Perilous Princess
Author: Tracy Cooper-Posey
Date: 2015-10-09 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Romance; Historical; Victorian
Description: Rhys Davies is the bastard son of an English lord who refused to acknowledge him. He has made his own way and as one of the best attorneys in London, he is absorbed in his work and content. When he fails to retain a distinguished client because of his unmarried state, he sets out to search for a wife to enhance his professional reputation. Annalies of Saxe-Weiden is a landless princess. Her father's principality was overthrown by its people. Now Annalies must find a way to live among the elite of London's society, but her strange family life, her foreign up-bringing and the secrets she keeps m

About Perilous Princess

Rhys Davies is the bastard son of an English lord who refused to acknowledge him. He has made his own way and as one of the best attorneys in London, he is absorbed in his work and content. When he fails to retain a distinguished client because of his unmarried state, he sets out to search for a wife to enhance his professional reputation.

Annalies of Saxe-Weiden is a landless princess. Her father’s principality was overthrown by its people. Now Annalies must find a way to live among the elite of London’s society, but her strange family life, her foreign up-bringing and the secrets she keeps make her an oddity among the ton.

Anna is the last person Rhys would consider marrying. Not only is she royalty and cousin to Queen Victoria, she is a most disagreeable woman who reads books and quotes Shakespeare better than he. The physical attraction they feel is a nuisance that swiftly entangles them in a scandal that threatens both their lives….

WARNING:  This book contains frequent sex scenes and sexual language.

Perilous Princess is part of the Scandalous Sirens series
Book 1: Forbidden
Book 2: Dangerous Beauty
Book 3: Perilous Princess

Chapter One

Grosvenor Square, Mayfair, London. 1841

Anna hugged her knees to her chest and pressed the corner of her mouth gently to the cotton of her nightgown where it was stretched over her knees, to blot the blood. The light touch made her wince, but the bleeding had stopped for no new shadow joined the stains already dotting the knees of her gown.

She leaned her head against the polished wood at the back of the big, dark wardrobe and closed her eyes. She was safe enough here, for she had brought the key inside with her and had fumbled in the dark until the door was locked.

She should have anticipated the night would end this way. She should have locked her bedroom door as soon as she had retired for the evening, but she had been tired beyond thought.

Lady Compton’s grand soiree had lasted until sunrise, an hour much later than Anna was used to. In Saxony they had led a calm and ordered life—or truth be told, their life had looked proper and disciplined to anyone who did not live in the palace.

Of course, a displaced German prince and cousin to the new Queen, along with his royal family, were among the most sought-after guests on any invitation list. Uncle Rupert had warned her father that their first season in London would be a frantic one, for Uncle Rupert had lived in England for several years while studying at Oxford and had participated in at least one season.

Anna was quite sure her father had not properly appreciated his brother’s warnings. She most certainly had not. Here it was, only late March and not even into the season proper, yet the late hours and endless invitations were already taking their toll.

Lady Compton’s husband, the Earl of Norwich, had drawn her father aside almost as soon as they had arrived at the soiree. He had acquired a new shipment of port and knew her father’s weakness for the liquor.

Anna wondered if the earl would have been quite so eager to ply his royal guest with alcohol if he had known the real after-effects of her father’s drinking. Even she might have been able to stop her father from heading into the smoking salon with a word or light jest, had she known where he was going. But she had been beckoned by Lady Compton, who enquired politely about her mother’s health. Anna had lost both the sight of her father for the rest of the evening and the chance to shepherd him away from the liquor.

He had seemed calm enough in the carriage, with the dawn sunlight blazing in through the windows. He had not appeared to be in pain, usually the first warning sign of an impending attack. Anna had retired to her room, looking forward to sleep before having to rise late in the morning to prepare for yet another event. She could not remember who the host was, but did recall that it was to be aboard a boat. A ship, she corrected herself.

Uncle Rupert would be as incensed as her father would if she attempted to excuse herself. With her mother prostrate with a fugue that had not lifted since their escape from Germany, it was her responsibility to represent the family even though she had not yet been presented to Queen Victoria. She would be presented at this year’s ceremony as they had arrived in England just after last year’s had been completed.

She would have to watch her father closely, today. Sunlight was no more kind to him than liquor.

Thinking so, she fell asleep, propped up in the corner of the wardrobe with the smell of dried lavender from the clothes hanging in front of her filling the small, dark space.

* * * * *

Wormwood had been unaccountably busy the entire morning. Rhys knew the man was trying to avoid speaking to him.

It was a crisp, cool Saturday. The copy clerks’ desks were all empty and only the most dedicated attorneys had appeared that morning. It was unlikely that the second-most senior partner of the law firm would have clients visiting upon such a day. It was too early in the season for the more demanding society clients to insist upon house calls.

Rhys also knew why Wormwood had withdrawn to his office and shut the door. There were two reasons. One of them was kept in the heavy crystal decanter on the sideboard.

The other was Lord Buxton and his lady wife. Rhys had been courting them since the end of the last season, using every Christmas supper and New Year’s country ball and the entire length of the hunting season to extol the virtues of Mertens, Wormwood, Thomas & Riber as attorneys at law. Since Mr. Thomas Grainger of Grainger & Doolittle had passed on and Mr. Doolittle had retired, that firm’s elite clientele had been searching for a venerable replacement to handle their family concerns. Some of those clients had already consented to Mertens Wormwood providing that service.

Buxton was one of the last to find replacement legal representation. Just last week Buxton had agreed to meet with the senior partners at the beginning of the London season, when he and his wife would return to their townhouse on Hanover Road.

Wormwood had said nothing since that appointment and Rhys had begun to speculate that something had gone awry during the interview that Wormwood did not want to share. Harold Wormwood was an excellent attorney, but he did not know how to deal with people in any other capacity. That responsibility had fallen upon Rhys over the last few years, especially when Cyrus Mertens, the other senior partner, was laid up with gout, which happened more frequently these days.

It was just past eleven o’clock. Rhys stood and donned his jacket and straightened his cravat and sleeves. There was only one other person left in the office. Grayson was the most senior articled clerk and was working toward becoming an attorney, just as Rhys had done some years ago.

Rhys moved over to Wormwood’s door and knocked smartly. There was no answer and Rhys had not been expecting one. He pushed the door open despite the lack of invitation. “Mr. Wormwood, it has been five days since your appointment with Lord Buxton and I have heard no word about the outcome of the meeting. Does that mean you were not successful?”

Wormwood was a rotund man with silvered sideburns, a ruddy complexion from the port he favored and keen blue eyes underneath bushy brows. He glanced at Rhys, sighed and beckoned him in.

Rhys shut the door and moved before the desk.

“You did us right, Davies,” Wormwood said. “All your efforts to snare Buxton as a client were not for naught.”

Rhys sighed in relief. “Then I should go ahead and set up appointments to review their estate and affairs.”

Wormwood shook his head. “There’s no need for that,” he said, with a touch of sharpness.

Rhys frowned. “How am I to grasp the intricacies of the estate without a review?”

Wormwood looked down at his glass. “They don’t want you, Davies.”

Rhys stared at him. “I’m afraid I don’t quite gather your meaning. Buxton agreed to us representing him, but he doesn’t want us?”

“He doesn’t want you, my boy. It’s naught to do with your character, so don’t look at me like that. Buxton was concerned about your age…or the lack of it, perhaps. Jeffries is going to see to him.”

John Jeffries was the newest and most junior attorney in the firm. “Jeffries? He is a skilled attorney, I grant,” Rhys said. “But he is even younger than me.”

Wormwood sighed. “He’s a married man.”

“Married.” Rhys could find nothing else to add. The unexpectedness of the judgment had stolen all his thoughts.

Wormwood got to his feet, moving slowly because of his size and his lack of wind. “Buxton thought that you being single might be a detriment to your concentration, so to speak. A married man is settled and reliable and determined to get ahead and provide for his family.” He poured the thick red wine into another glass, brought it over to Rhys and offered it.

Rhys grasped the glass. “I’ve never missed a day of work for the ten years I’ve been with the firm. I’ve worked hard—harder than many others I might name, because I’ve had to prove myself.”

“You pulled yourself up by your own bootstraps, that I can’t argue.” Wormwood shuffled back around to his chair. It creaked as he settled into it and he looked up at Rhys with a rueful expression. “It doesn’t seem fair, that’s a fact. Nevertheless, maybe you should look at this as a sign it is time to put your personal life in order. You’re not getting any younger—”

“I’m only thirty-three,” Rhys muttered.

“Lad, I had four children nearly grown by the time I was thirty-three. My children have had children and they’ve had children, now. Marriage is good for a man. Buxton might have the right of it. A wife would settle you.”

“I am as settled as a man could get,” Rhys said bluntly.

“The right wife will give you a respectability you’ll never gain as a single man,” Wormwood replied, just as bluntly.

Rhys knocked back the slug of port with one swallow and winced as the stuff burned his throat. “Then it’s just as well we’re at the start of the Season, isn’t it?”

Wormwood looked puzzled.

“Lord Saville called the London Season ‘The Marriage Mart’.” Rhys put the glass on the front of Wormwood’s desk. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you would excuse me for the afternoon. I have an invitation to my sister’s birthday party.”

Wormwood’s puzzlement deepened.

“My half-sister,” Rhys explained patiently. “Lady Natasha Harrow, Countess of Innesford. Her husband, the Earl, is hosting a birthday party in her honor aboard the newest ship in his fleet this afternoon. I should hurry to change and attend. I don’t want to delay my search for a suitable wife.”

“Quite right!” Wormwood bellowed after him as Rhys strode from the room.

Chapter Two

“Natasha,” Seth called. “Look who I found skulking around the punch bowl.”

Natasha looked up from her conversation with Lady Grantham to smile at her husband and reflect once more upon how very blessed her life was. Then she saw who Seth had by the elbow and genuine delight filled her. “Rhys! Oh, my goodness! You actually came!” She put aside the unopened gift in her lap and got to her feet, to kiss Rhys on the cheek. “You said you would be working.”

“My employer gave me the afternoon off,” Rhys said and hugged her.

Natasha laughed. “This makes my birthday party absolutely perfect. I’m so pleased you’re here, Rhys.” She smiled briefly at Lady Grantham, who was staring openly at Rhys, her eyes narrowed. Natasha patted the back of the chair on the other side of hers, indicating that Rhys should sit next to her.

Lady Grantham’s avid curiosity was another reason Rhys did not like to attend many of the society events. The number of invitations he received had increased since the death of Natasha’s mother early last year, when concern about distressing Lady Winridge with the presence of her husband’s bastard son was removed. However, most of the invitations were extended because of curiosity over the proof of an old scandal, rather than a genuine desire to spend time with a commoner who at least had roots within the aristocracy.

Rhys was well aware of the gossip he engendered whenever he did appear, so he limited the invitations he accepted…which simply made him even more desirable a guest in the eyes of the ton.

Lady Grantham rose to her feet. “I will leave you to catch up with your family, my dear.”

“Thank you, Lady Grantham,” Natasha said, although she knew quite well that Lady Grantham wanted to pass on the news that Natasha’s lowborn half-brother was among them. Then they would recount to each other the sordid details of her father’s illicit affair with that Welsh woman, more than thirty years ago.

Rhys sat on the edge of the chair while Seth waved a man carrying a tray of drinks over, plucked one from the tray and handed it to Rhys. Rhys accepted with a smile of thanks and looked around the deck with interest. “You wouldn’t know it was a ship at all, except for the movement of the floor beneath your feet.”

“Landlubber,” Seth said, with a laugh. “I should get you out on the open sea. Then you may speak of the deck moving with authority.”

“Thank you, but no,” Rhys said firmly. “Where did you get all these flags?”

Natasha looked around the deck. The crew of the Lady Natasha had strung hawsers between the rigging. Laid over the top of them, their edges overlapping, were dozens of flags making up a colorful roof to shield people from the sun. Most of the women, mindful of their complexions, had taken shelter beneath the shady awning. Many of the men, however, were gathered at the prow, which had become a temporary smoking salon.

The poop deck was reserved for a small orchestra that was playing softly in the background. Seth had encouraged them with coinage to play her favorite pieces.

Nearly everyone who had received an invitation had accepted and the decliners all had genuine reasons, their regrets worded in small notes expressing their disappointment at not being able to attend.

In the last three years, since her marriage to Seth and his restoration as the Earl of Innesford, Natasha and Seth had become the affaire de jour among the ton. Their scandalous courtship added to their appeal, a fact that Natasha accepted with grim satisfaction. If it bought social acceptance and a place for their two children, she would remind the ton of that scandal each and every year.

But she did miss Elisa and Vaughn’s company. They were equally mired with a shocking history and it was comforting to keep their company and in private laugh over the eccentricities of the ton. But Vaughn and Elisa and their children had already repaired to Scotland, to Vaughn’s estate there, Kirkaldy, for the Easter period. Elisa’s letter had been full of happy news about her children and Vaughn and the beautiful highlands, so much so that Natasha could not gainsay her their time in Scotland, even if she wanted them to be at her birthday party.

So she turned to Rhys, grateful that he had made up for her small disappointment. “You look tired, brother.”

Rhys was sitting turned to face her, one arm draped over the back of the chair. It looked like a casual pose, but the chair was propping up most of his weight as he leaned against it and his arm drooped. His long legs were resting idly, his feet spread, when normally he preferred to sit up straight and alert. His dark eyes were drawn and the high, hawk-like cheekbones looked more stark than usual.

Even his full lips were compressed.

Rhys gave her a small smile. “I’ve suffered a small disappointment this morning.”

“Oh, dear.” She pressed her lips together. “Is it something Seth and I might be able to help you recover from?”

Rhys gave her another smile, this one holding more warmth. His dark eyes glowed. “Perhaps you might be able to help. I don’t suppose that among the debutantes and ladies you’ve assembled here today there might be one who would consider marrying a commoner and a bastard?” His mouth turned down at the corners, as if he, too, understood how utterly ridiculous a request he was making.

Seth gave a soft laugh. “If one of the highest born in the land can marry a convict and criminal like me then there is hope for you, Davies.”

Rhys shook his head. “You have the pedigree. My only claim to gentility is a father who refused to acknowledge me.”

Natasha squeezed his hand. “You have a sister who is trying to make up for that lack.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “Thank God for that,” he said, his voice low. “However, I find myself in need of a wife. A client refused to deal with me today because I am a bachelor.”

Natasha laughed. “I might have guessed your work was driving this request. You are so single-minded about getting ahead. I thought you might remain alone forever.”

“I believe that for one like me, that would be best,” Rhys said, his voice still low. “But I am being forced to it.”

Seth let out a heavy breath. “Then we must find you a wife. One who is pleasant to the eye, biddable and happy enough with her own company, for I am sure that once you have wed, you will return to work with all good speed to make up for the distraction.”

Natasha winced. “I pity the poor lady you do chose, Rhys. It sounds like she will have a lonely life.”

Rhys’ cheeks tinged red. “If I must have a wife, I will try to do right by her, so that she will not regret accepting my proposal. But I believe that any unwed ladies you know, dear sister, would rather laugh themselves into a fainting spell than seriously consider any offer I might make.”

Seth turned to look around the deck, where mostly women were sitting on the dining chairs that had been brought over from the townhouse in St. James’, their feet upon carpets that had also been carried from the townhouse. Servants moved from group to group, offering fruit punch and mulled wine, for the afternoon was still cool. “I would not be in such a hurry to dismiss these ladies out of hand,” he said slowly, considering them one by one. “There is Lady Sarah, there. I believe this is her second season. Is that correct, Natasha?”

Natasha nodded, watching the poor girl under discussion sip her glass of punch, her glove already stained with the juice. Sarah was unfashionably thin and her dress was two years old and unflattering. It was rumored her father’s fortune no longer existed.

“The one with the orange hair?” Rhys asked.

“Indeed. Or the lady over by the port gunwale, with the lavender dress.”

“Lady Mary is to be officially engaged to the Earl of Wickley after Easter,” Natasha pointed out.

“Who is that very unattractive one over there by the mast?” Rhys asked. “Is she…? I do believe she is actually reading a book.”

Natasha looked. The woman he was referring to wore a plain blue dress. The fabric was silk and the color glowed, however, there was little adornment about her to enhance the effect. Her hair had been pulled up tightly upon the crown of her head, when everyone else parted their front hair and braided or coiled or wound the lengths into ringlets, while the fashion in back hair styles was even more elaborate. The woman’s hair was, Natasha suspected, a golden color that the blue silk of her dress would complement nicely, but because it was so tightly wound into the hard little bun, it was difficult to appreciate the color at all. Laid flat and tortured in that way, the gold was faded and uninteresting.

She was indeed reading a book and she sat quite alone.

“That is Princess Annalies of Saxe-Coburg-Weiden. Her father is the Prince of Saxe-Weiden, but his principality was lost late last year, when the people rebelled and tore down the palace. The whole family just barely escaped.”

“I remember the newspaper report,” Rhys murmured. “Is she not cousin to the Queen?”

“She is. I believe she is reading because the chairs to either side of her are unoccupied,” Natasha said. “It is a strategy I admire. There is nothing more awkward than sitting alone while the world ignores you.”

“As if that has ever happened to you,” Seth teased her.

“I never have found women to be agreeable company,” Natasha confessed. “Elisa is different…but I believe that is because she does not chatter about inanities, either.”

“Elisa was as rejected by society as that princess seems to be,” Seth said.

“The princess isn’t rejected at all, not like they once treated Elisa. But she does seem to have trouble getting along with people,” Natasha said kindly. “She has had a difficult time of it recently. She has lost her home, her country and now must live among strangers who don’t speak her language. Then there are all the silly rules and protocols. Being related to the Queen must not make her days any more comfortable. There are all sorts of expectations surrounding the royal family. Even distant cousins of that family.”

Rhys studied the princess and his head tilted to read the spine of her book as she lifted it closer to her face. Then he sat upright. “I do believe that is Thomas Robert Malthus she is reading.”

“Malthus?” Seth repeated. “Isn’t he the one who said we will all die from starvation and disease?”

“I believe his theory is somewhat more complicated than the way you state it,” Natasha teased him.

“You’ve read it?” Seth asked.

“Rhys lent me his copy to read,” Natasha said. “It was not the most optimistic of books. There’s little wonder the biologists and scientists all refute him.”

Rhys got to his feet. “Please excuse me,” he said distantly, as if his thoughts were far away. He moved toward the princess and her lonely row of chairs.

Natasha watched him go and sighed. “I didn’t get to warn him about the princess’ sharp tongue.”

Seth shook his head. “He is most definitely your brother, Natasha dearest. He is going to speak with the most unavailable and unsuitable woman on the entire ship, without an introduction, simply because he likes what she is reading.”

* * * * *

Anna frowned and blinked until the words swam back into focus. She was tired and sore and her eyes were weaker than usual today, but if she put on her spectacles to read, her father and Uncle Rupert would never forgive her. It was bad enough that she was reading where many people could see her doing it, yet the alternative was just as unattractive. Sitting and gazing out upon the gray water of the Thames sparkling in the sunshine and watching the masts and yardarms of the ships across the way as they lifted up and down would send her to sleep—a social faux pas of the worst kind.

So she read. Her copy of An Essay on the Principle of Population fit neatly into the pocket of her dress, which made it impossible for either her father or her uncle to spot the offending item. They were now both ensconced at the front end of the boat—ship—drinking and smoking cigars. She had been unable to prevent them from joining the rest of the men onboard, but tonight she would make sure her door was locked and bolted, right after she had checked on her mother and locked that door. Thankfully, the sun was not strong today, which would reduce her father’s pain, later.

“I know it is unforgiveable to interrupt while one is reading,” came the interruption, “but you do not look like you are enjoying Reverend Malthus’ prose enough to object.”

Anna looked up, blinking so her eyes would adjust. The man was standing a good pace away from her, which meant she could properly see him. It was only objects too close to her nose that obstinately refused to be seen clearly. “Does anyone actually enjoy Robert Malthus’ theories?” she asked curiously. “They’re quite depressing, if you read them with an expectation greater than entertainment in mind.”

The man was tall and seemed to be lean underneath his cutaway, but there was a breadth to the shoulders that removed any impression of weakness or fragility. However, his face was drawn, the cheeks high and sharp. The dark eyes above were looking at her directly, with frank curiosity. It seemed he was unaware of who she was, or he would not be so bold. Most of the people she had met in England were deferential to the point of obsequiousness.

He gave a small shrug. “I find his theories comforting. Knowing that the future is quite as bleak as he forecasts means that we as a society have time to address the issues before it is too late.”

Anna almost laughed. “You believe Malthus?”

“You do not?” He seemed puzzled. “Why do you read his essay if you have no faith in his theory? Perhaps you are reading for entertainment, after all.”

Anna felt her jaw loosen in surprise and she pressed her lips together quickly. “Who are you?” she demanded. “We have not been introduced.”

He straightened and faced her squarely, then bent his head. “Rhys Davies, esquire, at your service, Your Royal Highness.”

A common man. Her father would do more than strip the nightgown from her back if she were found dallying with a commoner. “I bid you good day, Mr. Davies,” she said as coolly as she could.

“I only ask about your motives for reading Malthus,” he replied, as if she had not dismissed him at all, “because I imagine his thoughts about the collapse of societies through overpopulation to be a comfort to you, given your family’s recent tragedy.”

This time Anna’s lips actually parted. She stared at the man. “Why on earth would one consider that to be a comfort?” she asked, the question rising to her lips despite her determination to be rid of him.

Mr. Rhys Davies gave another nonchalant shrug. “The subject matter of your book indicates you are a forward-thinker. I am quite sure you have questioned, even if only in the privacy of your own mind, why your father lost his principality and if it was through any fault of leadership.”

In fact, Anna had asked herself precisely those questions, in the dark hours of the night while listening to the clap of foreign-sounding Hansom cabriolets on cobblestone streets and the mournful fog horns that drifted all the way to Grosvenor Square on damp nights so unlike Saxony’s clear, crisp air. She found it irritating that this man, this commoner, seemed to know what was in her mind so precisely.

She snapped her book shut. “You are far too presumptuous for a man of your station,” she snapped.

“I sought only to distract you from reading that seemed disagreeable to you.”

“I did not ask for your service,” she said coldly. “‘Where we are there are daggers in men’s smiles’.”

He laughed. “Frailty, thy name is Princess.” He bowed from the waist, as she had seen the actors playing Hamlet do for their prince.

“That’s not the quote,” she said crossly.

“My apologies, Your Highness. ‘They have been at a great feast of languages and stolen the scraps’.”

She drew in another surprised breath. That was from Love’s Labour’s Lost, her very favorite of Shakespeare’s plays. “It is men like you who will be the death of us all,” she breathed and lifted the book up from her lap.

“Most likely,” Rhys Davies agreed. “That is a future which neither you nor I will live to see and there’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip. I am yet to understand why you persist in reading Malthus if he is so disagreeable to you.”

“That really is none of your business, Mr. Davies. Must I call for my father to be rid of you?”

He inclined his head in the short bow the English seemed to prefer. “I apologize for the shortcomings of my company, Your Highness. I hope the rest of your day is more pleasant.”

He turned on his heel and walked back across the deck to where the Lady Natasha sat with her husband in attendance. Mr. Rhys Davies clapped the Earl on the back and leaned over Lady Natasha and said something to her that made her laugh, her face filled with genuine pleasure.

For a moment, Anna roiled with envy at their naturalness, their enjoyment of life and their ease with each other and the people around them.

Were they talking about her? Laughing at her? She clenched her fist, hidden in the folds of her skirt. They didn’t know her. They couldn’t possibly understand.

So tell them, she thought. Explain it to that odious man, in a way he would understand.

“‘Truth will out,’” she whispered.

Chapter Three

After being properly snubbed by the Princess Annalies, Rhys remained by Natasha’s side for the rest of the afternoon. His enthusiasm for the search for a suitable wife had plummeted from a grudging reluctance all the way to the bottom of the Thames and besides, Seth was always good company. Every few minutes, another guest would come over to wish Natasha a happy birthday and give her a gift which meant Rhys did not have to circle the deck and mingle, as he should.

The Princess departed long before the cake was produced and the guests gathered around to see it cut. Two tall gentlemen, a stocky one with a tremendous silver gray beard, the other clean-shaven, but with a very square jaw, stopped and spoke to her. She merely nodded her head, rose to her feet and accompanied them from the ship, her skirt swaying gently.

Rhys watched the woman leave from the corner of his eye, while a duke whose name he missed in the fast flow of conversation told Natasha a hunting success story that was at least as old as the duke and wasn’t his achievement in the first place, but that of a hunt master in eastern England. Rhys had heard the story at least three times over the winter at various estates. Nevertheless, Natasha listened with bated breath and nodded and praised as if this was the very first time she had heard of it.

He impatiently dismissed from his thoughts any speculation about the Princess. She was argumentative and destined to become a spinster far too interested in books rather than babies.

Except that she was the daughter of a prince. No matter what her inclination, her family would find her a duke or prince and marry her off to stabilize the landless royals.

Either way, it was of little concern to him.

Why did she read Malthus, if she didn’t like what the author said?

* * * * *

At sunset, when the cold air turned damp, Rhys kissed Natasha on the cheek, shook Seth’s hand and left the ship along with most of the other guests. The chatter among them as they moved along the quay toward the long line of waiting carriages was positive. The party had been a marvelous success, another nod of approval for his sister and her husband.

He decided to walk home rather than try to find a cab amongst all the carriages. It was only a few miles to his rooms on Duke Street and most of that stretch was through St. James’ Park, skirting the lake.

As he walked, he enjoyed the early evening air. This had been an odd day where he had spent more time outdoors than he had for weeks before that. His work, which was absorbing and challenging, meant that he was not often away from his high desk.

The streets behind St. James’ Palace were busy with strollers heading for the park, or returning from it. There were a number of beggars camped upon doorsteps with their hands or their hats held up in appeal. Rhys dug a few coins out of his waistcoat pocket and dispensed them where he could.

The sight of the poor men and women in their rags, with dirty faces and missing and blackened teeth made him think once more about his conversation with the Princess and her opinion of Malthus. Normally, Rhys was a good judge of character and that was why the senior partners liked him to deal with clients. He could easily grasp what a client was not saying and it was often that hidden fact that unraveled an entire legal conundrum. With the Princess, though, he was at a loss. He simply didn’t understand her and the puzzle vexed him.

He turned the matter over in his mind as he walked home along the side streets. It was natural not to understand a woman like her. She came from a completely different world from the one he knew and understood. It was only her reading of Malthus that made him think they had something in common. He had made mistaken assumptions about her, that was all.

Even so, it bothered him that he had misread someone like that. It did not bode well for his work if he could make such a basic error in judgment.

The night was thick and dark by the time he reached Duke Street. The lamplighters hadn’t reached the street yet. Candles and lanterns from within the houses along the street were the only source of illumination, shining out through chinks in drapes, or fragile lace panels.

There were many more people walking along the footpath, heading for home after a day of work. His rooms were not the only ones to be found here and he knew many of the clerks from the Temple and the courts who lived here, too. He raised his hat to some as he passed, exchanging greetings.

The man who cannoned into him as he passed by did not raise his hat. He didn’t apologize, either, even though Rhys was thrown violently sideways and staggered almost into the gutter. The man gave a gruff “wotch it, guv,” as he passed, his chin tucked inside the high collar of a heavy coat, dotted with dew over the shoulders. He wore a battered bowler that disguised his face, leaving Rhys with the impression of pale skin and a sharply defined jaw.

Rhys brushed himself off, picked up his hat and crossed the street to his house and unlocked the door. His rooms were on the top floor and consequently were very warm in winter, for the warm air from the room heaters lingered under the roof. He had been quite happy living here for the last ten years, but if he were to marry, that situation would have to change.

It was another bleak aspect to the sudden turn in his life.

He closed the door on his sitting room and began to empty his pockets of the coins and detritus that one accumulated over the course of a day of going about business. He had developed habits from living and working in London that made his private hours more amenable, including emptying his pockets each evening before hanging up his jacket and removing his tie and collar and cuffs and rolling up his sleeves so he could relax.

He came across the folded stub of paper in his outer pocket and pulled it out and looked at it, puzzled at how he had come by the sheet. It was covered in typescript. He unfolded it and saw that it was a page from a book. Someone had callously torn the page out in order to acquire a sheet upon which to scribble a note.

It wasn’t a note. There was a line of text circled with heavy lead.

I think it will be found that experience, the true source and foundation of all knowledge, invariably confirms its truth.

His heart squeezed. He looked up at the top of the page, where the author’s name appeared.

Thomas Robert Malthus.

Rhys realized he was sitting in the armchair, staring at the page while his heart thundered and his thoughts careened off each other like billiard balls.

The man who had rammed into him…the coat had been heavy enough, the hat low enough. It was possible the man could have been a woman. He recalled the impression he had receive of pale flesh and a keen jaw. That would fit. A tall woman might be able to get away with such a deception.

Again, his heart squeezed as he realized what a truly magnificent masquerade it had been. Even the gruff insult, spoken in a worker’s vernacular, had been precisely right. Rhys had thought nothing more of the matter beyond the rudeness of the man.

Was this the experience she sought in order to learn the truth? Was that the reason she read Malthus and could quote Shakespeare with such studied authority?

Rhys was still turning the page over and over, his mind busy, when his landlady arrived with his dinner, forcing him to let go of the delicious mystery and contemplate his suddenly ordinary, everyday life instead.

* * * * *

Anna was still becoming accustomed to the English practice of being “at home.” In Saxony, they had not called upon anyone. If people wished to speak to them, they asked for an appointment and if granted one, they would be expected to appear at the palace at the precise time and date and wait for their requested audience to be granted.

If, on the other hand, her father or mother had cause to speak to someone in the principality, the subject was sent a message by one of their secretaries, demanding their presence at the palace immediately. It was rare that the summons was not answered within the hour.

Here in England, the aristocracy maintained an odd sense of democracy among their upper classes. Even though Anna was royalty and cousin to the Queen, she was a princess without a kingdom. It was therefore considered appropriate for the higher classes to invite her to call upon them, although a mere baroness extending the same invitation would be considered rude. As the wife of an earl, Lady Natasha’s invitation fit within that strict border of acceptability and Anna had been duty-bound to accept on her mother’s behalf, as the invitation had been quite properly addressed to her mother, the Princess Cathrine.

Of course her mother would not attend. Anna had not tried to inform her of the invitation when she had stopped by her room that morning, just as she failed to mention other invitations. Her mother did not seem to be interested in anything outside her room. Her books and her laudanum were her only concerns.

Anna often sat for hours by her side, reading and occasionally watching her mother doze, wondering what she could do to draw Cathrine back to the world at large. Many of the texts Anna read dealt with the illnesses of the mind and discussed treatments. But no answers had availed themselves yet.

So Anna had donned a morning dress and pinned up her hair, wrapped herself in cloak and bonnet and settled into the corner of the carriage Uncle Rupert had acquired for family outings, for the short trip from Mayfair to the address in St. James’. If nothing else it was nice to be out on her own, if a maid and a footman shadowing her every step could be defined as being alone. Her father and her uncle were not with her, which left her alone with her thoughts.

She had barely spoken to Lady Natasha at her birthday party last Tuesday. She had been polite and sat for the requisite ten minutes with her hostess. Her father had produced the gift Anna had wrapped herself, a small bottle of rose water. After that, Anna had spent most of her time in the chair by the mast, content to while away the afternoon with minimal company.

Anna couldn’t fathom why Lady Natasha might have invited her to call upon her at home. They didn’t know each other well enough and Lady Natasha was a wife and mother. They had nothing in common.

The footman dropped the step and handed her out, while Jenny, her mother’s maid, knocked upon the imposing front door. The townhouse was a grand building with red brick walls and white trim. Lace hung at the windows. Through the window closest to the door, Anna could see a magnificent arrangement of flowers—lilies and roses and baby’s breath, ribbons and dark glossy leaves. She realized with a start that her own house was bereft this woman’s touch, run as it was by two older men and indifferent staff who lacked the motivation that a strong housekeeper and woman of the house would provide.

She was shown into the house and her bonnet and cloak taken. A butler walked her into the very room where the arrangement of flowers had been sitting. Anna looked to her right as she entered and there they were, sitting upon a gleaming table.

Lady Natasha rose to her feet as Anna entered, a smile on her face and her hand out in welcome. “You are most welcome here in my home, Your Highness,” she said.

“Thank you, Lady Natasha.” Anna looked around the empty room. “I hope I am not too early? Your note did say ten o’clock.”

“Not at all,” Lady Natasha said.

“Your other guests are late, then?”

“I invited no one else.” Lady Natasha gave her a warm smile.

Anna frowned. “I confess that I am still learning the ways of England, but is it not…unusual to only invite one guest when you are at home?”

