Page 10 of Lord Fournier’s Shameless Princess (Scarlett Affairs #4)

T he next morning after breakfast, Liesel went to the set of rooms where Katrin and Nikky slept. She’d not spent much time with them, and she needed to prepare them for the arduous journey.

As Frau Ernst opened Nikky’s door for her, Liesel grew alarmed at the sound of her little brother’s cough.

“Nikky! Sweetheart!” She found him putting his toy soldiers into his valise. “I am so glad you will take these fellows with you.”

“They were once Papa’s and then Rainer’s.”

“A part of the family, then. We must see that they enjoy the trip to their new home.”

Nikky gazed up at her with solemn sky-blue eyes. “A temporary home.”

“Yes, only that. But necessary.” Liesel swept her hand through the silky, dark brown hair over his brow. “Do you know the reasons why it is necessary, my dear?”

He coughed, one hand to his mouth, and reached for another handkerchief upon the nearest table. “Herr Becker has informed us every day of the politics. I know Bonaparte may come here.”

She sucked in a breath. If Becker had told him of the abduction of Enghien, she hoped he had not included that the French could come to take him and all of them away to a dungeon.

“Will he? Come here?” Nikky grew wide-eyed with worry. “Mara says he will.”

Why, oh why had her sister done that? Liesel ground her teeth. Her heart ached that Mara would take such revenge as to scare their young brother with the threat of death by Bonaparte.

“Come here, sweet boy.” She drew him into her arms. “We shall leave here so that we are far from that man’s reach.”

Nikky tried to look brave. “Baron Fournier comes with us, doesn’t he?”

“He does. He is our friend, and he knows much of the way to England.”

“I like him. I’m glad he will come.”

Me too.

“Will he truly marry you?”

That was a surprise that had her bursting into a laugh. “Why do you ask?”

“The way he looks at you is…” He wrinkled his nose.

“Oh, that’s… Um…”

“He likes you! I see it. Katrin, too.” He pointed a finger at her. “And you are blushing!”

“Nikky von Rittenburg, you are entirely too old for your age!”

“Then we both are, Liesel.” Katrin waltzed in from their adjoining boudoirs. “I see Baron Fournier look at you, and I know it is true love.”

Liesel looked for words. “Really! Where did you two learn such things?”

Katrin giggled as she came to sit on Nikky’s bed. “Mara and Johann. Where else?” The girl batted her golden-brown lashes like a preening coquette. “Now with the baron and you!”

“Ba!” Liesel stood and tried to appear matronly. “You two read too many fantasies.”

Katrin gave a shrug of her shoulder. “But now that Baron Fournier is with us, we don’t have to read. We need only observe!”

“I think,” Liesel said as she prepared to leave her siblings to their laughter, “you two need to finish packing. I am leaving. Do pick out your best court attire for your sister’s wedding. I will instruct Becker to come check the placement of your insignia on your coat, Nikky, and your gown, Katrin.”

“Liesel?” Katrin was now serious. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

The girl took a step toward Liesel, her green-blue eyes flat with concern. “Mara wants to marry Hartenburg.”

Liesel nodded, but anticipated the question coming before Katrin asked it. “She does.”

“But…”

“What?”

“How do we know he will be kind to her?”

What could she say to that?

Katrin swallowed, but tears appeared on her cheeks. “Mara has been good to Nikky and me. She was strong and brave. For fun, she’d take us riding in Papa’s old moat. She read to us at night, and when we were afraid… Liesel?” She broke into a sob that she tried to stop with her hand to her mouth, but failed. “I want… I want our Mara to be happy.”

Liesel rushed to her sister, knelt before her, and pressed the young girl to her heart. “We will tell her that today. How we love her. How we are grateful for how she has protected you and kept you loved and safe.” She struggled to keep her own sorrow from her voice. “We know she understands how to give love and receive it.”

Katrin scrubbed tears from her cheeks. “But does he ?”

