Page 6 of Lord Fournier’s Shameless Princess (Scarlett Affairs #4)

“S tand back, Liesel. We don’t know who will appear.” One arm out, Dirk urged her behind him after his pounding of the huge knocker brought no one in answer. He banged harder.

Liesel looked back at their coachman and footman, whom Dirk had ordered to remain at the ready until he and she were admitted. Even if their services were not required after arrival, Dirk had promised them, at Liesel’s suggestion, entry to the palace stables, plus food and shelter for the night. The coachman held her gaze with wide eyes and pulled at his cap in deference.

One of the huge black double doors groaned open. But only an inch.

Liesel saw in the dim candlelight within only a gray beard. Then a gnarly hand reached out. That hand held a pistol. “ Wie gehts? ” Who goes there?

She held her breath. The male voice was rough with age and held sharp alarm. She could not see inside the gloom of the foyer to identify the man.

Dirk removed his top hat and smiled benevolently. “ Baron Dietrich Fournier und Princessin Elizabeth von Rittenburg .”

“ Was? Meine Princessin? ” The old door fell wide, and there stood their burly family Burgmann whom her father had loved like a brother.

“ Herr Becker! Guten abend! ” Liesel threw open her arms. Such informality with servants was never done among her family. But tonight, she did not care. She was too overjoyed to see him, to see that he was here, that he lived, that he remained when Rainer had not. Her father and Hans Becker had grown up together here on this estate, and each knew the finest working details of the farm, vineyard, and the city. Becker was the constant in a world grown cold. He even looked like a bulwark against the world—he was tall, stout, and utterly bald, with cerulean-blue eyes that sparkled at her through his tears.

He put his back to the heavy door as he squeezed her in his arms, and the two of them held for long minutes.

“I cannot tell you enough,” he went on as he held her from him to examine her, “how we have prayed for your life and your health. Now your return…” He shook his head. “Your brother and sisters will be giddy with delight.”

Liesel swiped away her own tears. She was becoming, as they said in England, quite the watering pot. “And I, Herr Becker, am thrilled to see you.”

“Come!” He stepped aside and beckoned to Dirk to enter as well. He reached to the side of the massive door and yanked the tapestry bellpull. “I welcome you both. Baron Fournier, I am happy to see you again. It has been too long.”

Dirk took a step inside, removing his deerskin gloves and great coat to give them to Becker. He shook hands with the fellow who was the Kastellan of the palace and took a look around the gilded rose-and-white marbled foyer. “We meet again, and I am happy to see you well, Herr Becker.”

“You accompanied our princess home, baron. These are difficult times, and I know His Highness is in your debt.”

“It has been my honor to aid her. I will tell you that she has been helpful to me, Herr Becker.”

Liesel marveled at that statement. Firing her pistol to chase away their highwaymen was one thing. But Dirk could not praise her for requiring him to escort her to the country where he was sought like a common criminal. She’d thank him later for his kind remarks. But for now, it was a pretty piece to say to their trusted houseman who did their family business, ordered their finances, and watched over her siblings in this ancient maze of a palace.

Dirk nodded toward the courtyard. “Our coachman and his footman are in dire need of rest. Might we allow them your stables, food, and shelter for themselves and the horses, Herr Becker?”

“ Javohl . Of course! Ah, here is one of our footmen. Fritz, bow to our Princess Elizabeth and her guest. Fritz is new to us,” Becker explained to them, then instructed the man to care for the two men and carriage in the courtyard. “I shall ring for another footman. We have, I am sorry to say, only two now, princess. But we manage. Now, you both must be hungry and in need of rest.”

“We are,” she affirmed. “We have traveled for many days from Karlsruhe.”

“No!” Becker scowled, ripe alarm on his jowly face. “Were you chased away by the French?”

“No,” she quickly told him.

“We hear they came across the border. Bad business,” Becker said.

Beside her, Dirk did not stir. They had agreed they would say nothing to alarm the Rittenburg household.

Becker did not look relieved. “We have rumors here of their threatening the Bourbon prince. Crossing the Rhine should be punished. We wonder if the sniveling Margrave of Baden has the…” He cleared his throat. “Pardon me, princess. I mean no disrespect.”

“Herr Becker, you must never apologize to me for anything. I do wonder myself about what the margrave has in mind. The baron and I have read in gossip sheets that he did nothing to prevent the attack, a mark against him by all nations.”

“Ah, but we read here in news sheets that the tsar has sent objections to Bonaparte.”

Dirk balked. “Good. Does he threaten war?”

“Not in so many words. But do you know the margrave is the tsar’s father-in-law?”

Liesel gaped at Becker. She had not heard that. She’d been too long in Paris, away from the court intrigue and gossip.