“I am at home only to you,” the lady said. “I do not always live by the rules, Your Highness. I sometimes find it convenient to ignore them. I believe the same thing can be said of you.”

“The princess is a rule-breaker extraordinaire, dear sister. You might learn something from her.”

Anna whirled. Rhys Davies, esquire, stood in the doorway to the sitting room, a hand in his pocket, his shoulder against the door itself. It was a casual pose, one that people rarely dared take in her presence. “You,” she said flatly.

He straightened up and walked toward her, withdrawing his hand from his pocket. There was a folded note between his fingers, which he held out to her. “This is yours, I believe. It is a pity to ruin a book simply to make a point.”

Anna took the note. “I have the most important part of the book back, now.” She dropped the note into her reticule and closed it with a snap. “If that is all?”

“Natasha, would you mind?” Rhys Davies said to Lady Natasha.

She raised a brow and looked at Anna. “Only if the Princess wishes to be alone with you.”

Anna pressed her lips together. “I believe Mr. Davies understands very well what will happen if he misbehaves.”

Rhys Davies smiled and Natasha nodded. “Very well. I will be just beyond the door if you feel you need the company.” She swept past them.

Anna glanced at Jenny where she stood with her hands folded, just inside the door. “Jenny, step out of the room, please. Shut the door.”

Jenny looked startled, then she glanced at Rhys Davies.

“Mr. Davies is a gentleman,” Anna assured her. “I am quite safe. Do as I say.”

Jenny bit her lip, her eyes wide. Then she dipped into a curtsey and left, closing the door behind her.

Anna looked at Rhys Davies. “I trust you will not make me a liar?”

“I am not at all a gentleman,” Davies told her. “But you are safe enough. I have a feeling that you are capable of defending yourself in ways ill-fitting a lady.”

Anna hid her smile.

“I am correct, then. I am curious, Princess. How long have you been roaming the streets of London dressed as a man?” He pushed his hand into his trouser pocket once more. “You did not acquire gentlemen’s clothing in the few hours between your departure from the ship and mine. Such an endeavor would take many days, especially if you wished for the matter to remain discreet.”

“It took months,” she agreed. “Not even the staff at the townhouse are aware of what I do most nights after my bedroom door is locked and bolted.”

“Your parents do not question you barricading yourself behind a stout door?” Rhys Davies asked.

Anna paused, hiding the little jump of fright his question prompted. “No, they do not,” she said as evenly as she could.

Davies sighed. “Princess, I applaud your adventurousness. I even understand why a woman like you would wish to experience the other side of life for yourself.” He pointed to her reticule inside which the note rested. “But you do understand how dangerous your ventures are, do you not?”

Anna pressed her lips together and the cuts on the inside of her mouth flared painfully at the movement, reminding her of how she had received them. “More dangerous that what?” she asked bluntly. More dangerous than being struck repeatedly by a man you thought you trusted?

Rhys shook his head. “You may think that dressing as a man gives you a certain degree of protection, but that protection only exists while you remain undiscovered. If the wrong sort was to learn you are a woman in a man’s clothing, you would be in greater peril than if you were found wandering the street in your normal clothes.”

“Greater peril?” Anna repeated, puzzled.

He moved closer. “I believe I understand why you risk your virtue and your reputation in this way, but the type of man one comes across late at night on the streets…that sort of man would not understand. He would only see that you are a woman not wearing decent clothing. He might be inclined to take advantage of you because your clothing tells him you are of easy virtue.”

Anna swallowed. “I am not that foolish. I had thought of this myself. I carry a gun and…other implements.” In fact, she carried a small knife in her boot and a cosh in her pocket. She had never had to use any of them or even threaten to use them. The clothing itself gave her a type of protection. As long as strangers did not get a good look at her face, she could go where she wished with complete freedom.

Rhys Davies’ jaw flexed. “I see you do not fully understand my meaning. A gun will hold a man off if his intention is to trifle with you right then and there. But there are more devious ways of dealing with someone who has secrets they don’t want revealed.”

“Blackmail,” Anna whispered.

“The threat of exposing you would work against any weapon you could bear,” Davies added.

She swallowed. “I…I had not thought of that,” she admitted softly.

“A man with no scruples could bend your will to his ways,” Davies continued. “He could force you to do anything he wanted, for as long as he wanted. You would become his slave.”

Anna shifted her shoulders as a shudder rippled between them. “You have made your point, Mr. Davies.”

“I would be honored if you would call me Rhys.”

“I do not think such familiarity would be appropriate.”

“You forget, Princess. I know your secret.”

Her heart squeezed. “And now you will blackmail me?” Coldness settled in her chest and she felt a little sick.

He took a step closer. “No, I am not forcing you to this, Your Highness. It was a gentle demonstration of the power secrets hold. I am well aware of the differences in our stations. I understand more thoroughly than most men, I wager.” There was a bitter note in his voice that would be well hidden to most listeners, but Anna had spent many years listening carefully to her father and her uncle, trying to discern any oddity or strangeness that might give her forewarning of an impending fit of madness and the violence that accompanied it. She detected the jarring emotion in Davies’ words with some surprise.

“Why do you say it that way?” she demanded.

“Then you do not know who I am.” The corners of his mouth turned down. Now the bitterness was fully revealed. “You mean that no one has thought to tell you of the scandal surrounding Lord Munroe and the beautiful actress who bore his child?”

Anna put it together quickly. From a young age, she had been taught her own family’s complicated and intertwined relationships and the scandals and by-blows that were erased from the page in whatever way possible. Davies had called Lady Natasha “sister” yet she was undoubtedly a highborn woman.

“You’re Munroe’s illegitimate son,” Anna concluded.

He gave a short bow. “At your service.”

She studied him. “Yes, I suppose one like you would understand the differences in ranks quite well indeed.”

“As vast as that difference is, Your Highness, it is not the only difference between us. The other is the one that represents the greatest danger to you.”

“And that would be?” she asked as calmly as possible, but her heart was leaping once more. Rhys Davies had an uncommon ability to think far ahead of her own intuition. What had he thought of now?

“We both wear trousers, but only one of us is really a man,” he said softly. “You are open-minded, Princess. That will be your undoing.”

“Because I am a woman?” she asked, but she already knew that was what he meant. “Are you saying in a most roundabout way that women really are weaker than men in all matters?”

“Are you siding with the blue-stockings, Your Highness?” He seemed merely curious, rather than offended at the idea.

“What if I do?” Anna asked heatedly. “I do not believe women are weaker than men in every field of endeavor. They are physically weaker, it is true—” She hesitated. “Is that your meaning, Davies? That I am weak and any man might overcome my defenses by sheer power?”

“That was not my meaning,” Davies said.

He took another step closer and now she had to lift her chin to look at him. “Move away from me,” she said sharply. “You are far too close.”

“That is my meaning,” he said softly.

She frowned. “I fail to understand. You are being unnecessarily obtuse.” But she knew her lack of understanding was her own fault. Whatever this man was implying, it was her own ignorance that prevented her from understanding his meaning.

Or perhaps it was his physical proximity that was the cause of her confusion. She fancied she could feel warmth from his body, bathing her face and her hands. She swallowed.

“Shall I demonstrate my meaning, Your Highness?”

“Please move away,” she whispered. Her heart was beating too hard and her corset suddenly felt too tight and constrictive. She couldn’t breathe.

He lifted his hand and she watched him rest it against her waist with near panic freezing her mind and her muscles. Heat from his fingers radiated against her flesh through her clothing.

She looked up. He was leaning over her now. “Don’t….” she whispered.

His lips pressed against hers.

Anna’s mind became a blank slate, bereft of any thought. Instead, feelings and sensations tore through her nerves, some of them making themselves felt for the first time in her life.

His lips were warm against hers and he tasted…odd. His breath was sweet, unmarred by the taste of tobacco or spirits. If this was how a man usually tasted, then she approved of the sensation. It was very pleasant.

Then his tongue pressed inside her mouth and her thoughts jittered apart in surprise and…more. The rush of sensation seemed to start from the very middle of her body. From between her legs and the flesh there throbbed heavily.

Anna realized she was pressing herself against him as hard as he was holding her. His hands were both on her back, one down low, tangled in the folds of her skirt and pressing over her bottom. The other was against her spine, high up by her shoulders.

The thought came to her in barely coherent form that she wanted him to move his hands elsewhere…but she wasn’t sure where, just that she wanted them against her.

Then he did move his hands. His arm slid farther around her waist, as if he was holding her up. The other hand pushed up into her hair and held her head steady, as the kiss deepened.

Anna wasn’t aware of making the decision to do so, but found her tongue was probing against his, tasting him. It was a delightful sensation and she repeated it.

He groaned. The sound came from deep inside his chest. She could feel the sound transmitted through her breasts, which were pushed up against him. It was only then she realized that she was bent over his arm, as he pressed himself against her.

Then he tore his lips away from hers. She was put back upon her feet. He took several steps away from her and put his back to her.

He was breathing heavily. Anna realized that she was almost panting, too. Her stays were too tight. She desperately wanted to draw in a full breath.

Rhys Davies lifted his hand and pressed the back of it against his mouth and over his shoulder, she could see that the hand trembled.

“I apologize most abjectly for my behavior, Your Highness,” he said stiffly.

Anna licked her lips. The flesh was swollen. Her hair had come loose from the careless thrust of his fingers. However, all she could seem to focus upon was her sense of disappointment.

The throbbing that had swept from between her legs across most of her body began to subside, letting her think. “I do not believe an apology is necessary,” she said, pulling the words together slowly. “Your demonstration was more than adequate.”

He turned to face her, as if she had surprised him. Then he moved away again, striding over to the closed door and putting his hand on the handle. “That was more demonstration than I had intended.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. There was a stormy emotion in his eyes and face she didn’t understand and again she knew the fault rested with her. “I only intended to impress upon you the dangers of your masquerade,” he added.

“You have,” she said softly.

He let out a deep breath. “Then I will consider my task complete and remove myself from your life. Good morning, Your Highness.”

He opened the door, stepped out and swiftly closed it before she could put together a coherent response.

Chapter Four

Rhys avoided all society affairs for the next week. He told himself he was sick of the search for a suitable wife. His first efforts had proved to be desolate and the hunt distracted him from his work, which was far worse a crime in his estimation than a few uncomfortable feelings.

However, he kept finding himself thinking about the princess and her very uncommon ways. He would be sitting at his desk reading a brief and would come to a while later to realize that the last few minutes had been spent staring at the paper while the script blurred and his thoughts ran freely. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her on his lips and tongue.

He would stand and try to shake off the physical ache and disguise the thick rigidness between his thighs.

Why was he continually thinking of the woman? She was the most unattractive female he had ever met. She was too slender for his tastes. Yes, too slender, too fair and her eyes were too blue. She was far too tall. He liked a woman who could fit into his arms.

Except that she had fitted against him rather well, her body pliant and soft despite the slenderness he was trying hard to dislike.

Then, when the aching and the need reached fever point, he would calm himself with logic. She was a member of the royal family and far beyond his reach as a desirable companion in any capacity whatsoever. The kiss he’d stolen could have him jailed for insolence or worse. He could only be grateful that she had the gracious sense to allow him the indecency.

At least he had managed to remove himself from the room and the house before the situation had complicated itself any more.

He had last seen her on Tuesday and today was Monday. Yesterday, he had driven himself into a frenzy of discontent in his rooms, until he had flung himself down the stairs and walked the paths of St. James’Park until utter exhaustion had let him fall into bed and sleep. It was the first good night’s sleep he’d had all week, but he didn’t feel the better for it. On the contrary, with the tired ache gone from his bones, his energy had risen and along with it, his desire.

She is dangerous to a man like you, he reminded himself. Even if her kiss had been ardent—and it had been that at the very least—she came with a prince for a father, a society that was sensitive to class and a whole family who would do everything in their power to ensure he stayed far away from their daughter.

As an attorney, he had heard strange stories of men who had suddenly found themselves down on their financial luck and worse. He had seen men accused of crimes when their only real crime had been keeping the company of the wrong debutante. Seth had been one of them and he had been extraordinarily fortunate for he had been cleared of the accusations.

The old families had ways of closing ranks and dealing with distasteful alliances. Most of those methods would happen while they sipped tea and sherry and kept their hands clean.

Rhys knew that seeking Annalies out in any way at all would be perilous, but his feverish body didn’t seem to care.

The day stretched on endlessly and at six o’clock, Rhys straightened his cuffs and slipped on his jacket, more than ready to go home. Jeffries, the new fellow who had stolen his clients, looked up from his desk, his face haggard. The Buxton estate had proved to be far more cumbersome and complicated than even Rhys might have guessed from his conversations with Buxton. There were foreign land holdings, taxes and investments dotted across Europe, into India and China. Those alone would keep a single attorney busy for a lifetime.

Rhys felt a moment of rare satisfaction. Then he chided himself for the ignoble thought and gave Jeffries a small smile. “Is there anything I can help with? You look positively buried.”

Jeffries sighed. “You’re a good chap, Davies. But if the partners see me handing the work on to anyone else, they’ll think I can’t handle it and take the client away from me.”

Which was quite true.

“Well, do try to get some sleep,” Rhys suggested. He left the office, his conscience clear and made his slow way along Chancery Lane. He didn’t hurry home. It was a lovely day and while he was walking and observing others around him, he could suppress his thoughts and drain his body of the excessive energy, so that when he arrived home, he might possibly relax.

It was almost fully dark when he reached his rooms. He tapped on his landlady’s door to let her know he was home and that he would not want dinner. Eating didn’t interest him right now. Nor did work, which had been his solace for years.

He had a new book in his room, The Deerslayer by Mr. Hawthorne, that might possibly keep his mind occupied enough to pass the hours until sleep took him. Then he could rise tomorrow and repeat this day all over again.

The idea did not please him.

He unlocked his door and stepped inside, then thrust the door shut quickly and locked it, for Princess Annalies sat in his winged armchair.

Her legs, encased in good quality worsted wool, were crossed as men crossed their legs. Her feet were encased in dark shoe leather best found on Oxford Street. The cutaway and waistcoat matched and her cravat was almost perfectly tied about a collar that looked ridiculously small. Her hat was low over her eyes, so that all he could see was a stormy blue sliver.

He glanced over her shoulder. The window was latched shut.

She held up a thin piece of wire. “I pushed it in between the window and the frame, then lifted the latch from the outside. It was very easy.” She put the wire away.

There were so many responses he might make regarding her unexpected appearance in his room that he was at a loss to know which one would be the most appropriate.

Yet underneath his search for a reasonable response was a leaping, building excitement, greater than any he had felt all week. It was as if the intervening week of work since he had kissed her had not only failed to diminish his ardor, but had acted much like kerosene upon a fire, instead.

His body tightened with the thrill of it, threatening to steal what little thought he had left.

“My rooms are on the third floor,” he said.

“Right next to a drainpipe,” she pointed out.

“You climbed the drainpipe?”

She smiled and he realized that she had dimples. He had not noticed until now…or perhaps she had simply not smiled in this charming, mischievous way before. “I was always the best at climbing trees when I was a child. The children I was permitted to play with all hated me for it. That was before my skirt hems were turned down and got in the way.”

“That does not in the least surprise me.” He put his keys on the sideboard and turned back to face her. “Why are you here, Your Highness? I thought that after our last conversation you would give up on this masquerade of yours.”

“I have,” she said, getting to her feet. “But I needed to speak to you in a way that would not draw attention to me. This seemed to be the best way. I came here directly. I did not roam the streets.”

“Then climbed a drainpipe where the nearest bobby might have seen you and arrested you. How would you have explained that?”

She gave a small shrug. “I was not arrested.”

Her hips made a mockery of the trousers. They rounded out the sides in a way men’s hips never did. The waist, on the other hand, had been cinched in by a thick leather belt, to hold the naturally larger-waisted pants up where they should be. The waistcoat buttons were open at the bottom to accommodate her larger hips, which showed off the belted waist.

They were differences that Rhys found distracting, including the fact that her legs were long enough that the trousers did not hang around her ankles as they might have on any other woman. She made a fine figure of a man, if one did not look too closely beneath the oversized frockcoat hanging on the arm of the chair, or peer too closely beneath the brim of the hat.

He pushed the thought away impatiently. It was not helping his equanimity. “Why do you wish to speak to me, Your Highness?” he asked stiffly, attempting to keep his tone formal and polite.

“I have spent the week reading,” she said, with the air of confession.

“My felicitations.”

She smiled and it was the same smile that produced the dimples. “It was rather wicked reading, but very educational.”

His heart squeezed, then began to leap about in his chest. “Go on,” he said, then silently cleared his throat to get rid of the hoarseness his voice had developed.

She moved closer to him. “There was much about the day you kissed me that puzzled me. I looked for answers and I believe I have found some of them.”

Rhys made a fist, his hand hidden behind his thigh. Did she not have any idea how such talk could affect a man? He had to control these moments and behave appropriately, even if she was sorely taxing his discipline. It was only her ignorance that let her say such inflammatory things.

“You and I are of different worlds,” she said.

“Yes,” he said flatly.

“You’re a commoner and I suspect you support the Liberal Party, too. You are inclined toward indecent, shocking behavior. I’ve also learned that you are one of the best attorneys in London. You are a salaried man. All of which make you one of the least desirable men a woman of my station could possibly associate with. If I were a proper lady, I should have swooned when you first spoke to me directly.”

“But instead of swooning, you pushed a quote from Malthus about experiencing truth for oneself into my pocket, while wearing men’s clothing and strutting about Duke Street as if you were as independent as air.”

“Which makes my discovery all the more puzzling.”

“You mean what you learned from your exotic reading?”

“Yes, exactly.” She took another step toward him, then lifted her chin to look at him directly. Now he could see her eyes properly. “You and I are sexually compatible,” she said softly.

Rhys’ breathe evaporated, leaving his lungs working hard to draw in more. His mind went blank, while his entire body seemed to envelope itself in flames of need.

He had thought her ignorant of the effect she was having on him? Who was the fool here? Finally, he found his voice. “And what do you intend to do about your discovery?”

“I am consulting with you. You are as entangled in this as I am.” Her brows moved together. “Unless, of course, you somehow managed to lie without speaking. Your reaction after you kissed me said that you were as affected as I. Was that…were you lying to me?”

He swallowed. “Princess Annalies, to continue this conversation would be sheer madness. I should see you safely home—”

She put her hand on his chest and his words halted midstream. It was only a light touch, but he could feel the heat of her hand through every layer. It burned his flesh and seared his mind so that he could think of nothing else.

“Not yet,” she said softly. “I would first resolve this matter.”

“Princess—”

“Call me Anna. We are to be lovers, after all.”

Rhys stepped away from her, as his entire body seemed to clench tight with wanting. “Your Highness,” he said, fighting to speak evenly and firmly. “This might seem like another simple diversion to you, similar to romping through Mayfair in trousers, but I assure you, this is far beyond a game.”

“I am well aware of the potential consequences of my proposal.”

“Are you?” He grimaced. “You are happy with the idea of my being jailed or even hanged?”

Her frown was back. Her lips pursed, making the fullness at the center round out in a way that was enticing. “I am innocent, Mr. Davies, but I am not a fool—”

“That is the worst of it,” Rhys returned swiftly. “You are an innocent girl. You have all the knowledge of a married woman, but none of the experience. You have no idea what sort of trouble you invite into your life with such shocking declarations. If I were any other man—”

“If you were any other man, you would have kissed me by now!” she cried. “I am not asking anything of you but a means to rid myself of this…this obsession that has taken hold of me. I cannot eat. Drink appeals to me not at all. I barely sleep and no book has held my attention for more than a few minutes. If I concentrate very hard upon my sewing, I can rid myself of thoughts of you and what you might have done to me had you been at all careless of my station. But no one can concentrate fiercely upon stitchery for every minute of the day and as soon as my attention wanders, I start to think of you again.”

She held out her hand. The fingers trembled. “Look at that,” she said, her tone low and anguished. “It began the moment you walked in the room and it is growing worse as we speak.”

Rhys drew in a breath that shuddered on the way down. “You must not speak of these things,” he growled. “There is nothing to be done about them.”

“There is only one,” she said quickly. “You must make love to me. Yes, I know that my book learning does not encompass the reality. But I do know that sex is the only way I can rid myself of this feverishness.”

Rhys squeezed his fist even more tightly. “Is this Malthus again, Anna? You must experience sex to appreciate the truth of it?”

“I must experience sex to be free of the madness of it.” She moved toward him, until she was brushing against him.

Rhys found his hands had settled around her waist. He could feel the stiff leather belt beneath the silk of her waistcoat. “You want me to be the ruin of you?” he ground out harshly.

She put her arms around his neck and despite the manly garb, the scent that washed over him was feminine and light. His body wound up another degree tighter and his nether regions were pounding with the pressure. “If the affair stays between us, then there is no disaster that can arise from it.” She gave him a small smile and pressed against him with shocking deliberateness. With no skirts in the way and no corsetry, she had to be able to feel every taut inch of him. The press of her soft body was almost overwhelming.

Rhys clawed at the last fragments of his sanity. “The physicals risks…” he ground out. “A child…”

“There are ways, are there not, to avoid a child?”

He swallowed. “There are,” he said harshly.

“Do you have any other objections, Rhys Davies?” she asked. “For I know you do not object to the idea in principal.”

Her lips were so close to his own, he did not have to bend far to reach them. As he kissed her, the last skerrick of his will fled and he gathered her up in his arms and held her hard against him, as if he might inhale her if he could.

Chapter Five

Anna was glad of his arms around her, for she trembled so badly it was a wonder she had remained on her feet for as long as she had. She had not expected Rhys Davies to be so reluctant to seduce her or to care so much what might happen to her afterward. But now he was kissing her. After a week of nights lying in her bed or sitting by her mother’s bed and recalling how wonderful the first kiss had been and wondering how good a second might feel, she had cautioned herself that the actual second kiss could not possibly live up to the expectations she had placed upon it. Few things in her life rarely did meet expectations, after all.

But the kiss was far and away superior to the first.

Her hat thudded softly on the floor behind her and her hair was coming loose again, but that was good. It would ease the way forward.

And her thoughts grew ragged and thin once more as Rhys deepened the kiss.

Someone groaned and then she realized that it was her making that sound.

Rhys lifted his lips away from hers and he was breathing deeply and hurriedly. His eyes looked sleepy above the hawk-like cheeks.

“Don’t stop!” she begged and her voice was that of a stranger’s. An older woman’s voice, throaty and deeper.

“Hush. I’m not stopping,” he murmured and drew her back across the floor, her hand in his. There was a door at the back of the sitting room that Anna had opened when she first climbed into the room, to check if anyone was in there. It led to a small bedroom, but the bed in it was a wide one.

“Will you reconsider?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “It has moved beyond simple consideration, now.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice as rough as hers. “So be it.” There was a note of finality in his voice. He tugged her hand, pulling her into the bedroom. He closed the door behind her, leaving them in a room lit only by the moon shining in the window and laying a ghostly silver sheen over everything. “Come here,” he said roughly and drew her back into his arms.

He kissed her again and this time she could feel a difference. There was urgency in his kiss, a need to slake himself driving him onward. It made her own aching want bloom even hotter than before. She craved more of his touch but in this, she was quite as innocent as he’d guessed her to be. She must let him teach her the way of it.

His fingers tangled in her hair and he gave a soft hiss of frustration, then patiently removed the clips and pins and put them on the table beside the bed. There was a lantern there, but he made no move to light it. Instead he turned and looked at her. “Your hair is so beautiful,” he said after a moment of contemplation. “Why do you hide such a glorious mass by twisting it so tightly against your head?”

Anna gave a small shrug. “I had not thought about it,” she lied and reached for the buttons on her waistcoat.

“Let me do that,” Rhys said softly. He stepped closer and in the moonlight, his eyes were dark, hiding any emotions that might show there.

Anna watched as he slid the buttons undone, leaving the coat hanging closed until the last had been unfastened. Then he slid the garment over her shoulders, so it dropped down to the ground behind her.

It gave her an idea.

She pushed her hands underneath his own slim coat and lifted them up to his shoulders, sliding the coat back over them, so that it would drop behind him, too. She could feel the heat of his body through the layers beneath, warming her hands. He stood as she tackled the big buttons on his waistcoat. It wasn’t silk, like hers, but a soft brocade.

He let out a deep breath as she pushed the waistcoat over his shoulders as he had done with her.

He dispensed with her cravat with a small smile. “You must learn how to tie one properly.”

“I know how to tie one on a man. It doesn’t work the same way for me.”

He loosened the top button of her shirt. The next three buttons swiftly followed. Anna drew in a breath as excitement flooded her. Once he opened the shirt, he would see more of her body than any man alive. It was an exciting thought. Would he like what he saw? He had not seemed to object to anything about her so far. He thought her hair was beautiful. It warmed her in a silly sentimental way. That was something that she had thought only a man truly in love would say to his intended, not a man she had all but insisted make love to her. Instinctively, she knew there would be a difference, despite the more soporific texts she had studied insisting that all marriage acts were acts of love and duty.

The writers of those texts could not possibly have experienced for themselves the churning, aching need she had felt just from Rhys’ kiss, or they would have spoken more eloquently of pleasure, rather than duty.

Rhys kissed her again, as he slid the last of the buttons undone and pushed aside the shirt. She shrugged so that the oversized garment fell off her shoulders and slid to the floor, the collar and cuffs still attached by their pins and buttons. There was a soft clinking sound as it settled behind her.

Beneath, she wore her camisole. Although she had rid herself of her corset and corset cover and all her petticoats with a degree of eagerness, she had not been able to remove this one last garment.

“At last the lady is revealed,” Rhys murmured. His lips trailed down to her chin, then over it and along the length of her throat. His hair tickled her flesh, but it was the touch of his mouth that was the more delightful. When he reached the base of her throat, he continued onward and with a start she realized that it was possible for him to place his lips anywhere.

She shuddered as pure excitement tore through her. Would he kiss her breasts? The idea seemed shocking and at the same time, quite natural.

He had his hands around her waist, keeping her steady, for she had lost all sense of balance and was barely staying on her feet. As he swept his lips right up against the edge of her camisole, the tender flesh beneath seemed to become heated. The tips of her breasts tightened, almost as if they anticipated his touch.

Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for that. She realized she was thrusting herself toward him, urging him to continue. Her breath emerged in little exhalations.

Rhys gave a low chuckle. “I have no need to ask if you like that.”

“More than I suspected I would.” Her voice was as low as his. It sounded strained.

Rhys lifted her up off her feet and moved her over to the bed, displaying a strength she had not suspected of him. He laid her upon the covers and settled beside her. “Now you do not have to worry about staying on your feet,” he told her and rested his hand on her torso, the cotton of her camisole beneath his fingers. She could feel the heat from his hand against her flesh and it was as if little fingers of pleasure rippled out in ever widening circles from his hand, out to the extremities of her body.

If he would only sweep his hand upward, toward her breast. She did not know what he might do, but she was positive it would feel delightful. Her breasts ached to be touched.

He did not sweep his hand. Instead he lifted it and caught at the tiny pearl buttons on the camisole and flipped them undone with a twitch of his fingertips. They presented no challenge to him at all and the delicate cotton parted, only to catch on her upright, almost painful nipples.

Anna lay stiff with anticipation. She could guess what he would do next and her breath jammed in her throat as she waited for it. Longed for it.

He picked up the edges of the camisole one at a time and folded them aside, then looked down at her breasts in the moonlight.

Anna thought she might die of waiting for his touch. She felt no shame or embarrassment. There was no room for either of those emotions. Her whole body seemed to be caught up in this waiting need. Her privates were heated and throbbing and she found her hips rising by themselves, which made the throbbing worse.

Then Rhys did sweep his hand along her flesh and his fingers closed around one breast. The sensation was heavenly…but then he shifted his fingers, so that the tips toyed with her nipple. At the same time, he dipped his head and his lips closed around the other nipple.

Anna rolled back her head and cried out at the sheer pleasure that seemed to spark from her breasts and spear through her body.

Why, this was such an incredible sensation! Why did people not talk about it more? Why did they not crave it?

But then even that coherent thought scattered, as Rhys played with her breasts with his fingers and his mouth and the pleasure thickened, until she felt drugged with it. Her legs moved restlessly, her hips thrust upward of their own accord. She could scarcely breathe.

Then he smoothed his hand downward, abandoning one breast and she gave another choked cry as she realized the direction he intended to go. Yes, she said in her mind, understanding flooding her. This was the way of it. This was how it worked.

The base of his palm pressed into the soft flesh just below her ribs and above the belt that he was aiming for.

Pain flared and Anna tried desperately to smother the cry she made in reaction, but Rhys stiffened and grew still. He lifted his head. “That was not a sound of delight,” he said. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s all right. Please, don’t stop.”

She tried to reach for him, to encourage him, but he pulled back even farther and looked down at her. He wasn’t enjoying the sight of her. He was studying her.

Fright touched her, dispersing some of the aching want. She pulled the camisole together and tried to sit up, but he pushed back on her shoulder and slid the hem of it up, revealing the flesh once more. “What is that? I thought it was a shadow, but it doesn’t move when you do….”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly.

Rhys sat up and turned to fumble at the table beside the bed. She heard the sound of a box sliding open, then the scape and flare of a match. The lamp caught aflame and warm orange light filled the little room.

Anna pushed herself up and swiftly fastened the camisole, as Rhys turned back to look at her.

“Let me see,” he said flatly.

She shook her head. “There is nothing to see, I assure you.”

“That was a cry of pain,” Rhys said roughly. “Let me see, Anna, or I will look for myself.”

She swallowed. She had no doubt he would do exactly what he said he would. Slowly, she lifted the camisole, revealing her side above the belted trousers.

He studied the flesh in the light from the lantern. “Bruises,” he said flatly. His gaze travelled over her. “And those are faded ones on your arms, too,” he decided. “Those have almost gone.”

“I fell off my horse,” she said. “I was foolish. The creek was far too wide and I rolled onto some rocks when I landed.”

“Then you must be an uncommonly bad rider who falls frequently, Anna. These bruises were not all acquired at the same time. Who did this to you?”

The fear had washed away all the delightful feelings he had created in her. She closed the camisole and buttoned it quickly. “No one,” she said firmly. “I told you, I fell.” She glanced out the window. “What time is it?” she asked. “My father and uncle will return home from Brook’s by nine o’clock and I must be back in my room before then.”

“Brook’s?” Rhys repeated, a faint note of alarm in his voice.

She looked up from the last button. “Yes. Why do you repeat it in that way?”

Rhys shot to his feet and bent and picked up her shirt. “Brooks was closed this morning due to a leak in the upper bathroom that flooded the top floor where all the card rooms are. I know, because I had been planning on going to the club myself tonight, until I heard from a client that they had shut their doors for the rest of the week.”

Anna pushed herself into her knees, horror flooding her. “You mean, my father never left the house?”

“He might have,” Rhys said. “The concierge was trying to reach as many members as possible to let them know, but it is a popular club. It is possible your father went there and then returned. What time does he usually leave for the club?”

“Six-thirty, every night he is not…ill.” She thrust her arm into the shirt. “Oh dear God, Rhys, he will kill me.” She began to fasten buttons.

Rhys reached for the lower buttons, helping her. Then he straightened her collar and whipped the cravat around it like a scarf. “I’ll tie it in the cab,” he said shortly. “Hurry. Pick up your waistcoat. I will get your coat.” He strode to the door and threw it open.

She scrambled off the bed, her body now thick with a fear so intense she felt ill with it. She couldn’t think past it. “Rhys?” she called as she hastily donned the waistcoat. The buttons were beyond the capabilities of her trembling fingers right now. She left it hanging open.

He hurried back into the room and held out her frockcoat, so she simply had to slide her arms into it and he settled it over her shoulders properly and turned her to face him. “Put up your hair. I do not have the first clue how to go about it. I’ll go down stairs and find a cab. They are rare on Duke Street at this time of night.”

He hesitated. She had the feeling that there was much more he would say if he had the time. Then he bent and picked up his own coat, turned on his heel and left, the coat swirling behind him as he threw it on as he went.

Anna tried to move swiftly, twisting her hair up into the habitual tight knot at the top of her head. She did this every morning, for her father thought it an unnecessary expense for Anna to have a lady’s maid, with her mother prostrate and uninterested in anything beyond her laudanum. Anna was well practiced in the art of an acceptably tidy bun, but now her fingers would not work properly. She tangled her hair into a nest of locks, held it down flat and pinned it as swiftly as she could. Then she crammed the hat on over the top and ran for the door, her heart moving far faster than her feet.

* * * * *

Rhys spotted a cab at the far end of the street as the driver pulled it into the curb to drop off his passengers, possibly at the hotel there, which saw a steady stream of influential customers.

