Page 15 of Lord Fournier’s Shameless Princess (Scarlett Affairs #4)

Fournier Park

Kent, England

June 3, 1804

L iesel straightened her stiff back and rolled her shoulders. Her bones were not the only bits that needed fresh air and exercise. Her caged desires did, too. In the last six days since the four of them had disembarked Jacques Durand’s schooner in Yarmouth, she had done nothing but yearn minute by minute for the end of this tiresome journey. Convincing Dirk to admit he cared for her would not be easy. Persuading him to do more, to spend his life with her, would be nigh unto impossible.

She could fix only so much. Her own status in Society was irredeemable, but she cared not for it. Fixing his status in Society was beyond her ability. But she could offer a solution for both, if he’d consider it. If he cared enough to make a life with her. If she could count on all the things she’d learned about him. His love of freedom. His love of others. His regard for children, her siblings, his friends…and her reputation. He might consider going to the United States, far from the madness of Europe and war. The idea was a wild one, but then, nothing was ever as inspiring as the promise of a new frontier.

Yet even that seemed a weak solution to their problem when they bought a newspaper outside London, and the main story stated that the French Senate had declared Bonaparte Emperor of the French. Liesel could see how it rankled Dirk that the little Frenchman grew in power and status. She paused to pray for the health and safety of her brother Rainer and her sister Mara. But here in England, she had to find some joy for herself. Each day, she promised herself the stamina to do that.

So as they rounded the circular drive up to Dirk’s beloved Fournier Park, Liesel smiled at the beauty of it. She rejoiced that they’d escaped Bonaparte. Here in the temporary refuge of his country home, she would face her last chance to capture from Dirk any sign they could be together. Her time to do that here would be short. He’d told her so. How many days that was, she could probably count on her fingers. She had a few ideas how to change his mind. None of them involved any logic. Only passion. That he cared for her, she did not doubt. But would he agree to leave not only Kent and his mother, but also his work on the Continent?

Their coach idled. The huge, E-shaped mansion loomed above them. The groom jumped down from his perch and opened their door. It was time to change her actions. Time to make the life for herself that she now desired with all her heart.

The four of them seemed to take a huge breath, almost in unison. Even Rolf panted, viewing his new home. They mounted the wide portico, two giant stone lions snarling at them from pedestals on either side.

A liveried servant in midnight-blue and gold braid yanked open the wide front door of the whitewashed Elizabethan brick-and-stone house. “My lord? My lord?” he queried, shocked, not believing his eyes as he tried to adjust his wire-rimmed glasses. “Sir? Is that you?” he asked over and over as he surveyed their ragtag group.

“Jameson!” Dirk strode forward to grasp the older fellow’s hand. “How are you? Well, from your looks, sir. I am so pleased to see you!”

“Aye, aye. And you, my lord. And you. My, my, we are… You are… Hmm. All tired, hungry. Here, yes, here! And we are thrilled…thrilled, my lord.” Jameson wiped tears from the corners of his watering eyes. “You are well? Yes? Oh dear. How are you here, sir? We had no letter. No word.”

“No, Jameson. My apologies. I was in a hurry and expected we’d arrive before any messenger could give you adequate notice.”

Actually, they had arrived in Yarmouth, well north of London, but, traveling south as Herr und Frau Schmidt with their children, Dirk had avoided the City. He presumed his mother was at home in Kent or with the queen at Windsor. Wherever she was, he would find her before he left England.

Dirk had not wished anyone to note that Baron Fournier had returned home. As for seeing Scarlett Hawthorne, he would report to her offices when he did go to London. In ordinary times, he would have called upon his friends, Lords Ashley and Ramsey. One of his runners had told him that both men and their wives were leaders of London Society. Of Appleby’s fate, Dirk had been apprised by another of his colleagues who worked in Munich. Tate and the woman who had been with him that night last June were married, living in his estate in Norfolk. While tempted to stop at Tate’s as they passed through Norfolk, Dirk had avoided that too. He had so little time to share with anyone. What energy he had, he would devote to Liesel and her two charges.

Dirk went on to his butler, “We are, as you can see, in need of everything in this world. Baths, clothes, luncheon, sunshine.”

“Aye, my lord. And you shall have it. As well as your guests.” The butler smiled at Nikky and Katrin. “We’ve not had youngsters here in many years, but it will be good. Very good.”

“Indeed, it will be. My dear”—Dirk turned to Liesel with a grin—“allow me to present to you my butler and man of all that matters in this household, Mr. Jameson. Sir, this is Crown Princess Elizabeth of Rittenburg, her sister Princess Katrin, and brother Prince Nicholas.”

The poor old man was agog, his funny little glasses sliding down his nose. “My. My. You have had a time of it,” he said as his gaze swept over their dismal apparel and fidgety forms. “Come, come! We will have you to rights in no time. What first? Food? Drink? Baths?”

Liesel closed her eyes and drank in the kindness around her.

“Luncheon, first, I do believe, Jameson. That gives you time to arrange rooms for our guests and baths. We also need something nourishing for our furry friend here. His name is Rolf, and scraps from Cook will serve him well.”

