Page 13 of The Duke and Lady Scandal (Princes of London #1)

Ben felt as if he was living another version of himself—a lighter, freer version. A man who could enjoy his days away from work, court a lovely young woman, and seek out leisure activities as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Time with Alexandra was everything he had denied himself, but he couldn’t shake the sense that some Dickens specter would soon appear to reveal that it was a glimpse of what could be, but only if he chose another path.

But he couldn’t. His path was set. His goals could not be forfeited. They’d already cost him too much.

So he told himself these moments were ephemeral. He would savor the day with her, and she’d return to her home and he to his. They’d shared a few kisses, and he’d give in to none of his other desires where she was concerned. Nothing that would lead her to believe he could offer more.

“I suppose it’s fitting that we’ve come to see the Crown Jewels,”

Alexandra said as they alighted from a cab near the Tower’s fortress walls. “In a way, they’re how we met.”

“They are.”

He was grateful to the pile of gold and gems for that reason alone.

She smiled up at him, and he saw such openness and warmth in her eyes that his breath hitched in his chest.

He wanted to tuck the feeling away and save it for the days ahead. She’d go back to running her shop and writing her book and eventually going on the sort of Prince-style journeys her siblings did, and he’d go back to his work. But today would give him memories to savor.

“You’ve never been before?”

Ben asked when they joined the waiting queue to enter the Tower grounds.

“My parents never brought us to such places. They always had their hearts set on the next expedition or journey, most of which were outside of England.”

He recalled her sadness when she spoke of being left behind while her family traveled.

“Papa’s wanderlust was all but insatiable. He grew restless after even a few months back in England.”

Her hand tightened momentarily where she’d taken his arm as they walked. “Maybe that’s why my brother and sister both prefer exploring closer to home.”

“I confess that I’ve never traveled extensively either.”

He looked at her, weighing his next words, acknowledging that it would reveal him as terribly unworldly. “I’ve never been much farther than London, in all honesty.”

“There’s no shame in that. Neither have I. Obviously, there’s much to explore, even for those of us who’ve lived in the city most of our lives.”

Inside the walls of the Tower grounds, they discovered that the queue to see the gems was the longest of all. On the carriage ride over, he’d explained about the removal of the jewels and their recent return.

She seemed to think his theory that it may have been the cause of the musings she’d overheard at Hawlston’s a reasonable one. Though she’d emphasized that the tall man, the supposed Lord Holcroft, still unnerved her when she gave him more than a moment’s consideration.

“Shall we wander a bit or join a tour?”

he asked, pointing to a spot where one of the Yeomen Warders was collecting visitors into a group to begin a tour.

“Let’s explore,”

she told him eagerly. Ben purchased a map, and they used it to plot a course to the spot on the Tower Green where two of Henry VIII’s wives met their end.

“I can’t imagine the horror of putting one’s head on a chopping block,”

she murmured as they stood on the green.

“And the betrayal of one’s husband ordering such a thing.”

“Thank heavens we’ve moved past those days.”

“Mmm.”

Ben had a case the previous year wherein a husband had disposed of two wives over the course of five years, the first murder only uncovered because of the second wife’s untimely death. There’d been no real rationale for the two women losing their lives.

He didn’t tell Alexandra about the case, not wishing to reveal his own cynicism. He wondered if society had moved beyond the barbarity of the past. The moment was a stark reminder of how much of his work wasn’t fit to share with anyone, certainly not a vibrant young woman who saw the world as a place for hopefulness, improving on its past errors.

It was one of the reasons he’d truly never considered marrying. His work consumed him and showed him a side of humanity few wished to know about.

“I think we can go in there.”

She pointed to a structure with crenelated towers. “It’s where many famous prisoners were held. Supposedly, there are engravings left by them on the walls.”

“Are you certain you’ve never been here before?”

he teased.

“I read a great deal as a child,”

she said defensively and then turned a curious look his way. “You did say you liked to read as a child too.”

“Yes, but it was nothing as improving as history books.”

He found himself yearning to be as open and honest as she was. “We were unable to afford more than a couple of books between us,”

he admitted. “We relied mostly on penny dreadfuls for reading material.”

She leaned in and whispered, “I love penny dreadfuls too.”

The smile she turned his way was delightfully mischievous and conspiratorial. “So you see, my reading wasn’t always of the instructional sort. Actually, I believe I discovered all I know about the Tower from a guidebook my aunt Jocasta left behind after she’d come to visit us in London.”

“A truly voracious reader then.”

She chuckled. “I was. I wish I still had the time to be.”