The cab was facing toward him and with luck, the driver would not attempt to turn his horses in this narrow way, but would come straight on and Rhys would be able to hail him. So he watched the passengers climb out with feminine dignity and slowness while the single male passenger stood and paid off the cabby.

Anna stepped out of the house, shut the door and hurried down the steps to where Rhys stood waiting on the edge of the footpath. He nodded toward the cab. “We’re in luck.”

“Rhys, perhaps you should let me go home alone,” she said, her voice low. She had shoved her hands into the pockets of her trousers, the coat thrust backward to accommodate the movement. It hid her feminine hands and looked quite natural. A small part of him admired her cleverness even as he worried through all the possible consequences of the situation. Then he shook his head. “I will see you home safely,” he told her.

“If you are seen with me, it will go badly for you,” she said, looking at him directly with her very blue eyes.

“Then I’ll make sure you’re not seen with undesirable company,” he said dryly.

She sighed. “That was not my meaning.”

“It is the way your family will see it,” he said, more gently. “I know my position all too well, Anna.”

The cab driver picked up his whip. Rhys whistled sharply, then raised his arm so the cabbie would see him. “I will see you home…or to within a dozen yards of your home, at least,” he said. “Do you have any invitations for tomorrow, Anna?”

She frowned. “Why on earth do you ask that?”

“Because wherever you are expected tomorrow, I will arrange an invitation and go there myself. I want to assure myself you make it back home safely.”

Her frown smoothed itself away. “Your sister. Lady Innesford. That is how you would arrange it. I see.” Then she frowned again.

Rhys remembered his own pile of correspondence sitting on the dining table in his rooms. “Are you attending supper at Lady Wandsworth’s tomorrow night?” he asked. “I have been invited to that.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. I had forgotten.”

The cab pulled up next to them and staying in her role, Anna reached out for the door and held it open for him. Rhys found himself smiling as he gave the driver the Grosvenor Square address and climbed inside.

Anna settled next to him and shut the door as the cab jerked into motion.

Rhys kissed her briefly and saw her eyes widen. He made himself pull back and reach instead for the silk of her cravat and arranged it swiftly. He moved on to the waistcoat buttons, tugged the waistcoat into place and sat back. “You’ll be there tomorrow night?” he pressed.

Anna nodded. She did not speak. He didn’t know if that was because her light voice would be heard by the cabbie, who would remember such an unusual customer, or if she simply had nothing to say.

If that was indeed the way she felt, he well understood it. Already, he felt that what had happened between them was a risky mistake with a potentially dire outcome. He was glad that they had been disrupted from the natural path they had been following.

But even as he was grateful for the reprieve, his body tightened as he recalled the way she had moved against him. The soft, throaty cry she had given as he tasted her breasts. The feel of her smooth soft skin under his hand. His manhood was stiff and throbbing painfully, just from the recall. Princess Annalies was a packet full of surprises.

Now that the cab was on its way, he had a few minutes to think properly. Her bruises had been many, once he had noticed them. Most of them had been old and faded almost beyond sight, but the one over her hip had been extensive.

But there was something in the set of her mouth and the look in her eyes that told him she would not speak the truth about them. It was natural that a member of the royal family would be guarded about revealing too much about themselves. With her family fleeing a revolution in her father’s principality, it was likely she had seen violence and most certainly, she had been the recipient of the threat of violence at the very least.

It was little wonder Annalies had found a mental and physical escape wearing clothes that hid her identity and provided a freedom no other young maiden of good breeding got to enjoy. She had seen sights and learned facts about humanity that few debutantes ever learned in their entire life times and it had colored her outlook upon life in strange ways.

But the bruises, now…they were troubling. Had she received them while wandering the streets? That seemed the most likely explanation. She would be reluctant to admit as much, because he had lectured her about just this sort of danger.

And yet…and yet… Rhys shifted uneasily on the leather bench. His instincts said it was something else, something he had yet to learn about her.

He glanced at her. She sat in the other corner, her chin up, her gaze steadily forward. There was an iron backbone in her, possibly forged through the same troubles that had made her so different, or perhaps it was her natural character. But Rhys knew that no amount of probing or questions would convince her to speak the truth if she did not want to tell him.

Finally, he let out a sigh. It was her secret and she was right not to trust him yet. He could only see her home and tomorrow night assure himself that she had managed to return undetected.

Then, if they were both wise, they would go their separate ways and forget that this foolish evening had ever happened.

But thinking so was not believing so. Even as he made the promise to himself to stay out of the princess’ life, his body and his heart protested.

Chapter Six

The cab had barely rounded the corner and disappeared from view when the heavens opened up in one of London’s sudden downpours that soaked everything inside a heartbeat. Anna gasped and ran for the narrow alley six houses down, then hurried through it and around to the back of the big house her uncle had rented.

It was pitch black, the moon swallowed up by the cloud dropping the torrential rain. The rain stung her hands and face. The frockcoat grew heavier as it soaked up the water.

She found the big iron key in the overturned flowerpot, behind the gardener’s shed at the back of the yard, just where she had left it. Finding it undisturbed reassured her a little.

The drumming rain meant she didn’t have to worry so much about silently fitting and turning the key in the back door, for it was a rusty lock and always wanted to groan when she turned it, no matter how much cod liver oil she painted inside it with a goose feather.

She slipped into the servants’ quarters and stole over to the linen press, her clothes dripping on the tiles. She would have to wipe that up before going upstairs. Clearly, she could not leave the quarters with water running from her hems. She searched about the poorly-equipped linen press. For a house this size, the room should be stuffed full of toweling and bedding, but all she could find was a pair of thin blankets.

She dropped one blanket onto the floor to soak up the puddle around her, then stood upon it. Moving quickly, she stripped the sodden garments from her and dropped them at her feet in a growing pile. The wet clothing would not cooperate and she struggled to remove it, the seconds ticking off in her head.

Even her camisole and pantalets were damp, but she kept them on. Walking about the house in her undergarments was only slightly less shocking than walking about naked, but she would risk it.

The whole time she had been undressing, the floorboards overhead had been squeaking and moving under weight. The heavy tread couldn’t be any of the servants, for they lived in their own homes, all except the valet, Jones, who attended her uncle and father. Jones had a room at the back of the servant quarters, the biggest room there. The rest were empty. With the house in darkness like it was, it meant that Jones had already attended her uncle and father and had retired for the night. As her uncle was a thin man, it had to be her father making the boards moan as they were.

Anna wrapped the second blanket about her shoulders and gripped it tightly. She hurried to the servants’ staircase and began to climb, her damp feet silent on the stairs.

She nearly made it to the main staircase unnoticed. She had one foot on the bottom stair when her father bellowed behind her.

“Annalies, by God! Where have you been?”

He was speaking German, his voice thick with rage and underneath it, pain.

Anna turned slowly. “I heard your carriage return, Father. I was outside, taking in the air, but the rainstorm caught me.”

He stood just beyond the door into the study where he and her uncle spent so many hours closeted. His cheeks were ruddy above the full, silvery-white beard. So was his nose. His eyes, which were the same blue as hers, were bloodshot and narrowed suspiciously as he took in the blanket around her.

He took a step closer. “Where are your clothes, girl?”

Her heart sank. “They were wet. I left them in the servants’ quarters.”

“You would rather parade around the house like a whore instead of returning to your room like a decent woman and letting the maids take care of the matter?”

“The maids have all gone home for the evening,” she pointed out as reasonably as she could. She fumbled with her heel until she felt the front of the step behind her, then stepped up onto it as her father drew closer.

“In the morning! They can take care of them in the morning!” he screamed. Now he was close enough for her to smell the sweet waft of madeira on his breath. He had returned from the club and gone straight to the decanter in his study, no doubt annoyed that he could not drink with company at the club.

“Where is Uncle Rupert?” she asked. Sometimes her uncle could distract her father long enough to let her escape.

“That is none of your business, whore.”

Anna sighed. Then there would be no rescue. Not tonight. She stepped up onto the next step, wondering if she should try to escape upstairs to her room. Could she climb fast enough?

Her father, though, before gout had slowed him to a sedate walk, had been a very physical man. Hunting, mountain climbing and horse racing. Sailing on the lake. From experience, Anna knew he was very strong—and fast.

So was she and if he had drunk enough….

She began to turn but her father’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist, where she clenched the blanket closed around her shoulders. She gasped as he squeezed, making the bones in her wrist move. Her fingers weakened and the blanket fell away, revealing her undergarments.

Her father’s eyes bulged. “Whore!” he hissed. The madness was in his eyes.

He raised his big hand and Anna flinched backward and tripped over the step. She fell backward, her back and shoulders and head knocking sharply against the edge of the stairs. For a moment, she couldn’t make her lungs draw breath. Sparks flittered in her head.

Then her father’s fist landed in the middle of her stomach and she cried out and tried to curl up in a ball to protect her vulnerable middle. But she was still dazed and moved too slowly. He got another two blows in before she could turn herself over and present her back.

Then his fists hammered on her back and shoulders. It hurt, but she had learned that it was better to take the blows there than anywhere on her chest or torso. As he tried to beat her, she crawled up the stairs as fast as she could, hoping she might outpace him and escape.

He began to curse in the low, monotonous voice that told her that in his head he had retreated to that part that held little connection with the real world. His personal demons lived there but he fought those demons off with his fists and whatever other instrument he could lay his hands on. She was thankful that he had found her on the stairs, well away from any pokers or belts or objects he could fling at her head.

She climbed the stairs with her hands and feet, panting, trying to move fast enough to avoid his blows, but as they rained down on her, they took her feet out from under her and her knees rammed painfully into the carpet.

Tears were gathering, blinding her. She blinked rapidly to clear them. She needed to see where she was going.

With a spurt of desperate energy, she climbed up a dozen steps as quickly as she could. If she could get her feet back under her and stand up, she could move faster….

But her father anticipated her strategy and with a cry that sounded almost inhuman, he grabbed her ankle and yanked her back off her feet.

She fell heavily again. This time, the front of her hips and her forehead took the impact. She managed to get her hands under her to hold her body away from the sharp edges.

Then he flipped her over with a snarl and as she rolled onto her back, he hit her with the back of his hand. The royal seal he wore on that hand caught her eye and she cried out as terrible pain flared in her head and the vision in that eye faded.

He really will kill me this time. The thought came to her in a calm voice of utter certainty.

She painfully turned herself back over, knowing that her only way of escaping this now was through her own resources. No one else would help her and her father had lost all reason.

Desperate, she looked back over her shoulder as her father bent over her, his fists raised. With deliberate calculation, she lifted her foot and rammed it squarely into his stomach, as hard as she could.

He staggered backward, lost his footing. He fell down the three steps behind him and sprawled on the floor below.

The silence was terrible.

Anna gave a gasping sob, staggered to her feet with the help of the banister and hauled herself hand-over-hand up the stairs to the next floor. She lurched along the corridor, past her mother’s closed door, and cried in relief as she reached the safety of her room. But she was not done yet. Moving as fast as she could, turning her head to look through her one good eye, she closed the door and locked it with the big key. Then she pulled the dining chair over to it and fitted it under the door handle.

By that time she was shaking so badly, she barely had the strength and coordination to move over to her bed. She looked down at the brocade cover and realized she was falling toward it…and that was the last thought she had.

Chapter Seven

For the first time in his life, Rhys found himself arriving early at one of Natasha’s society events. He didn’t bother waiting the customary seven minutes past the appointed hour as most guests did. At eight o’clock exactly, he tapped smartly on the tall doors of the big mansion with his cane and stood, impatient for the butler to open the door.

He clapped the man on the back as the butler moved backward, his brows lifting. Rhys handed him his gloves, cane, hat and coat, then nodded his thanks and followed the footman into the drawing room.

There was no one else there, of course, except the host and hostess. He greeted them both as formally as he could manage. Lady Wandsworth tried to deal with him as she would one of her peer guests, but because he was not landed, not a lord and only nominally accepted at these events because of his father’s lineage and his sister’s, she continuously had to cut short her small talk and fall into a confused silence. He didn’t hunt because he did not own a horse and couldn’t afford the club fees, either. He didn’t have servant issues and he didn’t own a boat or have a large estate to manage.

Rhys spared her any more discomfort and turned to the safest topic in the world. “The sudden rainstorm last night was quite unexpected. Did you get caught out in it, Lady Wandsworth?”

She smiled gratefully and turned to speak of the severe winter they had suffered through and the expectations for the coming summer. Rhys nodded in the right place and gave his host a small smile as he was offered a glass of wine by the butler.

He realized then his own foolishness in arriving early. He would have to suffer through long and endless minutes of polite chat like this while he waited for Anna and her family to appear. He couldn’t settle to it, for he was braced, listening for a knock at the door that would herald another guest.

Slowly, the guests began to arrive in small groups. London society was highly sensitive to appointed hours as a rule and most of the guests stepped through the door in large groups, arriving mostly at the same time.

Rhys grew uneasy as the room filled and he failed to see Anna.

He hovered by the door where he could see the front door and the new arrivals, nursing his wine. Because of his scandalous background, many people tended to avoid speaking to him at all and tonight it suited his mood to be left alone.

Not long after eight o’clock a very large group of guests arrived and Rhys spotted a familiar face among them. With a degree of relief, he hurried over to draw Vaughn Wardell out of the pack and over to one side where he could greet him properly.

Vaughn gave him a warm smile, then looked over his shoulder where the butler and his footmen were doing their best to juggle twenty sets of outerwear, gloves and more and shepherd the guests into the drawing room. “Elisa!” he called, just loud enough for his voice to reach the group.

A blonde woman stepped around the group and moved toward them, her silk dress swishing as she moved.

“Look who is here, Elisa,” Vaughn said, his hand on Rhys’ shoulder.

Elisa’s smile was as warm as Vaughn’s. “Rhys Davies, why it has been simply ages since we saw you.” She swept even closer and touched his cheek with her lips and her scent reached him, something light and lovely. It didn’t stir him, but instead made him think of Anna’s scent, instead. Instantly his body tightened and his thoughts turned to her. Where was she?

“I thought you were in Scotland,” he told the pair of them. “For Easter.”

“We couldn’t stay when we got the news,” Elisa said.

“Besides, it rained heavily for a week, once we got there, which put a pall on everything,” Vaughn added.

“News?” Rhys asked politely.

Elisa glanced at Vaughn, then gave Rhys a small smile. “I think, perhaps, I may have betrayed a confidence.” She gave a small smile. “Oh well, it is good news, anyway.” She swayed up on her toes and spoke close to Rhys’ ear. “Natasha is expecting.”

Rhys drew in a breath, absorbing the news. “A third child,” he breathed. “I’m pleased.”

“Seth will puff up like a rooster when we next see him,” Vaughn said and laughed.

But Elisa was studying him with a thoughtful expression, her lips pushed into a small bow. “Is there a reason why you are loitering so near the door, Rhys?” she asked gently.

Vaughn looked at him, startled. Then he raised his brow, a smile forming. “Is there?”

Rhys had become accustomed to the frank approach to life that Vaughn and Elisa took. They spoke their minds and liked others to do the same. They had no time for hypocrisy and little patience with the more extreme expectations of society. So he didn’t hesitate to speak the truth…in a way.

“I am waiting for someone, but not in the way you think.”

“And does the lady have a name?” Elisa asked, smiling.

Rhys let out a sigh. “It is not what you think.”

“We don’t know what to think yet,” Vaughn pointed out. “Confess, Davies. You at least have the potential to create this season’s scandal and the talk of the latest racing results pales in comparison.”

Vaughn jest landed far too close to close to home. Rhys struggled to keep his expression neutral. “I’ve caused enough scandal in my life,” he muttered.

It was Vaughn who studied him carefully this time. “What is it?” he said bluntly. “You look worried.”

“I am. I have been expecting the Princess Annalies to arrive at any moment and the later the hour, the more concerned I become.” There. It was out. With a rush of exhaled breath, Rhys realized that it was a relief to share his worry. He did not concern himself about airing such a delicate matter to Vaughn and Elisa. They were discretion itself. It would not spread farther.

Elisa’s lips parted in surprise, but her eyes grew warm with delight. “A princess,” she breathed. “How oddly appropriate that you should find yourself entangled with royalty.”

Vaughn, though, was still watching him thoughtfully. “Why are you worried?” he asked.

Rhys glanced around. There were people all around them, but no one seemed to be straining to hear them. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. “I could only deliver her to within hailing distance of her home last night and was forced to leave her alone to slip back inside without being noticed. Now, I want to assure myself that she is safe.”

Elisa drew in a quick breath. “Oh. Oh, dear,” she whispered.

Vaughn looked around the room again. Then he caught Rhys’ sleeve. “Let’s slip into the library for a moment,” he said, his voice low. “Elisa, my love, please excuse me for a moment or two.”

“Of course,” she said smoothly. “I will pay our respects to our host.”

A tendril of alarm wound itself about Rhys’ chest and squeezed, caused by Vaughn’s abrupt change in mood. He followed Vaughn back out to the big front entryway and across the tiles into the library. It was a small room, made smaller by the floor to ceiling bookcases, all filled with enticing leather volumes. Normally, Rhys would have been drawn to the shelves, to browse for as long as someone left him alone to do so, but not tonight.

He looked at Vaughn as the man shut the door and turned to face him.

“I have heard rumors about Prince Leopold,” Vaughn said, “but I dismissed them as scurrilous gossip. Tell me why you are so worried about the Princess.”

There were no demands to know why on earth he was associating with someone so far above his commonplace position and Rhys relaxed just a little more. Vaughn was focusing upon the crux of the matter.

So Rhys told him the truth as bluntly and as swiftly as possible. “She carries bruises. Some of them old, some of them fresh enough to still hurt. I thought she might have acquired them as a consequence of her habit of escaping the house and roaming the streets dressed as a man, but there are too many for that to be the reason. She will not speak of it, not even to me, but when she thought her father would arrive home before her, she was closer to panic than I have ever seen her come.”

“A woman who braves the streets in male clothing…that isn’t someone to lose their head over a trivial matter.”

Rhys nodded his head in agreement. “And now it is past the half-hour and she still has not arrived.” He drew in a breath. “What are the rumors you have heard? Could they be true? Does it make any difference now I have told you this?”

Vaughn’s gaze was troubled. “I’m afraid, yes. It makes all the difference in the world. I heard that the Prince and his brother, the Duke, both suffer from the same malady that has troubled many of the royal family for generations.”

“The madness?” Rhys clarified.

“Indeed. Coupled with the fact that no one has met Leopold’s wife since they arrived in England, it is….” He sighed. “It’s troubling.”

“They say his wife, the Princess, is bed-ridden.” Rhys tried to speak evenly, but his heart was leaping about in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to run from the house and search for Anna.

“Yes, they say she is quite ill,” Vaughn said. He glanced at the clock ticking on the desk in the corner. “It is just gone half-past eight. If she is not here by nine, then we will go to her.”

“We?” Rhys repeated.

Vaughn grinned. “You turning up at her doorstep is likely to end with you being shot for a cad and a blighter. But if Seth and I are standing behind you—”

“You cannot rouse Seth over this,” Rhys protested. “He should be with Natasha.”

“She has months before her confinement and she’s a healthy young woman. Seth won’t mind a night of adventure. He was complaining about becoming too domesticated the last time I saw him.”

That did sound like Seth. Rhys managed a rueful smile. “Very well. But Anna may yet arrive and all this fuss will have been for naught.”

“Nonsense. It’s a change of pace from sipping tea and eating crumpets.”

As they left the library to join the others in the drawing room, Rhys wondered if it was only Seth who spoiled for a less sedate life.

* * * * *

They arrived at Anna’s address shortly after nine-thirty. The house was a large brown brick one, but the many windows were mostly dark. Gaslight showed in a single window on the main floor.

“Early to be abed already,” Seth remarked, stepping back and looking up at the windows above. He had been more than willing to venture out into the night on an unknown mission. He wore a frockcoat over his uncollared shirt and no cravat or waistcoat.

“It is not reassuring,” Vaughn agreed.

Rhys rapped on the door, for there was no bell pull.

There was no sound of reaction to his summons, so he tried again. And again.

It took long minutes before there was any sign of life in response to the bell and even then, it was a subdued one. The door cracked open a few inches and not even a candle shone out from behind it. It was only the gas lanterns along the street that let Rhys see the narrow face peering through the narrow opening.

“What do you want?” said the man, with a strong German accent.

“You are the Duke of Marienburg, are you not?” Rhys asked. The man was tall and thin, while the few glimpses he had caught of Prince Leopold was of a portly fellow with a full beard. This man was clean-shaven. “Is the Prince at home? We would have words with him.”

“He’s asleep,” the man said, not stirring from his position behind the open door. “Who are you and why do you disturb the household at this time of night?”

“I am the Marquess of Fairleigh,” Vaughn said, “and this is the Earl of Innesford.”

From the corner of Rhys’ eye, he saw Seth nod shortly. Seth’s arms were crossed and Rhys recognized the stance. He was thinking like the captain of a ship. His instincts had been stirred.

“There’s no need to disturb the Prince,” Rhys said. “Let us speak with the Princess Annalies and assure ourselves that she fares well, then we will leave you in peace.”

The man straightened as if his attention had been pricked. “And who are you then, freund?” The question was directed at Rhys.

“A man who keeps good company,” Rhys said calmly. “We could have called the police in to investigate, but we thought you might prefer to keep this away from the police.”

“And the newspapers,” Seth added.

The Duke shook his head. “Go away, gentlemen.” He started to close the door, but Seth thrust out his hand. The door thumped up against the heel of his hand.

The duke opened the door and stepped forward. “How dare you!” he cried and his eyes seemed to blaze with sudden, incomprehensible fury.

“Quietly, now,” Vaughn said, stepping forward. “You don’t want your neighbors to overhear you, do you?”

Apparently, the duke did not, because he contained himself and tried to shut the door in their faces once more. But Seth had his foot in the way. He put his shoulder to the wood and shoved. Hard.

Rhys heard Seth chuckle as the door flew open and he staggered inside. Rhys followed him in and Vaughn shut the door behind them. It cut off the light from the street. The entryway was dark, except for gaslight that showed beneath a door to the right.

The Duke stood in the middle of the hall. He wore a dressing robe of satin, the family crest embroidered on the pocket. His feet were pushed into slippers and pajamas peeped from the hem. It seemed he really had been in bed.

“Where is the Princess Annalies?” Rhys demanded.

The Duke looked from one to the other of them. They could see very little of his features in the dim light, but his anger seemed to be contained for now.

“We only need to see that she is of good health and welfare and we’ll be on our way,” Vaughn said. “It is a very simple matter.”

“Simple, hey? You force yourself into my home, you demand to speak to the Royal Princess and have me produce her for you like a pig at a fair. What next? You will inspect her teeth?”

Rhys edged toward the staircase, trying to move in a way that didn’t draw the Duke’s attention.

Suddenly, the door behind the Duke was thrown open. A large figure stepped out.

And roared.

The sound made Rhys jump, for it was a most inhuman noise. The Prince—for it could be no one else—raised his hands above his head and made the same terrible noise and flung himself at them. His hands were outstretched, the fingers bent into claws.

Seth stepped in the way, grabbing the Prince’s wrists and struggling to contain him.

“Rhys, go,” Vaughn said sharply and moved toward the Duke.

Rhys needed no more encouragement. He raced up the stairs to the next floor. Behind him, he heard the Duke cry out in protest, but didn’t stop. On the landing, he began to open doors one after another.

One of the bedrooms held a large canopied bed and there was a figure lying beneath the sheets. Soft snoring came from the bed. This had to be Annalies’ mother, the Princess Cathrine, who was bed-ridden and had not been seen since the family arrived in England. Rhys quietly shut the door again.

He opened the next door on a dark and empty room. The third door did not budge underneath his hand. He opened the last two doors on the landing to satisfy himself that Anna was not behind either of them. Then he raced back to the locked door. He didn’t stop when he reached it. Instead, he rammed his shoulder against it.

The lock was a stout one and did not give way as he expected. He threw his weight against the door two more times, but the door merely shivered inside the frame and remained where it was.

He looked around the almost completely dark landing. Only the street light outside the house provided any illumination.

There was no furniture to speak of on the landing, but there was a wooden column holding up a potted plant that even in the dark looked like it was ailing. He put the plant on the ground and picked up the carved column. It was heavy and would do nicely as a ram. He took it back to the door, gripped it in both arms and swung it against the lock.

This time, there was a splintering sound.

He swung again. “Anna!” he called out, for the lack of sound beyond the door was disturbing. But this had to be her room. There was no other.

From the floor below, he could hear cries and the sounds of struggle. No one climbed the stairs.

He rammed the column against the door once more and this time the door shifted open with a squeal of wood on wood. An inch showed between door and frame. Encouraged, Rhys dropped the column and threw himself against the door. Now he understood that it wasn’t simply the lock holding him at bay. There was something else, probably a chair under the door knob, holding the door closed. The legs were scraping across the floor, resisting his entry.

He kept at it and the door finally opened enough for him to squeeze through.

The window faced the street and the same glowing light permeated the room. There was very little furniture. Just a narrow bed, a wash stand and a large wardrobe against the wall opposite the window. No carpets covered the floor. No feminine frills or fripperies laid anywhere. But on the chest of drawers beside the window were piles of books, stacked lying down so more could be stored there. In front of them were her spectacles.

“Rhys, hurry man!” Seth called.

Rhys yanked the chair out from under the door knob and put it to one side. Then he went over to the bed.

Anna lay under the coverlet on her side. She looked like she was sleeping, but when Rhys put his hand on her shoulder and shook, she only stirred sluggishly.

He rolled her onto her back, the golden hair streaming across the pillow behind her. That was when he saw her eye.

Fury washed through him, so hot and so large that for a moment he stood with his hands clenched, aching to act on it. He swallowed a moan of loathing for the men downstairs. He didn’t doubt that it was they who had done this to her.

Instead of striking out, he bent and scooped Anna up into his arms, bringing the eiderdown with her.

She stirred and groaned, her one good eye opening to show a sliver of blue.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered.

Almost as if she heard him, or knew that it was him, she rested her head against his shoulder. Her eye closed.

* * * * *

As Rhys climbed down to the main floor, he saw that Seth and Vaughn had the two monsters under control. Vaughn had the Duke face down on the tiles, his boot on the back of the man’s head.

Seth was sitting on top of the Prince’s chest, wearing a wide grin. As the Prince stirred, Seth patted his cheek in warning.

They both looked up as Rhys turned at the landing and made his way down with Anna, stepping carefully.

“Bloody hell, you’re not thinking of taking her with us, are yer?” Seth said, his astonishment pushing his Australian drawl to the fore.

The Duke tried to protest, but Vaughn leaned on his knee, putting pressure on the back of the man’s neck. “Shh…” He looked up at Rhys again. “Are you sure, Rhys?”

“Look at her face. Then you tell me,” Rhys said shortly, his temper stirring afresh. He reached the light spilling out from the front room and nodded down at Anna.

Vaughn looked over and his face tightened. “Very well,” he said simply. “Seth, we’re leaving.”

“With the lass, then?” Seth asked.

“Yes. Is the Prince likely to give us any more grief?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve come to an agreement, him and me,” Seth said and got to his feet. The Prince remained lying where he was, barely moving.

“Will he recover?” Rhys asked. He didn’t ask out of any particular concern for the Prince’s hide, but because he was trying to assemble all the legal precedents and possibilities that might come out of this night. But his fury was still too hot to let him think very clearly.

“He’ll recover just fine,” Seth said. “More’s the pity.”

“Vaughn, will you take her for a moment, please?” Rhys asked.

Vaughn lifted Anna out of his arms.

Rhys bent down next to the Duke, who rolled over on his side and looked up at them, puzzled, as if he had never been so treated in his life and couldn’t believe it had happened now.

Rhys gave him a stiff smile. “We’re going to take Annalies somewhere safe, where she can recover with proper medical treatment. After that, we will decide whether it is safe for you and your brother to see her.”

“You cannot steal a man’s daughter,” the Duke mumbled.

“I think you’ll find that Annalies is quite willing to leave,” Rhys told him. “If she was capable of speech, that is. You can try going to the police about this, Duke, but I warn you that I know many judges and most of those judges are grateful to me for my help in having their cases proceed with little trouble from fractious witnesses. They will listen to me if I come to them with my story about how a foreign prince and his brother have been beating a woman repeatedly and systematically. I will mention madness and fits of rage and there will most certainly be a court journalist nearby when I do.” He paused. “I am quite sure the Queen would be horrified to have the family history paraded through the newspapers in this fashion, don’t you?”

The Duke swallowed. After a moment he nodded.

Rhys patted his shoulder. “Then we have an understanding. Good evening, Your Grace.”

He got to his feet, took Anna back from Vaughn and nodded. “Let’s leave this place.”

Vaughn gave him a small smile. “The sooner the better.”

Chapter Eight

The next four weeks were the most peaceful Anna could remember since being a very small child.

She woke to dappled sunlight pouring through a window, bathing the bed she laid upon with bright, warm light. Birds chirped outside the open window. She knew it was morning by the smell of the fresh air coming through the window.

She had no idea where she was, but she knew with absolute certainty that Rhys had brought her here and that he would be somewhere nearby. She could remember being lifted and his voice telling her she was safe and it had let her sleep with utter abandonment.

Someone had removed her camisole and pantalets and she now wore an embroidered nightdress of fine cotton.

She blinked again, looking at the sunlight playing on the bed cover. She was seeing it with both eyes. The left eye hurt, but she hadn’t been blinded. She sent out thoughts of gratitude to Mother Mary for sparing her sight.

“Oh, you’re awake, yer ‘ighness.” The speaker moved around the head of the bed into her line of sight. It was a maid, her apron stiff with starch. She gave a little bob. “I’ll let the mistress know yer awake right away. Are you ‘ungry, ma’am?”

“Not at all,” Anna told her. “But I am rather thirsty.”

“I’ll bring yer back some water. And tea.”

“Tea would be wonderful.”

The maid hurried away and she heard the door shut, but it was behind the bed and she would have to climb out of the bed to see it. She was reluctant to do that. For the first time in days she was almost completely free of pain and was content to stay right where she was. The peace wouldn’t last, after all. It never did.

She discovered quite quickly that she was in the house of Lord Vaughn Wardell and his lady wife, Elisa. She thought she might have met them once, but didn’t remember them at all.

Elisa did not seem at all put out that Anna did not know who she was. She arrived with the tea the maid had scurried to get when Anna awoke and settled herself on the chair at the foot of the bed, that faced Anna’s pillow. Anna wondered if anyone had been sitting there while she slept. The position of the chair seemed to suggest they had.

Elisa arranged the folds of her voile wrapper around her knees and smiled at Anna as the maid settled a tray with a pot of tea and milk and sugar on the bed next to Anna’s hip. “My name is Elisa. I’m quite sure you don’t remember me, for we were introduced at Almack’s and you were meeting everyone for the first time.”

“I remember that night,” Anna said. “There were a lot of people to meet, yes.” She looked around. “Rhys brought me here?”

“Late last night,” Elisa said.

“My mother….” Anna said quickly, then hesitated. How could she voice concern for her mother’s welfare without mentioning why her mother might need protection?

But Elisa shook her head. “Your mother is safe and as well as she might be. Rhys saw her sleeping peacefully in her bed when he collected you.”

Anna bit her lip. Her mother knew to lock the door on those nights when her father drank and would stir herself enough to creep across her bedroom to turn the key. In truth, her father’s mad fits had grown more focused upon Anna these last few years. Since arriving in England her father had left her mother quite alone.

Elisa had expressive eyes that grew warmer. “You may stay here as long as you wish. No one will force you to do anything that you do not want to do.”

Anna bit her lip. She had to ask the question, but her cheeks warmed as she spoke the forbidden subject aloud. “My father…may object.”

“I believe Rhys has taken care of that objection already.”

“What did he do?” Anna asked, alarmed.

Elisa smiled. “Rhys did nothing violent, although I believe Lord Innesford may have blackened your father’s eye.” She nodded toward Anna’s face. “A small and fair exchange in my estimation.”

Anna gripped the cover, squeezing. The conversation was drawing perilously close to areas she had never spoken of, but she must have news of her family. She needed to know that her father would not come to this house with her uncle and England’s police force at his back. “My father will be angry,” she said slowly.

“I am quite sure he will be,” Elisa said calmly. “But you must understand, Your Highness, that Rhys Davies is one of the best attorneys in all of London. He has legal resources that your father, so new to the country, will not be able to gainsay. I do believe that is what Rhys is doing at this very moment. So you see, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. You are quite safe in this house. My butler saw your condition when Rhys brought you here last night and I believe he may have my husband’s hunting rifle stationed by the front door. He is a former Sergeant Major and very good at repelling unwelcome visitors.”

