Page 8 of Lord Fournier’s Shameless Princess (Scarlett Affairs #4)

L iesel hurried downstairs to the family breakfast room the next morning. She’d slept late and feared no one would be still at the table. After her encounter with Dirk last night, she’d gone to bed, and though she walked the floor for an hour or more mulling his declarations, she was so exhausted that she eventually slept soundly. That alone was a novel achievement after so many months—or was it years?—of fractured nights.

This morning, because her clothes were still with the kitchen maids to launder, she had once more sought her mother’s trunks and her gowns, neatly shrouded in linen in the ancient, tall mahogany wardrobe. Though her mother’s half corset was small, Liesel wiggled into it, breathing deeply and disliking the way the sticks pushed her breasts into serious globes. A simple pink muslin was her choice, though its style was decades behind the fashion. It too hugged her like a vise, but she had no choice except to wear it. Liesel recalled her mother wearing it on hot summer days. She lifted out the dress, feeling a tingle as if the garment had waited especially for her and this moment. But she needed covering, not a gown that invited interest by Dirk Fournier. That was a failed ambition. She huffed and donned the thing anyway.

As she swooped through the foyer, she picked up the news sheets on the hall stand. The Hamburg press held the latest from the north and from London. A short paper from Amsterdam spoke of storms on the Channel. But another paper out of Heidelberg claimed that the Duke of Enghien had been boldly awakened in the middle of the night, then arrested by French soldiers and gendarmes. Carted off across the Rhine to Strasbourg, he had been caged like a common criminal. Taken across France at a grueling pace, he had arrived in Paris within days of his capture. There, in the medieval fortress of Vincennes in the middle of the night, he had been shoved into a ditch and shot.

Stunned, Liesel put a hand to the wall to steady herself. This was assassination. Pure and simple. Outrageous and illegal. It boded ill for all in power in German states who opposed Bonaparte. That meant they would definitely search for Rainer. Now, too, they targeted all her family. Everyone. She put her forehead to the wall, breathing through her lips.

Her head came up. Dirk and she and the children would have to flee as soon as possible. She turned, her back to the wall, and forced herself to walk forward.

She hurried down the hall and heard laughter from the cozy breakfast room. Her heart in her throat, she paused to admire Dirk with her two young siblings, all giggling. Dirk could laugh this morning? Did he know? Had he read those papers too?

By the looks of the table, Mara had appeared, eaten, and left. Liesel was not happy that the girl had disappeared before she came down. She wished to state this business of their departure as soon as possible, especially now, with this disastrous turn of events in Paris. Plus she feared the presence of Prince Hartenburg put that in jeopardy.

Dirk got to his feet. “Good morning, princess,” he offered politely. No shadow to his dire warnings last night clouded his handsome features.

Her little brother and sister rose, too. Both seemed happy as larks.

She’d put an end to all this formality as soon as she had won them over to the need to leave home. She forced herself to smile as Dirk’s gaze drifted to her hands that clutched the newspaper. “I’m pleased to see all of you still here. I apologize for my lateness.”

“We understand,” said Katrin, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Baron Fournier was telling us about your journey here. It must have been very exciting.”

Children had simple pleasures, and Liesel wished she had not lost hers so dearly, nor so young. But she would not be a harbinger of doom, not when they faced a perilous journey. So she smiled and said, “It was fraught with many interesting challenges.” Not the least of which is taming my increasing appreciation for the man you find so charming this morning.

“I like the story about the two highwaymen,” Nikky said with the enthusiasm of a child for adventure.

Liesel shoved down her pique that Dirk would tell them that and make them fearful of any travel. “Quickly dispatched, they were.” She waved a hand and walked to the chair that Dirk had pulled out for her.

“I should like to shoot such villains,” Katrin said.

“No, no!” Nikky responded. “Girls don’t shoot.”

Liesel’s gaze locked on Dirk’s. What had he told them?

“Of course they do, Nikky,” Dirk replied. “I told you, your sister Liesel is a very good shot.”

The ten-year-old pouted. “But that was a story. Not real.”

“A real story, Nikky,” Dirk said. “Your sister is the star of a real story.”

