Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Rupert grinned. Now that was an easy one. “Because it would not have been so much fun for you to find out, would it?”
For a moment, he thought the beautiful woman was going to roll her eyes, but to his delight and complete surprise, Elizabeth grinned.
“I suppose not,” she said wryly, stepping away from the window—and himself, most unfortunately—to throw herself onto the sofa. “Well, we certainly find ourselves in a conundrum.”
As far as Rupert was concerned, it was the most delightful puzzle that he had no intention of solving, but he had a vague feeling that Elizabeth would not take too kindly to that.
“You mean us being locked in here?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You aren’t afraid of the scandal?”
Scandal? Rupert could not understand what she was talking about. He was a Crown Prince; anything remotely scandalous in his general direction was typically hastily hidden by servants who were trained to deal with that sort of thing.
He’d only had to deal with it once, and that was when his younger brother had experienced a rather awkward situation with a lady who had not understood the meaning of the word ‘payment’.
“Scandal?” he repeated nervously.
His parents would certainly not appreciate a scandal. They had only agreed to let him visit London if they accompanied him, and they would be off to Brighton to see Prinny in the morning.
If, Rupert reminded himself, he was able to extricate himself from a locked library with a terribly pretty woman.
“Yes, the scandal!” Elizabeth laughed ruefully. “I would have thought you of all people…but then, perhaps people do not mind if princes are found in indelicate situations. For a lady like myself, however—”
“Ah, yes, I see,” said Rupert, meandering across the room to look at her properly.
And he did see; but more importantly than that, he was spending far too much time seeing her. Looking at her. The curl of her lips as she smiled, that flash of irritation that seemed always just at bay in her eyes.
And yet she appeared entirely at home, sitting there on the sofa, as though she had found herself in such a position before and was utterly sure she would escape it.
“I just cannot understand why the lock jammed,” Elizabeth sighed heavily. “But I suppose that is neither here nor there now. We will just have to wait.”
Wait. Rupert swallowed. his heart was becoming increasingly intoxicated with the woman’s presence the longer they were in here, and the desire he had felt the moment he had seen Lady Elizabeth was starting to become…
Well. Something more. Something far more dangerous.
“I suppose you did not expect something of this sort this evening,” Rupert hazarded as he sat beside her on the sofa, leaving just enough room for her not to feel overwhelmed.
The trouble was, Elizabeth no longer looked overwhelmed by his presence. In a rather disconcerting way, she looked a little…well. Bored.
Bored? In his presence? Rupert had never known anyone to be bored around him in his entire life!
“I did not expect to be locked in a library with a beautiful woman, no,” he said with a grin.
The grin was not returned. “No.”
This was going from bad to worse. “And what were your expectations for this evening?”
“Oh, you know,” said Elizabeth wryly, flashing him a grin. “Meet a handsome, charming gentleman with a title and a house in town, and marry him before Michaelmas.”
If Rupert had been drinking in that moment, he would have snorted into his drink.
As it was, his jaw dropped in amazement, and she laughed.
“How little you must think of ladies, Your Grace, if you think that is a despicable way to behave!”
“I did not say—would never dream of saying, or thinking,” Rupert began.
How did she do it? entirely undo him with just a quip, a sentence, a look.
No woman had ever before managed to…why, she was far more intoxicating the longer he spent with her than when he had first met her, and she had been remarkably impressive then.
Just what would he have to do to impress this woman?
“And what about you?” Elizabeth asked lightly. “What were your intentions this evening? Not find a wife, I’ll be bound.”
Rupert swallowed. no, though the thought had occurred to him. Lady Elizabeth was a beauty, a wit it appeared too, and someone who any man would be fortunate to have by their side. It was most unfortunate that he could not seduce her right here, right now.
“Well, I only have one evening in London, and I was told that Lady Jarrold hosted the best parties,” he said. “I thought it would be an interesting opportunity to see London Society.”
“Are we renowned across Europe?”
“In Austria you certainly are,” admitted Rupert with a wry smile. “There is much talk about the…well. The debauchery and the beautiful women of London.”