Anna felt muscles relax that she didn’t realize were clenched. Elisa’s calmness and her acceptance were very reassuring. So was the professed competence of Elisa’s butler. “I think…I believe it would be more appropriate if you were to call me Anna,” she said.

“Thank you, Anna,” Elisa said. “Do you feel ready to receive visitors? I know that Rhys will want to stop by this evening after his work is done, to see for himself that you are recovering.”

Anna brought her hand up to her face. She couldn’t help it. “Is this very ugly?” she asked.

Elisa studied her frankly. “I don’t think Rhys cares about that in the slightest.”

But Anna suddenly did. She had never worried a whit about her appearance until this moment, when she was possibly at her worst.

Elisa smiled. “But I can have my maid come and comb out your hair and I have a ribbon to tie it back with.” She got to her feet. “It has just gone noon. Perhaps, another sleep this afternoon will help. Then a light supper. My cook has a duck soup she has been cooking for a few days. The smell from the kitchen is heavenly. I’ll have her make up a small meal for you.”

“Thank you, that would be very nice,” Anna said and stifled a sudden yawn.

Elisa poured her a cup of tea, with quick deft moments. “Drink. Then sleep. You are perfectly safe in this house.” She pointed to the chest beside the bed. “There is a bell there, for you to call for whatever you need.”

Anna did sleep away the afternoon. Elisa’s constant assurances that she was safe had their effect and a fatigue more intense than she had ever felt drugged her mind and her bones and she didn’t fight it. She slept the soundest sleep of her life.

Later that first night, Rhys visited. He insisted that the maid, Jilly, stay in the room while he sat on the chair at the end of the bed. But he brought Anna a large bouquet of yellow roses, that the maid arranged in a vase.

Rhys kept fingering the brim of his hat as he turned it over and over in his hands and he could barely meet her eyes.

Anna felt the same odd awkwardness. Was this the way it always was with lovers, after their affair? Or was it because they had been interrupted? Would he feel more kindly toward her if they had consummated the evening properly? There was too much Anna didn’t know about the ways of lovers, that her books failed to detail—either because the details were too shocking, or perhaps they simply assumed everyone knew these things.

She tried to ease the tension. “Thank you for coming to find me. I’m not sure what would have happened if you had not.”

He cleared his throat and shifted uneasily. “Then, you do not mind that I have basically stolen you from your family?” For the first time, his gaze met hers.

“I don’t mind at all. On the contrary, if I could have found a way to do this for myself, I would have done it many years ago. But I could never manage it on my own. For your help, I will be ever grateful, Rhys.”

He nodded shortly, a frown between his brows, the dark eyes shadowed with some sort of trouble.

“What is it you will not speak of?”

Rhys sighed and rubbed his thumb over the crown of the hat. “I feel that what happened is my responsibility. If we—”

“No, Rhys,” she said quickly, holding up her hand. “You cannot take any blame for this. None at all. You guessed rightly when you saw the bruises. My father’s illness has been growing worse for many years and the fits of madness more frequent, too. Nothing you have done or might do in the future will change the fact that my father is ill. My uncle, too, although he controls his much better.” She gave him a small smile. “So now you know my shameful family secret.”

“There’s nothing shameful in it for you, Anna.” His voice was low.

“It would be an embarrassment to my father and to the Queen if it became common knowledge,” she pointed out.

“There is no danger of that,” he said quickly. “Not from me, or from either of the men who helped me last night. Your father and uncle will not make any fuss about your absence, either, because they fear public embarrassment just as much.”

Something loosened in her. “That is how you managed it, then,” she murmured. “I wondered why my father or one of his people had not arrived upon the doorstep demanding my return.”

“He will leave you in peace for now, but it is possible that sometime in the near future, you will need to meet with him, to show that you are not being abused at the hand of strangers.”

She gave a choked laugh of disbelief. “After what he and my uncle have done for years and years, now they worry about my welfare?”

“As you said, Anna, they are both ill.” Rhys leaned forward. “Do not let yourself grow bitter over the injustice of your early life. You will not like where that path takes you. Trust me on this.”

She studied him. “You speak from experience,” she said slowly. “You were bitter about your father’s failure to acknowledge you?”

“For many years, yes. Then a very good friend who had as much to be bitter about as I had his life turned inside out and he managed to let go of the ugliness and move on. He convinced me to do the same and he was right.”

“He sounds like a very good friend indeed,” Anna said.

“You’re in his house right now,” Rhys added.

Anna’s eye widened. “Elisa’s husband? Lord Farleigh?”

“Vaughn. Yes.”

She let out her breath in a sigh. “Elisa is a wonderful lady.”

“She is the reason Vaughn changed his life around. He managed to let go of his hatred for his father. You have a chance to avoid the hate altogether. Forgive your father for anything he has done to you, Anna. Look forward to the life you can make now, instead.”

She sighed again. “I would try to do what you say, except that I do not know what lies ahead for me at all.”

Rhys got to his feet. “You have time yet to decide. I’m quite sure Elisa would shoot anyone who dares suggest you leave this house until you are ready to go. She has become very protective of you.”

“You’re leaving?” Anna asked him, disappointment touching her.

“I must. I spent far too much time about my own affairs today and now I must return to the office and take care of the business for which I am paid.” He reached out a hand and lifted her hair so it lay over the back of it, the curls rippling like waves on the sea. “I like you hair, like this,” he said, his voice low.

She could feel the warmth of his hand by her cheek and despite her aches, she suddenly wished he would kiss her…and more.

But he straightened up and let her hair slide back off his hand. “Good night, Anna.”

“Will you come back to visit me again?” she asked.

“I will try.”

She gave him a small smile. “Very well.” She hid her disappointment. “Thank you, Rhys.”

He nodded and with a glance at the maid, he left.

Rhys did not return the next day or the one after that. By then, Anna had graduated from the bed to a comfortable chair by the fire in the parlor, where she sat dressed in a borrowed wrapper, while Elisa completed her correspondence and arranged household matters.

There were a number of visitors to Elisa’s house and at first, Anna thought Elisa must have announced a formal “at home” day, which meant that Anna’s convalescence on the chair would make it awkward for Elisa’s guests, but Elisa shook her head when Anna suggested returning to her bed.

“You are not in the way even a little bit,” Elisa said with some firmness in her voice. “I have many friends who like to call on me simply to say hello and exchange news with me. I do not insist on formal invitations and they appreciate being able to stop by when the impulse strikes them. It is a simple arrangement that suits everyone.”

It seemed to be quite true. The doorbell would ring and the butler would speak in his deep tones, then the new visitor would reply and Elisa would stand up from her desk, a smile on her face, as the butler showed the visitor into the room.

With every visitor, Elisa would introduce Anna, or re-introduce her in many cases, for most of the visitors were aristocracy and frequented the same balls and suppers and dinners and dances as Anna.

Nearly every guest would glance at her bruised and scratched face and react with hidden shock. It was always at that point that Elisa would say; “Princess Annalies is recuperating with us for a few weeks, until she is quite well and completely recovered from her ordeal.” But she would not say what the ordeal was. Once or twice, an inquisitive visitor asked bluntly for more details, but Elisa shifted the conversation with the skill of a master herdsman and the subject was never raised again, for which Anna was grateful.

Anna had become accustomed to the startling appearance of her damaged eye. The doctor who had called on her assured her that the eye and the tissue around it was merely bruised. Severely bruised, he had added, but the bruising would eventually fade and the redness of the eye itself would leave with it. But for now, the skin around her eye was swollen and a deep, dark red. It looked purple just under her eye. The bruise spread both above and below the eye.

The white parts of her eye were very red and around the iris, the red turned deeper, given her eye a demonic appearance.

Anyone looking at her like this would agree that there was an ordeal that led to such an appearance, but no one was ever told the truth.

“They don’t need the truth,” Elisa pointed out when Anna asked her about it. “They will fill in the unknown parts of the story with speculation and gossip. For once, the rumor factory will serve us instead of whipping us.” She smiled, for she had already told Anna of how she and Vaughn had met. “There have been whispers about your father almost from the moment he arrived in England. Those who like to speculate will remember that. Then they will put together the fact that you are recovering from something under my care and supervision instead of your family’s. Then they will arrive at a conclusion that they will tell their friends. Everyone will wonder, Anna, but there is no truth and no confirmed facts to officially embarrass your father. And because everyone will guess and think they know what the truth is, it makes your presence far more acceptable.”

“Why would people object to me staying here with you?” Anna asked, genuinely puzzled, for the ways of the English peerage still sometimes confused her. They were far more complicated than the simple division between the royal family and everyone else that she had grown up with.

Elisa smiled and it was full of mischief. “Because people will never forget that I am a wicked woman with an apparently sordid past, who has managed to redeem her reputation through marriage. A royal princess lodging with a scandalous woman would strike some of those speculators as very inappropriate indeed, but the rumors about your family will counter them.”

By the end of the first week, Anna’s bruising had begun to fade and her face was not nearly as hideous to look at, but by then, almost everyone that Elisa wanted to ensure saw Anna on her sofa had already visited. The rumors had spread swiftly enough that Elisa had not needed to send out invitations or carefully worded suggestions that they call. They came to see for themselves.

Two visitors that arrived at the end of the first week were Lord Innesford and his wife, Natasha.

Anna knew them only a little, but Elisa had explained the close friendship between all four of them and that Seth had been one of the people that had helped Rhys find Anna that night.

Seth was a well-dressed man with far-seeing eyes that were almost startling in their coloring and from the direct way he had of looking at people. He was plain spoken, which helped Anna relax far more quickly in his and Natasha’s company than she normally would.

“What do ye mean, no one has told you about that night?” he’d said, on their first visit. “Rhys hasn’t given you a description of every blow and parry yet?”

Natasha smiled. “I believe, if you’ve told me of the events truthfully, Seth, that Rhys wasn’t there to see every blow and parry.”

Seth rolled his eyes. “That’s right. He dodged out as soon as the fists flew.”

Natasha leaned toward Anna. “Rhys went to find you, is what Seth really means. Seth stayed behind, of course, because he can’t resist a scrap when it presents itself.”

Anna found herself smiling at the pair. They were so very natural and kind and interesting, too.

“Too true,” Seth said, sounding completely unashamed. “I’ve got the best of Irish and Australian in me and they’re both naturals with the fists. If there’s going to be a fight, I’m going to be in it and your father, well…” He shrugged. “He came out with his fists swinging. I just defended myself.”

Anna looked at Natasha, wondering how such a beautiful and elegant woman had met and married a man with such a mongrel past as Seth’s.

Then Seth’s expression darkened and he nodded at Anna. “If I’d known then what they’d done to you, it might not have ended so easy for your father.”

“And you would have ended up right back in jail,” Natasha replied firmly. “You’re worrying Anna, Seth. Tell her what happened and try not to gild the lily too much.”

He put his hand to his chest. “Me?” Then he settled back in his chair and related to her the events of the night Rhys had come for her, from the moment he had thumped on their door to when he had carried her into this house, calling for a bed, a doctor and a drink, in that order.

“I don’t remember anything of it at all,” Anna said. “Only a single moment, when Rhys picked me up.”

Natasha patted her hand. “You’re in very good hands here and quite safe.”

Feeling safe and comforted became a theme in the days that followed. Knowing that no one would suddenly turn to violent anger and catch her unprepared meant she could relax in a way she never had before.

Vaughn had an extensive library and Anna discovered that Elisa was as widely read as she, including some of the more salacious books that rarely were displayed openly as they were on Vaughn’s shelves. “Knowledge is priceless,” Elisa said simply. “Knowing about something doesn’t mean I agree with it. There is far too much censorship for our own good, these days. Women are not as easily shocked as men would prefer to think they are.”

The only frustration in those few weeks was Rhys’ absence. He called by once each week, for a few short moments only. Anna found it difficult to guess what he was thinking. His attention seemed to be elsewhere. He insisted that Elisa or Vaughn or at least one of the staff stay in the room with them at all times. His distraction as she tried to speak to him was baffling.

Finally, on the fourth week, Anna had reached the limits of her patience. Only the maid, Jilly, stood quietly by the door. Otherwise, they were alone.

Anna had dressed with particular care. Her wardrobe was still mostly borrowed wrappers and stoles, but she had acquired two day dresses that Natasha had declared were too small for her mature curves, with undergarments to match. For the first time today she had asked Jilly, who had become her lady’s maid, to do her hair in one of the current and fashionable styles. Her hair was naturally wavy, so the most suitable style left her side hair hanging in curls and her back hair wound into a complicated soft knot at the back of her head.

Elisa had smiled when she saw her. “Why, that blue is most becoming on you with your eyes. I have a sapphire necklace that will match your eyes that I will lend you.”

But Rhys had not seemed to notice either the dress or the necklace. Nor did he remark upon her hair. He barely seemed to see her at all.

Finally, when he was silent for longer than she could withstand, she clenched her hand beneath her dress and spoke. “Am I really so repulsive to you?”

His chin jerked around and he stared at her, his eyes wide. “I beg your pardon?”

“I am quite sure you heard me. Which means you do not want to answer the question. I will presume, then, that you would answer in the affirmative, if you answered at all.”

“You do not understand,” he began, his voice low. “It is not a matter of repulsion.”

“I can think of no other reason why, in four whole weeks, you have only visited me four times and you have failed to kiss me on any of those visits.”

He glanced around the room, looking for Jilly.

“Jilly has my complete trust,” Anna said smoothly.

“She does not have mine,” Rhys replied. He glanced at Jilly. “My apologies, Jilly, but I simply do not know you well enough, that is all. It is not a reflection upon your character, which I am sure is beyond reproach, or Anna would not have given you her trust.”

“Thank you, Mr. Davies,” Jilly said. Her gaze slid toward Anna.

Anna considered, then nodded. Jilly bobbed toward her and left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

“There. Now no one can witness you tell me you no longer have any feelings toward me at all. That it was a passing fancy and has long gone.”

Rhys pushed his hand through his hair, ruffling the long locks. “For heaven’s sake, Anna.” His voice was low.

She got to her feet. “You will not speak to me. You can barely meet my gaze. I would spend more pleasurable time with a chimney sweep!”

Rhys growled and suddenly he was on his feet and right there in front of her. She gasped in surprise, even as he pulled her up against him, his arms holding her there with iron strength. “Damn you, Anna,” he muttered and kissed her.

It was a fiery, breath robbing kiss that she found herself returning with just as much ardor. Her thoughts scattered and she sighed into his mouth as the tingling, throbbing pleasure she remembered from the other times he had kissed her seemed to leap in her veins. It robbed her of breath.

She clung to him as his mouth left hers and trailed down her throat to the low neckline of her dress. Unfortunately, she was laced and buttoned into her clothing and his lips would not be able to move any farther than there. The touch of his lips, though, was enough to make her heart beat more quickly and her limbs to grow heavy.

Anna could feel herself surrendering to whatever Rhys wanted to do to her, even here and now in this very public drawing room, in full view of the windows and the passing traffic. She had surrendered once before. This time it was easier and even more heady. She wanted him to take her.

But Rhys abruptly let her go and strode two paces away from her. He cleared his throat, his face turned away from her.

“Then we are still sexually compatible,” she said. “I’m glad my appearance has not destroyed that.”

“Appearance has nothing to do with it, except to make it harder for me to keep my hands off you.” Rhys glanced at her over his shoulder. There was a wild mix of emotions in his face. “We cannot continue down this path, Anna.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would be the ruin of you.”

She linked her hands together. “You saved me. Nothing you do now will ever take that away. Whatever life I might have looked forward to in my father’s house was bleak, but now that has gone.”

He turned to face her properly, with such speed it seemed like he had been startled into it.

“What did I say?” she asked, concerned by his expression.

He held up his hand, as if to silence her. “Good evening, Anna,” he said, his voice distant, as if his thoughts were far away. He brushed past her, a frown marring his forehead.

“Rhys?” she asked softly.

He surprised her by turning and kissing her, his lips warm and firm against hers, but it was an absent, almost distracted expression. “I will return,” he said and left.

She hurried after him and watched Paulson, the butler, hold up his coat for him to shrug into, then hand him his hat. Rhys stepped out into the street and strode away and the butler shut the door behind him, cutting out the busy sounds of carriages and horse clops.

Jilly moved over to her side. “Mr. Davies ‘as left already, miss?”

“Yes, he has left,” Anna said slowly. “But he says he will be back.”

“Tonight, miss?’

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?” Jill asked. “To say you’re coming back, but not say when?”

“Yes, it was very odd indeed.”

Chapter Nine

Rhys returned the next day and he brought company with him. Anna watched Seth and Natasha step out of the carriage and then Vaughn, too. Elisa had seen Vaughn off to the city just after breakfast, only two hours ago.

Elisa moved up beside Anna at the window. “I believe a small conspiracy is about to be revealed,” she murmured and glanced at Anna. “I’ll call for tea.”

They met in the morning room, which Anna liked because it was sunny and cheerful. While Elisa poured the tea, everyone settled into their seats except for Rhys, who prowled the carpet, back and forth like the lions in their cage that Anna had seen at the London Zoo.

Elisa sat back with her cup and saucer and looked at Rhys. “You are the reason we all sit here, Rhys. Perhaps you should speak of whatever it is that is causing you to wear a track in my carpet?”

Rhys halted. “I apologize.” With a deep breath, he sat on the edge of the sofa, on the far end from where Anna sat and looked at her. “Anna, have you considered what you might do after the doctor has pronounced you well?”

Anna pressed her lips together, holding in her first startled reaction. “Actually, Doctor Leith discharged me from his care two days ago and yes, I have been wondering what I should do next.”

Rhys waved a hand toward the other four people in the room. “I asked everyone to be here so that you could ask for their advice if you wish.”

“Has something happened?” Anna asked. “You are behaving quite strangely.”

Rhys stood, straightening up with a snap that made it look like he was propelled to his feet by his emotions. “Your father is demanding to see you.”

“Oh.” She tried to breathe past the panicky flutter that clogged her chest and made her stomach churn. “Must I meet him?”

“As you are his unmarried daughter, yes, you must,” Rhys replied.

“Could you not have put that a little more gently?” Vaughn murmured.

Anna shook her head. “No, I prefer plain facts,” she said quickly. She looked at Rhys. He had pushed his hands into his pockets and tension thrummed from every stiff angle. “You said because I was unmarried, I must see him. What if I were married?”

Elisa put her teacup down gently. “Rhys, are you proposing that…?”

“I believe the laddie is proposing, nothing less,” Seth said and chuckled.

“Rhys! You pulled us all into the room while you do? Do you not have a romantic bone in your body?” Natasha asked.

“This isn’t about romance. Is it, Rhys?” Vaughn said.

Rhys shook his head. “I have consulted with judges and with law partners, attorneys and barristers and a dozen lords who are considered experts in the English peerage system. If you were married, Anna, you would automatically be afforded the full protection of your husband’s rank and position. Once the marriage was consummated, your father could neither dispute the fact, nor demand your return as he is now.”

Anna brought her hand to her throat as it tried to close up. “He…wants me back?” It emerged as a soft whisper. Fright tore through her.

Rhys sat next to her and picked up her hand. “I won’t let that happened,” he said quickly. His fingers gripped hers tightly.

“You would marry me,” she asked slowly, “simply to keep my father away?”

“But Rhys,” Elisa said, her voice very gentle. “You do not have a rank. Not that I care about such things and I suspect Anna does not either, but if you are proposing marriage in order to protect her, wouldn’t a duke provide much better protection?”

Rhys drew in a breath that sounded harsh and hard. “As Anna’s husband, I would be able to protect her. She can legally remain with me. The law doesn’t care that I am a commoner in this matter. Marriage is marriage.”

“But you are concerned about what everyone else will think,” Vaughn added quietly.

Rhys kept his gaze fixed upon Anna. “I know what they will think. There will be an uproar that will last for the rest of the season and well beyond. The Queen may refuse to acknowledge the marriage, but she cannot demand that it be annulled. The royal family lost that power quite some time ago.”

His gaze wouldn’t let her go.

“You want to know if I care about the fuss that might be made?” she asked.

“That will be made,” Rhys amended. “You are a princess and a member of the royal family, Anna. I am nothing. There will be people who will be outraged by such a marriage. Ask Elisa. Ask Natasha. They and Vaughn and Seth have been through their own wars with the ton.”

“Rhys speaks truly,” Natasha said. “I see, now, why you wanted us hear this, Rhys. Anna, think carefully about this. It may seem like the perfect answer to you now, but if the marriage is not accepted by everyone, then you will lose everything—your family and every friend you have made since you arrived here. They will never speak to you again.”

“You would lose everyone but us, of course,” Seth said. “I care naught for such silly considerations. Marry the man if his proposal offers what you need. Rhys will see you’re provided for, even if you’re not eating off ermine and fine china.”

“No one eats off ermine, Irishman,” Vaughn pointed out.

Seth shrugged. “It makes the point,” he said shortly.

“Yes, it does,” Anna said. “Thank you, Seth.”

He nodded.

She looked around the room, at everyone who was waiting for her to make her decision. “Would such a scandal make it harder for all of you to be accepted among your friends and family? You will be tainted by this. Elisa has made it very public that she stands by my side in this matter and her friendship with Natasha is well known.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Elisa said quickly.

“No, it’s a fair question,” Natasha said. “We all have children who must grow up among these people and will find their lives affected by the scandal. We have all managed to outlive our own scandals, but a third one may be the undoing of us all.”

Elisa looked at Vaughn. “What do you think?” she asked quietly. “I’ve lived without society’s acceptance and it does not frighten me. I do not think the children will be the poorer for growing up without it.”

Vaughn gave her a small smile. “I think you have answered for me, Elisa my love. If you do not care, then neither do I.”

Seth scrubbed at his hair, ruffling it. “Hell, I spend most of my days either on a ships’ deck or in a faraway land that cares naught for the company I keep. Natasha…” He picked up her hand. “You’ve never lived without the approval of your family and friends, but you risked it all once, for me. Why did you do that?”

She gave him a small smile. “You know why.”

“I don’t just mean for love,” Seth said gruffly, although there was a warm expression in his eyes as he gazed at his wife.

Natasha frowned. “I did it because you were wrongly accused. Everyone had turned their back upon you because in their minds, you were guilty. No one cared to hear the truth.”

“Until ye rammed it down their throats,” Seth pointed out. “This is the same thing, ‘tasha love. They could judge Rhys an interloper and dismiss him because he is a common man far beneath Anna’s station and dismiss her for marrying beneath her. You know there is that danger, because he is barely accepted as it is. Only the well-known secret of who his father really is gives him a type of acceptance.”

Rhys sat perfectly still as Seth said all the terrible things aloud. Then he let out a deep breath and looked at Anna. “There you have it,” he said, with a small smile.

“No, Seth is right,” Natasha said with some heat in her tone. “We know you both well enough to be able to judge your character and to know that you are decent people. If we were to let what everyone else might think about you, based on whispers and gossip, affect the way we behave toward you, we would be the worst sort of hypocrites, especially after having lived through such baseless judgment ourselves.”

“I know a debutante in a blue dress who wanted nothing more than to be queen of the May ball,” Vaughn said.

Natasha’s cheeks blazed. “That was a long time ago. I have learned to think for myself since then.”

“We all have,” Elisa said.

Rhys had not let go of Anna’s hand. Now he lifted it. “You have all the facts, now and the staunch support of four friends. What do you want to do, Anna? Do you want to return to your father, or do you want to marry me?”

“Of course I want to marry you,” she said heatedly. “What a silly question.”

Vaughn stood up. “I believe that it our cue. Elisa, by any chance did the cook make another of those fruitcakes, the ones soaked in rum? I would very much like a piece.”

Elisa stood up. “I believe so. Seth, Natasha, you must try some, too. Mrs. Elliott made a custard sauce to go with it that is just delightful.”

The four of them left the room, chatting together and laughing and smiling. Anna watched them go and the door shut behind them. She looked back at Rhys.

“Are you sure, Anna?” he asked gently.

She slid her tongue over her lip, which seemed suddenly dry. “You are not proposing a marriage in name only, are you?”

He shook his head. “It must be a real marriage, properly consummated, or I will have no legal authority against your father.”

She gave a small smile. “It is as well we are sexually compatible, then.”

“That was why I thought of this solution,” he replied gravely. “Although, Anna, you must consider what marriage to me will cost you. You could marry a duke, one of the highest in the land. Any land. You could live in luxury for the rest of your days and never have to worry about a thing. Every little bauble you want would be yours for the asking.”

“By which you mean, I think, that I would notice the lack of baubles if I marry you?”

“I know you do not care for such things, not as much as some ladies might, but if you were in a position where you cannot have them, then the lack of them might bother you.” He spread her hand on his knee and stroked the back of it, which sent little shivers up her arm. “I am a working man, Anna. I can provide a roof over your head, but it will be a humble one and very much not what you are used to.”

“But there will be books under that roof, will there not?”

“A home isn’t a home without them,” he said flatly.

“And you will never bar me from the acquisition of knowledge that books will offer?”

He smiled. “As long as you promise never to try to experience the truth of that knowledge for yourself in the reckless way you have been.”

“I will burn those clothes,” she said gravely.

“No, don’t burn them,” he said quickly. “I enjoy the length of your legs in trousers. Perhaps…behind closed doors…..”

Anna sighed. “Then yes, Rhys Davies. I will marry you.”

“I promise that you will never regret your decision,” he told her and kissed her softly.

Chapter Ten

Anna married Rhys Davies two days later, in the chapel at St. Paul’s cathedral. The Bishop had agreed to the hasty marriage after some persuasion, but only after speaking to Anna directly. As he spoke to her, his gaze kept flickering toward her eye, where the last traces of the bruise could still be seen. Straight after the interview, he shook Rhys’ hand and agreed to meet them at the chapel on the morrow.

Seth stood as Rhys’ attendant and Elisa as Anna’s, while Natasha and Vaughn took their place just behind them, as witnesses to the ceremony. There was no one else for Anna had no family she cared to invite and all Rhys’ family were already in attendance.

Rhys wore a new suit and he produced a plain gold band that he slipped on her finger, when the Bishop asked for it.

Anna was dressed in white, just as Queen Victoria had been for her wedding. The dress was one that Natasha had ordered some weeks before, but suddenly declared unsuitable for her dark hair and complexion, whereas Anna with her golden locks would suit such beautiful silk.

The dress was refitted hastily, then with the combined efforts of Elisa and Natasha and their two maids and Jilly, Anna was dressed for her wedding.

Vaughn met them at the front of the cathedral. He was very smartly dressed and wore a carnation in his jacket. “Would you like me to escort you to the altar?”

Anna let out a deep breath. “That would please me a great deal.”

So Vaughn walked her inside, through the main cathedral to the chapel, where Rhys and Seth stood waiting.

Once the short ceremony was over, Rhys touched his lips to her cheek. It was the briefest touch, but she shivered anyway and her thoughts turned to what would come later.

* * * * *

Natasha and Seth hosted the wedding breakfast and it was a merry meal around the small table, with just the six of them. Anna was too nervous to eat much and the champagne held no interest for her at all.

Not long after the cake was cut and more toasts were given, Rhys leaned toward her. “Are you as ready to leave as I?” he asked in an undertone.

“Oh, yes!” she breathed.

He got to his feet and picked up her hand and Anna stood gratefully. No one protested over their early departure, but all four of them stood in the big entryway and bade them goodnight as Rhys handed Anna into the cab.

She let out a sigh of relief as the cab moved away from the entrance and leaned back into the corner, careless of her silk dress. The light from the gas lamps was yellowy orange and lit Rhys’ face in flickers as they passed each lamp. He was watching her, his eyes dark in the changing light and her pulse gave a little jump.

“Where are we going?” she asked, simply to break the silence.

“Do you honestly care to know?” he asked.

“Not very much, no. If it is warm and comfortable and has a door that locks, I will be quite happy.”

Rhys smiled. It was a small expression. “There is a lock. I made sure of it.”

“Then we are not bound for your rooms on Duke Street?” she asked. “For that bedroom has no lock.”

His brow raised. “Perhaps the bedroom is not the destination I had in mind.”

Anna almost laughed. “You do not own a couch, that I remember. You would take me on that threadbare rug of yours? I will make sure to spread a blanket before you do.”

Rhys laughed loudly and shifted closer to her on the seat. “Anna, you and your unshockable quick wit are a delight. A man could not ask for better company.”

“I believe I have the upper hand in this bargain,” she said softly. “I have won a home and a man who will treat me well. Truly, I could not have wished for more.”

“Thank you,” Rhys said quietly. “But it was a fair bargain.”

“Assure me of that in a month, when the gossip has done its work,” she said softly.

“I will.” He kissed her very briefly and looked up. “We’re here.”

She looked out, but all she could see was a row of small, cheery houses, each with a tiny garden at the front. “Where are we?” she asked Rhys curiously, as he helped her out of the cab.

The cab pulled away, the horse clopping softly in the still night.

“Very unfashionable Clerkenwell,” Rhys said. He turned to point to the nearest house. It was small like the rest and painted white. There was gaslight in the window and lace.

“What do you think of that one?”

Anna spotted a large vase of roses and baby’s breath sitting on the table behind the window. “It is absolutely delightful,” she said honestly.

“That is just as well. It’s your new home, Anna.”

She caught her breath. “But, it is perfect! Really, Rhys, this is your house?”

“It is a wedding present from Seth and Vaughn combined. I had to sell my soul in return. They receive my legal services for the rest of my natural life but yes, this is ours.” He held out his hand. “Come and see.”

The front door opened as they moved through the tiny garden plot, which was planted with sweet smelling jasmine that perfumed the air as they brushed past it. Jilly stood holding the door, a smile on her face. “There’s no butler, ma’am, so I’ll ‘ave to do.”

“You do very well, thank you, Jilly,” Rhys said as she closed the door behind them.

There was no entrance hall. They had stepped directly into the front room, which was filled with a small dining table and chairs and a sofa pulled up to the fireplace.

“The couch,” Rhys said softly.

Anna could feel her cheeks blazing.

“There is a kitchen through there,” Jilly said, pointing to the door on the other side of the room, “and my room is beyond that.”

“Upstairs are two bedrooms,” Rhys said. “One can be used as my dressing room, or yours, if you prefer. We can work out an arrangement that suits us as we go along.”

“Will you be retiring right away, ma’am?” Jilly asked.

Anna looked at Rhys. “Are you staying up?”

He moved over to the fireplace and picked up the poker to rouse it. “If you are going upstairs, then I have no reason to linger here.”

Her spine prickled and she could feel her cheeks burning. “Very well. Show me the way, please, Jilly.”

The upstairs rooms were as small and intimate as those downstairs, but the front room was larger. It also faced the south and would receive sunlight through most of the day.

It was a modest house, but unlike the big house in Grosvenor Square, Anna felt safe here, just as she had in Elisa’s house.

She looked out over the street below, at the comforting light that issued from the houses across the way and the gas lamp just up the road. It was a peaceful street, full of domestic sounds and sights.

“Please, God, let me stay here forever,” she whispered very softly, then turned to where Jilly stood waiting and began to undress with her help.

There was a lace wrapper hanging over the back of the rocking chair in the corner and a nightgown lying over the top of it. The nightgown was an exotic silk the color of cornflowers, with no sleeves and a low neck. Anna could feel herself blushing just looking at it.

“Where did this come from?” she demanded.

“I believe Lady Elisa arranged for it to be ‘ere for you, Your Highness.”

“And that’s enough of the Highness, please, Jilly. I’m plain Mrs. Davies now, at least with you.”

“But you’re born royalty, ma’am,” Jilly pointed out, looking shocked.

“I’m beginning to understand that what you were born as doesn’t have to stay with you the rest of your life, not if you don’t want it to.”

“I don’t rightly know what you mean, ma’am.”

“I’m not entirely sure I know, either, Jilly. It’s just a silly idea I had.”

Finally, she was dressed in the wickedly soft and elegant nightgown. Jilly reached for the wrapper but Anna shook her head and felt her hair swish against her back through the silk. “No, the nightgown by itself is sufficient. It is warm up here.”

“Very well, ma’am.” Jilly gave her a small smile. “Good night, ma’am.”

Anna’s cheeks heated once more. “Thank you, Jilly.”

Jilly shut the door quietly and on the landing outside the bedroom, she heard Jilly wish Rhys goodnight and Rhys’ low rumble in return. Fingers seemed to slide up Anna’s spine and she shivered. Her breasts, wickedly bare beneath the silk, rubbed against the cloth. The tips tightened almost painfully and Anna remembered the way Rhys had played with them, using his mouth and his fingers. An echo of the almost overwhelming excitement that his playing had produced touched her now and she shifted her feet on the rug, the flesh between her legs starting to pulse.

Rhys came in and shut the door behind him. He glanced at her, then reached back and turned the key, making the lock turn with a heavy sound of metal against metal.

Anna thought she might have laughed on any other occasion, but right now, she was too full of tension. All she could do to reward his humor was smile a little.

