Page 2 of The Duke and Lady Scandal (Princes of London #1)

The Prince family’s townhouse near Mayfair, London

October 6, 1896

“I’m sorry, little sister.”

The words came while Alexandra Prince was in the midst of packing. Or rather the tornado of it. Never having ventured much further than the city, she’d had no idea what to bring and most of the clothes she owned lay strewn across her bed.

But it was all for nothing. There’d be no journey.

Her brother sounded genuinely forlorn, but it didn’t dull the sting. Didn’t make her chest feel any less hollow.

“Mr. Van Arsdale only wants Eve and me, and his letter didn’t arrive until today.”

Allie kept quiet, pressing her lips together. Her heart ached—a real searing pain in the center of her chest—and she knew that the moment she said anything, she’d cry. Then Dom would feel worse and try to comfort her. And she couldn’t think of anything she wanted less than pity.

“You know how long it takes for post from America.”

Dominic flicked the letter against his palm as if annoyed with the single sheet of thick linen stationery. “Why the hell couldn’t he have sent a telegram?”

“It’s all right, Dom.”

She forced the four words out and a tear immediately slipped down her cheek, warm and unwanted. She swiped it away quickly.

“Eve and I wanted you to join us. Do not doubt that.”

The edges of his mouth curled in a grimace and his jaw tensed the way it always did when frustration bore down on him. He cast his gaze over her clothing-strewn bed, and she thought she caught a glassy look in his eyes.

Allie turned her back on him because her own tears wouldn’t stop now that they’d started.

“I’ll see you in the morning, and we can talk about the other matter,”

he finally said softly. “Please know how sorry we both are.”

“I know.”

Once he’d gone, Allie slumped onto her bed, not caring if she crushed her new traveling dress. Pressing a fist to her mouth, she tried to hold in the frustration welling up, but it did nothing to stem the tears. A good cry and she could move past this. It wasn’t as if it was a great surprise.

They were going, and she was staying behind. That was how it had always been.

She’d been foolish to believe it could be otherwise, even if Eveline and Dominic had been eager to bring her on this expedition. Mr. Van Arsdale, the American collector financing their venture, had no reason to include her. She had no expertise in Viking antiquities. Or Anglo-Saxon ones for that matter.

He’d hired the two Princes best suited to the expedition.

And once again, Allie didn’t quite fit, and that was familiar at least. She’d long felt that she didn’t fit in her famous family.

Oh, she had no doubt of her siblings’ love. Nor her mother and father’s while they were alive. Her mother had been quite doting. And in the long line of their history, the Princes were known for the solidity of their familial bonds.

But they were also known for their exploits, and that’s where Allie came up short.

The Princes weren’t titled and they were only comfortably wealthy, but they were a family of eminent individuals.

Whatever a Prince set their mind to, they would achieve.

Allie’s father most of all.

Octavius Prince had been trained in history at Oxford, but his fame had come from his archaeological finds, his nose for discovering buried treasure, and his relationship with Queen Victoria, who’d once called upon him to retrieve a gem that had been misplaced from the royal holdings.

The renown he’d gained from that undertaking had won him the hand of a viscount’s daughter. And Allie’s mother had earned her own quieter kind of fame by detailing, via vivid drawings and eloquent writing, the expeditions they’d undertaken together.

Dom and Eve had accompanied Papa on adventures as soon as they were old enough.

And Allie?

She’d been raised to be Mama’s companion. Sickness had plagued her in childhood, so she’d learned to love quiet endeavors—reading, writing, knitting, and, eventually, bicycling in London’s parks.

She rarely got into the sort of mischief her siblings had, but she’d yearned to claim the confidence that came with being a Prince.

And yet, regardless of how she aspired to, she didn’t seem to possess the Prince propensity for notable accomplishments.

She did love research, especially genealogical investigations or tracing the histories of lady pirates. In fact, she’d begun writing a book about lady pirates as a child—a mostly fanciful fiction then that had now become a more serious endeavor.

But she wasn’t interested in finding buried pirates’ treasure.