Oh, my dear little sister, where did you learn about reciprocity in love? “I believe he will learn much from our Mara about that. You did, didn’t you?”

Katrin sniffed and stopped her tears.

Nikky still looked worried.

“Please. Now, get dressed. The bishop comes, and we want to give him our finest regards. We will not say we are leaving. Nor where we go. Nor how. We are celebrating the marriage of our lovely sister to a prince of Germany. Our Mara will be a princess twice over, a leader among her people.”

At eleven o’clock, they convened in the throne room for the ceremony. Liesel was shocked that her mother’s white satin court gown fit her so well. The style was French, of course, but had fitted sleeves that fell over her wrist. She wore her mother’s ruby and diamond earrings that Becker had taken from the cellar vaults for her to wear today. Her hair was up in an elaborate bouffant and caught at the nape. From the vault, Becker had also taken her mother’s small ruby tiara. Liesel had worn rags for so long lately that all the finery was a shock to her when she regarded herself in the mirror.

The effect upon Dirk, however, was worth every moment of discomfort. His mouth fell open when she entered the throne room. “Words do you no justice, Your Highness,” he said as he took her hand and, damn his soul, kissed her fingertips.

And as his lips lingered there, she had illusions of his kissing her on the mouth and her cheeks. The euphoria buoyed her for the challenge of witnessing her sister’s marriage. “You look dashing yourself, sir.”

He accepted her praise with a bow and a smile. “As do the others in your family.”

Katrin was dressed in a white satin court gown with the sash of Rittenburg across her chest. Nikky wore the royal-blue suit that was a male Rittenburg’s court attire. He too had a red satin chest sash, with the insignia of his rank as the second son of their father. Becker wore his formal suit of the same navy blue. Frau Ernst wore her best gown of blue, and her keys to the nursery on a chain around her waist.

The newest arrival was the bishop, an elderly man with kindly brown eyes. He greeted Liesel with a strong handshake and a paternal glint in his eyes.

“I am delighted to gaze upon you again, my princess. It has been too many years since I was able to enjoy your beauty. Such a lovely woman you have become.” He turned toward Dirk, to whom he had been introduced earlier, and beamed. “I gather from the way you look upon each other that a new announcement of betrothal comes soon.”

For the second time today, Liesel noted that someone interpreted a great affection between Dirk and her. They were not wrong, but they would never be right.

“Indeed,” Dirk said with a broad smile as he took her arm. “The wedding will be soon.”

“But not here,” declared the bishop with a somber gaze.

“No, Your Excellency,” Dirk added. “You are correct. Not here.”

The bishop stilled. “Wise. Very wise. Where are the bride and groom, eh? We must get on with this!”

Hartenburg appeared, pausing on the threshold to scan the expressions of those assembled. Dirk and Nikky greeted him with courteous smiles. Liesel gave him a nod of approval.

Katrin strode forward. “Prince, please do come to meet His Excellency. He has never met you. Isn’t that odd?”

Hartenburg let out a breath and became the diplomat he’d been trained to be. “Not at all, Katrin. We travel often but have not yet met all the best people in the world. How do you do, Your Excellency?”

Within minutes of his arrival, Mara appeared. She wore their mother’s white muslin wedding gown of two layers of Bengali fabric. But what made those present gasp was her veil. It was transparent muslin, twenty-eight feet long and embellished with the embroidery of roses and bluebells done by a women’s guild in Dresden. The Dacca muslin was said to be as light as the vapors of dawn. The veil had belonged to their mother for her wedding. Indeed, she had wanted all her daughters to wear it for their weddings.

Liesel bit her lip. It would be so for Mara’s wedding today. Liesel hoped she could make it so for Katrin’s.

Hartenburg went to his bride’s side and, with a loving smile, took her hand to lead her toward the bishop.

If that look upon his face pleased Mara, it thrilled Liesel. She had so many fears about this union. But she pushed them aside to embrace the joy of the moment.