Rhys stood a pace or two inside the door, which put him mostly in shadow, for the lamps were on either side of the bed. In that light, his cheeks seemed almost hollow and his eyes were dark orbs. “You look…different.” His voice was low.

She glanced down at the silk. “You prefer trousers?”

“I like you in everything you wear, but this is new. This is…seductive.”

She touched the fabric nervously. “Because it is silk?”

“Because it makes the most of your curves.”

“So does a corset.”

“That wasn’t the curve I was referring to.”

She pressed her fingers to her chest, between her breasts, her heart lurching in an odd, happy way that made her blood fizz.

“Yes, that’s the curve I mean.” His tone said he was agreeing. He reached up and tugged on the white tie at his neck and it unraveled.

The action caught at Anna’s breath and stopped it, while her thoughts leapt onward. What would he remove next? Would he stop at all? Would she see him…unclothed?

That thought stopped her breath for a second time and she almost jumped at the nearly unbearable thrill that raced through her. She knew she could not stand more of it, not without moving.

She stepped forward. “Let me do that. You have no valet.”

“I am quite used to taking care of myself. I have never had a valet,” he pointed out, swiftly removing his collar pins.

“As it happens, I am familiar with how a man’s clothing unfastens, too,” she said.

He laughed and tossed the tie and collar onto the bureau that stood next to the door and held out his cuff. “Show me your expertise, then.”

She slid the clips from the cuffs and removed the cuffs themselves, noticing that his flesh was warm. His wrists were not at all slender and looked strong. She could smell his scent, which seemed to be very natural, unmarred by cologne, rising up from the inside of the jacket.

She unbuttoned the jacket, her fingers moving swiftly.

“You are a most unusual woman, Anna.” His voice was still low.

“Life has made me what I am. Are you not glad that is so?”

“Ask me that tomorrow.”

Her fingers fumbled and she looked up at him, startled. He laughed in reaction and his long fingers cupped her cheek. “I am teasing, Anna.”

“Then it is possible for a man to be dissatisfied by what happens in the bedroom? I confess, I had not thought of this. But Rhys, I am unpracticed. Completely! I know what happens, of course, but I have only ever read descriptions of…of…”

“Shh…” His other hand caught her face, holding it still. “I know all of this about you. There is nothing you can do or fail to do that will ruin this for me, except for one thing.”

Her heart lurched unhappily. “What is the one thing?”

“If you fail to follow your impulses, or do what seems to you to be a pleasing thing, then I will be unhappy. If you stop yourself from doing exactly what you want to do, then I will be disappointed.”

“Oh.” She stared at him, trying to put her thoughts back into order. That had been the very last thing she had expected him to say.

“You have a remarkable mind, Anna. It would be a shame if you allow prejudices and other peoples’ morals to tarnish your original thinking.”

Original thinking. A remarkable mind. Anna took a deep breath as happiness touched her. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever told me.”

He unbuttoned his waistcoat swiftly and dropped it on top of his jacket, which Anna had hung over the arm of the rocking chair. “Then no one has ever said your hair is like a river of molten gold and loose like that, it makes a man want to stroke it and…more?”

She shivered, the motion catching her by surprise. It wasn’t really a shiver. She wasn’t cold, quite the opposite. It was more like pleasure rippling through her. “I am not entirely certain what more you might do, but it sounds interesting,” she confessed as he reached for the buttons on his shirt. “No, let me,” she added quickly. “I want to explore. May I?”

His hands dropped to his sides. “Of course.” His voice seemed even deeper and that sent another prickling wave down her spine.

“This pleases you, doesn’t it?” She eased the buttons undone, which required her to stand much closer so she could reach them all and from this close, Rhys’ scent was very distinct. Warmth fanned against her, too. He was, she realized with a start, a man in his prime and she was about to find out what that really meant.

Her fingers trembled.

“Are you sure you can manage?” he asked softly.

“I am enjoying this. Are you?”

“More than you know.”

“I want to know. I want to understand all of this and not just from books.”

“Experience really is your teacher, isn’t it?”

“When a woman can’t find the answers she needs within the covers of a book, she is forced to turn to experience to supply them.”

“A practice for which there are peculiar dangers, as you have learned,” Rhys said. “But for now, for this moment, there is no danger. None at all. You are free to seek every answer you could possibly want.”

Anna separated the shirt front now that it was fully unfastened and revealed a soft undershirt. “You have as many layers as a lady,” she murmured and pulled the shirt off his shoulders.

“Not quite, unless we are referring to the abbreviated layers you favor.”

She laughed and reached for the buttons on his trousers. “I was never able to determine exactly what a man wore beneath his shirt and trousers and direct questions would have earned me wrath and blows, so I was forced to guess.” She looked up at his face. Rhys was watching her hands as she tackled the buttons on his pants. “I am guessing that you do not have pantalets under these.”

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “No, I do not.” His voice was gruff.

She loosened the last button on the trousers and opened them and her own heartbeat seemed to climb in reaction. Was Rhys’ heart doing the same thing? Was that why his voice was so rough.

Then she remembered his directions to follow her instincts. So she pulled the trousers down, revealing underwear that was as soft as the undershirt.

Except that the front of the drawers was billowing out, like a pavilion.

Her heart thrummed madly. She knew what lay beneath the soft wool. She knew what was causing that tenting.

She swallowed, her hand hovering. She didn’t know what to do next. She didn’t know if she had the courage.

So instead she lifted her hands and gripped the edge of the undershirt and raised it.

Rhys hissed. “You’re teasing.”

She shook her head. “This seemed less…dangerous.”

“Everything you do is dangerous, Anna. You are driving me quite mad, to the point where I can barely stand still. I want to pick you up and take you over to the bed and finish this, but I am fighting all my instincts and making myself stay still.”

She looked up at him, startled. Then she smiled. “That is a good thing, is it not? To drive you mad, I mean.”

“It is a good thing until you stop. Then it is simply torture.”

Her smile widened. “I will remember that.” She pushed the undershirt up as high as she could go, then Rhys lifted it the rest of the way and dropped it to the floor behind him. At the same time, he kicked back the discarded trousers and removed his shoes and stockings.

Now he stood in only the drawers, which stretched around his hips and thighs and were strained over the front, where the organ beneath was most certainly ready for the activities to come.

Anna found her attention pulling back to the congested hump. But she forced herself to examine the rest of him. Rhys stood still as she deliberately and openly ran her gaze the length of him. “This is the first time I have seen a man unclothed. Nearly unclothed,” she added.

“Naked is a better word,” he said. Now there was no mistaking the hoarseness of his voice.

“It is a wicked sounding word.”

“You like the sound of it?”

“Yes, I must admit I do.”

“Then use the word as long as it pleases you.”

“Then, I confess I have never seen a naked man before.” She rested her fingertips against his chest. There was muscle there, just beneath the flesh and it quivered as she touched it.

There were also two nipples, that looked smaller than her own, but were tight and hard just as hers were. Breathing quickly at her own daring, she ran the tip of her finger over one of them.

Rhys hissed, quickly drawing his breath inward.

“You like that?”

“Yes, but not as much as you like it.”

She could feel her nipples brushing against the cool silk of her nightgown, which teased the tips and reminded her of when Rhys had done that. Yes, she had enjoyed it. She cleared her throat and very deliberately rested both hands against his chest, then slid them down. There was a patch of coarse hair in the center of his chest, but the rest of his flesh was bare and surprisingly soft.

Obeying her instincts once more, she ran her hands around his waist, until they met over the indentation of his spine. Then, her heart almost leaping out of her chest at her own daring, she dropped them lower, until she could feel the rounded cheeks of his behind under them. She cupped both of them, feeling the heat of him beneath the cloth.

The reach behind forced her to step even closer, so that the large protuberance at the front of his drawers brushed against her nightgown.

Rhys drew in another unsteady breath.

Anna liked that sound. It was intoxicating, similar to drinking champagne. She wanted to make him make such sounds more often.

She slipped her fingers under the top of his drawers, where the center button was and flicked it open with a twist of her fingertips. The hole the button had been pushed through was stretched open, but not as badly as the one beneath. She barely had to tilt the button into the hole and it popped open without effort. The next button was even more eager to be released and by then, her hands were right up against the mound. She could feel it quivering against the back of her fingers and the heat was enormous.

As she released the fourth strained button, the drawers loosened around Rhys’ hips and dropped away from her hands and down to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them away, while Anna stared.

She understood from her reading that a man’s organ enlarged and hardened in order to complete intercourse, but this…this was not what she had expected at all.

“Touch, if you want,” Rhys said, his voice a growl.

She lifted her hand toward it. “Is there a better word for it than mine?” Her own voice was strained. She could not tear her gaze away from it.

“There are dozens of words.”

“Give me one. I don’t know what to call it. The books…they say ‘organ’, but eyes are organs. So are stomachs. It’s not a pleasing word.”

“Cock,” he said softly. “Many call it a cock, in male company only.”

“Cock.” She tried it out. “I like the sound of that.” Her fingers hovered over the shaft. His cock was thick and was beating with the pulse of his heart. She understood that it was anticipation making his cock jump like that.

There were veins showing along the shaft and she could see them beating. The end of the cock flared into an oddly shaped cap that was almost purple. She wanted to touch it and curled her fingers over, as if she would take it in her hand. But then she remembered his growl and complaint about teasing and pulled her hand away.

Rhys groaned. “There is a point where a man cannot wait any longer, Anna.”

“Are you at that point?” she asked.

“I am nearing it.”

“I want to examine you while you are naked, first.” She stepped back and let her gaze move from his feet to his face. He was watching her with the same dark, impatient expression. His jaw rippled as she looked and his throat worked.

“Turn around,” she commanded.

He drew in a long, heavy breath, then turned and presented his back.

His shoulders were broad. It was not just the shaping of his coat. Beneath them, his back arrowed down to the hips in a vee shape that was very agreeable. His rear was even more pleasing. It was small and tight and rounded. His long legs were well muscled in the thighs.

She had made the mistaken assumption that he was a lean man, but while he had no extra pockets of plumpness anywhere, he was not at all skinny. There were no protruding bones, except at the shoulders and hips. The muscles were all well-formed.

As he turned back around, Anna sighed. “I have absolutely no basis for comparison, but I do find your appearance very pleasing.”

There was a small furrow between his brows. “Take off the nightgown,” he ordered.

Her heart squeezed. So did the flesh between her thighs.

Moving slowly, she lifted the silk over her head and dropped it over the rail on the end of the bed behind her. She felt exposed as she turned back to face Rhys, but it seemed only fair that as he had been on display for her edification, she should stand still for his examination.

But it was hard to stand still.

As Rhys studied her, she swallowed. “You find me pleasing?”

“Very.”

She touched her chest, between her breasts. “I am not…womanly, here.” Her father had referred to her once as flat-chested and her dressmaker in Germany had gone to great lengths to sew ruffles inside her dresses and corsets, to “enhance her womanly charms”.

“Oh, yes, you are womanly,” Rhys said flatly. “Whoever said otherwise has no idea what a real woman is.” He took a step closer. “Remember, I know how you respond when I kiss your breasts. You’re absolutely a woman, Anna.”

Her body seemed to heat all over. Her heart jumped again. “Perhaps you would do that again?”

Rhys smiled. “That and a lot more,” he promised. His arm curled around her back and his body touched hers and she jumped.

“That feels delicious,” she said breathlessly, for the heat of his body seemed to be touching points of her own and making them even hotter. Her breasts were glowing with languid warmth.

He kissed her. Kissing while naked was very different from the few kisses he had given her while corsetry and clothing came between them. Anna could feel the promise of what was to come in the way they fit together. The touch of him against her was a goad of its own. She could feel his cock brushing against her belly and every time it did, little sparks seemed to flitter out from the point of contact.

His tongue thrust into her mouth, harder and more driving than ever before and she heard herself moan in reaction. She wanted more. Her whole body leapt, the nerve ends burned with heightened sensitivity. The brush of her hair against her rear felt wonderful. The touch of Rhys’ fingers against her flesh felt even better.

Then he slid his lips and tongue over her chin and down the length of her throat and Anna sighed, her head tilting back, as she guessed the direction he was taking.

He bent his head, but did not kiss her breasts. Instead, she felt his arm under her knees and he lifted her. “You’re almost falling down,” he murmured and put her on the bed and settled next to her.

This was a familiar place. They had lain together like this before, but this time, everything was different. They were married and they were naked—

She drew in a sharp, ragged breath as Rhys sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth. There was a delightful tugging and his tongue scraped over the very end of her nipple, sending shooting sparks of delight throughout her body.

The flesh between her legs throbbed again. Sharply. Her hips lifted as if they had a mind of their own.

Rhys smoothed his hand over her flat belly, past the twin rises of her hips. His fingers curled over the mound between her legs and Anna drew in another shaking breath.

Her legs fell apart. She was shaking too much to hold them together and besides, she sensed that this was right. She had to give Rhys’ hand room.

His fingers slipped between her thighs and pressed up against the innermost folds, then pushed past them, sliding right between them. She could hear a slick sound and realized that was her. She was slippery with moisture.

He stroked her flesh as his mouth played with her breast and Anna thought she might faint from the double sources of pleasure. She couldn’t lie still on the bed. Her hips kept thrusting and her head pressed back against the pillow. She couldn’t catch her breath and began to pant.

Then Rhys pushed his fingers up just a little bit higher, to the pounding, pulsing flesh there and Anna moaned. It was perfect. It was exactly what her body was longing for.

He rubbed the flesh there and the pleasure built inside her. She couldn’t focus on anything but the rising delight. It climbed higher and higher. Her body was trembling with it. Her heart was almost hurting.

Then, the pleasure peaked. It shattered over her and every single nerve ending seemed to sparkle and melt, while every muscle she had tensed and gripped. She held still while the thrilling excitement washed over her in waves.

It didn’t stop abruptly, but seemed to fade reluctantly and slowly, until she became aware once more that she was lying on the bed in Rhys’ arms, his long body pressed up against her flank, as heated and tense as her own.

Her breath was still hurried and every limb felt heavy.

Rhys rolled over her, his knee pushing her thighs apart. Anna held still. Her books had explained this part very well, in the clinical terms that did nothing for her the way words like ‘naked’ and ‘cock’ did.

And Rhys’ cock was pressing against her. It was more heated than he.

He leaned over her, his shoulders flexed. His eyes were glittering underneath the half-lowered lids and every tendon was tensed.

His cock pressed inside her, just a little way. “Try to relax,” he breathed.

“I am relaxed,” she said truthfully. She had heard of other brides whose ignorance of the marriage bed had made this moment a fear-filled and painful one. But she consciously tried to relax, to let him inside her with no resistance.

But there was a physical barrier he had to overcome. He pushed up against it and held still, then pushed a little more. There was no pain, but the sensation of tightness was intense.

Rhys held still for a moment more. He was breathing as heavily as she.

“Deeper,” Anna whispered, for that was what the small, silent voice was insisting upon. She needed him to press deeper.

And he did push deeper, until his body was as hard against hers as it was possible to get.

“Oh….” She breathed the word out on a sigh. So many things she had read and not properly understood suddenly made sense.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Not at all. It’s…it’s very nice, Rhys.” It was. Her body, still recovering from that marvelous peak of sensation, felt like it was gathering around his cock. Almost…squeezing it. Then muscles she did not know she had did flex and squeeze around him and at the same time Anna gasped, Rhys groaned.

“That will end this far too soon, if you insist upon doing that,” he said hurriedly.

“Then this isn’t ended?”

He smiled. “Not quite.” Then he began to move against her and she could feel his cock pull out. Before she could protest, he flexed his hips and his cock pushed back inside and his body kissed hers, pressing against the still quivering bud of flesh that he had massaged to bring her such pleasure.

He moved faster, the thrusting more hurried. There was no pain at all, but there was a low-grade pleasure focused around his cock inside her and the touch of his body against hers. Her breath grew ragged once more.

Rhys picked up her leg and hooked her heel over his rear. “It will feel better for you, this way.” It took him two breaths to say it all.

Anna lifted and placed her feet the way he had suggested and immediately could feel the difference. His cock was reaching deeper inside her and it opened her up so that the touch of his flesh against her was more distinct.

Rhys threw his head back, the tendons in his neck flexing, as his thrusts came quicker and with less control.

Anna could feel his building tension and knew he would reach the same sort of peak she had. That unraveled a whole new level of understanding. She watched his face as his pleasure exploded. His body stiffened and he gave a deep, hard groan, as everything seemed to clench.

Then he relaxed and leaned down to kiss her softly.

“Much better than the carpet,” Anna told him.

Rhys laughed and she could feel the tremors of his body against her.

“So that is how it ends, then,” she said.

“Normally, yes.” His hips shifted and she could feel his cock move inside her. “But it seems I am not done with you just yet.”

“We can do that again?”

He pulled out of her. She could feel the withdrawal and his cock emerged glistening with fluid. Some of it was red. Her blood, she realized. Her virtue. But there was only a trace of blood. Rhys removed it with a cloth then turned back to her once more.

“We can do that again, but this time, let’s try something different,” he said.

“Different?”

“These books of yours did not give you a range of…options?”

“They were medical texts,” Anna said bluntly. “They were very prosaic. And now I know how much they didn’t explain.”

Rhys laughed again. “I can see I will need to get you better books. Come here. Clearly, we need to fill in the gaps in your education.”

Chapter Eleven

Dawn was showing in the sky through the window. Anna could see it as she pressed her head into the pillow once more and clenched the counterpane desperately. Her education had lasted all night and it was still expanding rapidly.

One of her greatest discoveries was that lips and tongue could go anywhere that fingers could reach. Rhys had spread her legs and kissed his way down to her thighs…and then between them, his tongue doing wicked things with her flesh. He settled onto his stomach and elbows and began to feast upon her nub. Her clitoris, she recalled from her dusty medical instruction books. He was stroking it with his tongue in hard, teasing motions that were making her writhe and moan and sigh.

The texts had never mentioned that a woman could feel such pleasure.

Orgasms. They had spoken of men experiencing them, but had failed to point out that women could, too. She’d had several orgasms already and now her body was trembling and the climax was gathering at the base of her belly, building power until it would crash through her like a wave.

Her breath hitched and hitched again and then the climax arrived, making her vision fade and her hearing, too. At that moment she was a purely sensual creature, bereft of thought.

Rhys held her against him as she recovered and she clung to him. He kissed her temple and she realized that she was happy. Simple, pure happiness. She couldn’t remember ever feeling it before, not as a grown woman and not from any memory she held as a child, either. Life had always been a struggle to behave in a way that would eliminate her father’s anger and later, her uncle’s too. All her energy and thought had been poured into that one ambition.

And now she had no ambitions. None at all. And conversely, she was happier than she had ever been.

Rhys picked up her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “While I would much rather stay here with you, Anna, we should get dressed and eat. Your father has demanded a meeting and I can’t put it off any longer. We’re to meet him in the park at eleven.”

All her happiness evaporated.

* * * * *

It was April, but even so, the sun was much too bright, it was far too warm and Anna wished she was anywhere but walking along the busy footpaths of Hyde Park. There were too many people and too many horses and carriages. Anna wished them to all be gone, even as she realized that Rhys had picked this public meeting location for that very reason.

There was a hail behind them, someone calling Rhys’ name. They both turned and Anna felt a touch of relief, for Vaughn and Seth were hurrying along the footpath, trying to catch up with them.

“You’re late,” Rhys observed.

“We were waiting on the other side of the fountains,” Seth said. “Your instructions were somewhat limited.”

“I believe they were hurried, not limited,” Vaughn said. He pulled his pocket watch out and consulted it. “Four minutes until the hour. My lady, are you up to hurrying?”

“To meet my father? Must I?”

Seth snorted. “A plain truth. Very well, let’s stroll.” He held out his elbow. “It is a pleasant morning, after all.”

“It’s far too hot,” Anna complained.

“Live in Australia for a few years and you’ll begin to think of this as the depths of winter.”

She took his elbow but kept her hand tucked deeply under Rhys’ arm. Vaughn fell into step alongside them and they headed for the fountains. Even as the dancing water came into sight, Anna saw her father’s open carriage sitting on the roadway on the other side. Her father and uncle sat one on each side of the carriage, her father perfectly upright, his hand on top of his cane, his bristling beard jutting out. He was staring straight ahead, refusing to look to either side.

Her heart started to hurt.

“You’re quite safe,” Rhys murmured and she realized that she was gripping his arm hard.

Her uncle was lounging back on the seat, one arm resting along the back of the seat, next to the folded-down top of the carriage. He was watching the debutantes and matrons stroll past in their groups of three and more, their parasols bobbing as they walked and talked.

Anna was suddenly glad she had taken some effort over her appearance. Jilly had seemed to sense her intent and had worked over her hair for a length of time while Anna had fussed with the few ribbons and lace she possessed. But Anna had refused the lace gloves Jilly offered. “Bare hands this morning, thank you,” she told her maid. “No matter how offensive the ladies on Rotten Row may find it.” She glanced at the gold ring on her left hand and Jilly gave her a warm smile as she straightened the skirt on Anna’s morning dress.

Anna was tired and wasn’t looking forward to this interview at all, but otherwise, she felt a rare contentment. The peace had been settling into her bones since Rhys had taken her from her father’s house but she had only really noticed it since realizing she was happy in Rhys’ arms.

She leaned into him as she walked and Rhys gave her a small smile. “Once this is over, you should never need to speak to him again, if that is your wish. Everything can be handled through lawyers and representatives.”

“If there is anything to handle,” she murmured. “He’s quite likely to disown me and find himself an orphan boy to make his heir.”

“Would you mind very much if he does disown you?”

“Not in the slightest,” she confessed. “It would actually be a relief, in a way.”

Seth smiled. “Don’t say that until you’ve lived with no money for a while, Princess. It will change your views about wealth.”

“I am sure you are right, as you have lived with and without it, Seth, but that was not my meaning. I would be glad to be rid of the responsibility of upholding the family heritage and line and winning back the principality for my father and everything else that my highly marriageable lineage required of me. I am about to ruin my father’s expectations regarding marriage and that just might rid me of the rest of it, too.”

Her father did not react even when they reached the side of the carriage and were forced to look up at him. She realized that this had been his intention all along. He would not step down to speak to them at the same level.

“Your Highness,” Rhys said. “Your daughter is here as requested and as you can see, she is well and in fine spirits.”

“How fares my mother?” Anna asked, not waiting for acknowledgement.

Her father didn’t move. He did not even glance at her.

“Cathrine is well,” her Uncle Rupert said shortly. Then he leaned forward, over the side of the carriage. “What is that on your finger?” he demanded, his facing thinning out even more as sudden fury flooded it. “What have you done, child?”

Anna fought with every inch of her body the need to step back and away from her uncle. His rage seemed to her like the wash of heat from an open stove.

Then she felt Rhys up against the back of her shoulder, offering silent support. She lifted her chin. “I am no child, uncle. I am a married woman.”

Rupert’s eyes narrowed. “To this…commoner?”

“He isn’t of royal blood, uncle, but Rhys Davies is far from common.”

Rupert’s knuckles whitened where he clenched the side of the carriage and Vaughn stirred, moving closer to the carriage and to Rhys and Anna. “He is an unacknowledged bastard. Do you think I have ignored the prattle of the women? I know exactly what he is.”

Anna realized that her uncle was speaking English, rather than German, so that the three men around her would hear every word he said and understand it. It was a hateful thing to do and for a moment, she despised him.

“Get in the carriage, Annalies. We can deal with this at home. It isn’t too late to have the marriage annulled—”

“It is far too late,” Rhys said firmly. “The laws of marriage in England are very clear, sir. Anna married me of her own free will. The marriage was perfectly legal and was witnessed and avowed by the Bishop of St. Paul’s. It has also been consummated. You cannot gainsay this union.”

Rupert’s anger turned suddenly cold and hard, while her father, who had not moved from his upright position in the corner of the carriage, turned red in the face. Rupert straightened up from his lean over them. “This is not the end of the matter.”

“As far as Anna is concerned, yes, it is,” Rhys replied. He pulled her closer to him and put his arm around her waist, in a very public and deliberate display. “You no longer have any rights regarding Anna, her affairs or her welfare. They passed into my keeping when I married her. I suspect I will keep them in far better order than either of you managed. Her wellbeing, in particular.”

Rupert looked like he wanted to throttle Rhys, while her father began to quiver with his held-in emotions.

“You’ll be cut off,” Rupert told her. “Your father will write you out of his will. The estate will become the Queen’s by default and neither your money-grubbing husband nor you will see a penny of it.”

“I do hope that is a promise, Uncle,” Anna told him.

Rupert shook his head. “You have no idea what you have done. You are threatening an end to a line of princes that stretch back over eight hundred years. You have a responsibility to this family and to your father to continue that line and a simple marriage will not end that obligation. I will make sure of that!” He turned and shouted at the driver. “Drive on!”

The driver, Sawby, tipped his whip forward and gave a soft click of his tongue to get the horses moving along.

Vaughn stepped out of the way of the big wheels, watching them go.

Rhys sighed heavily. “That was about as unpleasant as I thought it would be.” He turned her to face him. “But now it is over.”

“My uncle—”

“—is full of piss and vinegar, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Seth interrupted.

Anna giggled at the crudity. “But he is still right. My family has resources we do not and they have spent all those centuries fending off threats to the family line in ways that could destroy a marriage, whether it is legal or not.”

“They’re not the only family to pull together to repel strangers,” Seth said, “no matter how much they might hate each other behind closed doors.”

“I’ve seen more than one man find himself in sudden dire straits because he looked at the wrong debutante the wrong way,” Rhys added. “But that is not the issue here. I didn’t ruin an innocent girl. I married her, before God and the bishop of St. Paul’s.” His arm tightened around her waist for a moment, then he let her go. “The law is on our side,” he assured her, with the full weight of his years of legal expertise adding to his conviction.

But Anna wasn’t reassured.

Chapter Twelve

“I said find a wife!” Wormwood bellowed, “not marry a bloody princess! For God’s sake, man, how is this firm supposed to live down a scandal of that magnitude?”

Rhys winced, for Wormwood’s voice had risen enough that the farthest copy boy could probably hear every word without benefit of an ear to the door. “You may find that my marriage brings in even more business, sir,” he offered.

“From whom?” Wormwood demanded. “No one will want to associate with a firm that employs commoners who reach beyond their station—”

“Anna wasn’t coerced,” Rhys said swiftly. “If you understood how this happened—”

“Aye, I’ve heard the gossip,” Wormwood said, his indignation suddenly evaporating. He sighed heavily and scrubbed at his hair with clawed fingers. “Ah, this is a mess and no doubt!” Then he gazed at Rhys sharply. “I’m guessing there’s more to the rumors than women sitting around the teapot supposing the real state of affairs, hmm?”

“You could guess, but Anna’s safety depends on nothing being confirmed, so I would have to stay mute on the topic,” Rhys explained.

Wormwood frowned and Rhys could see his mind was moving. Wormwood was a good man and a fine attorney, which was one of the reasons Rhys had remained with his firm for so long. Once he got over his initial ire, Wormwood was always able to see both sides of an issue and come to a fair decision. He might have made a fine judge, if he’d had the family connections to become one.

“Your silence is a smart decision,” Wormwood said slowly. Then he sighed. “Although you’d be best not referring to your wife by that sweetheart name and using her full title instead.”

Rhys frowned. “You mean, call attention to her status?” He didn’t understand why Wormwood would want the scandal enhanced that way.

“For certain,” Wormwood said. “There will be no escaping the talk this will cause, Davies. You might as well reap whatever benefit you can from marrying a royal before we are all out looking for work and you and your royal wife find yourself at the gates of the poorhouse begging lodgings.”

Rhys didn’t laugh, for Wormwood was quite serious. When he wasn’t instantly dismissed from his position as he had been expecting, he went back to his high desk. He tried to settle to the work that had accumulated during the time he had been away from the office but it was difficult to concentrate, for Wormwood’s gloomy prediction would echo in his mind, pulling his thoughts away from the task at hand.

He would think of Anna instead and the warmth and softness of her body, her eagerness to find pleasure in the bedroom and his body would tighten and ache.

He wanted to go home. It was the first time in his entire career that he had ever found home a more enticing location than right here where his mind was constantly challenged.

Instead, he untied a brief, opened it with determination….then wondered what Anna was doing at this moment.

* * * * *

Anna realized she was drawing backward only when both Elisa and Natasha stepped back to keep pace with her. Elisa threaded her arm through Anna’s. “Natasha’s aunt Beatrix is a lovely lady. I’ve never seen her cut anyone dead.”

“I have met her before,” Anna said. “But not since the wedding. Do you think everyone knows that Rhys and I were married?”

“I sent Nellie Caxton a letter the morning of the wedding,” Natasha said brightly.

“Vaughn posted a notice in the Times,” Elisa added.

Lady Eleanor Caxton had been pointed out to Anna as one of the most vicious gossips in London, but everyone stayed friendly with her to either avoid being talked about or to hear the chatter for themselves.

“Then everyone knows,” Anna said with a sigh as they climbed the steps up to the double doors that stood open and welcoming. The butler waited just inside with a warm smile.

“Most likely, yes,” Elisa said. “But that was the point, Anna. You can’t hide this. It’s better to come out openly and tell the world.”

“A strong backbone and a defiant air can move mountains,” Natasha added.

“As only Lady Natasha would know,” Elisa said.

A warm look passed between them.

“Well, if you’re sure…” Anna sighed and let them pull her through the door.

Lady Beatrix Doe-Jones stood just beyond the door to the sitting room where she was hosting afternoon tea. When she saw the three of them, she held out her arms and smiled. “Ladies! Elisa, Natasha…and Your Highness!” Anna was enfolded in an embrace that made her shoulders creak. “I am so pleased you are here,” Lady Beatrix added. Then she picked up Anna’s hand. “Why, you’re shaking! This won’t do. Come, come. Let’s get some tea in the girl and a biscuit or two. Mary, would you bring that chair over here?”

Lady Beatrix walked them into the sitting room, calling out to the maids and the footmen, arranging everything so that the three of them were settled on the sofa and a small table was pulled up in front of them, right next to the fire. It drew the attention of everyone already in the room, while their position next to the fire would ensure that anyone arriving would see them clearly.

“Aunt Beatrix has the best tea in London,” Natasha said and picked up one of the cups. She didn’t speak in a particularly loud voice, but because of the silence in the room, everyone could hear her easily.

“Try the cake, Your Highness,” Elisa added, pushing one of the small plates toward Anna. “It goes rather well with the tea.”

Anna didn’t dare pick up the teacup, because her hands were shaking too badly. Instead, she twined them in her lap and gave Elisa the best smile she could manage. The room was still completely silent to the point where the crackling of the fire behind them sounded loud.

Anna didn’t look, but she knew that everyone was watching them openly.

Elisa sat back in her chair like she was lounging at home. She seemed completely comfortable and relaxed. “Lady Diana,” she said, as if the lady was sitting right next to her, “how do your children fair with this early heat?”

Lady Diana was a heavy-set matron whom Anna knew spent a great deal of time in the company of Lady Nellie Caxton, the gossip. Lady Diana put her cup of tea back on its saucer with a rattle of bone china and got to her feet. “I find the company in this room far below one’s station, suddenly. I think a turn about the park will clear the air.” She took two steps toward the door, beyond which Anna could hear Natasha’s aunt greeting more guests, then looked back at the three women that had been sitting at the table with her. “Come along,” she said sharply.

The three got hastily to their feet, rattling cups and dropping napkins. They hurried after Lady Diana. The last one paused beside the sofa and glanced at Anna. She was very young, with a clear gaze. “My congratulations, Your Highness, on your marriage. I hope it is a happy—”

“Louisa!” Lady Diana said sharply from the doorway.

Louisa jumped, startled. With a glance that seemed to hold some apology in it, she hurried after Diana.

“Thank you!” Anna called after her.

That was the last person to speak to Anna the entire afternoon, except for Natasha, Elisa and Natasha’s aunt Beatrix. If Elisa and Natasha had not stayed resolutely by her side, Anna would have excused herself long before the requisite two hours had passed and fled to the safety and silence of the little house on Rosebery Avenue.

As it was, when they finally climbed into Natasha’s carriage and drove home, Anna could do nothing more than lean back in the corner and close her eyes. She felt sick.

“It really is quite as bad as we thought it would be,” Elisa said.

“It seems Lady Caxton and her cronies have set the tone before we could,” Natasha said thoughtfully. “But she doesn’t get invited everywhere….”

“Mmm. A good thought, ‘tasha. What about the Duke’s ball, tomorrow night? I know he doesn’t like her.”

“A ball?” Anna was horrified. She sat up with a jolt, staring at them. “I can’t attend a ball. I don’t have anything to wear. My father will be there, for certain. And neither Rhys nor I was invited, anyway.”