Jameson bent to Rolf. “I shall have good things for you, fine sir. And I would think your two friends here”—he grinned at the children—“would like a bit of ice. Strawberry sound good, does it?”

Nikky shifted from one foot to the other and said in good English, “Oh, please, Mr. Jameson, sir. That would be wonderful.”

Katrin licked her lips and nodded.

Dirk regarded Liesel. “Does that sound appropriate?”

“It does, sir,” she said, offering her best English accent.

“I’ll just pull the bell for a footman, and a maid can take the children to the kitchen for those ices. Do you have luggage, my lord?” Jameson took a glance at their carriage, still standing in the drive.

“A few small valises.” Dirk spun to regard the footman and their coachman. “I am most grateful for their speed and kind agreement to bring us here so safely. We picked them up this morning in Tonbridge. Jameson, please see to their accommodations for the evening, and do give them a greater measure of my gratitude.”

The two men who stood in the yard overheard, pulled the brims of their hats, and murmured their thanks.

“I want them to stay the night in the stables. They have charged the horses and nigh unto broken the axles to get us here. We were so eager and so tired. We’ve been on this journey since the dawn of time.”

“Of course, sir. Yes, yes.” Jameson clasped his hands over and over. Yet it was clear that he could not believe his eyes that his master stood before him. Even the sight of his guests did not compare to the wonder of regarding Baron Fournier. “You are a sight, if I may say so, my lord. Whatever you need is yours.”

“Is my mother here, Jameson?” The yearning in Dirk’s rough voice struck a poignant note in Liesel’s heart. “I long to see her.”

“My lord, I regret to tell you that your mother is in London.”

“Oh. I had hoped she’d be here.” He looked around the foyer as if he could not absorb enough of the abode where he had once lived and loved and passed his hours in childhood’s blithe abandon. He seemed to grow taller, more serene, at peace to be among the people whom he had first loved, and they him.

A footman came scurrying around the corner and skidded to a halt. Surprised, he gave a small bow to all.

Jameson urged him forward. “Take the children down to Cook for ices, Herbert. Then return to me to get the master’s and his visitors’ bags.”

As the servant disappeared, the butler regarded Dirk with concerned eyes. “Her ladyship left quickly last week, sir. But we can send a footman to notify her of your arrival. She will return straight away, sir. I know it.”

“You are right. She will. I will have our man deliver a few messages to those in London. After dinner, I will compose those letters and give them to you.”

“Excellent, sir.” Jameson led them toward the large hall to the right and the grand double staircase. “Let’s go up, shall we?”

Dirk put a hand to Liesel’s back and led her forward. She felt relief that she would not meet Dirk’s mother in her state of disarray. Instead, she wanted to draw in the grandeur of the blue Wedgwood walls, the cream-and-gold dome, the enormous family portraits, the marble and the gilt. She shared how Dirk imbibed satisfaction from the very air.

“When did my mother say she would return?” he asked Jameson.

“We have no notice, my lord.”

“Problems in court?” But Dirk seemed not to care so much about the answer as their progress down the hall and into the splendor of a lavish salon, filled with settees and chairs all covered in a rainbow of flowered chintz. It was gay, inviting, and chaotic. But it created not a room, but a rambling English garden. With the large vases of roses and lavender, and daisies dotted with rosemary, the room had the fragrance of springtime and renewal.

The beauty of it took Liesel’s breath away. She stood, looking around the circular room. Up, up, up her gaze traveled to the delights of cherubs dancing on the domed ceiling.

Even those in the frescoes were happy to be here. Happy to be home.

*

Jameson placed Liesel in a suite in the main wing. The butler had also provided four gowns, undergarments, shifts, and nightwear from the baroness’s wardrobe. The lady’s corset was too small for Liesel, and she rejected wearing it. Some things were best left undone.

“My lady has many clothes, Your Highness. She will be happy we provided for you in your hour of need.”

Liesel accepted everything with gratitude. The baroness was as tall as her, if not as buxom. But the lady’s color choices complemented Liesel’s, and even the baroness’s slippers fit her. Liesel went down to dinner that night in a purple sarcenet that matched the color of her eyes. In the intimacy of the cozy family dining room, she sat opposite Dirk, with Nikky and Katrin to either side.

They spoke of little things. The happy end to their journey. The walk Dirk had led them on to his tenants’ cottages, and how happy those people were to greet their baron. Nikky had especially loved picking strawberries with a new friend of his, one of the tenants’ sons. Katrin was simply happy to skip along in the sunshine.

When the children went off to bed, Dirk led Liesel into an adjacent room that was the small family salon. “There is a seamstress in the village,” he told her as he stood before the ivory mantel of the fireplace. “I will have Jameson bring her to you tomorrow. For Katrin, too. We’ll find a tailor for Nikky.”

“For the children, that is kind of you. They need everything. But Dirk, I will not be here long enough for a dressmaker to finish her work.”

“You need clothes.”

“I can get them in London. I do have a house there. I am capable, Dirk.”