Allie was much more interested in doing something of value than finding valuables.

Unfortunately, her own nature held her back. She was awkward, often saying the wrong thing or talking too much altogether. As a result, she had a tendency to offend when she was only trying to be of help.

Mama thought finishing school would tame her with all its rules of etiquette. But so much of it had been nonsense about giving gentlemen precedence or the place ladies should occupy in Society and those they should not. Still, at five and twenty, Allie understood that diplomacy and delicacy should be considered before blurting one’s thoughts.

The difficulty was that her tongue didn’t always comply.

Recently, there’d been an incident with a long-standing customer of the family antique shop, Princes of London, and the nobleman had complained. As head of the family, her brother took it as his purview to smooth over such matters, and he had, but he’d yet to deliver the admonishing talk that inevitably followed such incidents.

In the morning, as he’d said, they would have that discussion.

So Allie fell into bed—once she’d cleared it off—still nursing disappointment and dreading whatever lecture Dom would deliver in the morning.

After a fitful sleep, Allie woke early, washed and dressed, and then made her way to the family antique shop on Moulton Street just as the first hints of the dawn lit up the brick building.

She’d considered going in later, after Dom and Eve had departed, to avoid goodbyes and apologies and whatever admonitions Dom felt compelled to deliver. But she wasn’t a coward, and opening the shop was her responsibility.

Though Dom had taken to sleeping in the living quarters that had once been the family’s home above the shop, he still took little interest in the everyday running of Princes. Eve and Allie suspected the only reason he resided upstairs was to shield them from his dalliances.

Allie hadn’t gotten three steps past the front door before she heard her siblings whispering in the back room.

“Let me speak to her,”

Eve said softly.

She was the most even-tempered of them all. Allie preferred to deal with Eve when trouble was afoot.

“No, I shall.”

Dom’s insistent tone did not bode well.

Allie took a deep breath to steel herself. His lectures weren’t nearly as strident as their late father’s had been, but he did have a terrible habit of believing himself right about very nearly everything.

“Don’t mention Aunt Jocasta,”

Eve put in a bit more loudly.

At hearing the lady’s name, Allie felt a mix of tenderness and sadness. Though she adored her aunt, Allie had long feared they were two of a kind. The odd ducklings of the Prince clan. The awkward ones who never quite fit into a family of fame and accomplishments. The ladies who would eventually be relegated to the countryside.

Perhaps they were plotting such a fate for Allie, but she would fight it with everything in her.

She might not be a typical Prince, daring and dashing and devil-may-care, but she would not forfeit the autonomy her parents had allowed. There’d never been pressure to marry or enter into “acceptable roles for a lady,”

and they’d bequeathed each of their children an equal share of the family’s wealth and of ownership in their business affairs.

No, she would not be sent off to the countryside as her aunt had been.

“What is it that you have to say to me?”

she said in as bold and unaffected a tone as she could manage.

Dom stood in the doorway between the front of the shop and its cozy back room. He turned as soon as her question was out. “Morning, Allie.”

“Morning,”

she told him brightly.

She was prepared for this. When necessary, she could be diplomatic. And she certainly wasn’t a child in need of lectures. If they were going to leave her to run the shop while they were away, then they needed to trust her to do so.

And in this case, she’d done nothing wrong. Lord Corning might not have liked her “too forthright manner,”

but Allie had only intended to help. To do what was right. And that, unfortunately, often involved telling people what they didn’t wish to hear and subsequently landing her in a muddle.

Dom paced the back room as he searched for something. She suspected it was his favorite notebook and pen, which he was forever misplacing.

“I’m still sorry about the trip,”

he said in a distracted tone. “Both of us are, but as to the matter with Lord Corning, you can’t simply keep . . .”

He shrugged as if at a loss to explain. “Rushing in to help, particularly when it’s not wanted.”

“Rushing in?”

Allie repeated. “I did not rush.”

That earned her an extremely older-brother look. “You know what I mean.”

