Chapter Four #2
If Magnus ever found out the name of the man she’d agreed to run off with, he would beat him black-and-blue for the pain and suffering he’d caused.
Not only for trying to steal a princess but for the breakdown in his own relationship with his sister, his only friend, who had never forgiven him for thwarting her plans and warning their father of her planned escape.
Her blackguard lover had never revealed himself or fought for Helga, which had proven to Magnus that he’d been right to put a stop to it.
He only wished he’d behaved differently and better protected Helga from their father’s vindictiveness.
Perhaps he could protect Selina instead?
Magnus was striding down the steps before he could think straight, his fists clenched and ready to fly.
‘Magnus!’ called Hans loudly from behind him.
Magnus stopped, his brother’s interruption a timely reminder of how inappropriate such an intervention would be. Mr Chadwick and Miss Mortimer whirled around with wide eyes at the sound of Hans, obviously startled by the noise and then equally startled by Magnus’s close proximity.
Miss Mortimer jumped up from her seat and swept past him on the stone steps, a blush high on her cheeks. Her gaze met his as she passed, and his heart caught on a thorn as he recognised the humiliation and pain within those dark eyes. Helga had looked the same that fateful night.
‘Miss Mortimer, are you well?’ Hans stared at the fleeing Miss Mortimer with growing concern as she hurried past.
‘Yes, Your Serene Highness,’ she gasped, before dipping a quick curtsy and retreating back to the ballroom.
Hans gave him a curious look, which Magnus ignored, and they continued down the steps.
When he stood in front of Mr Chadwick, the man had the decency to look embarrassed.
Magnus stared him down, enjoying every moment of the man’s disgrace.
‘That was poorly done, Mr Chadwick. I suggest in future that you only proposition ladies who have nothing to lose.’ The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but Magnus was not done.
‘Especially a young lady whose father is the most ruthless admiral I have ever faced.’ He turned to Hans, hoping this would be a timely lesson for him as well.
‘Come, brother, let us take a stroll through the gardens. I have heard it is most refreshing.’
As soon as they were a little distance away from the other guests and Mr Chadwick, he turned to Hans. ‘You need to help me find a bride. Stop dancing with the lower ranks, and help me narrow my list.’
Hans gave him a mockingly innocent look of surprise. ‘Dearest brother, they are all daughters of gentlemen and deserve respect…not just the aristocratic ones.’
Rage lashed through him, and he jabbed his finger back towards the patio steps.
‘That is what happens when you trifle with silly girls’ hearts!
You put them at risk, give them romantic notions and foolish dreams above their station.
You are doing the same thing tonight, by dancing with every inappropriate chit you see—and I know you are doing it purely to vex me.
But next time, do not drag innocent young women into your spiteful games! ’
Hans’s eyes widened, and he gave a grim nod of agreement.
Appeased, Magnus continued walking. ‘Ask Lady Charlotte and Lady Anne to dance next. They are the most promising. Although, I wonder at Lady Charlotte’s intelligence.’
Hans seemed to have recovered quickly from his reprimand, because he chuckled and said, ‘Oh? Did she not live up to your high standards? Could she not debate you on the merits of a firm trading agreement between Britain and Thrudheim?’
‘She thought Thrudheim was in the Antarctic.’
‘Ahhh…a slip of the tongue, perhaps? She did seem very nervous. Although, I admit I was too captivated by Miss Mortimer’s wit to pay much attention to your partner. I hope she is well. What did that man say to her?’
Magnus huffed. ‘He made a clumsy and inappropriate proposition. If she has any sense she will keep running for the rest of the night. Though why I should care for her reputation, I have no idea! She is a clumsy nincompoop who seems to make one poor choice after another.’
Hans shrugged. ‘Do not be unkind to her for dropping her glass…especially as you were the one to blame.’
‘How on earth was I to blame? I was nowhere near her!’
‘Apparently, the mere sight of you was enough for her to lose all grasp of her faculties and her cup.’
Magnus bristled, although a small part of him wondered if she’d felt the same sharp bite of desire he had.
Pushing the thought from his mind, he decided that wasn’t likely at all, considering she’d been flirting with Mr Chadwick moments before.
‘Foolish chit!’ he grumbled, ‘She will ruin herself before the end of the Season if she continues to be so reckless.’
For some reason, that possibility worried him.
Not only because it reminded him of how he had failed Helga but also because her behaviour reminded him of himself as a child: desperate for affection.
Eventually she would learn, as he had, that you could never please some people, especially those who did not respect you.
Tonight would be an important lesson for Miss Mortimer, and he prayed she would learn it quickly.
The rest of the ball passed in a blur of dances, and Magnus became more confused about which bride to choose. In the end, he dragged Hans out with him for another refreshing stroll.
Talking through his thoughts with his youngest brother might help them both to focus. Hans had at least danced with the higher ranks since his word with him, and as they walked the path Magnus made a quick summation of each lady on his shortlist, their best attributes and possible flaws.