There it was; just a hint of embarrassment, but Elizabeth managed to control herself curiously well.
“Oh, really?” she said lightly. “Well, I hope you are not disappointed.”
Rupert met her gaze, and only then did her cheeks slightly pink. Disappointed? He could not remember being so delighted with the company he had kept, and he had spent hours with kings and queens of Europe.
But Elizabeth was something else. Merely a Lady, someone he would not normally spend more than ten minutes talking with—unless he was successful in stealing a kiss…
The trouble was, the more he spoke to her, the more he realised he wished to do far more than kiss her.
“Not disappointed, no,” Rupert said softly.
Did she understand? Had he been too forward, perhaps?
He had certainly never felt like this for a lady before. There was a rather uncomfortable tingling in his fingers and toes that Rupert did not like, and his heart had not been behaving since the moment that Elizabeth had pulled him into the library.
He desired her, yes, but he had desired women before and it had never felt like this. Never affected him so, never made every breath precious, every word carefully considered, then entirely different by the time it managed to fall from his tongue.
What was she doing to him?
“Only one evening?” Elizabeth smiled. “I am honoured indeed then, if you wished to make my acquaintance at the one invitation you decided to accept. Why only one night?”
Rupert sighed. “I have to meet a distant cousin in Brighton.”
She nodded. “I see.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh!”
He had to laugh at that. “Prinny does not like to be kept waiting, you understand, and I have been informed that it is a slow ride to Brighton when the roads are this damp. I suppose I shall have to hope that we are released in time for me to get on the road.”
“I think we will have to hope that we are released at all.”
Rupert blinked. He must have misheard that—but there was a look of concern on Elizabeth’s face that highlighted her beauty, but was impossible to ignore.
“What do you mean, released at all?” he repeated, trying to laugh. “You cannot think that Lady Jarrold would simply leave us here to rot?”
Goodness, he hoped not. All the sustenance in the room was the drinks cabinet, and Rupert had most definitely forbidden himself from having any while he was alone here with Elizabeth.
It would not do to lose his head…
“Well, think about it,” said Elizabeth reasonably, as though it was perfectly logical. “This is the end of the Season, and many of the nobility and gentry are considering returning to their country estates. I certainly will be, in less than a week.”
Rupert nodded. It made sense; there was much the same custom in Austria. “But that does not mean—”
“You did not hear Lady Jarrold then, when she announced that she would be leaving to see her daughter, the recently made Archduchess Nelson?” Elizabeth said with a dry laugh. “Leaving in the morning, first thing.”
Rupert’s smile started to fade as he took in her words. No, it was not possible, it was—it was possible. Perhaps even probable.
“They’ll check each room,” he said, his mouth dry. “They wouldn’t possibly—”
“The housekeeper might think the butler has already closed up this room, and the butler may think the same as the housekeeper,” pointed out Elizabeth, her eyes still dancing with mirth but of a far more serious nature.
“I think we have to accept, Your Grace—Rupert, I do apologise—that if we do not escape in the morning, we may have to subject ourselves to the scandal of being rescued from the window, after all.”
It was not entirely a jest. Betsy had heard Lady Jarrold herself mention that she wished for a quick removal in the morning, and she had assumed the man—the prince had also heard her.
Lady Jarrold was never shy about speaking loudly of her daughter, and her daughter’s recent marriage, after all.
But the prince’s face had gone pale. “You don’t truly think so?”
Betsy shrugged, highly conscious that she was seated on a sofa in a locked library with a rather handsome prince. It was like something out of a fairy tale.
But this her reality, she tried to remind herself, and there would be no less scandal if she was found here, merely because the gentleman that she had managed to get herself locked in with was a prince.
To the contrary, surely there would be greater scandal!
“I am sure we will be found,” Betsy said aloud, attempting a cheering smile.
For some reason, a faint flush seared Rupert’s cheeks.