Liesel thought better of this topic. “If you are both finished, I think it’s time you went off to your studies. Baron Fournier and I will be up in the nursery to talk to you later.”

Her plans to talk to them all together were destroyed. She’d try another tack. Meanwhile, a footman appeared to fill her coffee cup and present a pitcher of cream.

Nikky hesitated to go and grumbled, “After reading, we are all going to play ball. You said so, sir.”

“I did,” Dirk replied. “We will all go down to play after you finish your morning studies.”

Petulant, Katrin and Nikky departed under the watchful eyes of Dirk.

Liesel caught the eye of the footman whose assignment was to serve breakfast. “I can serve myself from the sideboard. You may return to the kitchen.”

He bowed himself away through the swinging door.

“I know what you are thinking,” Dirk said when the door stopped swaying. “I did tell the children about our trip.”

So then, he would avoid discussion of last night. Very well, so will I.

He went on, a hand out. “I thought it useful to disabuse Nikky of his perception that females are useless.”

She tipped her head. “He is a child. Katrin too. I don’t want to frighten them.”

His hazel eyes darkened in shades of green and brown. He grew stern. “I’m all grown up, Liesel. And I’m frightened.”

“Yes, as am I.” She chilled at his statement and put the flimsy news sheets to the table. “You read these?”

“I did.”

“This creates a greater urgency for us to go. If the French come here looking for Rainer—”

“We are a good distance from the Rhine.”

“They can come as quickly as we have. We cannot spend another night here.”

“I agree.”

She glanced at the open door to the hall and made to rise.

“I’ll close it.” He made quick work of it and returned to pull his chair closer to hers. He began in a low voice that yesterday would have soothed her senses. Now, he made her want what would not be. “Liesel, we can go this evening. I talked with Herr Becker late into the night. He will send home the coachman who brought us here, and his footman. I have given Becker a goodly sum to pay them both well. I seek their secrecy about our looks more than anything.”

“Wise. Thank you. If you think they should receive greater compensation, Becker can take it from the treasury.”

“I believe mine was adequate. But I will ask Becker his opinion.”

“Good. Have you told him about the two who attacked us on the road?”

“Yes. He says the roads have been filled with highwaymen of late. He has soldiers on patrol. But fear of the French is great these days, and their tax on shipping on the Rhine has made many poor as mice.”

“So you think those who attacked us were not seeking the Princess of Rittenburg and Baron Fournier?”

“I am more assured they had no idea. Still, to aid us in our departure, Herr Becker suggests he come with us.”

Liesel’s first thought was that Becker would serve as a buffer between Dirk and her. She welcomed that, given Dirk’s declaration last night. She must not grow fonder of him, but tear herself from any illusion that he could love or want her. “But that presents a problem. He must return here, and soon. Rainer counts on him to provide order and structure.”

“Even for a few days with us, Becker would be useful.”

She bent near Dirk to talk—and looked at her plate, hoping she hid her interest in him. This morning, he was dressed in one of Rainer’s navy wool riding habits and a blue satin waistcoat. Worse, he still smelled of lime soap and sandalwood, an intoxicating blend that only added to her fascination. She would stick to the topic of conversation and ignore his eyes and voice and all those charming assets of his person.

“Very well. Becker comes with us for a day or two.” Then she fisted her hands on the table. “I am concerned about Prince Hartenburg.”

Dirk covered one hand in his and urged her fingers open. “He can be deterred.”

Liesel sat back and slid her hand away. She no longer needed his touch. “Do you think so? He looks fierce.”

He stared at her, her refusal of his comfort in his sad expression. Still, he came to the topic. “It is a facade.”

“He is here to court her. Without Rainer and me here, she is in charge. I know Rainer would not decree it so, but it is the right of inheritance in this family. If Hartenburg gets her to marry him, she would lose hers to him. He would have rights here to rule as the male.”

Dirk shook his head. “But now you are home, and clearly he is not happy.”

“He must stay that way. No Rittenburg princess can marry before she is eighteen. Mara is too young, and Rainer would never give his consent for a change. He did not approve of my father sending me off so young to England. Rainer told me years ago he believed a woman should see the world and have her choice of men. I agree with him.”

