Chapter Nine
Louisa was staring around at the opulence of the princes’ carriage like a baby owl.
Selina had to admit the fine upholstery and large windows were an impressive change to the packed and dreary stagecoach they’d left rattling behind them.
The four of them sat comfortably, her large trunk moved from the top of the stagecoach to the back of the royal carriage within moments by men in blue-and-white Thrudheim livery.
Prince Hans sat opposite Louisa, and Prince Magnus sat opposite Selina. She couldn’t imagine calling him simply Magnus, but the name suited him. He was so big and brooding, scowling at everything and everyone as if he were irritated by the very air they breathed.
Would the stagecoach have been a better alternative after all? She wasn’t entirely sure how she would manage the long journey back to London in princely silence.
Prince Hans had cheerfully welcomed them, but nothing else had been said since.
To her surprise, Hans appeared completely unbothered by his brother’s strange choice of princess.
Granted he was an amiable young man, but surely even he could see the madness of their marrying?
After all, she was such a bad choice for a bride.
Bride.
Had he really meant what he’d said?
There was no way a sovereign prince would accept the daughter of a lowly baronet and a peasant, over an earl’s or duke’s daughter. His demeanour towards her made it painfully clear that he did not like her. So why should he feel duty-bound to marry her after an unfortunate mistake?
It wasn’t as if her father would duel him at dawn! If anything, the admiral would probably send a formal apology to Prince Magnus—her father would immediately presume it was all Selina’s fault, and she couldn’t even argue with that either.
None of this made sense, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the subject again after she’d fairly shouted at him in the middle of a dusty road like a harpy.
After the flurry of activity and surprising declarations, Selina found herself looking at Prince Magnus properly for the first time since he’d stopped her carriage.
She couldn’t seem to help herself. His cleft chin and straight nose called to her, despite the bad temper in his expression.
He was like a beautiful work of art, and with his face turned towards the window she could examine him freely to her heart’s content.
What would he look like if he smiled? She wasn’t sure if she’d seen him smile genuinely once since meeting him. A few polite twitches of the lips, but nothing sincere or with honest feeling behind it.
Is he unhappy? That made her pause a moment. Could a prince be unhappy?
Looking at Magnus now, she realised that they could be, and pity filled her heart for both of them. Neither of them wanted this…
Her eyes drifted from his face to the rest of his body.
No longer was he wearing the tight formal clothing of the past two days.
Instead, he wore simpler attire which was far better tailored and fit his large body comfortably.
A square double-buttoned short jacket in a dark blue that was almost black was left open above a white round-neck shirt.
A sapphire waistcoat embroidered with silver thread was comfortably buttoned over it.
Dark woollen trousers matched the jacket and had cuffs of sapphire-embroidered fabric that rested just above his boots.
Prince Hans was also dressed in similar clothing, although she thought Magnus looked more appealing in it.
‘I am wearing the traditional costume of Thrudheim,’ said Magnus, and she wondered how he’d known she’d been looking at him, considering his eyes hadn’t moved from staring out of the window. ‘It is what I usually wear… The last time I came to England was in my youth…’
The final statement was said quietly, as if Magnus were embarrassed to admit that was why his clothes had been so tight the past couple of days.
The prince regent was obsessed with fashion and loved opulence and excess in his appearance, whilst Prince Magnus appeared to be the complete opposite, not even caring to ensure his clothes fitted properly before wearing them.
She didn’t consider it a criticism: she would much rather a prince had Magnus’s impressive physique than that of poor old Prinny.
A sudden image of Magnus’s torn shirt and bare brawny shoulder flashed like lightning through her mind, and she wished she had a fan to cool her cheeks.
‘I see… It suits you better, I think,’ she answered weakly, and a muscle flexed in Prince Magnus’s jaw, but he continued to stare stony-faced out the window.
‘We will marry in London, but it will just be a formality, with a larger wedding in Thrudheim.’ Finally, he moved to pick up a large leather-bound book from the middle seat beside him and handed it to her. ‘This might be useful reading.’