“The tsar must show his support for the little margrave, eh?” Dirk said.

“Related,” she said with a frown, “as they are.”

“Still,” Becker said as he spread wide his arms, “we are happy you are here, warm and safe.”

“So then, Herr Becker,” Liesel said, “forgive me. I long to see my family.”

“Of course you do, princess.” He handed over their garments to the silent footman. “Allow me to lead the way.”

Up the wide, rose-veined marble stairs, Becker took her with Dirk following. She held the banister, dizzy all of a sudden from the grand scope of her former home. She’d not seen its like in two years, since she had run away from London and the fiancé who raped her before he married her.

They wound upward, round and round, past her ancestors’ portraits in their ruffs and laces. The men were arrogant, blond, and broad shouldered, all too smartly dressed; the ladies, awash in rubies and pearls, were confident and majestic. They all stared down their long noses at her past the grand first-floor rooms, which were for balls, investitures, and dinner parties. Up to the second landing, they passed the portraits of her beautiful, golden-haired mother and her dashingly handsome father. She liked to think they looked down on her with some approval for arriving here whole, even as she came accompanied by a lowly but stalwart prince of the Bremenhavens and a baron of England. But then, did they even recognize her, dressed like a luckless carpenter’s wife?

She had often imagined how furious they would be with Rainer for leaving their youngest children alone here. It was one thing to entrust servants, her father always warned, but in the dangerous atmosphere where tyrants grew emboldened to take what they wished, only the hand of the ruler should prevail.

Well, Rainer. You have abandoned your family duty here. Now I am in charge.

But, empowered by that idea, she felt a counter-surge of fear attack her—and her foot slipped on the marble.

Dirk caught her arm and her eye. “Allow me, please,” he said as if he were her chivalrous knight.

“Thank you.” She would not deny that she relished his assistance. She straightened her backbone and became the loving sister to those youngsters whom she had not seen in six years, and whom she now must save from the French bully at their door.

Dirk smiled, benevolent, his gaze reassuring her of his presence and her power. He had told her that he liked Becker and had met their Burgmann years ago when he visited with Rainer. Becker knew all who lived in this mansion and those who lived upon this estate. From the appearance of the outside, he had not been able to manicure the property up to its former standards. Liesel put that lack down to fewer staff and poor finances, not less devotion to his responsibilities.

As they took more of the stairs, Becker spoke with Dirk. “You would like your coachman and his man to remain in the stables, baron?”

“I think it wise to retain him for at least one night,” Dirk said.

He and Liesel had discussed his concern for how they would take her siblings away from here. They would need a good coach. They would not, could not, take any conveyance in the stable block, as the opulence, if not the escutcheon on the doors, would announce to one and all who they were. That coach in the drive was no prize, but it would work for another night or two before it dissolved into sticks. Neither of them had any idea in what condition the animals or the conveniences in the stables were.

“If you don’t mind, yes, Herr Becker. They both need to rest, and so do the horses,” she said.

“After you see the children, Your Highness, you must want refreshment and rest.” Becker’s eyes appraised Liesel’s shabby attire.

She arched her brows. “You can see we were in a hurry to get here. Indeed, yes, we need good food and a fine night’s sleep. Tell me, Becker, do you have all my father’s house staff, or…?”

“A few, ja. Here in the house we have four. Not including myself and the new chatelaine, who is responsible for the children.”

“Where are they?” Liesel asked, her heart in her throat.

Becker knitted his brows. “They are finishing their suppers. Your oldest sister, Princess Mariele, heads the table. She has a visitor, a young man who is her beau.”

Liesel set her teeth. Mara was only seventeen. She should not be entertaining a prospective groom in the palace alone at dinner. “And who is that, Herr Becker?”

“Prince Johann von Hartenburg.”

The worst womanizer in all the German states. “Since when,” she asked Becker in as steady a voice as she could muster, “has he courted my sister?”

“He has come every month for a few days since the new year, Your Highness. Lately, more frequently.”

“I see.” She cast a dark glance at Dirk.

He rolled his eyes, and they shone bright with purpose. “I met Prince Johann when we were students together in Heidelberg. An expert with a rapier and a stiletto—quick to solve a dispute with his skills, too. I last saw him when in November he came to visit me and went further south to visit with the Duke of Enghien.”

So then—Hartenburg was a hothead. She would ask Dirk later if Johann wanted Enghien to leave Baden. But he clearly knew Hartenburg well enough to choose words that gave her pause. Not only did Hartenburg fiddle with Enghien, but he was breaching etiquette by courting her seventeen-year-old sister one year before she could be legally married. Worse, he was doing it here, without proper supervision of her elders. The man would give her trouble, but she would give it back.