Once inside the tower, they joined a few other visitors examining the inscriptions of various prisoners, many from the years of the Tudors’ reign. Most seemed to have been imprisoned for personal, political, or religious reasons, and he wondered if anyone had ever been imprisoned within its stone walls for actual crimes.

After the tower, they wandered the fortress, and Alexandra pointed out the area where the royal menagerie of animals had once roamed the grounds. She explained that the animals were removed over fifty years ago, some going to the Zoological Gardens at Regent’s Park.

He’d never visited that zoo either and allowed himself to imagine inviting her there some other day. Imagining other days with her, other outings, was far too enticing.

Finally, as if they’d saved it for dessert, they made their way to the Jewel House. The queue had shortened, and when they finally stepped into the room that housed the regalia, it did indeed look like a dessert—a pile of gold and gems and utter ostentation surrounded by an ornate iron cage. The regalia was arranged in tiers, the long golden bejeweled scepter lying at the bottom and the largest crown at the top.

Alexandra let out a little gasp when the whole assembly came into view.

“Goodness,”

she whispered, “now that I see it all laid out, I do begin to understand why there have been so few plots to steal it all.”

“They’d have to get through the glass and this iron grate.”

Ben examined the thing, shaped almost like an enormous birdcage, and looked for weaker spots. He noted its curves and one spot where it hinged.

He couldn’t help scanning his gaze over the other onlookers, noting that none of the men were particularly tall. Of course, the coincidence of an attempt on the one day he’d decided to shed his usual work-obsessed nature and have a bit of pleasurable leisure time would be beyond irony.

Stealing the heap of it might be a challenge, but he could see why the sparkling, jewel-laden pieces would appeal to a thief. Hell, popping a single gem out of its setting would satisfy many thieves and certainly every pickpocket he’d known as a child.

“There’s simply too much to carry,”

Alexandra said with utter practicality. “Colonel Blood and his conspirators took the crown, orb, and scepter, but they dropped the scepter.”

Ben chuckled deeply, drawing a chastising look from a couple nearby. He bent to whisper in Alexandra’s ear.

“If you were to make the attempt and could only manage one item, what would fetch the most?”

She eyed him with a mischievous smile. “Are we plotting now?”

“Just indulging my curiosity.”

“The obvious choice would be to take one of the crowns. St. Edward’s has the most historic value. Worn at coronations since the thirteenth century. Though it was deemed too heavy for Victoria and thus that crown.”

She pointed to one encrusted with so many gems that it sparkled from every angle. “The State Crown is likely the most valuable. Look at all the diamonds. Though I bet they’re both heavy.”

“But you think it the most valuable piece?”

“I’d say so. The most gems, as you see. That sapphire alone must be a hundred carats.”

It was an almost mind-boggling display of excess. Ben imagined that if even one item in the collection were translated into pounds, it could house and feed and provide heat for thousands of Londoners. Though through Alexandra’s eyes, he understood that each piece possessed a story, a meaning, related to England’s history.

“Oh, there it is. I didn’t know if it would be on display. Though . . .”

She leaned in so far to get a better look at an object set with three clear stones that Ben reached out a hand to steady her. “Mr. Gibson would know for sure, but I think those diamonds may be paste.”

“What is it?”

“A diamond armlet. The center one is the Koh-i-Noor from India. I know that one is over a hundred carats. Mr. Gibson is quite fascinated with it and told me of its history.”

“It is indeed a replica, madam,”

a lady who’d approached told them. “The diamond itself was recut and is worn by Her Majesty in a brooch.”

“Must be a damned big brooch.”

The words were out of Ben’s mouth before he could stop them.

Both ladies returned a look of surprise, though only Alexandra wore an amused smile.

Once the informative woman had gone, he offered Alexandra his arm.

“Maybe we should depart before I offend anyone else.”

“You weren’t wrong,”

she told him as she wrapped her arm around his. “A hundred-carat diamond would be a bit much for everyday wear.”

“You wouldn’t want a suitor who spoiled you with jewels then?”

Another set of words that probably should not have escaped his lips but somehow had.

And he found that he cared too much about her answer.

She took time with it. They’d made their way out of the Tower fortress walls before she turned to him.

“I’ve never had a suitor.”

It seemed to cost her something to meet his gaze squarely and offer the confession. He saw her throat working as she swallowed, and her cheeks began to pinken slightly. “So I haven’t given much thought to what sort of gifts I’d prefer from one.”

Her words shouldn’t please him, especially since it was something she found hard to admit. But, more, they didn’t make sense. Even as they’d walked through the Tower grounds, she’d drawn the notice of gentlemen.

