Page 3 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)
T here was no need to fret. Everything had been organised to Christoph’s expectations, and so…he would marry her, this woman he had never met.
Perhaps this was a mistake.
The thought had flitted into Christoph’s mind before he could take it captive—which was unlike him. Rigid control was the way he had managed to keep himself alive this long. Was he truly going to give up on that restraint now?
The English countryside shimmered past the window as the carriage rumbled along the roads. It was not as he had imagined it. It was wider, and greener, even with the gold and red that were starting to flicker past the windows as the carriage picked up speed going downhill.
Do not think about it. Do not think about her.
Easier said than done. Ever since he had intercepted the letter from the Earl of Norbury agreeing to the match, Christoph had wondered about this woman who was going to utterly change the course of his life.
Miss Daphne Smith. It was a pretty name. He would have to hope she was amenable to his proposal. He was doing the right thing, he knew he was, but even Christoph could admit his plan was quite extraordinary. If it wasn’t for the danger…
But, no. Christoph shifted in his seat, the discomfort from the long journey starting to make his bones ache.
He could not do a thing about his brother now, save marry, and he was doing all he could to hasten that along.
He would just have to hope his brother would not find out in time to prevent the wedding. Anton’s spies were everywhere.
Christoph steeled himself. This was his plan, his very own, careful plan, concocted over time and designed for his betterment.
‘You are in charge of your own destiny,’ Christoph muttered to himself in the privacy of the rattling carriage. ‘You are not going to let your brother control you. You are going to return one day and show him what it means to be a man—be a leader.’
Besides, the plan was going perfectly, was it not? He had managed to leave Niedernlein; he had made his way safely to England; he had agreed to the marriage contract with the Earl of Norbury.
All he had to do now was marry the woman. Anything to save Laura.
His fingers tightened on the letter he had been attempting to get through since he had left London. Each line was splattered with marks that could be tears. The capitals shook, as though the hand that had inscribed them had been unsteady.
But Christoph knew the truth. Laura was writing with her left hand.
I heal nicely from that ridiculous accident—how silly of me to slip on that step!
Christoph’s jaw tightened. He knew precisely what his sister truly meant: how silly of her to anger Anton to such an extent that he would break her wrist.
The weather is poor here so sadly I am hemmed inside most of the day.
He knew what that meant, too: Laura was not permitted her daily rides.
But thankfully I have sufficient books to entertain me—though I would appreciate some new titles.
Barred from the library, too. Christoph’s pulse throbbed at his temple. Unable to spill her true thoughts, Laura was being careful in her letters to her brother in England. As well she should.
And I hope to receive good tidings from you, dearest brother.
Please, please rescue me : that was what his sister was really saying.
The carriage lurched, taking a corner at speed and attempting to slow simultaneously. Christoph’s head bumped against the door, his gaze twisting towards the window.
His mouth fell open. It wasn’t as though he had not lived in impressive homes in the past. The Winter Palace in particular had always been heralded as one of the most stirring displays of architecture in the whole of Niedernlein.
But this? It was a tall building, perhaps three or four storeys, and wide; wider than could be properly seen from the carriage.
The red brick glowed in the afternoon sun, blazing as though it were on fire, the gleam of sunshine on the many windows adding to the impression.
The chimneys were tall, towering, spiralling up into the brilliant blue sky.
Christoph swallowed. He knew the woman was wealthy, yes, but this? This was akin to one of the royal palaces he had seen in London.
When his carriage finally came to a stop, he discovered much to his discomfort that the rattling sensation was from inside him, not thanks to the rumbling wheels. His legs felt strange; not weak, not quite shaking, but not too dissimilar.
Well, this was it.
He had come a long way, and he was not going to veer from his plan merely because he was intimidated by the woman’s home. This was what he had come for.
Not waiting for the coachman to open the door, Christoph jumped down and relished the crunch of gravel under his feet. It was grounding, earthing, reminding him his journey was almost over.
The bell jangled loudly when he tugged the pull, and the man who opened the door looked none too impressed at being summoned.
‘Yes?’ he said, peering at him.
Christoph plastered his most charming smile upon his lips as his focus took in the large hall, the elevated ceiling, the paintings and the…women?