The book weighed about the same as a brick. She placed it gingerly on her lap and silently read the gold embossed title, The Brief History of Thrudheim, following the letters with her finger, while pretending to admire the decoration.
If this was a brief history, she dreaded to think how thick the long version would be. Selina wasn’t good at reading at the best of times, and in a moving carriage she’d be nauseous within minutes.
Selina huffed and dropped the heavy tome beside her reticule on the middle seat. ‘I am not much of a reader. And besides…we do not need to marry. Surely, you see that? Nothing happened!’
‘Several people thought differently, and so it will appear as if something did happen, whether we like it or not.’
There was an uncomfortable silence as they both accepted the truth of that statement.
Even Selina couldn’t argue him on that point, and neither was she willing to shame herself further by pointing out that she would have gladly been kissed by him if they hadn’t been interrupted.
But his final words, whether we like it or not, clearly showed the prince was not happy about being entangled with her, and it stung her pride a little, even though she’d assumed that to be the case.
‘Do you have a house in London?’ asked Prince Hans conversationally, after the silence between them had become almost unbearable.
‘No. I usually stay with Lady Anne and her family while in London.’ She clasped her gloved hands together tightly, uncomfortably aware that she would have no such place to stay now.
She would need to have the rest of her things sent on to Great Yarmouth too, the clothes she’d left at the earl’s townhouse.
They’d probably throw them out in the street if she didn’t call on the butler to make arrangements for them.
‘I will arrange accommodation for you, Selina, while we send word to your father,’ said Prince Magnus imperiously.
He’d gone back to staring out at the passing countryside, barely acknowledging that he’d used her Christian name.
This was ridiculous: they barely knew each other!
Hadn’t even danced together at the ball!
‘I…that won’t be necessary…’ She’d been about to add Your Serene Highness but had thought better of it, as he seemed to think them intimately acquainted now, which was bizarre.
‘An inn will be more than comfortable for me, and I should return home as soon as I can. My father will have received word from the earl about the incident, and he will be worried.’
Her stomach flipped and she wrung her hands tightly, uncomfortably aware of exactly what the earl would be writing to her father about.
She couldn’t bear for him to be dragged into London, away from his ships and his work.
He would be so disappointed in her, so embarrassed, and she would have proven yet again that she was as much a silly fool as he thought.
‘I will arrange for a special licence.’ Magnus’s firm words cut through her worry, crisp and sharp.
But when she glanced in his direction, he was staring at her with those silvery-blue eyes, and his expression was almost kind as he looked down at her through heavy eyelashes.
‘We will be married within a week or two at the most. That will ease the rumour mill.’
‘Surely, that will make it worse?’ Selina’s stomach flipped, and she let loose her words knowing they would cut her deeply, but that by remaining silent she would only make matters worse.
‘No one will question your honour if you do not marry me. Men in your position have dalliances all the time!’ She noticed the way Magnus turned and gave his brother a reproachful look.
Had Hans had a similar scandal? But Selina didn’t have time to question it.
‘There is no need to marry me simply because of an unfortunate accident. I am sure, in time, all will be forgotten, and we can move on with our lives.’
‘Why are you so quick to refuse me—a prince—as your husband?’ asked Magnus with a proud tilt of his cleft chin. ‘Give me your reasons.’
Selina squirmed. She must seem odd to be challenging him on…well, saving her, because that was what he was offering. An escape from total ruin.
She thought back to her pathetic requirements in a husband.
Magnus was under forty, only a couple of years older than her possibly, he was certainly rich and would give her a title she would never have dreamt of, and he wasn’t ugly—far from it.
What exactly was wrong with him? So what if he wasn’t fun and didn’t live in London?
She already knew London Society was now closed to her.
What more did she want?
The answer dropped like a lead weight in her stomach, and a familiar ache tightened her throat. ‘You do not like me.’
‘I never said that.’ His eyes bore into her soul making her heart beat wildly, but it was neither an acceptance nor a denial.