“Come, princess and prince,” the bishop bade them with a flex of his fingers. “We begin.”

They were done in minutes.

A sigh went round the room.

Liesel had stood next to Dirk during the ceremony, and when it was finished, she reached out one finger to touch his hand. He grasped it as if it were a lifeline. When she stepped toward the newly wedded couple, Dirk was right behind her. His nearness bolstered her and somehow transformed the occasion into a very happy one.

“We have a wedding breakfast awaiting us in the formal dining room,” she announced. “We invite you to join us, Your Excellency.”

While the bishop accepted, Liesel felt Hartenburg’s gaze drill into her.

He stepped toward her as her three siblings headed for the door with the cleric. “You have my document?”

“I do, Johann. After we dine, do come to my brother’s study.” She did not add that she knew he already knew the way. She was trying to be civil and create a good beginning for Mara’s marriage.

Less than an hour later, Hartenburg stood over the parchment spread upon her brother’s broad oak desk and growled at the additions to the text. “I should have known you would make it to your favor.”

Once more, Dirk stood a step behind her. His warmth consoled her as Hartenburg’s gaze chilled her very soul. “It is useful to you,” she said.

“To have Becker in charge? Are you mad ?”

“I conserve what is vital to our family and to our subject’s interests. Becker is our Burgmann, our keeper of the castle, the domain, the vineyards, and our banking accounts. Certainly you did not expect me to hand over everything we are to you.”

He narrowed his gaze upon her. “What can I do for you without access to your finances?”

“With Becker’s approval, you have authority to command our soldiers. Fifteen hundred men, well trained, is no small force. Also, with Becker’s help, you have access to our stores of rifles, cannon, gunpowder, siege supplies, and beer.”

“I would be their commander?”

“You would be.”

“Write that in there.” He pointed to the place he wished amended.

She picked up the quill and printed it in the margin. “Anything else?”

“The dowry.”

Ah, yes. “As of noon today, Herr Becker transferred to your family account with Rothschild this year’s funds. He has instructions to do this each year upon the anniversary of your marriage to Mariele.”

Something softened in his demeanor. Whether it was the knowledge of the dowry or of his military power, should he ever need it, Hartenburg regarded her with a look of kindness. “I do care for her.”

“Show me.”

“What?” He flinched, confused.

“Show me that you care for her.”

“How?”

She put up a hand to him. “I will hear. I will know how you treat her. If it is with respect and kindness, I will be pleased. Becker will know of my pleasure…and then, so will you.”

Though she did not specify what that appreciation entailed, his face contorted with the hope of those things with which she might reward him. “Good. I am pleased to be united with the family of Rittenburg.”

Liesel hoped she might one day say the same of his family.

*

Dirk stood with Liesel at the back garden gate of the palace to bid the newlyweds auf wiedersehen . Dusk had fallen and the night winds promised a cool, pleasant evening—a good night to climb into a coach and leave for a new home, far away.

“Will you join me for a light dinner before we gather the children?” Strain showed on her lovely face as he accepted, and they walked into the ground floor near the kitchens.

Up in the small family parlor, she walked to one window, kneaded her hands together, and returned to the window.

He went to the long sideboard and assembled a plate of cheeses and early cucumbers, then poured them each a goblet of white wine. “Come sit down and let the day drift away.”

She spun to face him, a sudden smile on her lips. “Can you read my mind?”

He handed her the crystal when she sat on the settee. “I try.”

“You do a good job of it,” she said, and pressed her glass to his. “To the Prince and Princess of Hartenburg.”

“They make a fine-looking couple,” he said with satisfaction at the way Liesel responded to his attempt to lift her spirits.

“They do. My parents would be pleased at the match. They would be delighted if they could say he loved her.”

“They might be able to, whereas we have not had that vantage point.”

She tipped her head at him and grinned. “Are you always so positive about people and events?”

“My dear, you know I am not.”

She took another sip, distracted. “I wish we could have given them the wedding festivities they deserved.”

