roundabout journey to Brighton, I am afraid.”
Lord Arthur turned off the Brighton road and drove some ten miles to where Lord Achesham, a friend of his father's, had a mansion. His lordship was not at home, but his butler was delighted to receive a hefty tip to show them the back way out of the estate, and then to tell anyone asking for them that they were guests of Lord Achesham and would be staying for some time. And if an impertinent fellow should inquire after a certain Princess Felicity, the butler was to say that she, too, was in residence. If he insisted on seeing the princess, he was to be shown out.
Felicity had told John Tremayne not to use her fake title when he rented a house. She had no wish to be brought to the attention of the worthies of Brighton. It had proved remarkably easy for John to find a suitable residence large enough for Felicity and her staff. Until the end of the Season, Brighton was a quiet place. In June, when the Prince arrived with his court and followers, it would spring into life.
It was wonderful to settle down into relative anonymity. She often thought of Lord Arthur, but distance from him had given her courage. A man who was engaged to one lady, and yet could kiss another, was not a gentleman.
A few callers had tried to leave cards with Miss Chubb-Felicity having made the governess take the house in her name-as a certain interest had been provoked in the lady who had taken one of the largest houses in Brighton. But gloomy Spinks had told them all that Miss Chubb did not wish to see anyone. The advantage of renting a house complete with furniture and arriving with a highly trained staff meant Felicity had been able to settle in almost immediately.
Lord Arthur, however, insisted on leaving his card, and that was to cause ructions. Felicity, determined to be good, might not have decided to see him had not both Miss Chubb and Mr. Silver cried out against the very idea. Now Mr. Silver, that assiduous reader of newspapers, could have told his young mistress that an announcement of the termination of Lord Arthur's engagement had just appeared in the
Accordingly, when Lord Arthur and Dolph called the following day, Felicity had been watching for them and commanded Spinks to allow them to enter.
Lord Arthur promptly suggested that Felicity should accompany him on a drive, and Dolph, taking his cue, said he would be happy to stay and keep Miss Chubb company. Mr. Silver muttered something rude under his breath, and went out for a long walk.
The day was sparkling and brisk as Lord Arthur drove Felicity up over the downs. He laughed at her fears over her forthcoming presentation to the Queen. “It is not a terrifying occasion,” he said. “People push and shove to get into the drawing room. They bow or curtsey, as the case may be. Her Majesty takes snuff and looks bored. And then they shove and fight back downstairs, usually to find that their disposables, such as shawls, hats, tippets, and cloaks, have been stolen.”
“But surely there are some people who fall ill, who are unable to attend,” said Felicity. “I could be one of them.”
“It would be considered very odd in a… visiting royalty?”
His voice ended on a question, and Felicity blushed. “Why are you in Brighton, my lord?” she asked, as he stopped his team on a grassy hill above the sea.
“Now, I should have thought that was obvious. I came in pursuit of you, my princess.”
Felicity turned her head away and fiddled with the long blue satin ribbons of her gown. “My lord, I must remind you that you are engaged to Miss Barchester.”
“No longer. I disengaged myself.”
Felicity suddenly felt ridiculously happy. But his next words took all that happiness away. “Now, Princess Felicity,” he said, “do you not think it is time you told me all about Brasnia?”
She hung her head. She longed to tell him the truth, but would he believe her? I took the jewels and ran. But what proof had she that the jewels were really hers? And how could their relationship deepen unless she did tell him the truth?
“Don't look so miserable,” he said gently. “We will have all our married life before us to talk about the wretched place.”
Felicity's wide eyes flew to meet his. “You wish to marry me?”
“Of course. I do not kiss gently bred ladies unless my intentions are serious, and they have never before been as serious as this.”
“I cannot marry you,” said Felicity miserably. He jumped lightly down from the carriage and led his team of horses to a stunted tree and tethered them. Then he helped Felicity to alight.
“Now, why can't you marry me?” he said.
“My family would forbid it.”
“Ah, back to Brasnia again. Perhaps I should go there and ask whoever I need to ask.”
“That would not answer. I am already betrothed.”
“To whom?”
“Prince Ivan, my first cousin.”
“Here. You cannot go around marrying first cousins. You'll have a nursery full of imbeciles. My dearest, is it not time you told me the truth?”
Felicity walked a little ahead of him in silence.
“You see, you are going to marry me,” he said, catching up with her. “And I then must go and see my family to tell them the good news, and then I must find a special license because I do not want to wait. Are you afraid of me?”
Felicity turned to face him. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Very afraid.”
He looked at her ruefully. “I must do something to end this farce. I never thought to use force, but…”
He deftly kicked Felicity's legs from under her, and as she fell backward on the springy turf, he crouched down beside her and pinioned her arms above her head.
“Now,” he said, “let's kiss some of that Brasnian nonsense out of you.”
“You are stronger than I am,” said Felicity with pathetic dignity. “I can only appeal to your honor, if you do have any.”
He smiled down at her wickedly. “Not a scrap,” he said softly, and then his mouth descended on hers.
As he kissed her softly, he released her wrists, only to pull her body into his arms. Felicity planned to lie cold and unresisting in order to bring him to his senses. But her lips had a will of their own, and her body refused to listen to frantic messages from her brain and arched against his. As he felt her response he freed her mouth and kissed her neck. “Brasnia,” he whispered against her skin. “Come along now. Tell me about Brasnia or I shall forget myself and leave you with no choice but to marry me. Brasnia!”
“No!” said Felicity.
Her dress was high-waisted and stiffened, to push her breasts up against the low neckline. He kissed the top of each breast and then rolled on top of her, pressing her into the ground with the weight of his body and began caressing her mouth again with his lips, soft stroking kisses that were more devastating than any savage assault.
Felicity let out a sort of gurgling moan, and he raised his head. Her hat had tumbled off onto the grass, and her red hair had come free of its pins and lay in a fiery cloud about her face.
“Oh, I shall tell you,” she sighed, “and then you will go away and forget about me.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Freddy Channing, Miss Felicity Channing and Your Royal Highness. I doubt it very much.”
“You knew,” said Felicity. “You knew all along.”
“Of course I did, my widgeon! But I wanted you to trust me, to tell me. I hope I can recognize a pretty girl even