“Your invitation arrived at my house,” Elisa said calmly. “Not everyone knows of your new address yet. So you are invited.”

“And you know I have a dress that will fit you,” Natasha added.

“My father…” Anna began, feeling a helpless sense of growing doom.

“That is perhaps the best reason in the world to attend,” Natasha said. There was no lightness in her voice now.

The two conspirators leaned forward with their heads almost together and drew their plans while Anna clutched at her sides and wished she was home.

* * * * *

Neither Rhys nor Anna knew how to cook, so Anna asked Jilly to show her how to make a simple meal of the eggs and bread and jam that were in the kitchen. Jilly’s cooking skills were only marginally better than Anna’s, but between the two of them, they managed to poach some eggs and not burn the toast too badly.

Anna made a big pot of tea and insisted that Jilly sit at the table with them, as she had contributed to the meal as much as Anna had.

Rhys thanked them both gravely and sat down as if he was before a feast. He ate with gusto, but even he could not hide his distaste for the worst of the burnt toast. “Perhaps we should think about getting some help in the kitchen,” he said thoughtfully, turning the blackened slice over and over in his fingers.

“Can we afford the help?” Anna asked. “I don’t know how much attorneys make, Rhys, even good ones like you. I have no need to know. But you are already paying Jilly.”

“My sister is a cook at a big ‘ouse in Mayfair,” Jilly said. “I could ask ‘er to teach me a thing or two.”

Anna shook her head. “You are a lady’s maid,” she said firmly.

“No offence, Your ‘ighness, but you’re a princess and you just cooked dinner. I can ‘elp in the kitchen. There’s naught else to do around ‘ere once you’re set up for the day, anyway. Besides, I’d much rather keep my job than get turned out because you ‘ad to pick between someone who can make dinner and someone who can do your ‘air.” She got to her feet. “I’ll take care of the dishes and get more tea.” She swept the dishes onto the big tray and moved off into the kitchen, her back straight.

Anna pressed her lips together and looked at Rhys. “I think I upset her.” She sighed. “That makes it a full set and match. Everyone is upset with me, today.”

Rhys picked up her hand and drew her around the table to the chair closest to his. “Tell me what happened,” he coaxed.

“Only if you tell me what happened with your day. You were looking very grim when you came in the door but you hid it when you thought you would be seen.” Anna tilted her head at him.

He kissed the back of her hand. “It was a good day, Anna. I still have my position.”

Anna pressed her hand to her chest. “They…they could dismiss you because you married me?” She had not thought of this possibility at all. “How could you risk—”

He gave her hand a little shake. “I didn’t risk nearly as much as you did. So tell me what happened at Lady Beatrix’ place this afternoon.”

Anna looked down at the tea in her cup. The cup was a simple one, with a big handle and not nearly as fine as bone china. But the tea was hot and ample. She looked up at the flowers that were on the shelf beside the window. They were fresh and cheerful and a bright spot in the room.

With a sigh, she told Rhys what had happened and Natasha and Elisa’s plans to retaliate.

Rhys smiled. “Do not try to defy my sister,” he told her. “She is passionate about defending the rights of those who are being persecuted by the ton and she has taken you under her wing. Natasha is a good ally to have, right now.”

“Then you think I should go to the ball?”

“I think we should go to the ball,” he amended, “where we will look your father in the eye before dancing the night away.”

“I don’t dance,” Anna said automatically.

“Neither do I,” Rhys said, “so we’ll sit and critique the dancing of everyone else.”

Anna was not sure where the humor came from, but suddenly, she found herself laughing.

Rhys smiled at her. “Did I say something amusing?”

She shook her head. “Well, yes, you did, but it wasn’t what you said. It’s just the idea of going to a ball, just to sit. It doesn’t make sense, but yet it makes perfect sense, for us. We can sit longer than all of them.”

His smile grew. “You mean, become more stubborn?”

“Yes, exactly. It’s none of their business if the man I married is not of my station. It should be of no concern to them why you married a princess. But still, they will try to make us unhappy because…because…I don’t know why. Because they are not happy?”

“Because we scare them, Anna. Because we have deliberately chosen to move outside the mores and tenets of the society that they live within. They can’t imagine doing it themselves. The idea makes them uncomfortable. So they hit out the only way they know how, by trying to eject us from the society they couldn’t imagine living without themselves. If we are gone, they don’t have to be reminded of what they don’t dare take for themselves.”

Anna pressed her lips together for a moment, holding back another smile. “That sounds perilously close to saying they envy us. Which is quite ridiculous.”

“I doubt they envy us for the eggs and burnt toast that was our supper,” Rhys said gently. “But I’ve moved among these people for many years and I know that many of them would envy us for choosing what we want to do, rather than what we ought to do.”

“Did you really marry me because you wanted to?” Anna asked curiously.

Rhys’ gaze was steady. “I married you to keep you safe and I did it of my own free will, despite what everyone insisted I should do.”

“What should you have done?”

“I should have found you a duke to marry,” he said flatly.

“A stuffy duke would not let me read the books that you let me read.”

“He wouldn’t ruin your life, Anna. I have changed your life in ways you are only just starting to understand.”

“I don’t find being ignored by a few catty women a difference to bewail.” She picked up Rhys’ hand where it rested on the table and got to her feet. “I was worse off without you.”

Rhys looked up at her, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “And why are you tugging on my hand like that?”

Anna gave up trying to move him from his chair. He was simply too big and too heavy. She glanced over her shoulder to check that the door into the kitchen was still firmly shut, then sat in his lap, instead.

His hands settled around her waist and Anna accustomed herself to the feel of his thighs against her bottom through the layers of dress and petticoats. Right by her hip was the juncture of his thighs and the soft flesh of his…

She made herself say the words, just in her own mind, as he had taught them to her. His cock and his balls.

A little thrill ran through her at the wickedness of her thoughts.

“You’re being rather daring, my lady,” Rhys said, but he was smiling.

“I am,” she agreed. “Rhys, I don’t understand why ladies are so reticent about these matters. Would you be shocked if I said that I….” She hesitated and glanced at the ceiling overhead.

Rhys laughed briefly. “You would only be repeating what is in my mind, so pretending to be shocked would be hypocritical of me.” His hands tightened about her waist. “But why are you suddenly coy about speaking of such matters? You had no trouble discussing sexual compatibility before we were married.”

“I didn’t fully understand what that meant,” Anna said. “I feel quite foolish on reflection. The books, even the most explicit ones I could find, only explained a little of what it is really like. “

“Perhaps you should write your own,” Rhys said.

“I would have to use a nom de plume,” Anna replied. “Or the ton would not simply leave the room when I enter. They would eject me forcibly and throw my book after me.”

Rhys kissed her and thoughts about books and potential subject matter evaporated. Her body grew alert and sensitive between one breath and the next and all she could think about was his hands and what they were doing. He was sliding them very slowly upward over her torso, moving closer to her breasts, which tingled in expectation.

Rhys pressed his fingers against her breasts, over the top of the corset, but there were too many layers of lace and ribbon there for her to feel much more than a gentle pressure.

She sighed. “Ladies’ wear is far too cumbersome and inconvenient for such activities. No wonder whores spend their days in underclothes.”

Rhys threw his head back and laughed, hard and loudly. Then he scooped her up and got to his feet. “Let’s amend the situation.”

* * * * *

Anna wanted nothing more than to tear off every layer of clothing she wore, to reach the delicious stage of being completely naked in front of him. She felt daring and wicked when she wore nothing and it let her mind consider all sorts of interesting possibilities.

But Rhys would not hurry. Without Jilly, she needed his help to loosen her dress and petticoats and corset at the very least. He moved with a slowness that seemed designed purely to drive her to complete distraction. It did not help matters that each time he loosened a button or unfastened an opening, he would trail his hands over whatever flesh the newly opened section of the garment exposed.

Anna tried to reach the awkwardly-placed buttons and ties herself, but couldn’t and hissed with frustration, which earned her Rhys’ chuckle. He stood behind her and tugged on the strings of her petticoats, without properly untying them, making her wriggle with frustration.

“Such impatience is not at all lady-like,” he murmured.

“You and I have both agreed that I am not like other ladies and therefore have scant need to behave like one. Will you please hurry? We are wasting time.”

If anything, his progress became even slower. By the time she stood in just her stockings and pantalets and camisole, she was shuddering with anticipation. Rhys tossed the corset onto the rocking chair and stood back. “You should leave the stockings on,” he said, pulling pins from her hair.

She shook her hair out and put her hands on her hips. “It seems I have little to say regarding what layer is removed and what remains.”

“Oh, the underclothes can most definitely go,” Rhys assured her and tugged the ribbon on the top of her camisole undone. He pushed his hands up underneath the cotton, making her gasp with shock at the touch of his hands on her bare flesh, so close to her breasts, the ends of which were taut with excitement and rubbing softly against the fabric.

Rhys seemed to swallow her gasp, his lips catching hers and his kiss wiping away all her impatience. She moaned into his mouth as his hands swept upward to cup her breasts. His fingers caught her nipples between them and tugged and she thought she might faint at the delicious feelings that developed between her legs in response.

She unfastened her pantalets and let them flutter to the carpet, as Rhys pulled the camisole over her head. Finally, she was naked, except for her stockings.

Anna knew that he would tease her even more with the slow removal of his own clothing and she couldn’t bear the idea. She reached for the buttons on his waistcoat and fumbled them undone with her trembling fingers even as he was kissing her.

He pulled his mouth away and looked down at her hands. “Taking time by the forelock,” he observed.

“I’ll not stand here with embers dying while you leisurely remove your clothes.”

“I don’t think your embers are capable of dying.”

It was the approving note in his voice that pleased her the most. Truly, they were a most compatible couple. If she had been free to choose a husband in her own time, she would have wished for a man who thought as she did and was in agreement with her on so many things and who pleased her as much as Rhys did in the bedroom.

As Rhys removed his clothing, moving somewhat faster than he had when removing hers, Anna clutched the post on the bed, her breath coming faster. “Truly, we are most compatible and like-minded.”

“Very,” Rhys said shortly and turned her around to face the end of the bed. “Hold the frame,” he added.

A thrill ran through her as she realized what he intended to do with her. She gripped the iron frame as he separated her legs. He stood behind her and bent her forward, to lean over the chest-high frame. She felt very exposed and that provided a delicious feeling of its own. She held on, suddenly glad of the support of the bed.

Rhys’ cock pushed into her. Her body was more than ready to receive him and she could feel her channel part as he thrust inside her. Her breath stilled. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of this sensation. It was delightful. Satisfying.

Rhys let out an unsteady breath. “Lord…!” he muttered and his big hand curled around the frame next to hers. The heat of his body bathed her back and hips and she sighed.

He began to move, his cock slipping in and out of her. Anna concentrated on experiencing every little sensation he produced, from the friction of the head of his cock against her, to the touch of his hips against her bottom when he thrust deeply. Her breath came more quickly as the pleasure built.

Then his spare hand slid down her belly to between her legs, to rest against her clitoris. She was already shuddering, her body making little jerks each time he pushed back inside her, so he barely had to move his hand at all. Her excitement leapt, stealing her breath and making her eyes close.

She climaxed with a scream that she muffled against her arm, clutching at the bedframe to keep herself on her feet.

Rhys choked back a cry of his own as he gave hard little thrusts and grew taut and still as he reached the same peak. The erotic sound made her heart leap even harder.

“Again,” she urged him, her voice hoarse, as he slipped out of her.

Rhys kissed the side of her neck, his lips hot and moist. “Yes, by God.” His arm pulled up against her waist, lifting her off her feet. He carried her around to the side of the bed.

“Like normal people do it,” she said approvingly.

“Not at all.” He rested on the counterpane on his back and she noted with a warm sense of approval that his cock was still upright. She had learned quite thoroughly the various states in which a man’s cock could be found and this erect position was the best of them all.

Rhys tugged her over him, positioning her with his hands, then pulled her down on top of him. She was startled by the odd positioning, but delight touched her as she realized what he intended. “Oh, indeed!” she said in agreement and shifted her hips so that his cock speared her in just the right place, sliding inside with little effort, then even deeper than usual. “Oh!” she repeated, adjusting to the sensation of him being so deep.

“I’m led to understand that this position is pleasurable for the lady, too,” he said gravely, but there was a twinkle in his dark eyes that said he was teasing.

“It is!” Anna agreed breathlessly, too excited to tease back. “But who led you to understand this? There are experts about such matters?”

He gripped her hips. “If you were to ask, you would find that every single man considers himself an expert in such matters. I borrowed your strategy, Anna. I read a book.”

“There is a book about these things?” She shifted her hips again, enjoying the way it made his cock move inside her and the press of her clitoris against his flesh.

Rhys drew in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening their grip. “Lord, that feels good.”

Anna repeated the movement, her pleasure gathering again, her nerves fluttering. “The book?” she pressed.

“What you’re doing is driving the details completely out of my mind,” he muttered.

She grew very still, looking down at him.

Rhys’ eyes widened in surprise. Then he grinned. “I might be able to recall the book with a little coaxing,” he suggested.

Anna laughed. She wouldn’t have been able to remain so still for much longer, not with him inside her like that. She rolled her hips and moaned at the sensation.

“Ah…” Rhys’ voice was thick with his own excitement and his fingers dug into her flesh. “The book—”

“Forget the book,” she told him, as her climax began to build, deep in the pit of her belly.

* * * * *

The light of dawn played over her face and the chittering of sparrows outside the window woke Anna properly, to find Rhys lying up against her back, his arm over her waist and his hand cupping her breast.

She remembered, suddenly, that tonight they would have to face all of society at the ball, but while she laid here with Rhys’ arm around her, the idea didn’t hold any of the fear it had before Rhys had come home to her burnt toast and runny eggs.

She smiled as the sun played on her flesh. Nothing would spoil this day, not after waking like this.

Chapter Thirteen

“Ma’am, I believe you might be about to ‘ave a visitor,” Jilly called from her seat by the table in front of the window, where the good light let her sew more efficiently. The roses had been placed on top of the sideboard, instead. Jilly was watching through the window.

Anna looked up from her seat by the fire and the very interesting book Rhys had left behind for her to read when he had left for work. “Don’t let Jilly see it,” he had warned her. “She’ll be shocked into next month and might even tender her resignation over such scandalous subject matter.”

Anna had been careful to keep the cover and the spine hidden against her knees and had contrived to close the book whenever Jilly passed by as she moved about the house completing her morning tasks.

She found reading difficult without her spectacles, which were still in her father’s house. But some of the diagrams within were clear enough and very frank, with none of the relevant details left out like so many of the medical texts Anna had consulted. Her education into human affairs was leaping ahead this day and her thoughts were already turning to the evening and the possibilities that waited ahead.

Now Anna looked at Jilly, pulling her thoughts away from her reading with a degree of reluctance. “A visitor?” she asked blankly. “I’m not at home this morning, am I?”

“I wouldn’t know, ma’am,” Jilly replied. “You ‘aven’t sent out any letters that I know of.”

Anna got to her feet. She was wearing a perfectly respectable wrapper rather than a morning dress and her undergarments beneath.

There was a heavy knock at the door. They didn’t have a bell pull for there was little need for one. A simple knock could be heard throughout the house.

“Would you mind answering the door, Jilly?” she asked, glancing around the little room for anything that was out of place, but Jilly had already straightened up the room after breakfast.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Jilly said stoutly, putting down her mending. She stepped over to the heavy front door and opened it, a small smile of welcome on her face.

Anna’s father stood on the doorstep, his eyes bloodshot and his cravat awry. His hair, normally always groomed and sleek, was in disarray, as if he had been exerting himself. Perhaps he had been, for his face was very red.

Anna gasped, horror curling through her innards, making her feel very cold.

“Yes, sir?” Jilly asked politely.

He raised his cane as he saw Anna where she was getting to her feet. He pointed the silvered end of the cane at her. “You!”

Jilly moved out of the way, looking back over her shoulder toward Anna. “Ma’am?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Jilly, go to the kitchen and shut the door,” Anna said.

Her father pushed his way past Jilly, making her squeal in alarm. He was heading for Anna, the cane still raised. “You strumpet! Bedding yourself down with a common man…you shame me!”

Anna took a step back and realized there was nowhere to run to. The only room with a lock was their bedroom and the lock on that wasn’t very stout and wouldn’t hold against her father’s rage. Besides, that would leave Jilly alone and unprotected. At least in her father’s house, Anna had never had to worry about servants falling foul of his temper if she hid away, because there weren’t any left in the house at night, which was when the madness usually struck.

Quite suddenly, Anna was tired of hiding. She didn’t want to run away any more. Before she had met Rhys she had felt very alone. Running and hiding had seemed like her only options. But Rhys had shown her how to escape. He had shown her the way out.

She wouldn’t run away from that. Her instincts said that if she did, she would spend the rest of her life running and hiding. Her father or her uncle or the threat of either of them would follow her forever.

Her father was stumbling, clearly very drunk. His English came to a stuttering halt and he began to swear in German, calling her names that Anna had never heard before. It was as if, now she had escaped his influence, he was even more determined to deal with her ‘waywardness’.

Or perhaps he simply didn’t like that she had escaped him.

Anna picked up the poker and gripped it hard. She didn’t raise it until it was clear her father had no intention of halting a decent few paces away from her. His cane swung up even higher and his eyes narrowed as he tried to judge his aim and distance.

Anna raised the poker and brought it down. Hard.

The shaft thudded into the soft flesh of her father’s corpulent shoulder and he bellowed his fury. His curses and name-calling intensified.

“Jilly, call a cab! Quickly!” Anna cried out. She saw the tails of Jilly’s apron lift and flutter as Jilly bolted through the front door.

As her father reached for her throat, Anna brought the poker down once more. This time, his cane got in the way. There was a sharp crack and a splintering sound. The top half of the cane with the heavy silver cap fell to the floor with a thud.

Anna swung again and this time the poker hit him in the upper arm, but by now, his fingers were closing about her throat.

Anna reared backward, almost tripping over the armchair that had been behind her, which probably saved her life. She fell backward, her arms flailing. The poker dropped to the floor and she twisted in mid-air and fell against the arm of the chair, propping herself up with both arms.

She pushed herself up and sideways, as her father tumbled face-down into the cushions of the chair, his balance gone. He roared, the sound muffled by the cushions.

Anna didn’t stay to watch him get to his feet. She picked up her reticule, raced for the door, pulled the key out of the lock and slammed the door shut. Quickly, she turned the key, locking the door. If her father was very determined, he would break a window. Or his driver, Sawby, would let him out. But the door would stop him pursuing her for now.

“Lady Anna!” Jilly called from the edge of the footpath. She stood beside a hansom, her hand on the cab door, which was open and waiting. The driver was clicking and touching the horses’ backs with his whip, keeping them quiet, for the roaring and the sound of things smashing and breaking were very loud and were alarming the creatures.

“‘urry!” Jilly cried, beckoning with her other hand.

Anna pushed Jilly toward the cab. “You, too.”

“Me? But…” Jilly climbed in, as Anna shoved harder.

Anna looked up at the driver. “The offices of Mertens, Wormwood, Thomas & Riber on Chancery Lane!” she called to him. He nodded and glanced toward the house, where the sounds were increasing. Her father was taking his revenge upon the contents of her house.

Better a broken chamber pot than a broken head.

She climbed into the cab and picked up Jilly’s hand and held it, as the cab lurched into motion, the horses skittering nervously into a fast pace.

“You were wonderful, my lady,” Jilly whispered. She was shaking. Anna could feel the trembling in her hand. “‘oo was that man?”

“My father,” Anna said quietly. “The Prince of the former principality of Saxe-Coburg-Weiden,” she added.

“Your father?” Jilly breathed, horror showing in her wide eyes. “But…the things ‘e was saying, my lady….”

“Yes, I know,” Anna said gently. “What you saw was but a small taste of what I have lived with since I was a small child. If you have ever wondered why I would consider marriage to a common man, Jilly, there lies at least one answer for you.”

Jilly pressed her lips together, controlling her reaction. Her solemn brown eyes were filled with an emotion that Anna thought might be pity. But her next words demonstrated that it wasn’t pity at all. “You did your ‘usband proud, my lady,” she said firmly. “Standing up to the Prince that way…that shows where your loyalty lies, right where it should be, with your ‘usband.”

Anna sat back. “Is that what I did?” she asked curiously. “I simply didn’t want to put up with such treatment anymore.”

Rhys had been the reason for her resistance, though.

She sat back in the corner of the carriage, her thoughts churning heavily.

When they reached the offices, Anna gave Jilly the coins to pay the driver, while she hurried into the building. She had never been here before, but Rhys had described the building well enough and there was a well-lettered sign over the windows proclaiming the partnership, which told her she was in the right place.

The first room she entered was filled with high, sloping desks, each of them with a clerk sitting on a stool, bent forward over documents arrayed on the desktop. She paused just inside the door as every face peered around the desks to look at her. She realized then that she was still wearing her wrapper, with no shawl or cloak, hat or gloves. Thank goodness she had donned her undergarments this morning! The petticoats gave the wrapper a degree of respectability, but any other woman would recognize it for what it was—a housecoat.

There was a cough and someone cleared their throat.

“‘elp you, miss?” came the enquiry.

“I wish to speak with Mr. Rhys Davies,” she said firmly.

Jilly stepped up behind her. “Find Mr. Davies immediately,” she said to the nearest lad. “Can’t you see that the lady is in distress?”

The boy slid off his stool, wiping his hands of ink with a stained cloth. “At once, ma’am,” he said stiffly and turned to hurry through the desks with a quick step.

The rest of the men in the room went back to their business, although they continued to glance in her direction, discreetly watching her. Anna kept her hands folded over the handle of her reticule, gripping it tightly. Her heart was hurrying along too fast for simply standing there and she felt mildly ill.

“Anna! What on earth are you doing here?” Rhys said from behind her. Anna whirled, startled beyond belief. Rhys stood in the corridor beyond the doorway she was standing in, a portly gentleman with rounded red cheeks next to him.

Rhys moved over to her, his expression puzzled, but there was amusement there, too. And…and some other emotion she couldn’t fathom, for she found herself in his arms, her hands gripping the edges of his coat, her head against his shoulder. She began to shake, as Jilly poured out the story in short, quick sentences.

“She ‘eld him off, right and proper,” Jilly finished. “But I don’t blame ‘er for ‘er weakness now. It was terrible!”

Rhys pulled Anna out of the doorway into the corridor. “Can we use your office, Mr. Wormwood?”

“Of course. Of course. There’s brandy there, too. That’s just the ticket to get her strength back.”

“I think, Mr. Wormwood,” Rhys said as he led Anna along the corridor, his arm around her still, “that it might be wise to call for a policeman and have the constabulary investigate my house.”

Wormwood cleared his throat, sounding troubled. “You may be right, Davies,” he said, his voice strained. “Oh dear, oh dear….”

Rhys led Anna into a well-appointed office with highly polished furniture and a colorful carpet on the floor. He lowered her into a soft chair in the corner and crouched down in front of her, looking into her eyes. “Would you like brandy?” he asked.

There was a furrow between his brows and his eyes were troubled.

Anna shook her head. “I think too much liquor was the start of this whole problem,” she whispered. “My father reeked of it.”

“You don’t mind if we involve the police?”

Anna made herself smile at him. “I thank you for asking. I should have brought the police into this a long time ago. If we don’t stop him now, Rhys, he will never stop.”

Rhys cupped his hand to her face. “That was my thought exactly,” he said, with a small smile of his own. “We must end this, once and for all. You have a singular intelligence behind your beauty, my lovely one.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, then stood up, while Anna dealt with the warm flood of feeling his compliment had given her.

“Do you want Jilly to attend you?” he asked, but it seemed to her that his thoughts were far away from here. There was tension in him, as if his thoughts were not pleasant ones.

“Do send Jilly in,” Anna told him. “She was very frightened and would be better with company. Would it be possible to have some tea?”

“I’ll have one of the clerks arrange it,” he said distantly. Then he seemed to refocus upon her. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head back to the house with a bobby or two and deal with this.”

She caught at his hand and held it and Rhys looked back at her, surprised, as if his thoughts had already moved on.

“Please be careful. My father is very strong and when he is…when the madness has him in its grip, he is utterly ruthless.”

Rhys caught her face in his hands, the heat of his fingers registering against her flesh. “I’ll be careful.”

His promise was reassuring. He might have done what many men she knew would have—dismissed her concerns as womanly vapors and said something about his own strength, which Anna knew was considerable. But instead, he had promised to be cautious.

Truly, Rhys was a considerate man.

* * * * *

Rhys returned late that afternoon and he brought with him two men in badly fitting suits and two policemen, their capes and caps sodden, for it had begun to rain shortly after the noon hour and the rain was still falling.

The thick, dark clouds had made the afternoon unnaturally dim and Jilly had lit the lamp sitting upon Mr. Wormwood’s desk and brought it over to the little table beside their chairs. They had read by the lamp light. One of the clerks, who had introduced himself as James, had brought them tea and later on, a piece of fruit cake that they had shared between them.

Around those small interruptions the day had wound on slowly, leaving them with nothing but their thoughts and any conversation they made to distract them, until Anna thought to walk the length of Mr. Wormwood’s bookcases and read the titles. Then she had plucked one from the shelf and settled back on the chair with it.

Later, Jilly found a volume for herself.

Anna was absorbed in a treatise on the law and social justice when Rhys returned with his company. Rhys shook the rain out of his hair and swept it back, as the two bobbies and the two strange men stared at Anna.

“Gentlemen, give me the room,” Rhys said flatly.

The bobbies glanced at the two gentlemen. One of them jerked his head toward the door and all four of them left the office silently, closing the door behind them.

Rhys picked up Anna’s hand and drew her to her feet.

“I’ll excuse meself,” Jilly murmured.

“No, stay,” Rhys told her. “You must hear this, too.”

Jilly squeezed her hands together silently, watching him.

“What is it, Rhys?” Anna asked. “Why do you look so strained? Was my father very difficult?”

“He wasn’t there,” Rhys said. “When we arrived, the house was empty and the front door was ajar. Mrs. Wampole, next door, said she thought your father’s driver let him out. The carriage was gone.”

“He would have returned home,” Anna said quickly. “He always does.” That was because she had always been there for him to find, until today, when he had come looking for her, instead.

“We went to your father’s house,” Rhys said. “The same wreckage was there.” He grimaced. “I think your father has been drinking for a while. Days, perhaps. There was not a whole piece of furniture anywhere in the house, except for your mother’s bedroom, but the door to the room was locked.”

Anna nodded. Her mother had learned how to protect herself just as Anna had. But the news that her room was untouched was a relief to her, anyway.

Rhys gripped her arms. “It didn’t end there,” he said softly.

“You found my father,” she guessed.

He nodded. His gaze was not shifting from hers, forcing her to look at him. “He’s dead, Anna,” he said, his voice very gentle.

Jilly drew in a shocked breath, her hand over her mouth.

Anna blinked. There was a roaring sound in her head, muffling every sound. “Dead?” she repeated.

“Murdered,” Rhys said.

“Oh…”

She realized that she was sitting back in her chair. Rhys must have put her there. He was crouched in front of her again, watching her.

Anna drew in air that was hot and thick and made her head pound. “Who killed him?” she made herself ask.

“They don’t know for sure,” Rhys said. “I called the police to the house as soon as I found the body and they have been investigating ever since.”

“Then you didn’t take a policeman with you to our house?”

“I couldn’t find one. Anna, are you all right?”

But his voice was coming from far away. She barely heard it.

Her father had been murdered…and Rhys had been alone in the house where his body had been found.

Chapter Fourteen

The damp night kept most people indoors, for which Anna was exceedingly grateful. It left the streets clear of strollers and kept people’s heads down as they hurried indoors out of the rain.

No one had taken any notice of her at all.

Anna slipped into the tiny garden at the back of their house. She had left this way not long after sunset, huddled in her great coat with the collar turned up. The rain gave her the perfect excuse to keep her chin down and her collar up. The wide brim of the hat kept the rain off the back of her neck, too.

As she eased open the back door, she heard the clock on the mantle in the front room chime the hour softly. It was eleven o’clock. The door to Jilly’s room was firmly closed, as it had been when Anna had left.

Rhys had returned them to the house around six o’clock and had stepped inside with them, but had not remained. “I must help the police,” he explained.

Anna wanted to protest that he had done enough already, for there was a strained look about his eyes. She remained silent, though and Jilly made him a hasty sandwich, which he took with him in the hansom back to the offices on Chancery Lane.

After he left, Anna and Jilly turned to cleaning up the chaos her father had left behind. One of the first things Anna did was to pick up the clock and return it to the mantelshelf.

Although it had sounded like her father had been destroying anything he could place his hands on, most of the furniture had simply been overturned and the items upon them scattered. However, the vase holding the roses was shattered and the flowers themselves trodden into the carpet. The teacup Anna had been using when her father had arrived was smashed upon the hearth.

But that seemed to be the worst of the damage. Cleaning and tidying the room went more quickly than Anna thought it might, even though this was the first time she had ever turned her hand to such a lowly chore. Jilly provided direction on the more challenging tasks such as removing water from the carpet, where the flowers had spilled.

Anna enjoyed the results of their work. Turning such a distressing mess into a well-ordered and clean room was surprisingly satisfying. Then they shared a small meal together in the kitchen and a pot of tea, before Anna insisted that Jilly retire for the night. Jilly was swaying on her feet and yawning mightily.

Once Jilly closed her bedroom door, Anna went upstairs and pulled from the back of the chest of drawers her set of men’s garments. It took some minutes of straining and flexing to unfasten all her clothing, but she finally put everything aside and dressed quickly and went back downstairs, moving silently passed Jilly’s door.

She locked the back door and took the key with her, sliding it into the big pockets of her coat.

It took several minutes to wave down a cab, for they were in demand on this cold and wet night, but she finally found one on Amwell Street and gave gruff orders to take her to the townhouse on Grosvenor Square where she had once lived for a few brief months.

Her return home had been just as uneventful and now she was creeping through this house as carefully as she had the other. It was dark in the main room with not even coals from the fire glowing and Anna eased out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

“Where have you been, Anna?” Rhys demanded. His big shadow rose from the armchair in the corner and Anna gasped. He had been sitting in the dark, waiting for her.

He came over to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Rhys, you scared me.”

“Not as much as you should be scared.” His voice was low. “The entire London police force is out looking for a murderer and you take it into your head to visit the scene of the crime wearing clothes that at the very least will raise suspicions in their minds.” He gave her a little shake. “That is where you have been, isn’t it?”

“Rhys, you do not understand.”

“What about this could I possibly misinterpret?” he asked. “Did you not go back to the house?”

“I had to see to my mother.”

“She isn’t there,” Rhys replied.

“I know that now.”

“You could have simply asked me. I would have told you she was removed to a hospital for professional care. I would even have taken you to visit her. But you didn’t ask, Anna. This need to experience truth for yourself has already utterly changed your life—”

“For the better,” she said quickly.

Rhys hesitated. Perhaps she had surprised him. She couldn’t see his expression in the very dim light. But his silhouette shifted. “Is that what you believe?” he asked, the harsh note gone from his voice.

“I don’t have to believe. I know, Rhys. That is a truth I have experienced for myself.” She rested her hands against his chest, sliding her fingers beneath his jacket and feeling the warmth and solidness there.

His fingers curled over hers, holding them. “That is not the only reason you went to the house, is it?”

Her insides jumped in surprise. She looked up at him, even though she could see very little. “No, it isn’t,” she said slowly, unable to lie to him.

“Then why, Anna?”

“I wanted to see what had happened. I wanted to learn for myself.”

“Anna…” He sighed.

“I must find out who killed my father,” she added quickly.

“The police will find the murderer.”

“And what if they find you, instead?” she demanded, the fear that had been driving her all night finally bursting free. “What if they think you did it?”

Rhys’ silence was eloquent. She had finally succeeded in surprising him.

His fingers tightened. “You don’t think—”

“No, of course not,” she said firmly. “I know you didn’t do it. You are not that sort of a man, who would let his rage direct him. And you are most certainly not a cold-blooded murderer.”

“So you went over to the house to do…what? The police were very thorough this afternoon. You believe you could discover something they could not?”

“I knew my father better than anyone. I spent years studying his every mood. I wanted to see if there was anything they might have missed. It was a place to begin. But not even my uncle remains in the house.”

“He is staying at an hotel,” Rhys said, his tone distant, as if his thoughts were busy with something else. “You really went there to find evidence to exonerate me?”

“Why else would I risk wearing these clothes but for you?”

“The police don’t consider me a suspect,” he pointed out.