“A breakfast, a reception, and what else?”

“A grand ball. Mara loves to dance.”

He put down his glass on the nearby table. “Do you?”

“Oh, yes.” She got a gay look in her eyes that said such a thing was her finest entertainment.

He put out his hand to her. “Then let’s.”

She opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it all with one look at him. “Do you sing?” She was brimming with laughter.

“I do. I am good, too, my princess.”

“Sing me a few bars.”

He cleared his throat and began to hum a bit of Mozart.

“My, my. You are accomplished.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. That is not all I can do.”

“Oh?” She put her hand in his and stood, so near, too deliciously near. “Show me.”

Though those were the words she had used on Hartenburg, for him, they were a risqué challenge. He wrapped one arm around her waist and lowered his head so that her breath was his. “This is no pose for dancing,” he said so low he barely heard himself.

“We can pretend.”

“No pretense necessary.”

She lowered her gaze to his lips. “None.”

But he did not move, could not. He lifted his head to blink away the ambition to taste her, all of her. When he came back to admiring her smiling face, he took one step back. “We shall do a country dance. English. Harvest time. Simple.”

“Instruct me, sir.”

“We are a group of four couples. You and I are couple number one.”

“And we lead.”

“We do.” He put one hand behind his back, lest he haul her against him once more and press her luscious body to his. “We take three steps in to the center and bow. Our opposite couple does the same. We go back and go to our right, where we greet that couple the same way. Then the last couple.”

“Yes! I have done this dance in London. So now, we promenade to our right and change partners with that couple.”

“Exactly,” he said as they followed the steps, and he grew lonely at not holding her hand any longer. “I want you back,” he said when he took the part of the second man and swept her flush against him. Her satin gown was water under his fingertips. Her skin, he knew, would be too.

Her approval of his embrace shone in her dreamy smile. “Is there no dance where we don’t have to share with others?”

He wrapped her close, her breasts warm against his chest, her long legs in the sinuous white satin aligned with his. He whispered, “Only one.”

She wrapped her arms around his back and stood on tiptoe. “I want to do that one.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Most everything is,” she said, her amethyst gaze wide upon him.

“The pleasure is short.”

She brushed her lips on his. “How can you say if you’ve never tried?”

He sought logic and found none. “My desire to keep you forever could ruin us both.”

“Where is your optimism?”

“Flown away, my darling.”

“Oh, you are a sweet man. Then kiss me in the void. It may be all we need to bring it winging back.”

Her words burned away all his resistance. He held her in his arms, all woman, all bright, formidable female, and here, she was his heaven. Her lips were soft and plush, her mouth open for his claiming. She sought more of him, and he braced himself to absorb her like sunshine and rain.

But he could not hold his balance, and so he broke away and bent to catch her up and stride with her to the settee. Against one corner, he sat and pulled her up over him. She sought to kiss his cheek, his nose, and his lips once more. Sprawled over him, she was a supple array of blonde hair, purple eyes, and long-legged nymph in white satin.

He tried to find some halt to his spiraling desire, but she was devoted to the art of kissing him. Fool that he was for her, he sank his fingers into her hair and held her while he laved her lower lip and plunged inside for the flavor of mint, wine, and intoxicating Liesel. He had to stop or he’d take her on this couch.

With her hair down, her pins gone awry, he smoothed the gossamer strands down her throat and across to her elegant shoulder.

She tucked her face into the hollow beneath his chin. “That was all too brief.”

He would console her, even though he denied himself more. “I promised myself I would not do that.”

She kissed his cheek. “I know.”

“I would keep you for myself if I could.”

“I would keep you for myself if I were worthy of you.”

He glanced down at her, her head cradled in the crook of his arm, her eyes twinkling with the desire he was sure was the reflection of his own. He pushed hair from her cheeks. “You are too noble, too worthy, my darling.”

“Not for you. Not for any man.”

The pain in her darkened eyes set his guts to churning. “What are you saying?”