She had outraged the entire British court, as well as infuriating her father, when she refused to marry the man betrothed to her. She had believed there was a better match for her, a man who loved her. Had she been wrong to think that?

She reached out to play with a fork.

Dirk frowned, his displeasure with the topic apparent. “Johann is thirty-five. He has had extensive experience with the women in the royal families of Europe.”

“That seals it.” Liesel dropped the fork. “Our Mara is not yet a woman. She cannot deal with him.”

“I am certain Johann would covet the prestige of your family name.”

She pulled back. “He wants more than that, I’d say. He wants a piece of the family fortune. The heir or heiress to Rittenburg has wealth to match the emperor in Vienna. To the prime heir or heiress goes the land. The vineyards. The postal service we have operated for the Holy Roman Emperor since the twelfth century. Our bank accounts are unequaled south of Hamburg. Our personal bankers report to us first, then to the princes and electors of other realms. But even to each lesser princess or prince, the fortune to be had exceeds twenty thousand British pounds a year.”

“ Dear God .” Dirk blew out a harsh breath. “What a prize. I had no idea.”

“Few do.”

“Meanwhile, the Hartenburgs have fallen on difficult times.”

She sniffed. “I am not surprised. Papa did not like Johann’s father. He said he cheated at everything. His marriage, his tithing, his taxes, and, worst of all, the grapes in his wine. I must stop Hartenburg and take Mara with us.”

“I know you will.”

“Perhaps you might go talk with Becker to make more plans.”

“I can remain with you while you dine.”

“You needn’t.” She had to send him away. He was too kind, too sweet, too devoted to her, and she needed him far away. “Go. I am fine.”

A flash of concern in his gaze came and went, but she saw that her dismissal surprised him.

“Last night, Liesel—”

She picked up her cup. “We need not belabor a point, sir.”

He smarted as if she had slapped him. “I am ‘sir’ now, am I?”

“You always were,” she said with such a chill that she swore she saw him freeze.

“I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I simply had to state what I intend after our arrival in London. You deserve to know.”

Deserve to know? Do I? No, that’s unnecessary. “I understand.”

She had stood for so many years on her own. Alone and determined, she had found a way to leave England, take her income, end her betrothal, defy them all, and do useful work in Paris. What she had learned working in the deputy chief of police’s household had aided the British in Paris. She would not be stymied here, in her own home. Not by Hartenburg. Not by tender emotions so new, so raw. She was grateful that this dashing man had helped her, but she would not lose her dignity to him. She stared at him as a small voice in her ear whispered, Nor will you lose your heart.

“You told them we are betrothed,” Dirk said.

She lifted her head high. “A play for power. Well you know it.”

“Liesel. I want to be your fiancé.”

Was that remorse she heard? If she moved one iota, all her fine defenses against him would crumble.

“Even as a ruse, I want that. But I would be a scoundrel to allow you to think that we might have any future together beyond our arrival in England.”

“I do not wish any future with a man.” Few would have me. Fewer still do I desire.

His eyes narrowed dangerously upon her as he surveyed her like one who knew she lied. “My darling, if I had a future with a woman, she would be you.”

“Go.” She could not look at him. “Please.”

*

Liesel hastened toward Mara’s room, the memory of Dirk’s desire singing through her like a romantic melody. He was more than kind or dashing. He was a damned temptation to abandon every rule, take what days and nights she might enjoy with him now and plan no regrets afterward. But how could she do that and steer her younger siblings toward their proper future?

She couldn’t. She might never have a partner she cherished, but she would never shame her family by doing anything more damaging than what she had already done to keep herself free of a poor Hanoverian marriage and a French tyrant in her land.

She knocked on Mara’s sitting room door. She had to talk to her sister and win her over. Liesel had little idea of how deep the girl’s affection for Hartenburg might go, but she had to learn and persuade her sister to break with him.

Without any answer to her knock, Liesel rapped again. The young maid who had assisted her last night with her bath and clothes opened the door and bowed. “Princess.”