“Not yet,” she replied. “But you were alone with the body and it is the Queen’s cousin who was murdered. You know too well how these things go, Rhys. I’ve heard you speak of them before. The police will be pressured by my family to find the killer as quickly as possible and you are the only commoner who cannot account for his movements during the critical moments. They will latch on to you because you provide an easy answer.” She shrugged. “But if we find who really did this, then no suspicion will ever mar your name.”

He was silent for a long moment. “I have a reputation and friends of my own,” he said slowly.

“Do you think your good name and your friends will be enough protection against the will of the Queen of England?” Anna asked.

His silence was even longer this time. “Put like that….” He let out a gusty sigh. “You should have come to me with this, Anna. Not traipsed around the street in trousers. You put yourself in danger unnecessarily.”

“Not for no reason,” she said quickly. “You saved my life. It seems only fair that I do the same for you.”

He kissed her, there in the dark, his lips hot and hard. She liked Rhys’ kisses, but this one was something more. It was as if Rhys was attempting to communicate with her, to tell her something he would not say with words.

The kiss deepened and grew languorous, filled with heat, driven emotion. Rhys’ hands played over her body, free to roam beneath her coat and press against her flesh through the thin fabric of her shirt and trousers. Without the corsetry beneath, her torso was pliable and she could feel every shift and stroke of his fingers.

Her breath came faster and her body leapt in response. “Rhys,” she whispered as his lips moved down the length of her throat. “Upstairs…”

“Why?” he demanded, his voice thick with wanting. He tugged at the buttons on her waistcoat and she realized he was undoing them. Understanding came and with it a flare of excitement.

“Here?” she asked. Her voice was as rough as his.

He didn’t speak again, but his hand sliding through the opening in her waistcoat and shirt, to cup her breast, was answer enough.

He lowered her to the carpet. The good, thick and new carpet. There, he had his way with her, after first spreading his shirt for her to lie upon.

Was it possible to be any happier than she already was? And how could she be so filled with joy in the midst of such a tragedy? Was that not the greater sin, to profit from disaster?

* * * * *

The next day, Rhys advised her to dress in her most respectable morning gown. As she only had the one, it was not a difficult decision for her. Nevertheless, Anna took time with her toilet, taking care of every detail, even though she had no idea where he intended to take her.

Rhys handed her into a hansom and gave the driver directions that Anna could not properly hear. She glanced at him as he climbed into the cab and he gave her a small smile. “I remembered something last night. It might help your investigation.” But he would say no more, so Anna watched the streets roll past, trying to guess where they were heading from their location and direction. She was still learning the layout of streets in London, although she knew Mayfair very well. This was not Mayfair and it seemed to her that they were driving away from the river and the Westminster area she knew.

The streets became narrower and the buildings more desperate. The people walking along the streets were badly dressed, their clothes torn and ragged and dirty. Often, their faces were just as dirty. The women seemed to have paid little attention to their hair, leaving it to hang in matted clumps.

The children were barefoot, more often than not and had big eyes that watched the passing of the carriage with hopeful expressions.

“Oh, Rhys!” Anna murmured, her throat squeezing painfully and her eyes stinging. “Those poor children!”

“Their parents work in the factories to be found in these areas and while they are at work, the children roam the street. Factory wages are a pittance and housing is expensive and hard to find.”

“But…even the poorest families in Germany had at least a cottage they could share and land to farm for food. I do not remember the poor being so desperate.”

“The new factory system brings families in from the countryside to the cities, where there is little land for anyone.” Rhys picked up her hand. “There is a writer whose works I must introduce you to. He has foreseen many of these problems.”

“A writer here in England?”

“I met him about a year ago. He is a very forward-thinking man. You two would get along well, I suspect.”

“Who is he?”

“Charles Dickens.”

Anna smiled. “The author of Oliver Twist?”

“You’ve read him, then.” Rhys said. “I am sure I could contact him and arrange a meeting. Why are you smiling that way?”

“I know you are attempting to distract me from my thoughts, until we arrived at your secret destination.”

He smiled himself. “That was not my intention, precisely, but I’m glad you believe that such noble motives could be mine.”

“Oh, Rhys, of course I believe that. Why would I not?”

He gave her a small smile. “Wait until we have arrived at our destination, Anna. Wait until we are back in the carriage, then see if you feel quite the same way.”

It was a sobering suggestion. Anna swallowed and looked out at the squalid, dirty houses and the pitiable people, many of whom seemed to have no other occupation than to stand or sit on the pavement in various attitudes of dejection and misery.

Something should be done about them, she decided. It was impossible to witness their situation without being moved to action. Except that she had no idea what that action might be.

Surely, if enough people of means saw the destitution that was barely a mile beyond their usual haunts, they would rush to help in whatever way they could. But she wrapped up the idea in her mind and put it away for later contemplation.

The carriage was slowing, the driver calling out to the horses, easing their pace in the narrow street. The buildings were taller here and because the street was so narrow, they cut off most of the sunlight, so that the street seemed dingy and even more dirty.

Rhys handed her out of the carriage and she stood on the footpath while he arranged for the driver to wait for them and tipped him for his time. She stared at the dank brick buildings, their dirty windows and narrow doors. Paint flaked from woodwork while mold grew on brickwork and timbers alike, encouraged by little sun and damp conditions. Rubbish was scattered against buildings and in gutters along the side of the cobblestones. There was a smell in the air that was a combination of all the filth and wretchedness the street had to offer. She pressed her gloved hand to her mouth and nose, trying not to breathe too much of the air into her lungs.

“This is one of the oldest areas of London,” Rhys told her, taking her elbow.

“What possible reason could you have to justify visiting such a place?” she asked as he led her toward the nearest building. It was a dark brick place, with shuttered windows and a blank, uninviting appearance. There was but a single entrance, a door so deeply recessed that it was difficult to see it properly in the shadows cast by the recess.

“What is this place?” Anna whispered.

“A house of ill repute.”

She halted, stunned. “A whorehouse?” The words emerged from her in a frightened squeak.

Rhys smiled and took her arm once more. “Only someone like you could possibly utter that word aloud and at the same time be horrified you are being led toward such a place.”

She pulled back on his grip, slowing his progress toward the door. “I know of such places. Of course I do. I know that gentlemen attend them when they must dowse their…their passions. But I was led to believe they were more like hotels, with a hostess and the…the ladies tucked away in their rooms, while gentlemen smoked and drank in the front rooms.”

“That is very much like what they are,” Rhys told her. “There is a high class establishment in Mayfair that is exactly how you describe it. Actually, there are several about Mayfair and St. James’. But this is a different sort of place.”

“No doubt, if one is to judge by the environ it inhabits,” Anna said dryly. “Why are we here?”

He rapped on the door sharply. “The women here cater to clients with…peculiar tastes in bedroom activities.”

“Peculiar?” she repeated, frowning. “You mean, men with men?”

“That is an entirely different house,” Rhys said. “I don’t want to shock you with the details, Anna. Let us say that a man who finds relief from the pain of an inherited madness in the use of his fists, might also find it sexually stimulating.”

Anna’s mouth dropped opened. She was so shocked that for a moment, she could simply think of nothing to say.

“My father?” she breathed.

“Your uncle,” Rhys said flatly. “He is known to visit here from time to time. I would like to establish if he was here yesterday afternoon and evening.”

Rupert. His rages had never been as uncontrolled as her father’s. Perhaps this was the reason why—he had found a vent for such pressure.

“Why bring me here?” she demanded.

“Because the woman who runs this place won’t speak to me simply because I ask. She will, however, speak to you. Besides, this is your investigation, Anna.”

She looked at him steadily, as the sound of bolts being slid aside sounded from inside the door. “And how is it that you know so much about this place?” she demanded.

Rhys grinned. “Because more than one gentleman has been caught here by the police and I have had to build a case for them, for their barrister to present to the judge. You would be astonished, Anna, at how much trouble a gentleman can get into these days.”

“No, I don’t think I would,” she said flatly, thinking of her father and the troubled history of her family.

The door opened and a big, but very slender, man stood on the other side, a scowl on his face. “Wot you want?” he demanded.

“I would like to speak with Esmeralda,” Rhys told him. “It is a legal matter.”

The guard coughed, a phlegmy sound that made Anna wince. “And ‘oo might you be, then?”

“Mr. Rhys Davis. I am an attorney, representing my client’s interests in a matter that I will discuss only with Esmeralda.”

Anna noticed that for the second time, Rhys had not given Esmeralda an honorific. It was a telling omission. This Esmeralda might be the manager and hostess of the house, but she was accorded no honor despite her station. Did that mean she was no better than the women she managed?

“‘nd ‘oos this?” the guard asked, looking Anna up and down.

She straightened her back, suddenly realizing that the very respectable gown and her tidy hair and accessories made their own statement.

“My wife,” Rhys said.

The guard laughed. “Never seen a man bring ‘is missus along before. That’s a new one.” He opened the door wider, still laughing.

“That should convince you of the legitimacy of my business here,” Rhys said coolly, in reply.

Anna could feel her cheeks heating. She stepped through the door behind Rhys, avid curiosity driving her forward.

But the dim interior of the place was a disappointment. She had imagined that such a house would be a tawdry place with cheap décor and beds everywhere. But they stepped into a sitting room that, while shabby, was tidy and clean. There was nothing that might hint that sexual depravities were the commerce of the place and there were no women lying about in their underthings. It was very disappointing, but at the same time, Anna was deeply relieved. She clung to Rhys’ elbow anyway.

“Sit ‘ere,” the guard told them, pointing to a round table with a floral tablecloth and a lantern set in the middle. There were several upholstered dining chairs placed around the table. The red velvet was worn at the edges and corners and the paint around the frame worn down to the wood from constant handling.

Rhys pulled one chair out for her. Anna sank on to the very edge of it, afraid to sit fully upon the cushion, while he settled on a second chair. She looked around the room, noticing every little detail, while the guard headed up the stairs to the next floor. The stairs were right there in the room with them, which made it seem more like a public place such as a hotel, than a private residence. Anna remembered that the stairs in her house were also part of the main room. Here, though, it felt much more public. Anyone would be able to see who climbed the stairs. She could only imagine that the next floor was where the bedrooms were.

If they even used bedrooms.

She was feeling very ignorant.

“What do you think of your first brothel, hmm?” Rhys asked her.

“It isn’t at all the way I imagined it would be,” Anna confessed.

“In what way does it not live up to your expectations?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“It seems…I don’t know.” She looked around. “It seems like a sad place,” she decided finally.

Rhys nodded. “That would be a good description for it. At night, when there is no sunlight to reveal the stains and the shabbiness, it would appear more luxurious. And then, there would be wine and women to distract a man from the details.”

“I thought I understood why men went to such places,” Anna said. “I thought it was a necessary thing for them. But how can they find the relief they need here? I would return home feeling even more lonely after such a visit, I think.”

“Relief and loneliness are two different things,” Rhys replied. “A man can withstand loneliness once the relief has been obtained.”

“I’m not sure I could,” Anna confessed. Cold fingers walked over her spine, making her shudder. “I was lonely my entire life, until I met you. I just hadn’t realized it until I sat here and understood that one can be alone, even surrounded by people.”

“Mr. Davies?”

The question came from behind them, the voice slightly accented.

Anna turned on her chair as Rhys got to his feet.

The woman standing there was short and dressed in silk wrapper that hung to the floor. She clearly wore very little beneath the wrapper and Anna cleared her throat, feeling embarrassed for her.

The woman had red hair that even in the dim indoor light seemed to glow with a fire of its own. This was the first woman Anna had ever met who she knew without doubt had colored her hair.

Underneath the flaming red, the woman’s skin was sallow and sagged about her jaw and throat. There were heavy bags under her eyes.

“Esmeralda?” Rhys said. “You are the…manager?”

She gave a sour smile. “I am the madam,” she said flatly.

Anna could feel herself blushing even harder. There was a weariness of the soul about the woman that felt draining to witness. But her frankness said there was a spirit somewhere inside her, buried deep.

What sort of life must a woman suffer to end up in such a place?

Rhys nodded and touched Anna’s shoulder. “This is Princess Annalies Benedickta of the Principality of Saxe-Weiden.”

Esmeralda looked at her sharply.

“Then the family is known to you,” Rhys surmised. “Rumor said as much.”

“My customers pay for discretion,” Esmeralda said. She pushed at her hair, then scratched at her scalp. Her hand was shaking. “Along with the other services.”

Anna got to her feet. “My father was murdered yesterday evening. We seek only to confirm that my uncle, the Duke of Marienburg, was here at that time.”

“Murder?” Esmeralda looked shocked. “Oh dear…” Her gaze seemed to be far away, focused upon something else entirely, as she lifted her hand back to her hair to push at it ineffectually. “Dear, oh dear…” she repeated weakly.

Anna glanced at Rhys, puzzled.

Rhys was watching Esmeralda, a small frown between his brows. “Esmeralda!” he said sharply.

The woman blinked and brought her attention back to him. “You was asking?” she said politely.

“The Duke. Was he here last night?”

Esmeralda considered him. “You think the Duke killed the Prince?” she asked.

“The police will consider it,” Rhys said. “We only seek the truth.”

“Truth.” She gave another smile, full of bitterness. “That isn’t something you generally find here.”

“If you don’t answer me, the police will most certainly stop by here themselves,” Rhys pointed out. “Do you really want it known that the police are interested in your clientele?”

She licked her lips. Her gaze dropped to the floor. “No, he wasn’t here.”

Anna stared at the woman. The way her eyes had shifted when she answered the question had been almost familiar. Anna frowned. Something nagged at the back of her mind that she couldn’t quite remember.

Rhys got to his feet and dug his fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Thank you,” he told the woman and held out a coin. “For your time.”

She hesitated, then held out her hand. Her fingers closed around the coin as Rhys dropped it onto her palm. The nails were dirty.

Anna stood, more than happy to leave the place at all possible speed. The woman’s position and the air of hopelessness around her and everyone in the streets outside were making Anna feel a discomfort she had never experienced before. She didn’t care for the sensation in the slightest.

Chapter Fifteen

They didn’t speak once they were in the cab and heading back into the more respectable areas she knew. Anna watched the street grow cleaner and wider, with more growing things appearing and the dirt and squalor evaporating.

She saw ladies walking with their companions, nurses walking children, men in pairs passing time as they strolled the pavements. Most of them would be heading for Hyde Park or one of the other pretty parks to be found here—St. James’ Park or even the manicured freshness of Grosvenor Square. Most of the ladies, she knew, would be completely ignorant of the misery that could be found only a mile or two away. “It is like two different worlds, living right next to each other.”

“It is,” Rhys agreed softly.

“How can you stand knowing such a thing and not act upon it?” she asked him.

“I do. I mean, I did act upon it, for many years,” Rhys replied. “It was only an accident of birth that meant I did not grow up just as those children do. My father’s name and his secret support kept me off the streets. Once I began to earn a wage, I gave part of it to those most in need.”

“You, Rhys?” She tore her gaze away from the elegant street to look at him. “You are not a rich man. That was generous of you.”

He gave a small smile. “But now I have a wife to care for and a household to maintain. My generosity will not stretch any farther than that. I would not deprive you to feed them.” He glanced out the window. “Hello....” he murmured.

Anna turned to look in the same direction.

The cab was pulling up outside their house, but not directly in front of it, because there was a large carriage and two beautiful bay pairs standing at the curb.

Rhys helped her out of the cab and paid the driver. Anna stared at the luxurious conveyance. The curlicues on the doors around the crest were gilded and the deep maroon paint shone with polish. There was not a mud splash or water drop on it anywhere.

The coach door opened as she stood staring and a tall, slender man with gray hair and beard and sharp black eyes stepped out, putting on his top hat with an elegant movement.

He lifted his cane toward Rhys. “Rhys Davies?” he called.

Rhys took Anna’s arm and moved closer to the man. The man’s cutaway was fine broadcloth and the cravat at his neck was silk.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the honor,” Rhys replied.

“Hastings,” the man said, resting both his hands on the top of his cane. “You may know the name.”

“Of course I do, sir,” Rhys replied. “You are the Queen’s Private Secretary.”

“Quite right,” the man replied. “You are requested to attend the royal family at Buckingham Palace, Mr. Davies.”

Anna felt Rhys go very still. Even his breath seemed to stop. “Are you sure you have the correct man, Sir Hastings?”

The man’s gaze shifted quickly toward Anna and back. “I am quite sure. Please…” He waved toward the carriage. A footman swiftly opened the door and stepped back with the handle in his hand.

Rhys tucked Anna’s hand firmly in the crook of his arm, looking at her. “This came sooner than I expected,” he murmured. “Shall we?”

Her heart seemed to squeeze to a painful halt. “Of course,” she said, feigning a pleasant expression. Hastings gave her a stiff smile as she brushed past him.

The interior of the carriage was lined in pleated white silk and lace. The seats were a pale leather that gleamed with care and spoke of comfort. Even the floor was laid with a carpet of some soft pale color.

After her evening of cleaning with Jilly, Anna found herself staring at the creamy carpet and wondering how they ever kept it clear of mud and dirt and as spotless and unstained as it was.

Hastings remained silent and Anna knew that he was refraining from speaking to a commoner. Because she was Rhys’ wife, he would not speak to her, either, even though her rank was much higher than his.

It made the journey to the new palace a silent one, for Rhys did not speak, either. He did, however, keep hold of her hand. His grip was firm. Once or twice, she caught his gaze and he gave her a short, reassuring smile.

The carriage pulled up next to a door in the inner courtyard of the palace. The footman opened the door smartly and there was a short sharp command from the driver.

Butlers stepped out from the inside of the palace, hailed by the driver. The doors were held open. Suddenly, the yard was bustling with people, prompted by the arrival of the carriage.

They were shown into the palace by one of the butlers, who walked at a solemn speed through a series of large rooms with high ceilings and comfortable, elegant furniture and appointments, while they followed behind. Rhys did not let go of her hand and she was grateful for the small comfort his grip provided.

The interconnected rooms reminded Anna of the palace where she had grown up, which had been nearly as grand as this one. The people of Saxe-Weiden had threatened to burn it down. Her father had certainly never told her what had become of their ancestral home, even though she knew he had sent spies back to Germany at least once since they had arrived in England.

The room where the butler finally came to a halt was filled with afternoon sunlight that streamed through the large windows, lighting up an arrangement of chairs and sofas around a low table. It was a charming arrangement and very French, Anna thought. There was no obvious head chair. Everyone would sit about the table almost as if they were equals.

She glanced at Rhys. “It is not the Queen we will be speaking to.” She said it with complete assurance. If the Queen had intended to speak to them, they would have been summoned for an audience in a room where she would be seated while they stood. This was not nearly a formal-enough room for such an interview.

The butler gave them a shortened bow, barely a nod of the head, then closed the door behind him as he left.

Rhys drew her over to one of the sofas and let her sit. “You may be right. I expected that at the very least there would be advisors and lackeys in the room.” He remained on his feet, although he did not move away from her side. “This absence of people is a worry.”

“You said that this call came before you were expecting it to,” Anna said. “Were you really expecting the Queen to summon you?”

“I dared marry her cousin without her permission. It would be perfectly natural for her to have me yanked in by my collar to explain myself.” Rhys gave her another small smile, his dark eyes filled with a wry humor. “If King George had still been on the throne, I would have expected an even more violent reaction..”

“Is that what you think this is?” she asked. “You are to be given your marching orders and the marriage annulled?”

“They can’t annul the marriage,” he said quickly and firmly. “Not now. But that doesn’t mean there are not many things they might do to put me back in my place.”

Anna bit her lip.

“I’m counting on them not wanting to make you suffer along with me,” Rhys added. “You are family, after all.”

“Distant family,” Anna replied. “Victoria is a third—no, fourth cousin.”

“You’d be surprised by how quickly a family will ignore such details and close ranks if they think their heritage is being threatened.” His fingers tightened their hold on her hand. “At least you’re safe. That is the only thing that matters.”

The door opened and the butler stepped through and held it open as another gentleman came into the room. This one was portly, with a ruddy face above a magnificent moustache. His eyes, though, were small and narrow. Anna didn’t know him.

He walked straight over to where Rhys stood by the end of the sofa. “I am De La Warr, the Queen’s Lord Chamberlain. You are Rhys Davies, yes?”

“Yes, I am, my Lord,” Rhys said coolly.

The man looked at Anna. “The queen asked me to pass on her regards and to enquire about your health and wellbeing. You are well, Your Highness?”

“I have never been better. Or happier,” she said firmly.

He blinked. “I see,” he said and looked at Rhys once more. “There are matters concerning your marriage that Her Majesty must address, but that is a discussion for another day. You will have heard, of course, that the London constabulary publically arrested the Duke of Marienburg about an hour ago? The charge is murder.”

Anna felt Rhys’ fingers loosen around hers.

“Murder?” she repeated, her heart leaping. “But…that isn’t possible! My father and my uncle were very close. Uncle Rupert would never—” She bit off the remainder of her protest as Rhys’ hand clamped around hers. Hard. She swallowed, as De La Warr studied her.

“Precisely, Your Highness,” he said stiffly. “The police were encouraged by Her Majesty to resolve the matter of your father’s murder as quickly and quietly as possible. It is the belief of the royal family that this is simply a matter of zealous application of that demand.”

“It must be,” she replied. “The police did not speak to me, or to my husband. There could be many others with reason to want my father dead whose whereabouts they have also failed to account for.”

“Anna, enough,” Rhys said shortly.

De La Warr’s eyes narrowed, which made them suspicious slits.

Anna’s heart thundered. Now, of course, he would demand to know why she had wanted her father dead.

But he cleared his throat and looked at Rhys. “It is the Queen’s wish that you provide the Duke your services as an attorney.”

Anna gasped.

“You have a reputation for being fair-minded and a skilled attorney. Barristers like the work you do. You were recommended to me as an attorney who has successfully represented clients charged with all manner of heinous crimes.”

“I only represent those clients I know to be innocent. That is the reason for my success rate,” Rhys said stiffly.

The man turned red in the face. “The Duke is, of course, quite innocent,” he said, as if it pained him to even speak of such an obvious fact. “He is cousin to the Queen and above reproach.”

“Not quite above reproach, or he would not have been arrested,” Rhys pointed out dryly. “Or are you suggesting he is above the law, rather than above reproach?”

The man swallowed. “The family understands that the law must be seen to be applied impartially,” he said stiffly.

Rhys smiled. “Then I believe we have reached an understanding.” He reached into his coat and withdrew a small notebook and a pencil. He opened the notebook and wrote something and held the page out to De La Warr. “My fee.”

De La Warr spluttered, his face turning an even darker red. Then he drew in a noisy breath. “Very well.” His tone was even more distant and neutral.

“In addition,” Rhys said, putting the notebook away, “the discussion about my marriage to the Princess Annalies that you spoke of a moment ago is to be delayed in perpetuity. No one will contest the marriage. No one will interfere with Anna’s happiness.”

The man looked like he had swallowed rotten fish. He was breathing heavily.

“If I do not have your agreement, then we will both leave now and find passage to New South Wales by the next available ship. The colonies might belong to the Queen, but her arm is not long enough to reach to Botany Bay.”

Anna got to her feet and stood shoulder to shoulder with Rhys. “This is my wish, too,” she said firmly. “You might tell Her Majesty that when you explain to her the terms of my husband’s service.”

De La Warr sighed. “Very well,” he said shortly. “They are holding the Duke at Newgate Prison. There is a coach waiting to take you there directly, Mr. Davies. In the meantime, Your Highness, another coach will take you back to your residence.” He straightened up and tugged his jacket back into place, both hands tight fists about the collars. “I trust this is the last conversation we will need to have regarding the Duke’s future.”

He left without another word.

Anna let out her breath.

Rhys turned her to face him, his hand around her waist. He looked down at her, an odd smile playing over his lips. “Thank you for what you said just then. It made the difference.”

“It was the truth,” she said flatly.

He kissed her and she opened her lips, encouraging him to kiss her properly, but then the butler cleared his throat loudly, reminding them he was still there and waiting.

Rhys cupped her jaw with his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. “We can talk about this in private, later,” he promised her, his voice low.

“But first, you must do your duty,” she added. “Go, Rhys. I will return home directly and wait for you there.”

He glanced at the butler, then shook his head and kissed her once more. “We will talk, later.” There was a rich promise in his voice.

She shivered, wondering what it was he would not say in front of anyone else.

Chapter Sixteen

Rhys hurried to Newgate Prison. He was quite familiar with the public areas of the prison, having interviewed at least a dozen unfortunate clients in the dank rooms in the past. Seth had been one of them. That was when Rhys had met his half-sister Natasha for the first time. Vaughn had been instrumental in arranging that meeting and for bringing Rhys to Seth’s aid.

That had been several years ago. Word had passed among the gentry that Rhys had miraculous powers as an attorney, thanks to Seth’s recovery and Vaughn’s quiet championship over cigars and brandies in a dozen different libraries. Rhys’ clientele had increased dramatically and Wormwood had been delirious with joy.

While Rhys could not take anything Earl De La Warr said as the literal truth, it was possible that Rhys’ reputation as an attorney as much as his new relationship to the royal family had caused them to tap him on the shoulder for this task.

He did not believe for a minute that being asked to represent the duke was in any way a compliment to him. He didn’t have the particulars of the case yet, but he knew that there was a factor that would make it a nearly impossible task. As a commoner and the unwelcome husband of one of their own, Rhys was the perfect man to whom to give the job. If he failed, as it seemed Anna’s family believed he would, then they would at least be rid of him, for his reputation would be in tatters and his ability to earn a salary and keep a roof over Anna’s head would be lost.

He simply must win this case. There was no other alternative.

The warden, a tense man called Simon Creek, knew Rhys well enough to order a bobby to fetch the prisoner to the interview room.

“You’re not holding him in the cells, are you?” Rhys asked. “The Queen’s cousin?”

“There’s naught else to put him,” Creek replied. “We’re full up to the gullet with normal prisoners. It’s not like we have lords visiting every day to keep a pretty room for ‘em”

“Would you consider letting him return to the custody of his own home, with a guard?” Rhys asked.

Creek sighed. “I might, except that it’s cold blooded murder we’re looking at here and he’s a foreigner. If he slips out of England, there’d be a rum to do about it an’ all.”

Rhys deliberately invoked the power and reputation of the Duke’s family. “I am quite sure the Queen herself would vouch for the Duke, if I were to ask her. But I would rather not disturb her over such a trivial matter as a warden’s conscience.”

Creek’s eyes bulged. “‘er ‘ighness? Lordy!” He scratched his head. “I guess, if the Queen herself is involved, it’d be better if he was at home.”

“Good man.” Rhys gave him a smile. “I’ll interview the Duke, while you draw up the release document. He can sign it when I’m done.”

“Fair ‘nuff.” Creek pulled a clean sheet of paper over in front of him and knocked the ink off his pen and got to work.

Rhys made his way to the interview room, nodding at familiar faces as he moved through the stone corridors. Newgate Prisoner was a depressing building and the swelling numbers of poor in London’s streets, looking for their next meal in any way they could find it meant the number of prisoners was growing daily.

Shipping them off to the colonies couldn’t possibly be a good solution in the long term. Rhys had listened to Seth’s tales about New South Wales long into the night and understood how transportation would not solve England’s problems.

But that was not his role right now. Today, he must find a way to have the Duke of Marienburg exonerated of all charges, his reputation restored and the royal family’s name untarnished.

This was the first time Rhys had seen the Duke at close quarters. He had been stripped of his coat and wore shirt sleeves and his waistcoat. His thin face and the beak-like nose above it looked even sparser in the dull light of the interview room, but the eyes above were keen enough.

“This is a jest, surely?” he asked. His voice was cultured but the accent was quite thick. “You are to help me with this matter?”

Rhys couldn’t help smiling as he sat in the hard chair across the table from him. “It wasn’t my idea,” he told the Duke. “The Queen commanded it.”

The man’s eyes widened. Then he regathered his composure. “I see,” he said slowly.

“The prison warden is drawing up release papers for you as we speak,” Rhys told him. “You’ll be released upon your word as a lord and gentlemen that you will not try to escape London and will attend your trial when the date is set.”

“I do not want to be released,” the Duke said stiffly.

“You can’t stay here,” Rhys pointed out. “The Queen’s cousin? The newspapers will smear the family name. They will point out that if you are not released until trial then you most certainly are the murderer.”

“I don’t care,” the Duke said flatly. “I will remain here until my trial, when I will tell the judge that I killed my brother in a fit of rage and should be hanged for my miseries.”

Rhys stared at him, at a complete loss for words.

* * * * *

Anna sat at the table, staring at Rhys, her big blue eyes wide with consternation, as he described for her the true extent of the problem he was facing. She had been waiting for him as she had promised. She had even prepared a small meal for him and a large pot of tea. The tea was most welcome, especially with a shot of brandy in it.

“That is the factor that I did not anticipate,” he finished for her. “The duke himself will destroy any chance of having this trial aborted.”

Anna considered him for a moment, a frown between her brows. “But if he did kill my father, then shouldn’t the law be allowed to proceed as it must? It should not matter that he is my uncle and the Queen’s cousin. He killed a man. Shouldn’t he stand trial, just like anyone else?”

Rhys sighed. “Yes, you are absolutely right, Anna. You see this exactly as I do. It’s just that…I don’t think he did it.”

She sat back, surprise making her eyes widen even more. “How could you know that?” she asked. “He was not at…at the whorehouse yesterday. We cannot account for his movements. He might very well have done it.”

“But why?” Rhys said. “I asked him that over and over and all he would say is that he had been in a grip of one of his mad fits. When he came to, your father was dead.”

She swallowed. “It…might have happened like that,” she said quietly. “Rupert was given to rages, just like my father, only never as often or nearly as severe. He controlled it better.”

“Exactly,’ Rhys said. “He controlled it. Which doesn’t agree with the idea of a man completely beyond all reason that he would kill another. I saw the house shortly after your father died, Anna. There was wreckage that your father created, but your father himself was lying in the hallway with….” He hesitated, wondering if he should speak of the manner of the Prince’s death to Anna.

“Tell me,” she pressed quietly. Her voice was quite controlled, but there was a pulsing spot at her neck, telling him she was stressed by this talk.

“There was a knife in his back, Anna. That was all. He had been stabbed from behind, just the once. There was only the single wound. That isn’t the way I would imagine a man in a rage would kill another, no matter what the reason.”

Anna swallowed. “No, I would not think so. But if you are right and he did not kill my father, why would he insist that he did?”

Rhys sighed. “That is the question I must answer. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Anna rose to her feet and held out her hand. “Come with me.” Her voice was mellow.

He looked up at her. In the dancing light from the fireplace, her face was warm and oddly familiar. Of everyone who he had spoken to today, Anna was the one he knew best, whose presence was comforting. He had been glad she had been with him at the palace. He was uncomfortable sharing his world of lies, deceit and crime with other women. He was always careful about what he spoke of in front of Seth’s and Vaughn’s wives, for fear of shocking them, even though both Natasha and Elisa were forward-thinking women little given to vapors or faints.

With Anna, though, it was different. He did not have to censor what he was thinking. Indeed, he spoke more freely with her than with anyone else he knew. There was a sense of relief at not having to choose his words.

He took the hand she was offering. “Where are we going?”

“I am taking you to bed,” she said, with the firm tone that said her mind was made up. “You need sleep, Rhys. You have been working too hard and you cannot think properly.”

It was possible she was right. There was a tightness in his chest and an ache behind his eyes. But he had often worked day and night to complete a case, in the past. “This is a most critical matter, for both of us personally as well as for my career. I can’t stop for something as mundane as sleep.”

“Even for a few hours,” she insisted. “You will feel much better afterward, I promise you. You will work far more efficiently and that will make up for the time you have taken to sleep.”

It was a novel idea. He had always considered sleep to be an unnecessary waste of time. Anna tugged on his hand. For a woman, she was strong and he risked being pulled off the chair, so he stood. “Perhaps just for an hour or two,” he said, compromising.

He let Anna lead him upstairs, amused at her take-charge attitude and at the same time, silently grateful for it. If she was making decisions—and he knew she was more than capable of making very good decisions—then he did not have to. He really was tired, he realized. His body was aching with it.

Anna had known that before he had. How strange.

But before she let him sleep, Anna undressed both him and herself, then pressed herself against him. She drove their lovemaking. She directed it, orchestrating a sweet, gradually rising medley that ended with his release, his body lifting from the bed to drive into her over and over as she strained for her own release above him.

It was exactly the sleeping potion he needed. He was already drifting into sleep as she drew the covers over him.

* * * * *

Anna was painfully aware of the risks she was taking, dressing in her male clothing once more. Experience and the scenarios that Rhys had painted of her helplessness if she was caught dressed that way had impressed upon her just how dangerous it could be for a woman of her background and name. But the circumstances dictated that she must take this risk.

As Rhys slept the sleep of the truly exhausted, she left the house, locking the door firmly behind her.