His tone remained gentle. “You’re impulsive, little sister. You get a thought in your head, and you speak it. You get a notion in your head, and off you go.”

Wasn’t that true of anyone? A person decided on what to say and spoke. They pondered an action and then took the action. She longed to say so but forced herself to keep mum.

“A little pause. A good deal of contemplation. Some hesitancy would do you a world of good,”

he called over his shoulder as he trod the polished wooden floor, still searching.

“On the shelf over there,”

Allie told him, and pointed to the items he’d deposited and forgotten.

“Ah.”

He scooped up the notebook and pen and tucked both into the pocket of his coat. “Yes, there they are.”

A simple thank you wouldn’t have gone amiss, but he was in that single-minded Dominic Prince mode that seemed to cause much of his usual thoughtfulness to evaporate.

“All I’m saying is have a care how you speak to customers while we’re gone.”

She understood her brother’s worry about offending a longtime customer of the shop. And she also understood that as the eldest, Dom felt responsible for maintaining the reputation and success of the family’s business.

He stopped and patted his pocket as if to reassure himself that the journal he’d placed there was in fact still tucked away. Then he sighed. A bit of the tension in his expression ebbed, and he gave her one of those charming tip-tilted smiles that made other ladies swoon.

“I wish you were coming, but do take care while we’re gone.”

The genuine tenderness in his tone had the desired effect.

Allie nodded and grinned, doing her best to reassure him. “Please don’t worry, Dom. I can take care of myself.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. His chiseled jaw tightened and one dark brow arched in the condescending way that, unfortunately, caused Allie and her sister to defend themselves even more fiercely.

“No offending customers, little Lex.”

If he imagined employing the childhood nickname softened his admonitions, it didn’t. Not a jot.

Allie had to speak. He might be the family swashbuckler, but she’d been running—or helping to run—the shop while he and Eve were off on digs or traveling on antiquity hunts.

“I am not a child, Dom. And if you worry about how I run Princes, perhaps you should stay and do it yourself. I’ve managed things on my own for years, and no catastrophe has befallen Princes.”

“No one denies that you keep things afloat for all of us.”

Eve chose that moment to step in. “Do they, Dominic?”

As the middle child, Eve had honed her role as mediator over many years. And Allie was grateful that at least one of her siblings would defend her. But it was time that Dominic began trusting her judgement too.

She might never accomplish anything astonishing, but she knew how to manage Princes, even if she longed for something more.

“You do a fine job running the shop.”

He flicked his steel-blue gaze toward Eve and then focused on Allie again. “But the incident with Lord Corning—”

“I only wished to be helpful.”

Eve moved to stand in front of Dom, facing him. “We should get to the station, don’t you think? Don’t want to miss our train.”

Dom sidestepped Eve. Color had risen into his cheeks. “You confronted the man in Parliament.”

“His lordship tried to sell us a forgery and admitted that he’d already sold some onto his friends. I did him a kindness by letting him know, and I went to his private office,”

Allie pointed out. “You make it sound as if I stormed the House of Lords.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I’d offer more than a few coins to see that,”

Eve said, and then burst into a low, mischievous chuckle.

Allie found herself smiling despite her irritation.

Dom rolled his eyes and marched forward to pull Allie into a brief hug.

“Just keep out of trouble while we’re gone. For my sake. Will you?”

“Of course,”

she told him once he’d released her. Though a man of her brother’s reputation urging anyone to be cautious felt slightly absurd.

“And you too.”

She glanced at her sister. “Both of you. Be safe.”

“I think we can handle the wilds of Norfolk,”

Eve said with her usual confidence.

Like their mother, Eve was gentle natured and even-tempered. Allie often wished she could be more coolheaded herself.

Impulsive. That was the condemnation thrown at her by Dom more often than any other.

She did believe in rushing in if the situation called for it. Wouldn’t anyone?

They were off on an expedition to find an Anglo-Saxon hoard. A few documents they’d acquired from a deceased duke’s estate indicated there might be one present in a coastal section of Norfolk. Eve had been doing her own research for years on a potential hoard in Yorkshire, though Dom doubted they’d find much there.