“I am not whole.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You deserve a lady for your own who is intact.”

He cupped her cheek. “Darling, what do you imply?”

She pushed up, away from him. Then she sat up.

The knowledge that some man had hurt her hit him like a stone. “Who would dare?” he asked.

“My betrothed.”

He stared at her. Whatever the details, he had no right to ask them of her. She was, even with that simple admission, embarrassed to her bones.

She gulped. “He said it was payment for my refusal to marry him.”

Dirk winced. “He raped you because you refused him?”

“I said I would tell the queen. The king, too, if I had the chance. But I never did.” She smoothed the fall of her skirts, then stood. “So, there—I’ve told you how ordinary I am. You must not hold me in any esteem when I am a woman ruined. Taken by a—”

He stood and embraced her. “Liesel. Darling, what he did to you does not change my opinion of you. Nothing ever could. I know who you are.”

“Tarnished.”

He clamped her to him. “Look at me. Strong. Valiant. Capable. Devoted. Crown Princess Elizabeth of Rittenburg is everything a woman should be, can be.” He loved her.

The realization ran through his veins like flame. He fought the urge to tell her. What good would it do? He could not have her. No matter what the Hanovers’ cousin had done to her, he was still not worthy of her. She might wear this shame on the inside of her soul, put there by a privileged ass who knew no better, but she should not bear it. Would that he could replace it with the tender, loving care she deserved from a man who adored every little bit of her.

But with his own disgrace, he could do none of that. While she wore her sorrow over that man’s treatment of her in secret, he wore his in public. Where others spoke of it, ridiculed it. Where he had few means to kill the lies. Where he could not set himself free. Never free so that he might claim her. Enjoy her. Lift her up as the stunning creature she was.

He set her from him, his hands to her shoulders. “He hurt you. He brutalized you. It is he who must be punished. He who must suffer. Not you. No longer you, my darling.”

They’d come a long way from sampling the joy of a mere kiss. They now discussed a crime and its punishment. Her release and her dignity.

“We go to England, where I will find a way to uphold you, and you will find a way to tell them all how he defiled you and destroyed your life there.”

He suggested they part and nap before they left at midnight. He was her man, her champion. No one would hurt her. No one. Not even those who assumed they had droit du seigneur .

*

Nikky coughed as he leaned toward Katrin and moved a piece on the children’s miniature chessboard. The children sat opposite each other as their hired carriage raced northwest through the verdant woodlands of countless German states.

Liesel’s gaze drifted to Dirk’s. His showed a flash of concern for the boy. Nikky sat next to Dirk facing her and Katrin. When her brother coughed again, Dirk casually brushed his hair back from his brow. Rain had begun night before last, when they had left Rittenburg Palace. Becker had hired an old, unmarked traveling carriage for them that had taken them to a small village near Frankfurt. This morning they had set off again in another conveyance. But the hours saw Nikky’s cough become deeper, inspiring Liesel to ensure they stopped somewhere soon so that she could nurse him properly.

“What time is it?” she asked Dirk.

He dug out the gold watch hanging from his fob. “After two.”

They’d been on the road since nine o’clock this morning, departing from the small guesthouse where they had spent five hours in a cramped, old inn with hay for beds. What was worse, she and Dirk had feared being discovered. Without Becker to accompany them on their journey, she and Dirk had been at the ready with their pistols, lest they encounter any more assailants.

It was one thing to fight with Dirk, another adult, but quite different to ward off attackers with two children to witness the melee.

Becker had prepared diversions for the children with chess and cards, Katrin’s favorite doll, and, of course, Nikky’s toy soldiers. Thank heavens that the children considered the journey an adventure. Liesel needed them in good spirits. The distance they had to go was hard enough.

Very hard. She writhed on the short bench. The pleading look in her eyes had Dirk nodding.

“I know of an inn, a fine guesthouse outside Koblenz. The owner has accommodated me often. We can stop and sleep.”