Her tone had him tensing his jaw. “I want to see you settled.”

“I am on familiar ground now. I can manage.”

He hesitated, and she feared his next words.

“I will go to London tomorrow,” he finally said.

So soon?

“I wrote this afternoon to my mother to tell her you are here. I am certain she will come as soon as she can. We need her to make your visit here acceptable.”

Anger mixed with despair and whirled in her heart. “It’s kind of you to care about that, Dirk, but I do not need it.”

Her denial made him go stern with frustration. “You need the propriety. Rumors will fly that I escorted you from Rittenburg. It will get out, no matter our discretion. All of that reflects on you.”

She stood her ground. “You cannot correct my reputation by calling forth your mother, nor by leaving so soon for London.”

“Object all you want, my dear. But even Katrin and Nikky need the formality of good etiquette.”

“I will take care of my brother and sister.”

“Liesel, do not be rash. You need Society’s acceptance.”

That rocked her. He knew that what she really needed was him, free of his restraints. “You do not know me very well, do you?”

He paced toward the window. The night was dark, only a few stars twinkling above skimming clouds. “I value all that you are.”

His tenderness could melt her down to nothing. But it meant little if he was determined to leave her.

She lifted her chin. “I too must go to London. Tell them I am alive and well.”

“And see your friends in the Foreign Office?”

His sarcasm roiled her. If it was his effort to keep an emotional distance after all they’d been through, then she’d give him his own medicine. “Yes. Good people, they are. Doing fine work. Perhaps even resulting in useful results that you and yours might share with them.”

He took the reprimand in silence.

She tried for a softer tone. “And you? You must see your own people.”

He took a mighty inhalation and waved a hand. “Despite all, I will not leave you criticized here in England, at the mercy of the court.”

She took it as insult that he would think of that first. “I am at no one’s mercy. Especially not theirs.”

He crossed his arms. How she loved him like that, so indomitable. “I know, but—”

“But you are wrong.” She could live quietly in a village somewhere and make a life for herself and her brother and sister. She tipped her head. “I had a monthly allowance in Rothschild’s bank from Herr Becker for many years. I expect the remainder is still there. Even if Becker cannot get money through Rothschild’s banks to me, I will use what I have left to make a home for the three of us.”

“Liesel, you may need more to survive. A home. Servants. Security. I will help you.”

She set her teeth. If she could not have him, what did she want with his money and his help and anything to remind her of him? “I will not take your charity.”

“It’s not charity. I want to help you.”

“I can make my way.”

“Without a penny? How?” He grew red with frustration. “Will you go to the Foreign Office, to your agent, and ask for funds?”

“What a good idea,” she purred.

“Absurd! They do not give money for no reason.”

“You do not know my man.”

“No? Who is it?”

“Lord Carlisle.”

Dirk startled. “Clive Davenport?”

She could not care that Dirk knew him or knew of him. Carlisle was her contact, her agent, her friend. “A good man. Generous. Kind. Cool headed.”

“He is. But he cannot support you with government funds.”

“I will find a way. I’ve done it before.”

Dirk narrowed his hazel eyes on her. “Stop this, Liesel. You cannot simply mention you were once Vaillancourt’s kitchen maid.”

“Then I will be someone’s.”

“Preposterous!”

“You underestimate me, my lord.”

“Never.”

Raw with travel, she was furious at his stubborn attempt to control her. “Let us speak plainly. Dirk, there are no more you can save. The Continent is closed to you.”

He flexed his broad shoulders, looking in the depths of misery as he swung away.

She went to him and pressed her cheek upon his back. She would make her play. Her body pressed to his was all she had at the moment. And what were the odds she might win him over? She had no idea. “We could go to America. The new United States. We could all go. Leave this chaos and these fruitless wars.”

He whirled in her arms. Shock lined his face, his bright eyes wide as he gazed down at her. “You would go so far?”

“To stay in Europe is madness.”

“What of Rainer? Your home? Your people?”

“Rainer fights his own battles. My home is now far away. My people are those near. Those I love, my brother and sister—and you.” She paused, her declaration done. “And what of your home? Your mother? Your people?”

Shock blanched his handsome face.

She asked him to give up what was so rightfully his. An ancient lineage. A grand estate. Tenants who respected him. And his mother? Would that lady come if he bade her?

All that must have swirled through his mind, too, because he looked ravaged. But the storm in his thinking passed as his fingers dug into her shoulders.

“Liesel. ” Her name on his lips was a dirge, and she knew he was refusing her.

She stepped backward out of his arms. She had failed. “I bid you adieu, sir.”

“I forbid you to leave here.”

She cast him a look filled with sweet goodbyes. “I say the same to you.”

“I must.”

She ached for the loss of him. “Where do you think you can go where the memory of me will not throb inside your very bones? What good work will you ever accomplish without me?”

She stepped back, away from temptation. She saw his reasons. Here in his home, she saw the fullness of it. Saw what he valued and what he sought to save. To leave it all, to end his fight against the French, would be a defeat for him.

She loved him too much to repeat her offer.