Their parents had thrived on travel and the allure of digs too. Allie was far more interested in historical documents than jewels or coins. Still, she could understand the appeal of taking a brush and trowel, digging into the soil, and coming up with something of historic merit. Every single piece that came through their shop held value because it told a story of the past. That was an aspect of running the shop that she did love. Passion for history was her birthright every bit as much as Princes of London.

Eve stepped close and bent to whisper to Allie. “Your time will come. I promise.”

It was a painfully familiar sentiment. One day, she had been told, she’d be able to accompany Papa too. She never had, but she’d collected a lifetime of memories like this one—saying goodbye and being left behind.

Eve wrapped her in a long, warm hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We shouldn’t be away any longer than a fortnight.”

The hired coach to carry them to St. Pancras already waited outside, and it took them only minutes to secure their traveling cases and start on their way.

Allie stood on the pavement, waving until they were out of sight. She swallowed against a lump in her throat. She’d done this so many times, and yet watching them depart without her always carried a sting.

Perhaps she could propose her own expedition, not to seek treasure, but to further her research on lady pirates. She stood pondering that possibility until the autumn breeze kicked a few leaves her way, then she went inside.

Back in the shop, she finished off the usual tasks to be accomplished before opening. The shop cat, Grendel, watched her with unusual interest.

“Nothing to worry about, Gren.”

It was as if the feline could sense her disappointment. “I know I’ll have my turn one day. My time to shine, as Papa used to say.”

She placed the final pieces in the main glass case, a parure of large, glittering diamonds and emeralds nestled on a platform of black velvet—the most expensive gems in the shop—with care. Allie could admire the beauty of such pieces, but they never struck her imagination the way the eighteenth-century flintlock pistol in a nearby case did. Lady pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read might have used such a pistol themselves.

A door opened in the back room, and Allie smiled.

Mr. Gibson was their resident jeweler and repairman—his passion was horology and clock repair, but the man could fix almost anything presented to him, and he cut and set jewels to perfection. He was also an antiquarian with a breadth of knowledge of history and antiques that rivaled their father’s. The two had been friends, and Alister Gibson had insisted on staying on after their father’s death, despite Dom’s urging that the man should take a well-deserved retirement.

“All on your own, are you, Miss Prince?”

“Now that you’re here, I’m not.”

Allie greeted the older man with a smile.

He normally remained in his workshop, restoring recent acquisitions or setting gems, but his presence still made Allie feel less alone while her siblings were off on expeditions.

“I think coffee and scones are in order. What do you say?”

Under his silver mustache, his mouth twitched as if he might grin. “Cannot ever turn down a cup of that brew from next door, can I?”

None of them could. Princes had been blessed with the serendipity of having a coffeehouse snugged up next door. The scents that wafted over drove them all to pleasant distraction most days, and Hawlston’s coffee and baked goods were every bit as delicious as they smelled.

“Back in a jiffy,”

Allie called while bundling into her coat.

She glanced up at the wall of clocks in the shop. Just enough time to collect coffee and treats before her friend Jo arrived for their usual Wednesday morning chat. They’d taken to meeting an hour before the shop opened to discuss books and catch up beyond the watchful gaze of Lady Wellingdon, Jo’s mother.

The coffeehouse was buzzing, but Mrs. Cline, who ran the front of the cafe, smiled when she spotted Allie crossing the threshold.

Allie raised three fingers and mouthed, “Lavender scones.”

The dark-haired lady manager nodded and tipped her chin toward the seating nook where Allie was allowed to wait for her order. It was just inside the kitchen, a little carved-out space big enough for a single chair. Customers weren’t generally allowed in the kitchen, but since the Princes were neighbors and patronized the shop daily, Mrs. Cline made the exception.

With such a crush of customers, Allie knew she’d have a while to wait, so she pulled out the notebook she carried with her everywhere. She immediately began jotting down ideas for research expeditions she might propose to Dom when he returned.

She was done waiting for her time to shine.