. Puddles, of course, is their dog. So what do you think, my good man?”

Tinker raised his brows. “I think my life is changed forever.”

Stepan winked at the man. “The fun begins now.”

“Do you always open the door?” Blaze asked.

“Yes, miss.”

“Are we forbidden to open the door?”

“You may open the door to your heart’s content,” Tinker drawled, his lips twitching at her unsophisticated questions. “Their Graces”—the sisters giggled—“are waiting in the parlor. Come with me, please.”

Tinker led the way upstairs, the sisters falling into a single line like ducklings following their mama. Holding hands, Stepan and Fancy walked behind them. Their
oohings
and
aahings
at the opulence of the mansion embarrassed Fancy.

“How are you holding up?” the prince whispered.

“I don’t think I could survive this without you.”

That made him smile.

“Your daughters have arrived, Your Grace,” Tinker announced.

The Duke and Duchess of Inverary rose from the settee in front of the hearth. Standing nearby were Robert Campbell and Rudolf Kazanov.

The Campbell family parlor was warm and invitingly comfortable. The walls were painted a cream ochre, the perfect background for artwork and portraits. A Persian carpet in gold, red, black, blue, and cream covered the polished hardwood floor. Groups of sofas, chairs, and settees in jewel colors clustered together, and lilacs scented the air from various vases. Above the white marble hearth hung a portrait of the present duchess.

“Oh, my precious darlings.” The Duchess of Inverary rushed across the parlor to put her arm around Belle and escort her to the settee. “My poor sweeting. How frightened you must have been.”

Fancy watched Belle redden with embarrassment. Her sister did not need to be the focus of attention. She wished she had sent the duchess a message to ignore her sister’s injury, if only for a few days.

With a welcoming smile, the Duke of Inverary walked across the parlor in his wife’s wake and greeted her sisters. Her father was a charming man, a little too accustomed to others accepting his orders without question, but she had no doubt her sisters would soon feel at home.

“This is Grace,” Bliss whispered to her twin.

The duke turned to Bliss, who stepped back a pace. “Who is Grace?”

“We named you and your wife Grace and Gracie,” Blaze told him. “You know, Your Graces.”

Fancy glanced at the prince. Stepan struggled against laughing out loud, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Across the parlor, the duke’s sons were not so discreet and were laughing openly. Tinker exploded in a muffled squawk of amusement, drawing the duke’s attention.

“See to their belongings,” the duke ordered.

“Yes, Your”—Tinker chuckled—“
Grace
.”

Her father stared at her offending sister, his expression grim. “Blaze, is it?”

Blaze had the good grace to blush. “Fancy called you ‘His Grace,’ and we asked her if that was the name we called you. She didn’t know, so we nicknamed you Grace and Gracie.” She gave him a bright smile as if that settled the matter of her impertinence.

“You may call me Papa when you are ready,” he announced. “Until then, call me Sir or His Grace. My wife is Roxie, Madam, or Her Grace.”

“I like Grace and Gracie better,” Serena whispered to her twin.

“So do I,” came Sophia’s reply.

The duke’s sons were laughing again, as was the prince. Even the duchess’s dimple showed.

Fancy struggled against the urge to laugh. If their ignorance had not been so embarrassing, she would have found the whole situation humorous. There was nothing funny about her sisters not knowing how to address their own father.

The duke gestured to the cluster of chairs and settees near the dark hearth. “Come and sit with us.”

Fancy felt the prince squeeze her hand and lifted her eyes to his questioning gaze. She shook her head, indicating they would remain standing.

The Duke of Inverary took Belle’s hand in his. “I am sorry I failed to protect you.”

“I thank you for the kind words, but the blame does not belong to you.”

The duke patted her hand. “Fancy tells me you love to garden. Consider my gardens yours, both here and at my country estate.”

“Thank you, Your—Sir—
Papa
.”

The duke flicked a glance at Fancy and then spoke to her sister again. “Your forgiveness humbles me. I regret neglecting you.”

“I regret only your neglect of my mother,” Belle said.

“I regret that, too.”

Fancy knew his words were meant for her. She wished she could forgive him as easily as her sisters. They did not share the memory of his turning his back on that long-ago day in Hyde Park.

“You are Sophia, the artist?” her father was asking.

Her sister nodded.

“What part of creating do you favor?”

“I love colors,” she answered. “I can see people’s—”

“Sophia.”
Fancy’s tone warned her sister to silence.

The Duke of Inverary looked from one daughter to the other. “Canvas and paint will be delivered in the morning.”

Sophia smiled, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Thank you, Your—
Papa
.”

“And this is Serena?”

Her sister wore a placid expression. “I am Sophia’s twin.”

Her father’s expression changed, a faraway look on his face. “I remember how surprised I was to learn Gabrielle had delivered a second set of twins. At first opportunity, I want to hear your flute playing and your singing.”

Fancy noted and appreciated his skill at making each daughter feel special. Too bad he had waited fifteen years to do that. She could not believe in his sincerity.

“I own hundreds of mathematics books,” he was telling Bliss. “How do you apply mathematical knowledge to your life?”