It could not be because she had smiled at him, was it? surely not; he was a prince, a Crown Prince of one of the greatest countries in Europe. The man probably had people smiling at him all day, every day. The man was probably sick of it.
So why did he look so…so strange?
“Tell me about royal life,” she said, attempting to distract both himself and her from the horrendous thought that they may have to spend the entire evening there in the library.
Just how long would those candles last? How long would the fire last—would they be plunged into darkness?
“Royal life?” For some reason, Rupert did not look at al thrilled at the chance to talk about himself. “There is so little of interest to tell, I would must rather hear about—”
“Little of interest to tell? Now that, I cannot believe,” said Betsy firmly. The man must not realise just how exciting and intriguing royalty was. “Remember, I live the life of a mundane Lady.”
Was that a smile? “You have reminded me already this evening that you are part of the nobility, and should be treated as such. I would not call that a mundane life.”
Betsy smiled, despite herself. well, there was something inherently charming about a gentleman who remembered what one had said, wasn’t there? She had certainly met sufficient men who had not paid a single jot of attention to her words. It was pleasant to be attended to.
“I suppose mundane was not the right word,” she admitted with a laugh, turning slightly in the sofa to beam at him. “But you take my point. I grew up in a pleasant country manor just outside Cambridge, and you—”
“Palaces, I am afraid.”
Was it just her imagination, or was Rupert attempting to be cheerful?
Betsy would never have credited it, unless she had seen it with her own eyes, but yes…he was definitely putting on a brave face.
There was something in the way his smile did not reach his eyes, the way he puffed out his chest and straightened his shoulders as though the prince was practiced at this particular pose.
“How terrible could it be?” pointed out Betsy with a smile. Heavens, if she had been born in a palace… “Servants all about the place—”
“You must have servants too,” cut in Rupert, an eager smile on his face. “Your parents must organise a large household, I’ll be bound.”
Betsy’s smile only wavered for a moment. She was used to it now, though there was no denying that pain still prickled at her heart.
When would it stop, this strange ache within her at their absence? When would her life continue on without any change, without any hesitation when a gentleman asked to be introduced to her father, when a lady asked what her mother thought about a particular ball or the latest Radcliffe?
“My parents are sadly no longer with us,” Betsy said quietly.
A look of horror immediately appeared on Rupert’s face. “I am so sorry, I did not mean to—”
“It is quite alright,” she said as languidly as she could manage, but she could not help but allow her gaze to drift to the fire.
The blaze was continuing on merrily, though another log may be required. She rose in silence, chose a log from the pile, and carefully dropped it onto the fire. Sparks rose up as the little water within the log steamed, and then licks of flames surrounded it, consuming it rapidly.
“You miss them.”
Betsy smiled with a heavy sigh as she returned to her place on the sofa, her gaze remaining on the fire.
“I do indeed. I do not believe you ever become accustomed to their absence, in truth—at least, I have not yet found it to be so. Perhaps when the pain is less raw…but anyway. You were speaking of servants.”
She swallowed, attempting to pull herself together. She had not intended to speak so of her grief, it had been near six months and her parents had died without pain, for that she had to be grateful.
And she had never before permitted herself to speak of them to a stranger, as Rupert certainly was.
Betsy’s gaze flickered to the gentleman sitting beside her on the sofa, then back to the fire. Not that he felt like a stranger anymore. Perhaps getting locked in a room with a gentleman did that to one.
“Yes, I have servants,” she continued, her voice a little stronger now, “but that does not mean I will inherit a throne. You—you are one of the most powerful men in the world.”
Rupert’s face was smiling when she looked at it again, and if Betsy was not mistaken, there was a strange sadness in it that she could not understand.
Why, the man must have been raised in the lap of luxury! How could someone not wish to be a part of that life, not wish to be a royal? Something that so many dreamt of, but almost no one could ever manage?
Why, someone like her would have to…marry a prince.
Betsy swallowed. it was a foolish thought, and one she certainly should not give any greater credence to. As though she would marry a prince!
“Being powerful is not all everyone thinks of it,” said Rupert quietly.
Betsy raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”