As they rounded the outside of the coppice to approach the other side of the gazebo, he’d reached his most confusing option.
‘Lady Anne is a charming possibility, her father is an earl, and she is intelligent and thoughtful. She can speak French and Italian, so I presume she could learn Norwegian with some tutoring.’
Hans sighed as if this whole conversation were tiresome.
‘Then, choose her instead of Lady Louisa. You and Lady Anne can misunderstand each other in multiple languages, considering you don’t speak a word of either French or Italian.
’ He caught the roll of Hans’s eyes even in the dim light of the transparencies that decorated the little path—they were little paper boxes with a candle inside that illuminated drawings of satyrs and fairies.
The duchess had an impressive eye for style and detail.
Should he add that talent to his list of desirable qualities?
‘Languages are important,’ Magnus said firmly, but he wondered why he still disliked the idea of marrying Lady Anne.
Was it her snobbery towards Miss Mortimer?
He bristled at the thought. ‘My princess will need to make speeches in multiple languages, and I speak English, Danish and Swedish fluently, as well as a smattering of Icelandic, so do not act as if I am a dullard!’
Hans nodded, but his voice was scathing. ‘You are expecting a lot from your consort. Have you ever considered the efforts you might have to make to win such a paragon of virtue and wisdom?’
Magnus paused for a moment and turned to his brother. ‘I am a sovereign prince. What else is there to offer?’
‘Kindness?’ asked Hans quietly, his head turning towards the lights of the house flickering between the trees.
Magnus had known very little kindness in his life. ‘I will never be cruel to my consort,’ he avowed, the unspoken words hanging between them. I will never be like our father.
Hans did not seem to agree, but he said nothing, and as they came around the bend of the trees, they noticed a group of women were sitting within the gazebo with their backs towards them.
‘Well, I am convinced he thinks me a simpleton!’ declared a familiar voice that he immediately recognised as Lady Charlotte. ‘But isn’t Thrudheim close to the Antarctic? Surely it’s nearer to it than we are.’
Lady Anne sniggered. ‘The Antarctic is at the south pole, not the north one, my dear.’
‘Oh!’ gasped a rather glum-sounding Lady Charlotte. ‘But…is it any nearer to Thrudheim than us?’
‘Afraid not,’ said a velvety voice that could only belong to Miss Mortimer. ‘Although, you shouldn’t be too smug, Anne. You listed all the colours of the rainbow in French, and he didn’t seem to notice.’
‘Thankfully, he’d already admitted to not speaking it himself, otherwise I would have been done for…’ replied her friend. ‘Who asks for a lady to demonstrate her skills? My mind went completely blank!’
A merry laugh followed, and Miss Mortimer chuckled.
‘If I were you, I would set your cap for Prince Hans. He is far more congenial, if a little young. Whilst His Serene Highness is anything but serene! Did you see the way he snubbed poor Mrs Kent when she tried to ask him about the weather in Thrudheim?’
‘She is a bore, though, Selina, you must admit,’ sighed Lady Anne.
Magnus jerked his head, indicating that they should walk farther away from the pavilion. He didn’t want to hear anymore of Miss Mortimer’s opinion of him. Hans merely grinned and refused to budge a step.
However, Miss Mortimer was not to be put off.
‘But she is a sweet woman! Her husband died at Waterloo! To snub her like that was outrageous, and all so he could ask Lady Susan to dance! Who’d have thought such a huge bear of a man would enjoy dancing quite so much!
I wonder… Is he so desperate to secure a bride because he knows the only pleasant bachelor in his family is his youngest brother?
Must he race through potential brides as if he’s choosing a thoroughbred?
The man has barely paused for breath…which he desperately needs by the cut of his coat!
Either that or a couple of strong panels! ’
Magnus grabbed Hans’s arm and propelled him forward.
Miss Mortimer was deadly with her arrows, and he’d been struck by a full quiver.
The blows were made even worse by the fact that he couldn’t deny a single one.
He had been rude to that Mrs Kent—he’d been sick of trying to explain the climate of his country, when all he’d actually wanted was to speak with the last young lady in attendance and get this blasted evening done with.
And damn it all, his clothes were too tight! He couldn’t even move away from these insults without feeling every seam strain in protest.
All of the women laughed at Miss Mortimer’s witty comment, at least until Lady Charlotte spotted Magnus and Hans stumbling towards the house. At which point she gave a choked scream that sounded like a pigeon being hit by a brick.
Magnus’s spine stiffened, as he felt several pairs of feminine eyes bore into the back of his albeit tightly fitting coat. He then turned and gave a curt and sharp bow. ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said, before turning away again and striding across the lawn back to the veranda.
Miss Mortimer was a reckless fool who caused trouble wherever she went, and though he hated to admit it, so was Magnus…unfortunately.