Perhaps she’d closed herself off from the possibility as he had, but why?

Now was his chance to explain his choice to her. To explain that he’d never truly courted a lady. That he did not have the time or energy to devote to marriage. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

Haverstock spoke of how his own wife complained of his absences and preoccupation with his work. He wouldn’t subject a wife to that. And yet everything in him, everything that caused him to give himself to spending this day with her, wanted to offer more.

Hell, he wanted to offer her everything.

“Alexandra—”

“Wait,”

Allie stopped him.

She suspected what he might say and there was something she had to get out too, but they should have the discussion privately. “Can we talk on the return trip?”

“Of course.”

Within minutes, he’d hailed an enclosed carriage.

Allie reached out and laid a hand on his arm before he could call up directions. “To yours.”

“Mine?”

“I’m not quite ready to go home yet.”

He hesitated only a moment before nodding, telling the driver his address, and helping her inside.

“I want to hear whatever it was you were about to say,”

she told him once they were seated across from each other. She stripped off her gloves because she was suddenly overly warm. “But I have something of a proposal for you too.”

“A proposal?”

His voice dipped low on those two words.

A little shiver of anticipation rushed across her skin.

All the way to his home this morning, she’d considered why she was seeking him out. What she wanted with him—beyond another kiss, of course.

She’d told him the truth. There’d never been any suitors, and she’d never much minded that fact. Eve often said she didn’t wish to marry because she never wanted to give up control of her choices. Allie’s work managing Princes, her research and writing goals, her dream of one day doing something spectacular enough to live up to her family name—Eve’s philosophy reminded Allie that a husband would have a say in all of it.

Allie had a few hidden romantic yearnings for a marriage of equals, of sharing, and understanding each other as no one else did. She sometimes imagined that’s what her parents’ marriage had been. But Eve had pointed out that Mama had been a skilled artist and writer, and yet all of that skill had been devoted solely to Papa’s endeavors.

But even if Allie could imagine forgoing marriage, she couldn’t accept that she’d never experience passion.

She swallowed, steeled her nerves, digging deep for a bit of Prince confidence.

“I’m afraid it’s scandalous, what I’m about to propose.”

He arched one brow and smiled so quickly that she only caught the flash of it.

“I wish to hear it.”

Leaning forward, he fixed his gaze on hers and reached for her hand. He wore no gloves and took full advantage of her bare skin, stroking his fingers inside the cup of her palm. “Tell me your scandalous proposal, Alexandra.”

“I want . . .”

He waited with admirable patience while she tried to find the words that had seemed so sensible in her mind. For the first time in her life, she wished her tendency to blurt her thoughts would take hold.

But it didn’t, and she had to think through each word.

“I don’t know when or if I’ll marry. I don’t even know if I want marriage, but I do want the rest of it.”

She frowned. Too vague. “With you,”

she clarified, and her heartbeat sped at the admission that mattered most. “Only with you.”

He bowed his head at that and when he looked at her again, his green eyes had darkened. His jaw had gone taut and square.

Oh heavens, had she misjudged what was between them? Or what could be?

“Unless you do not—”

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, his breath hot against her skin, and then nipped the edge of her thumb.

“You needn’t worry on that score.”

Still he looked worried. He’d drawn his brows together as he studied her face. “But your reputation.”

“We can be discreet.”

He smiled, this time letting it linger. “Nearly everything is revealed at some point, and I would not wish that judgement to fall upon you.”

She knew of ladies who did as they pleased—took lovers, published bawdy books, traveled the world. They were the exception and no doubt paid a price for their autonomy, but it was possible.

Her own sister aspired to such a life of choices and achievements that were hers alone.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

All things considered, she’d rather have a reputation as a lady who took a risk than as one who hadn’t ever stepped beyond the lines society drew for her. “Are you?”

He kissed her hand again, cupping it with both of his, and she thought she spied the hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“A man who takes a lover risks very little. We both know society judges women differently.”

“Have you taken many?”

It was a question she wanted to know the answer to, even if asking it made her a bit queasy.

“No. And none who I . . .”

He seemed to get stuck on his next words. “The answer is no, but the truth is that I have never met anyone like you. Never felt the way I do when I am with you.”

Allie let out a breath, leaned forward, and laid her hand against his cheek. “We’re the same on that score.”

He gripped her hand with his own, turning his face to kiss her palm.

She hadn’t doubted her proposal, but now she knew she need not doubt his feelings either.

Just as she was about to reach for him, the carriage slowed. They were already pulling up to his address.