She squeezed Dirk’s hand to thank him for the knowledge.

He asked Becker, nonchalant as any visitor, “When Hartenburg began his courting, did he know Rainer was not about?”

“Ja, he did mention that, baron.”

What did the English call a man like that? An opportunist. A bounder. Liesel caught a glimpse of Becker’s profile, the outline of the dismay on his jowly face. She was furious and had to know the extent of the prince’s intrusion. “He has not stayed or been improper, I do hope.”

“No, princess. We have kept watch. Our chatelaine, Frau Ernst, always keeps company with the princess.”

“Good. Even at meals, is Frau Ernst in attendance?” Dirk asked, holding Liesel’s gaze.

“Indeed.”

The chatelaine was new to Liesel, having been appointed during her absence. But she knew the rules of courtship, and this dalliance was not permitted for a young princess not yet debuted to the world.

She shook her head at Dirk in frustration. Becker still led the way and did not look back, so her voice was gay when she said, “I am glad, baron, you are here to meet my sisters and brother, and also to renew your acquaintance with Prince Johann.”

He tightened his hold of her hand. “I would not miss the honor of making their acquaintance. When last I was here, I was not presented because, I do believe, all were still in the nursery.”

The three walked down the hall, past the family salon and onward to the far corner of the main block.

From the far end of the hall, a dog began to bark.

Liesel’s heart picked up a beat. She had last seen her dog in October, when she came briefly in the middle of the night.

At the family dining room doors, Becker paused with one hand upon the golden knobs. His brow creased with worry. “Princess, forgive me. I will be so bold as to say Baron Fournier’s presence may be of help to us. Prince Johann is not known be cooperative. Even our chatelaine has disagreements with him.”

“Is that so?” She gave a look of exasperation to Dirk.

He arched his brows, his hazel eyes twinkling in mischief.

An idea spiked through her. An older male added to the force she needed. She was not Frau Schmidt, but she could play the part if she had to. Her husband , she predicted, would go along with the ruse.

Behind her, Dirk inched as close as propriety allowed. His broad shoulder brushed hers. She welcomed the bulwark. Indeed, his strength was becoming not merely welcome but essential to her survival.

*

Dirk worried about Hartenburg, but at the moment, he wanted to know more about this dog that sniffed and scratched at the door. “If you don’t open it soon, Becker, the door will be shredded.”

Dirk felt a chuckle ripple through Liesel’s body.

“Rolf,” Becker explained.

Liesel glanced over her shoulder at Dirk, pleasure consuming her. “Best to brace yourself. Rolf is the real fellow in charge of this household.”

Becker snorted and thrust open the door.

The dog was a small horse!

Dirk dissolved at the sight of the hairy wolfhound, half as tall as he, who sat like a soldier when Liesel turned up her palm to him.

“Rolf,” she crooned to the animal as she petted his head, “I thank you for your welcome.”

But the five people sitting at the long dining table stared up at Liesel, Becker, and Dirk—and they had a response opposite from the dog. Indeed, if Dirk were not so worried about the presence of that ne’er-do-well Hartenburg, Dirk would have laughed at their open-mouthed shock.

The chatelaine—whatever her name was—pushed back her heavy chair like a rabbit ready to scurry away. She was not certain who Liesel and he were, but this short, plain-featured woman had instincts that told her to rise and bow. “Welcome,” she said with a crooked smile.

“Herr Becker!” The oldest girl who sat at the head of the table did not rise but took her time to squint at Liesel, then widen her eyes to appraise Dirk. Her examination took in Liesel’s attire and his own, and since both were in need of a good wash, she regarded them with disdain. “Please introduce our guests.”

Liesel strode into the room like a queen. “I am Elizabeth. Your sister, Mara. You recognize me. I see it in your eyes. Nikky and Katrin, of course”—her expression softened—“neither of you remembers me very well. But Mara, don’t be a puss. Good evening to all you. Including you, Prince Johann!”

The man had stood as she spoke, a respectable look of greeting supplanting the surprise on his long, lean face.

“Liesel!” Katrin—a pudgy sprite of twelve or so—ran toward her, arms out.

The young boy Nikky held back, getting slowly to his feet as protocol demanded. All the while he stared at Liesel with wide sky-blue eyes, hesitant but blinking, clearly prodding his fragile memory of her.

Katrin hugged Liesel and would not let go. She beamed at her oldest sister. “I am so happy you are here. How are you here? Will you stay? How long? Oh, I hope you do not go. We need you! I need you! Oh, I am so happy!”

“Yes, my darling Katrin.” Liesel stroked her flowing, golden-brown hair back over her thin shoulders. “I am here to stay.”