Yes, women. Several.
True, he had hoped to be gifted a glance of the elusive Miss Smith—her father had refused to send any portrait, as was his right, but still, it had been frustrating.
But Christoph did not see a single woman, but many.
Far too many. Six, seven, eight…they poured down the staircase as though summoned by a bell, some of them drifting lazily across the hall to another doorway, some lingering and chattering, some whispering, a few glancing in his direction.
Christoph could not help but stare. The Earl of Norbury had mentioned a daughter, yes, but this many? The man must have been prolific in his day…and had several sets of twins. The ladies were surely all too close in age to be…?
‘Yes?’
Christoph started. The aggressive tone of the footman was perhaps not entirely warranted, but then he had been terribly rude, standing in his mute state. ‘I—I am here to see Miss Smith and Miss Pike.’
Miss Pike—the governess, he assumed. The Earl of Norbury had mentioned her several times in his letters but had given little indication as to her status in the household.
One of the ladies giggled and Christoph did everything he could not to turn his head.
‘Hmm,’ muttered the footman, as though unimpressed, unsure whether Christoph had earned the right to enter.
‘Ah, our honoured guest!’
His attention jerked to the right as an older woman floated towards him with a beaming smile. She curtseyed low and simpered as Christoph bowed.
‘Are you expecting him?’ the footman asked in a quiet voice.
‘Miss Pike, I presume?’ Christoph asked, ignoring the footman as, to the best of his ability, he attempted to ignore the stares of the women now clustering at the foot of the stairs and whispering. One of them pointed.
What was going on here? Surely these could not all be Miss Smiths? The Earl of Norbury would bankrupt himself to marry them all off! So what was this—a house party? A house party of…only ladies? Well, that was certainly one way to ensure no gentleman had their way with His Lordship’s daughter…
‘I am Miss Pike and I am delighted to welcome you to the Wallflower Academy,’ said the woman brightly. ‘Come in, come in.’
Christoph did indeed enter, though gingerly. The woman had said… ‘Wallflower Academy?’
‘Oh, yes, only the very best send their daughters here to refine their accomplishments,’ said Miss Pike happily, stepping back as he moved into the centre of the remarkable hall.
‘We help the ladies find the right suitors if they are not particularly forward in their courtships, as you can imagine. A nudge here, an introduction there…’
She trailed off as she gestured with one hand in what she probably thought was an elegant way.
Christoph’s jaw tightened.
Ah. So a school, then. A school for ladies no one wished to marry. The Earl of Norbury had not been so descriptive.
Well, the whole thing had been far too good to be true.
He should have expected something like this; earls did not attempt to marry off illegitimate daughters with a dowry like that , and with the help of a school, unless there was something distasteful about her. But he needed the dowry—desperately.
Was she unpleasant to look at? Or was it unpleasant to be in her presence?
‘Miss Smith awaits us in my private sitting room,’ Miss Pike said, gesturing to a door to her left. ‘She is most anxious to meet you, as you can imagine.’
Christoph’s charming smile was starting to waver. ‘Undoubtedly.’
You made this decision before you had ever met the woman, he told himself sternly, and, no matter what she is like, you will go through with it. There was no other option.
‘Come, let us not leave the young lady in suspense.’ Miss Pike strode to the door and opened it, pushing it open but not stepping through. When she turned to face him, there was a glittering in her eyes. ‘After you, of course.’
Of course. Inclining his head and bracing himself for a truly unpleasant encounter—one he would have to charm his way through—Christoph stepped into the room and discovered a light, bright sitting room elegantly decorated in pastel blues and gold with sparse furniture, save for a settee and three armchairs.
On one of those armchairs sat a woman, a woman who rose to her feet as he entered the room.
And she… Christoph’s lips parted.
She was beautiful.
No, ‘beautiful’ was not a sufficient description. Perhaps there was not the vocabulary in the English language to fully encapsulate the woman’s appearance.
She was of middling height, with a sweeping bust restrained by good quality muslin and a shawl of silk that was tucked over her shoulders. Her hair was golden, with few curls—it appeared this was not a woman who would sacrifice her own sleep to create a coiffure of the latest fashion.