“If he knows you, we could be at risk.”

“Do not fear this. My friend is loyal. Have you ever been to Koblenz?”

Liesel shook her head and smoothed the brow of Katrin, who grumbled to Nikky that the pieces on the board shifted with the sway of the wagon.

“The Germans hate the French occupation,” Dirk continued. “They save their own. Herr Heinrich will guard us with his life. He has done so for me twice before.”

Liesel’s head lolled against the wall of the coach. Of a sudden, they had come across a smooth patch of road, and her aching bones rejoiced in the small pleasure. “You have had an eventful life. I hope you had joy as well as adventure.”

“I did. A lot of it, too. My childhood in Kent was filled with days spent with my father. He was an excellent steward of his land, and he imbued me with a love of plants and animals. I am very much like my friend, Lord Appleby, whom you met the first night you came to me.”

She rolled her eyes at him, happy he said no more about that fateful event. “How are you alike?”

“I like putting seed into the earth and watching it sprout. I studied chemistry at Heidelberg, as Appleby did, and we two were the most talkative students in class. Disruptive, especially because we wished to know about British soil compositions. We learned about German agriculture because we had to, but he and I were always on about the differences in British soil. So I am a product of that plus knowledge I gained from my years visiting my mother’s family in Baden. My other good friend, Lord Ashley, went on to Amboise, and later joined Appleby and me in Baden. I went home to Kent often. My parents insisted on seeing me. When my younger brothers each died of ague, I was left the only heir. But by then, traveling was in my blood. I had the urge to roam. My poor parents had to put up with me.”

She smiled at him in sympathy. “You love them?”

“There was much to love, much to revere. I went away as a child to please them. They wanted me cultured, speaking many languages and knowing those in power on the Continent. My education was their prime concern.”

“Did you not pine for them?” she asked, realizing too late her words indicated her own heartache at having left her parents and the rest of her family.

“I hated leaving. I adored them both. My mother is still a charming hellion. She is a lady-in-waiting to the queen, but often speaks her mind.”

“I think I have met her.” Liesel grinned at that recollection.

“She is a darling,” he said with obvious pride. “I wish I could be with her as she goes into her older age. I miss my father. A great man, he was. And I missed his illness and death. Leaving home for my education was a sweet sorrow. Years later, I left home because I was forced to go.”

Just like I was.

“Like you were.”

She cast off the sad remembrance and rallied. “I rebelled. It is not what a woman of substance does.”

“It is what a woman of conviction does.”

She inhaled, recalling the way her odious fiancé had slobbered over his dinner and smelled like a brewery. The way he looked at her as if she were his to strip and swive. “I hated the thought of marrying him.”

“As you should have. I have not met him, but rumor serves him up as a lout. Your wit and your charm would be wasted on him, my dear.”

My dear on Dirk Fournier’s lips sounded as it had on her father’s. “My dear, they will love you.” Or on her mother’s. “My dear, you are the best of us. Bright and beautiful.” She knew Dirk spoke those words in front of Katrin and Nikky to remain friendly. She let her gaze flow into his as she yearned for him to call her his darling.

But that was not possible. Not here. Not now. He would not claim that right in front of her family or the world. Katrin and Nikky looked up at each of them, questioning the drift of adults’ discussion but not really interested in its meaning.

Liesel filled the silence with fluff. “I can spend my days in service to those who value me. But not on those who disparage me or ridicule me. Or ignore me.”

“You deserve the finest gentleman as your husband.”

She sniffed and shook her head. “I ruined my chances of that long ago.”

“I doubt that,” he said with conviction. “Some good man will appear and want you badly, Liesel.”

Because the children were listening to them, she repressed all she wished to say about his being that good man. Instead she said, “You are kind to think so.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it—and you know it,” he declared, a torrid response that neither child understood, but one that resurrected her remembrance of his kisses.

She did know.

But what happiness could it bring her if the good man she wanted would never be hers?