Dirk batted not a lash at that. Liesel would tell them when they needed to hear the facts of the departure from their home. In the meantime, tonight, she had to establish her authority over them all. From the looks of it, Mara was reluctant to acknowledge the end of her own power. Meanwhile, Prince Hartenburg examined Liesel with curiosity tinged with resentment at the intrusion…and perhaps at the usurpation of his position and influence.

Liesel was undeterred. “Allow me to introduce all of you to my dear friend, Baron Diedrich Fournier. He has accompanied me from Karlsruhe, and we bring tidings of great delight.”

Dirk assumed a formal stance and gave them a courtly bow.

Mara struggled to her feet, giving a forced smile as she went to embrace her oldest sister. A peck on Liesel’s cheek was all it seemed she could spare. In beauty, she was a close second to her gorgeous elder sister. Her hair, wound up in braids around her head, was the same striking blonde streaked in gold, her eyes the same lovely amethyst. In grace, she certainly matched Liesel. But in graciousness, she sorely lacked aplomb and command. There was also an air of reserve about her, even resentment. She appeared older, flintier than her seventeen years.

But she sought to maintain her authority here as she stood aside, a hand out toward the dining table. “Please join us. We are nearly at the end of our meal, but I see that you must be weary from the road. Becker, did you not ask if our dear sister and her friend wish to retire first?”

That in itself was a usurpation of Liesel’s prime place here. Mara wished to address Liesel and Dirk’s cleanliness and attire? Dirk kept his smile to himself and waited as his savvy traveling companion put her sister in her place.

“Yes, Mara, we have just arrived. I demanded to see all three of you immediately. I am concerned about your welfare. Please, all of you, do take your seats. Herr Becker, Baron Fournier and I will have a glass of wine and partake of dinner. We will all have a chance to briefly refresh our fondness for each other.”

Dirk could have applauded Liesel at her use of the royal “we.”

Before she sat, Liesel went to her little brother Nikky and opened her arms to him. “I am so glad we have a chance to truly get to know each other.”

He went to her embrace, but pulled away quickly. In his blue gaze was the question of a child who wondered whom to trust.

A footman quickly reshuffled chairs to make room for Liesel and Dirk. Another footman sought extra silverware and china and hurriedly put them to table.

Dirk went to Hartenburg and shook hands with him. They had met before, countless times, and it was only fitting he acknowledge their past. Then he went to sit beside Liesel.

All sat down. One footman serving at table advanced forward to push in Liesel’s chair. Mara, much put out, pressed her lips together and threw a dark look of pique to her prince. The footman got to her before Hartenburg even rose from his chair.

“You did not tell us how long you stay,” she said to Liesel.

“Tomorrow, my dear, we will discuss this,” Liesel said as she appraised her like a mother hen. “Tonight, Baron Fournier and I are here to renew our acquaintance. All the news we reserve for later. Tell me, Prince Hartenburg, do you stay with us here?”

“I do, Your Highness, yes.” The prince looked upon Mara with a smile that cautioned good manners.

Rolf came to lie down behind Liesel’s chair.

“Have you visited for many days?” she asked Hartenburg as the footman came to pour her goblet full of wine.

“Six, princess.”

“He came to keep me company, Liesel.” Mara was now openly peevish in her reaction to her sister and Dirk’s appearance.

“How good of you, Prince Hartenburg. However, tomorrow morning, I ask you to absent yourself from our family meeting. You understand, I am certain, my need to speak frankly with my brother and sisters.”

“Of course, princess.” He was downright unctuous. “I usually ride early. Perhaps, Baron Fournier, you will join me. We can renew our youthful acquaintance.”

Beneath the table, Liesel nudged Dirk’s ankle. He nudged back, then tipped his head in apology. “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon, Johann.”

“Yes, afternoon would be best,” Liesel added. “Baron Fournier will attend our family meeting at breakfast.”

“Why?” A petulant Mara glared at Liesel. “He is not family.”

“He will be.”

“How?”

“He is my fiancé. We will be married soon.”

Dirk covered his surprise with a broad smile as the others sat, gaping.

Liesel had established precisely who was in charge.

He would not refute her, by word or deed. By certain rules of conduct, as her betrothed, he would never have to display affection for her. But he’d already broken that rule and touched her. More than once. All of it improperly. All of it to give her comfort or support…even if his need sent flames to his desire to claim her with his mouth and his manhood.

But as his gaze swept those staring at him, he resolved to play the part of the swain. The man who’d marry her. The man who could love her. The man who could cherish her as she deserved. Regardless of her rank and his. Regardless of her reputation and his.

Yes, he grinned at her and raised a glass of wine with the others in homage of her announcement. He’d make her his wife. In a heartbeat. If life were fair. If he were another man.

If he dared.