“Is my sister here?” Liesel looked over the girl’s shoulder, but did not see Mara in her sitting room.

The maid pressed her lips together, looking sheepish.

“Where is she, Hilda?”

“She left a few minutes ago to find Prince Johann.”

“ Danke .” Liesel whirled away, headed for the premier set of suites assigned to guests.

Her knock upon the first door in the wing was far from polite. But she had to knock a second time to get someone to answer. She was just about to use her fist to pound on it when Hartenburg swung it wide.

“Princess.” He gave a sharp bow, quickly shielding the shock and anger that appeared on his face. Over his bare chest and breeches, he wore a red quilted banyan that he loosely tied at the waist.

Liesel noted his lack of decorum to appear before her so informally. “Is my sister—”

“Yes, Liesel.” Mara stepped onto the threshold of Hartenburg’s bedroom. She wore a white muslin day gown, the bodice askew. “What do you want?”

“I must speak with you.”

“Whatever it is, it can wait. I will join you in a few minutes.”

“No, I cannot wait. I must speak with you now. Come with me.”

Mara took two steps forward. The girl was fully dressed, thank heaven, but her shining blonde hair, done up in a loose coif, was very tousled. Whatever had been occurring here was risqué. “Whatever you wish to say can be said in front of Johann.”

“Prince Hartenburg is not my family,” Liesel said, using Mara’s words of last night against her. “You are, and I must have an audience with you alone.”

Mara lifted her nose. She was two or three inches shorter than Liesel, but her governesses had trained her well to appear inflexible. “Say it here.”

Hartenburg cleared his throat. “I will excuse myself.”

Liesel graced him with a haughty stare of approval.

“No!” Mara shouted. “Johann, stay!”

Liesel fought her own outrage. “Mara, you rile me. We are family.”

“So is Johann!”

Liesel moved not an eyelash.

“He is ,” Mara insisted.

He took a step toward her. “Mara, bitte .”

“You are! You are!” Tears filled her purple eyes as she beseeched him to stay, then glared at Liesel. “He is my betrothed.”

“Neither Rainer nor I have approved. Nor would we. You are too young to marry.”

Beneath her breath, Mara cursed.

“Do not dare say more.” Liesel spun toward Hartenburg. “Leave us.”

With an apology in his eyes for Mara, he headed for the door.

“Tell her, Johann! Tell her you want me to marry you!” Mara watched him go and groaned in frustration. To Liesel, she blurted, “You have no right to do this.”

“I do. You know it. Rainer is not here. I am next in line.”

“Rainer is never here! What does he care for us? Nothing. He chases skirts. Goes to all the best balls. Flits around Germany like a stallion at stud.”

That was something Liesel had not heard about her brother. Was that just a cover for his political activities? She would investigate that later. “He is the leader of this territory and of this house.”

“He does not show it.”

“He does not have to show it to you, Mara.”

“Well, I do not do as he bids, or you, either.”

“You will. I am here, and—”

“And just who are you, eh? The older sister who was to become part of the British royal house but ran away.” Mara took a step toward her. “You refused to marry the man intended for you. Everyone in the empire knows that. And what did you do? You stayed in London and attended parties. Did you come home to ‘look after’ your family? No! Where were you, eh? God knows where you have been and who you have been with! A man? Many men? Now this one! This so-called baron!”

Liesel had expected her family to question where she’d been, but had not anticipated such virulence. Nor could she tell them what she had really been doing among the British ton . Let alone what subterfuge she’d engaged in once in Paris, Strasbourg, and Ettenheim.

“Princess Mara?” a man’s voice called from deep inside Johann’s bedroom. “What is the problem? Princess, I beg your pardon. Do you need help?”

“No, Fritz. Danke . My sister and I are speaking.”

Liesel had forgotten that these guest bedrooms had small adjacent rooms for valets and maids. No doors separated the master rooms from the servants. Fritz, who must be Hartenburg’s valet, had overheard them.

“Come with me, Mara. We need privacy, and we will finish this in my rooms.” Liesel made for the hall. Even her obstinate sister must see that this argument was not fit for servants’ ears.