There was a half-beat of hesitation before the Prince replied, ‘Then you need not go. We are not savages, you will not be coerced. You are free to make your own decision.’
She looked at Tristan, but he avoided her gaze as he jumped up and walked away across the room. Silently she begged him to turn around, but he stared resolutely out of the window.
‘There is no question. You must go.’ He threw the words over his shoulder. ‘What is there here for you? I know how much you want to travel, to see the world. You have your wish, then.’
He was speaking harshly, his voice cold, like a stranger, yet only moments earlier he had been about to ask the Prince for permission to marry her. Natalya put a hand to her head. Something was wrong.
‘Your Serene Highness,’ she addressed the Prince as she had heard others do. ‘Would you—that is, may I have a few moments alone with Lord Dalmorren, if you please?’
‘No.’ Tristan turned. ‘It would be most improper. Besides, there is nothing to say that Prince Borkusov cannot hear.’
‘Very well.’ She dug her nails into her palms until they hurt in an effort to speak calmly. ‘I thought, my lord, that you wished to marry me.’
‘That was when I believed you had no other option. Everything has changed. You are a princess. You have the world at your command.’
With the window behind him, she could not read his expression. But his voice was hard, devoid of all emotion.
‘I do not want the world.’
The Prince pushed himself out of his chair and gave a small tut of displeasure. ‘Now that, Natalya, is a most foolish statement. How can you know what you want until you have tried it?’
‘His Serene Highness speaks the truth,’ said Tristan. ‘You have the opportunity to live a life of untold luxury and privilege. Your every wish will be granted.’
‘No, it won’t!’
She flung the words at him. Suddenly she was fighting for her life. She jumped up, frustrated by the evening sunlight that kept his face in shadow. She took a step closer.
‘I thought you loved me.’
‘I felt sorry for you.’
His words hit her like cold water. She stopped, throwing out an arm to grip the chair-back and steady herself.
‘I d-do not believe you.’
‘Oh, I think you should, my dear,’ said the Prince, coming towards her. ‘I understand Lord Dalmorren’s dilemma. Here is a young woman, frightened, alone. Without parents or family. She is in need of protection. Any man of honour would feel the same. But now he understands that is not the case. You are not alone. You have a family and the opportunity to make a great match.’ He touched her arm and said gently, ‘Think of it, Princess Natalya Mikhailovna. I will take you to your homeland, you will resume your rightful place in an ancient and much-respected Romanov family. Would you reject such an honour in order to remain in England and marry a mere baron?’
Natalya looked at Tristan. He neither moved nor spoke. She tried to smile.
‘Would that be so very bad?’ she murmured.
‘As your grandfather I could not agree to it,’ the Prince announced coldly. ‘My lands, my fortune, can only pass to you if you return with me to Russia and live with your family. And if you marry anyone below your own rank, then you lose the right to call yourself Princess.’
‘And now I know you have family,’ added Tristan, ‘I cannot in honour marry you against their wishes.’
‘Thank you, Lord Dalmorren.’ The Prince bowed to him. ‘I am relieved to hear you say so. I can now die content, knowing the Borkusov fortune will pass through my direct line. I will take the Princess to Russia with me and she will become a much-loved and respected member of my household. My own dear wife died a few years ago and it will make me happy to see my granddaughter take her place as mistress of my properties. She may have charge of it all, if she so wishes.’
‘I can think of no woman more suited to take on that task, your Serene Highness.’ At last Tristan came away from the window. Natalya saw how pale he was, noted the tense line of his jaw. When he turned his gaze upon her, his eyes were as cold and hard as slate. ‘So. Everything is decided.’
A sudden wave of anger flared in Natalya.
‘How dare you!’ Her furious glare moved from one man to the other. ‘Do you think I will allow the two of you to organise my life? How dare you be so presumptuous as to think you will decide what I should do. I shall make my own choice!’
‘You would be foolish beyond belief not to go with the Prince,’ said Tristan harshly. ‘There is nothing for you here, madam. There is no choice.’
Natalya looked at the two men facing her, Tristan pale and implacable, the Prince coldly confident of the outcome. Her ragged breathing steadied. She had one final card to play. She knew it might cost her everything, but suddenly she felt quite calm.
She said quietly, ‘Oh, but there is a choice, my lord. I can leave England with the Prince, or I can remain here. A ruined woman.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ The Prince stared at her.
‘Confound it, woman, say nothing more!’
She ignored Tristan’s angry command and turned to her grandfather, meeting his startled gaze quite steadily.
‘You may be aware, your Highness, that when Lord Dalmorren rescued me, we were obliged to stay at Farnell Hall, some miles east of Devizes.’
‘Natalya, be quiet!’
‘For three nights, we slept in the same room. In the same bed.’
The Prince shook his head. ‘But this cannot be. My son’s instructions for your upbringing were quite explicit. You were to remain unmarried, a maid, until you could be restored to your rightful station, when you would be a fitting bride for any prince in Russia.’ He scowled. ‘This