She hurried to find a cab, her coat collar raised high and her chin down, the wide-brimmed hat disguising her hair.

Even as Rhys had been outlining the impasse he had reached with her uncle’s case, this idea had occurred to her. She had settled the details in her mind as she dressed. When she reached the cab, she gave the address to the cabby and climbed in, impatient to begin, to finish what she must and return to Rhys’ warm arms.

The tiny house in Fishbone Street where the cab took her was even smaller than the modest house she lived in, but it had a swatch of lace at the window and the cheerful light of candles glowing from the windows.

She dismissed the cabby, slapping coins in to his hand quickly so he would not notice her hands, then knocked on the door of the little house. There were no gas lamps along this street, which made it darker than she was used to. Only the guttering candlelight and lamps shining from the windows of the houses along the street gave any illumination, but that was just as well.

When the door opened, she stepped back before the light from inside could spill on her face, giving herself a moment to identify who had answered the door.

The small, bent shape of Sawby was illuminated by the candlelight and she moved back toward the light just enough to let him see her. “Sawby, I would call upon your assistance tonight.”

“Princess Annalies?” he queried. “Is that really you?”

“Yes. But time is moving on, Sawby. My task must be discreet.”

He stood blinking for a moment and Anna heard a woman cough inside. She bit her lip. The fewer people who knew of her midnight adventure the better.

Sawby caught her glance over his shoulder and stepped out and brought the door nearly closed, so that there was just a chink of light coming through. “You look right strange, Your ‘ighness, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“It is the only way I can move about London and not be remarked upon. You are more than aware, I am sure, of the scandal that has touched the family lately.”

“Aye.” He sighed. “I thought meself out of a position after the tragedy with your father, miss. I mean…ma’am.”

“That may not necessarily be true,” Anna told him. “It is about my father that I come to you tonight. You have driven his carriage for the year since we arrived here in England. You have been privy to much that would have embarrassed him, but you remained discreet. I would ask you to help me one last time, Sawby, for I have need of your expertise as a driver and your discretion, both. Would you do that for me? Would you help me find my father’s murderer?”

“But…the Duke….” He was doubtful. Her clothing would not have reassured him. “It wasn’t he, ma’am?”

“We don’t believe so. But I want to do something tonight that will help confirm that, one way or the other. If I am wrong, then justice will prevail over my uncle’s future. If I am right, then the Queen will be saved deep embarrassment.”

Sawby nodded. “Let me just get my coat, ma’am. I’ll let the missus know I’ll be gone for a bit.” He shut the door on her and Anna listened to his slow deep voice murmuring to his wife.

Then he stepped out, shrugging into the same greatcoat she had seen almost every day since her arrival in England. “Now, miss—ma’am, begging yer pardon. What can I help with?”

“I’ll need the carriage, Sawby. I’m sorry, I know it is very late.”

“Never yer mind, ma’am. The horses haven’t had a good run in a day or two. They’ll be positively delighted.”

* * * * *

Sawby very nearly mutinied when she told him her first destination. He drew himself up to his full height, which was less than hers. His bushy moustache wriggled indignantly. “I ain’t never been to such the place and neither ought you, ma’am.”

“Believe me, Sawby, this is not of my choosing. I must go there tonight, to speak to the madam, Esmeralda—”

“How you even be knowing such a woman?”

Anna sighed. The only way she would get Sawby’s needed cooperation would be the truth…as much of it as he could withstand, at any rate. So she explained carefully and simply how she had begun this venture trying to clear any potential suspicion from her new husband, who would have been the most likely suspect, if the Duke had not confessed to the murder.

“But if he confessed….” Sawby said doubtfully.

“My husband doesn’t believe he is the real murderer,” Anna replied, “and he is a very good judge of such matters after working so long with criminal cases at the Old Bailey. But if the Duke is not the real murderer and my husband proves that he is not, then suspicion will fall all the more easily upon my husband. So I must find the real murderer now, because my husband is very good at his job, Sawby. He will exonerate the Duke as the royal family have commanded and that will put Rhys in danger.”

“It’s a right pickle, ain’t it?” Sawby said, scrubbing at his thinning hair. Then he donned his hat once more. “Right, then. We’d better be going. It’s a fair run out to the east end.”

“Thank you, Sawby,” she told him gratefully and climbed into the carriage. The top was up, hiding her features and protecting her from the mild chill of the evening as they passed through quiet streets and avenues.

The building they had visited that morning did look slightly better in the failing light of the night. There was a dim light over the deeply recessed door that had a rosy glow about it and Anna coupled that up with some of her more obscure reading. The light was red, a signal to those who understood what the color meant.

Sawby climbed down from his perch at the back of the carriage and looked through the door, just his eyes visible under the hat. “Esmerelda, you said?”

“Yes. It might take some insistence to bring her to the door, but you can try bribery. As much as you feel will do the job.” She dug coins out of her pocket, including two big silver crowns.

“Never thought I’d find meself knocking on the door of a brothel, ever,” Sawby muttered as he stalked over to the door. He looked around to see who might by paying him any attention, but it was late and the homeless had found shelter for the night already.

He didn’t knock. He hammered the door with the side of his fist.

Almost immediately, the door opened and Anna saw the tall, thin shadow of the guard from that morning standing there.

“Yer madam, wot yer call Esmeralda. My employer wants to speak to ‘er, out ‘ere in the carriage.”

“Naff off,” the guard growled. He started to shut the door.

“I’ll make it worth ‘er while,” Sawby said, pushing back on the door.

The guard hesitated, studying him.

“Yours, too,” Sawby added.

Anna blessed Sawby’s instincts. The guard would not have cooperated if he thought there was nothing to gain from it for himself.

The guard looked toward the carriage, but Anna knew that all he would see would be what he thought was a man with a coat turned up and a hat sitting low, a slice of flesh and eyes visible between.

The guard shrugged. “‘tis no mind to me where he gets his jollies. Pay up.” He held out his hand.

Sawby slipped coins onto the man’s palm. “That’s for now. There’ll be more later, once Esmeralda has visited.”

“Wait here.” The guard shut the door.

Sawby came over to the carriage door. “I only gave him tuppence, but he didn’t protest.”

“You did very well, Sawby,” Anna assured him.

Sawby looked toward the door. “How long do you think this might take?”

“If she is with a client, we might have to wait for a while.”

Sawby’s mouth dropped open as he looked at her with something like horror. “How would ye be knowing such things, ma’am?”

“I don’t know them for certain, but even when I buy ribbons at the haberdasher, I am required to wait my turn.”

He cleared his throat roughly several times and rubbed at his head over and over. She understood his discomfort and did not speak any more, but waited in silence.

After what felt like a very long time, listening to the soft sounds of the night, the whisper of a breeze, the shuffle of feet in the alleys and by-ways that fed onto the street, the soft susurration of noise from the building they sat next to that seeped through windows and doors, hinting at the proceedings inside, finally the dark door opened once more. A small figure stepped out.

She was not wearing the wrapper, but a dress that looked very nearly respectable, except that the big sleeve had drawn it off one shoulder completely, showing bare flesh beneath.

Sawby caught Esmeralda’s elbow and pulled her over to the carriage and opened the door. “Ye want her inside?” he asked, carefully not referring to Anna by her title or her name. Anna blessed his discretion yet again. She had been right to call upon Sawby. He was just the help she needed.

“Yes and shut the door, please,” she said, keeping her voice low.

Esmeralda gasped, staring up at the carriage. “What’s this all about then?” she demanded.

“There’s a crown in it for you, if you step inside and speak to me,” Anna said.

A crown was a lot of money for someone like Esmeralda—and for Anna, too. She did not know how she would restore her “walking around” money once this supply was gone. But for right now, she did not care.

Esmeralda dithered, torn between the money and the need to return to the safety of the whorehouse.

So Anna pulled the last crown she owned out of her pocket and held it up so that the dim light from the doorway would shine upon it.

Esmeralda shrugged. She stepped up into the carriage and settled herself on the opposite seat.

Anna was assailed by a wash of aromas, some of them mildly pleasant toilet waters, the others making her think of the activities she and Rhys enjoyed in the bedroom, except these scents were stale and most unpleasant. She wrinkled her nose, but kept her jaw clamped together to hide her reaction.

“Tell me about the Duke of Marienburg,” Anna said.

“Again?” Esmeralda smiled. “You thought I wouldn’t remember someone like you with your skin and those eyes?”

Startled, Anna stared at her. It was the first time in her life that anyone had ever said her skin and eyes were memorable. Rhys had been the very first to ever compliment her on her hair, but now a strange woman was speaking of even more assets. Anna would have to think about this, later.

Esmeralda pointed at her. “Wouldn’t have suspected a demure thing like you would be capable of a masquerade like this, but it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I told you this morning. The Duke wasn’t here the night you asked about.” Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed. “I heard tell he was arrested for murdering his brother. Is that why you’re here?”

“That isn’t any concern of yours. This morning, when you said the Duke had not been visiting that night, I could tell you were lying.”

“Woz not,” Esmeralda shot back stoutly and with such firmness that Anna believed her.

“Very well, but you were not telling the whole truth. I thought you might tell me, where there are no men to hear.”

Esmeralda’s smile broadened. “Coz you and I are alike, you mean?”

Anna hesitated. “I don’t think we are anything like each other.”

“So she says, as she sits wearing a man’s clothes, all alone in the middle of the night, asking after a murderer,” Esmeralda scoffed.

Anna considered her again.

Esmeralda leaned forward and the stench billowed at her movement.

Anna swallowed and blinked rapidly.

Esmeralda tugged at the fabric of her trousers, over the knee. “You’re different from other ladies I’ve met—oh, don’t look like that. I’ve met my share. I wasn’t always working a dive like this one. I was a high class whore once. So I know quality when I see it. You’re quality, but you’re different. You think better than the rest. You do things your own way.”

Anna frowned. “Is that what you mean by us being the same? That we are both different?”

Esmeralda smiled. “See, I knew you could think for yourself. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” She held out her hand. “Give me the crown.”

“Not until you tell me everything you know about the Duke.”

“I don’t say another word until you cross my palm, Princess.”

Anna mentally sighed. The money was spent whether she got the information she wanted or not. Esmeralda had presented herself at the coach and that was all she had been asked.

So Anna held out the coin.

Esmeralda snatched it and tucked it inside the bodice of her dress and sniffed. “I told you I was telling you the truth. The Duke wasn’t here that night.”

“But….” Anna bit her lip.

“But.” Esmeralda sat back and crossed her arms. “There’s many a night when he’s not been here and paid me to say he was.”

Anna’s heart squeezed. “Was the night my father died one of them?” she asked carefully.

Esmeralda shook her head. “No, but that don’t mean he wasn’t where he usually goes when he’s supposedly with me.”

“And where might that be?”

Esmeralda smiled and it was a slow, knowing smile. “He paid me good money to make sure no one knew where he was.”

“And now he’s going to be tried for murder. I think the reason the Duke is telling everyone he killed the Prince is because he doesn’t want to admit to where he really was.”

Esmeralda snorted. “Like as not, you’re right.”

“Where did he go? I know you know.”

Esmeralda spat on her hand, rubbed both together, then held out the moist palm. “Another crown, or I’ll never tell.”

“That is outrageous…!” Anna began, indignation making her straighten up, her spine snapping stiff and her jaw tightening.

“Anna,” Sawby said softly, through the open top half of the door. It was a warning. Anna remembered why she was here. She calmed herself.

Sawby pushed his hand through the opening, one of the two crowns she had given him sitting on it.

Anna indicated that Esmeralda could take it.

The woman dealt with the second coin the same way she had the first, her grin showing bad teeth. “Reckoned you’d pay up, with someone’s neck at risk.”

“But that is the last payment I will make. You’ve been paid far more than your usual salary, I wager. It’s time you earned it. Where was the Duke?”

Chapter Seventeen

Sawby waited by the curb as Anna dashed into the house and up the stairs. It was still the very early hours of the morning and it felt like most of London was asleep.

Rhys was certainly asleep. He was snoring softly and Anna shook him awake impatiently. “Get dressed,” she said, her voice low. She was aware of Jilly sleeping not far away. “Rhys, wake up. Listen to me. You must get dressed and come with me.”

He finally woke and sat up in bed, the sheet falling around his bare hips and reminding Anna of how she had left him. She lit the candle quickly and he ground the heel of his hand into his eye sockets and looked at her, taking in the clothes she wore. “Where have you been?” he said sharply.

“I went to visit Esmeralda again.” She stripped her clothing quickly, down to her pantalets and camisole, then wrapped the corset around her, drew in her breath and held it as she fastened the hooks at the front. “You might have to help me with the last of these,” she said in an out-gasp.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “What do you mean, you went to visit Esmeralda again? You went dressed like that?”

She looked up from the hooks. “I’ll tell you on the way to Newgate. Do you think the warden will let you speak to my uncle at this very early hour?”

“He’s about to be tried for murder. Simon will let me speak to him whenever I have the need,” Rhys said absently. “Why?”

“Get dressed,” she encouraged him. “I will explain myself on the way there.”

When they reached the footpath, Rhys’ stride broke as he took in Sawby and the carriage with the crest on it. He looked at Anna for an explanation.

“Sawby, this is my husband, Rhys Davies, attorney at law.”

“Sir,” Sawby said, tugging at his brim.

“Rhys, this is my father’s former driver, Sawby. He has been of immense assistance to me tonight and helped to keep me safe.”

“Is that correct?” Rhys growled.

Sawby sensibly opened the carriage door and stepped aside, curtailing the conversation. Anna picked up her skirts and climbed inside, cutting off any more conversation and forcing Rhys to step in, too. He dropped onto the seat next to her as Sawby closed the door and turned to face her. “What on earth have you done?” he demanded. “Why are we heading for Newgate before the sun rises?”

“For two reasons. The first is that my uncle doesn’t generally retire until the early hours of the morning. He prefers to tire himself out properly, so that he can sleep. He’ll be asleep now and when you speak to him, he will be tired and careless with his words.”

“And the second reason?” He was listening to her carefully.

Anna told him what had transpired with Esmeralda and the information she had given her about her uncle’s habits.

Rhys’ foot tapped the floor as he stared down at it, thinking hard. “You are right as you usually are, Anna, my love. This is the best time to corner your uncle with the facts, when he is groggy and unprepared.”

Her heart jumped as she stared at Rhys. Her breath, too. Had he just said what she thought he had said? Did she just imagine it?

Don’t be foolish, she told herself firmly. Rhys was merely using a common endearment that any man might bestow upon his wife. Because a great many men did use it, it had no significant meaning. Even the tone he had used to say it had been off-hand. He hadn’t been aware of what he was saying. She certainly couldn’t hold him to such a casual utterance.

But Rhys was still speaking and she forced herself to concentrate.

“Your uncle is a dissembler. He has been covering up his and your father’s indiscretions and fits of madness all his life. He is too used to lying. But this will knock the props out from under him if we use it properly.”

“Perhaps you should interview him by yourself,” Anna said carefully, for he seemed to be assuming that she would be in the room with him when he pronounced the truth.

Rhys shook his head firmly and picked up her hand. “No, you should be there. You unearthed this truth and if I have guessed your uncle’s true nature rightly, then he will be discomposed by your presence.”

Anna considered that. “Yes, he does not like to be around women for very long. They make him uneasy, I think, with their chatter about matters he considers trivial.”

“That explains a great deal about you,” Rhys said. His fingers tightened about hers. “Listen. This is how we will manage the interview.”

He spoke until the carriage pulled up outside the tall building with its narrow windows. There were very few of the windows showing light, but the ones over the gate were glowing, which meant the guards were all awake, as they should be.

Anna brushed down her day dress and made sure her hair was neatly pinned in the arrangement that Jilly had taught her to do for herself if need be. It was a more flattering style than the tight bun she had kept it in since she was fourteen and her hems had been turned down.

She looked up at the forbidding building, then at Rhys.

He took her hand, right there in front of Sawby and anyone who might be looking out of the windows at that early hour. The sky was lightening in the east and the air was chilled with pre-dawn stillness.

“It will be fine,” Rhys told her. “You’ll see.”

She shook her head. “This is only half the challenge, Rhys. We must find out who really killed my father now. It is imperative. If my uncle is no longer the suspect, they will look at you next. You were the only other person in the house with my father.”

His expression sobered. “One hurdle at a time, Anna.”

She glanced up at Sawby. “Thank you, Sawby,” she told him.

He touched his brim and nodded, which was proper, but even in the pre-dawn dimness, she could see his pleased smile beneath the moustache. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Sawby likes you,” Rhys observed as they walked together to the big front gate.

“I’m not sure why,” Anna confessed. “For most of the time I was in England, before I met you, I lived in a state of absent-mindedness, barely noticing anything that happened around me. I don’t think I even looked at him more than the one time he was introduced to me.”

“I can see why he likes you very plainly,” Rhys replied.

It warmed her, even though she didn’t know exactly what he was so sure about.

It took several minutes to rouse the guards enough to come to the gate in answer to their summons. Rhys had to convince them to let him in and only achieved entry when he invoked the Queen’s name and mentioned the family connection of his client.

Finally, the gate was opened and they were allowed to slip through into the cavernous arch behind it, then up the stairs to the room over the tower where Simon Creek, the warden, kept his office. The warden was not there but one of his lieutenants, Grimsworth, was standing in for him. Rhys knew Grimsworth quite well and explained his need quickly.

Grimsworth tossed the keys to the guard. “Do as Mr. Davies requests,” he said. “Bring the prisoner to the interview room. Be quick and quiet about it, lads. There’s no need to disturb the sleepers with too much fuss and bother.”

“I appreciate this,” Rhys told him. “It is an unconventional hour, I admit. But the need is great.”

Grimsworth waved him away. “I’ve never known ye to cry wolf if the beast wasn’t at the door. Johnston there will see you to the room. I know you know the way, but with the lady on your arm, ‘tis best you have an armed escort.”

Rhys thanked him once more and they were led by the uniformed policeman to a stone-lined room with absolutely no adornment and no furniture beyond a crude table and two stout chairs. One of the same narrow windows she had seen from the front of the building punctured the thick walls high up by the ceiling, only this one was covered in thick iron bars.

She shivered.

“Please take the chair,” Rhys said quietly.

“I would rather stand,” she confessed. “I am too nervous to sit.”

He gave her a small smile and touched her cheek, but this time he did not try to assure her that everything would be well and she was glad he did not.

They did not have to wait very long. The two guards who had been sent to fetch the Duke walked him into the room, a hand on each of his arms.

Her uncle was disheveled and unshaved. His eyes were bleary. Just as she had suspected, he was thick with sleep, almost stumbling with it. His shirt was dirty and one sleeve was torn.

The two guards put him in the chair on the other side of the table to Rhys. The one called Johnston nodded and they both left, locking the iron door behind them. The sound of the lock turning was loud in the cavernous, cold room.

Anna shivered again.

Rupert was studying her, his eyes narrowed. “What is the Princess doing here?” he demanded of Rhys.

Rhys spread his fingers on the table, as if he was laying out cards before Rupert. “Annalies has uncovered information about your activities the night her father died. I thought you would prefer that we discuss the matter in private before I use the information to secure your release.”

He had her uncle’s full attention now, although Rupert pretended to be disinterested. “I have told you what happened that night. I’m somewhat astonished that you did not take my word for it.”

“I might have, but your niece did not. Anna?”

She stepped toward the table, drawing her uncle’s gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, but he had been roused by Rhys’ revelation and his gaze was sharp enough. “You look quite common, child.”

“Thank you,” Anna replied, with a pleased note in her voice.

Her uncle blinked. He had not been expecting that.

If she had still lived under the same roof as him, her uncle would have beaten her for not maintaining her rank and position in a suitable manner. Here, he could do nothing and besides, the barb did not even prick her skin.

It made her realize just how far a distance she had travelled from her father’s door to Rhys’. Her uncle could never hurt her again. Neither could her father. There was absolutely nothing they could do to her. Her marriage to a common man had given her a freedom of spirit and body that had been denied her before.

So Anna smiled her warmest smile at Rupert. “The night my father died, you were visiting Lady Cynthia Grey at her townhouse on Hanover Square, while her husband was at his club in St. James’.”

Rupert’s jaw sagged, before he caught it up again and slammed his fist against the table. “That is a lie!” he roared.

“It is not,” Anna replied evenly. “Esmeralda, the madam of the whorehouse that you paid to lie for you followed you once. She saw exactly what you were doing there. She saw you and Lady Cynthia in the bedroom.”

Rupert’s eyes bulged. “How dare you speak of such things….”

“You were lovers,” Anna said flatly and he spluttered in shock and dismay at her speaking the word aloud.

Rupert stared at the worn and scratched table top, his fingers curling and uncurling. Then he jerked his head up to look at her with an expression that once would have dismayed her with its fury. “You have become a filthy-mouthed, dirty-minded woman.”

“I speak only facts,” Anna replied lightly. “Calling me names won’t change them. All that remains, uncle, is to call upon Lady Grey and her husband and ask the lady to confirm you were there.”

“You cannot!” Rupert cried, half-rising to his feet.

Rhys reached over the table, slapped his hands on her uncle’s shoulders and shoved him back on the chair. Hard. “Stay seated, or I will have to force you to remain in the chair,” his said, his voice low. “Given what you just called my wife, I would welcome the smallest excuse for violence.”

Rupert looked up at him. For a moment, Anna thought he might even be foolish enough to disparage Rhys himself, but finally he nodded, his gaze skittering away from Rhys’ steady glare.

Rhys let him go. “This matter can be handled discreetly, but it will be established that you did not murder your brother. It is entirely up to you how public the affair becomes.”

Rupert’s hand shook as he used it to brush his hair out of his eyes. He took a moment to compose himself while Anna held her breath, waiting for him to agree that he was innocent.

He sat up straight in the chair and looked Rhys in the eye. “I was suffering from a fit of madness. I killed my brother.”

Anna let out her breath in rush. “Why are you insisting upon this fallacy?” she demanded. “We all know you did not do it. If you do hold to this fairytale, then Rhys will have no choice but to bring the police into it. They will question Lady Grey and she will be shamed in front of her husband, who may repudiate her for the world to see her ways.”

Rupert kept his gaze upon Rhys. “I was mad. In my madness I killed the Prince.”

“You will ruin her life!” Anna cried. “You bedded her. Do you have no feelings for her at all?”

Rhys lifted his hand. “Wait,” he said softly. He was staring at Rupert, a furrow between his brows. “I think we might have got this wrong, Anna. We thought he was confessing to save the lady embarrassment. But he really does not care if she is shamed or not.”

Rupert drew in a deep breath and let it out. He said nothing.

“Then why does he keep saying he killed my father?” She leaned over the table so that she was bare inches away from her uncle. “Why?”

The sound of the lock turning in the door was loud in that stone room and they all looked toward the door. Anna heard Rhys mutter a soft oath of frustration and she agreed. They had been driving Rupert toward speaking the truth. This would set their progress back.

Anna expected one of the guards to step through. Johnston, or perhaps even the warden himself, as the sun had risen while they were in the room and daylight shone through the barred window.

But the man who did walk in was a stranger to her. He was wearing one of the police uniforms, although his was clean and neat. The brass badges at his neck and sleeve glowed with polish, as did the buttons. He was a clean-shaven man, which was unusual these days.

Rhys turned to him. “Superintendent Jenkins, this is a surprise.”

“Is it?” Jenkins asked. “We have a member of the royal family in our institution. You did not think I would give such a matter my personal attention?”

Rhys waved his hand toward Rupert. “Perhaps you could help the Duke see the benefit of speaking the truth.”

Anna glanced at her uncle. He was staring resolutely ahead, as if he were deaf to the conversation. He was intent only upon his own thoughts and concerns. That, she realized, was how her uncle had always been. He kept to himself. If he ever counseled her father, it had been behind closed doors.

Jenkins cleared his throat. “It is fortunate to find you here, Davies. I sent two men around to your abode before I left Scotland Yard to come here. They were to bring you to the station.”

“Oh?” Rhys spoke the word with mild curiosity, but Anna’s heart bounded. Why was the Superintendent looking for Rhys?

Jenkins played with his cap, folding the edge over and running his fingers along it. He glanced around the room and his gaze settled on Anna. “You would be Her Highness Princess Annalies, correct?”

“Princess Annalies Mrs. Davies,” she corrected.

He nodded his head, acknowledging his error. Then he looked at Rupert. “Your Grace, you’d be the Princess’ uncle, is that correct?”

“Quite correct,” Rupert said dryly. “Might we know what this is about, Superintendent Jenkins?”

“It’s a delicate matter. Bad news, I’m afraid,” Jenkins said. “I’m not sure who is the ranking dignitary here to give the news to, especially as you’re under arrest, Your Grace.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anna assured him. “We would rather have the news quickly than correctly.” Her heart was hurting now, so hard did it thud inside her chest. She couldn’t imagine what Jenkins might have to say.

Jenkins crimped his cap between his fingers firmly as if he had reached a decision. “I’ve just come from Bethlem Hospital.”

Her mother. Anna gasped and moved to Rhys’ side. She knew. She knew already.

Rupert’s lips parted and he gripped the edge of the table.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, Your Grace. Princess Cathrine died about two hours ago.”

Anna moaned and pressed her face against Rhys’ shoulder, a heavy, invisible weight settling on her.

Rupert groaned, making her turn to look over Rhys’ arm that he had wrapped around her. Her uncle was bent over, his head in his hands, his fingers gripping tightly to his skull, so tightly the knuckles were white. “No….” His voice was muffled not just by his hands, but by deep grief. It was almost despair. “No, no, no.” He began to rock backward and forward. It was agonizing to watch and Anna turned her face back against Rhys’ shoulder once more. She had never been so glad that he was a part of her life than at this moment.

“That’s not all of it, is it?” Rhys asked and his own voice was heavy with emotion.

“No, Mr. Davies, ‘tisn’t the end quite.”

Anna made herself look at him.

Jenkins fumbled inside his coat. “The Princess’ ending…” He cleared his throat. “She took her own life.”

Rupert gave a muffled cry.

“She left a note, didn’t she?” Rhys said.

“It would be natural. Most suicides like to explain themselves. Begging your pardon, Your Highness.”

Anna shook her head and held out her hand. “You have the note?”

Jenkins handed it over and Anna unfolded it and read it aloud. “I killed Leopold. I’m sorry. My daughter will know why.”

The silence that gripped the room was broken only by Rupert’s soft sounds of grief.

Rhys sat on the chair opposite the Duke. “Your Grace,” he said, his voice gentle. “You knew all along that Cathrine had killed her husband. You confessed to protect the Princess, didn’t you?”

Rupert scrubbed at his face with his hands, then lowered them slowly and looked at Rhys with a sad, helpless expression. “I failed.” His tone was that of a broken man. “I failed…” he repeated, as if he was tasting the unpleasant truth all over again. “She is dead anyway.”

Anna’s sadness rose. It hurt to see her uncle like this. He had been a vital, energetic man and despite his fits of madness and remoteness had always treated her kindly when forced to deal with her directly.

“Your Highness,” Jenkins said with a respectful tone. “Can you explain what your mother meant by your understanding why she did it?”

Anna drew in a calming breath. “I can, Superintendent, but I will not. It would be an embarrassment to the Queen if the reason were public knowledge.”

Jenkins turned his cap in his hands, thinking it through. “Very well,” he said. “Can you tell me if, given what you know, your mother’s actions make sense?”

“Sense?” Rhys shook his head.

“I am trying to close down a delicate case, Mr. Davies,” Jenkins said shortly. “It would make me happier if the Princess could at least assure me that at the bottom of this, there is a reason for it all.”

“I can assure you of that,” Rhys said firmly. “That is, if you will take the word of a commoner for it.”

Jenkins considered him for a moment. “You’re anything but a commoner, Mr. Davies. The work I’ve seen you do tells me that much. Very well. I will consider the matter closed. Your Grace, you are free to leave as soon as you feel up to it. I’ll let the warden know as I leave.” He gave Anna a short nod. “My regrets, Your Highness, that I was the bearer of bad news.”

“It was better to have the news quickly,” Anna assured him. “Thank you, Superintendent Jenkins.”

The door closed with a solid metallic thud, but there was no sound of the lock turning this time.

Anna moved around the table and held out the piece of paper that had been her mother’s last words. “Here, Uncle. You should have it.”

He took the sheet of paper with trembling hands and looked up at her. Then his gaze skittered away, as if he was embarrassed.

“You loved my mother very much, didn’t you?” Anna asked softly.

“Yes, he did,” Rhys said from behind her. “Only love has the power to make a man give up his life for another.”

Rupert looked at him. Then he gave a small nod. “As you say.” His voice was hoarse. He got to his feet and straightened his shirt cuffs. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked quite desperate, with neither coat nor cravat, nor hat to hide his dishevelment.

Unexpectedly, he held out his hand toward Rhys. “Mr. Davies. I appreciate the work you did to help me, even though I most definitely did not want the help at the time. I will remember your efforts on my behalf.”

Rhys hesitated, then took his hand. “Thank you. But you should know that it was Anna who did all the work. She uncovered your true movements that night.”

Her uncle looked at her sharply.

“I thought I was helping,” Anna explained.

“Where are you going?” Rhys asked Rupert.

“To see Cathrine.” He gave a grimace. “One last time.” He headed for the door, but stopped and looked back at Anna. “I wish you well in your new life, Annalies. I think you might do very well in it, for it is as unconventional as you.” He gave her a strained, small smile. “I’m sure the attorneys will be in touch. There is a rather large inheritance to sort out.” Then he knocked on the door, which opened immediately.

Anna barely waited for the door to close before throwing her arms around Rhys and pressing herself against him.

His arms were firm and warm around her. He kissed her forehead, then her lips. Then he stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry about your mother, Anna. I didn’t for a moment think it might have been her. She was so prostrate they hospitalized her…but she was the only other person in the house, once your uncle left. Even the valet had the evening off. It makes a horrible sort of sense.”

“It does,” Anna said with a sigh. “It explains so much, knowing how my uncle really felt about her. Why he lived in the palace ever since I can remember. Why he never married. I thought it was because he didn’t want to pass the madness on to his children, but that wasn’t it at all. He wanted to be close to my mother.”

“Having her take to her bed when you arrived in England must have stressed both him and your father. You said the mad fits were closer together, once you got here.”

She nodded. “I think that my mother knew that staying in her room would make it worse for me. Perhaps that is why she killed him.”

Rhys shook his head and smiled. “She didn’t act until after you had left the house. She was reacting because your father had driven you away. Your mother, out of everyone in your life, was the one person who probably understood exactly why you married me.”

Anna’s heart gave another little start and she swallowed. “Why did my uncle shake your hand, Rhys? After that day in the park, when they called you such vile things and accused you of marrying me for the money, it was a shock to see him offer his hand. He never does that for anyone.”

Rhys gave her a small smile. Suddenly his face and his expression were light, almost carefree. “Because he finally understood that wasn’t the reason I married you at all.”

Her breath came more quickly. Anna pressed her hand against his chest. “You married me to keep me safe.”

“Yes, that was the reason I gave everyone, including you. I didn’t even know myself that I loved you. Not until today, when I recognized the grief in your uncle.”

“You…love me?” This time, her heart actually halted. The world seemed to dip and sway around her.

Rhys’ arms tightened around her, keeping her on her feet. Keeping her safe. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know that wasn’t part of the arrangement.”

Anna laughed and wound her arms around his neck. Happiness bubbled through her. “Then we’ve both broken the contract. Oh dear.”

Rhys caught his breath. Then he kissed her, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth, stroking her flesh and her soul.

Chapter Eighteen

Grosvenor Square, London. A Year Later.

The heat of a perfect spring day was being replaced by soft evening light and a gentle breeze when the first of the carriages began to arrive in front of the large townhouse, and the front door bell began to chime.

“Rhys! Hurry!” Anna called up the stairs. “They’re coming!” She nodded to Bridges, their butler, who wore a new outfit with one of the high collars that he was immensely proud of. His shoulders were even more square and stiff as he walked to the front door to answer the summons.

Rhys hurried down the winding curve of the stairs.

“Where have you been?” Anna cried.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, smiling. “Seeing our son safely to sleep,” he told her. “I’m here now.” He kept hold of her hand.

“Anna!” Elisa called and Natasha smiled and waved as the two ladies hurried across the foyer. Close behind them came Seth and Vaughn, both of them wearing smiles.

Elisa was the first to reach Anna and she took her hand, her face alight with a glowing smile. “Why Anna, you look positively radiant!”

“And absolutely beautiful,” Seth said, coming up behind Elisa. He raised a brow. “Can I give the new mother a kiss on the cheek in congratulations?”

“Oh, yes please!” Anna said, delighted. Seth leaned down to touch her cheek.

“Listen to her!” Vaughn said, his voice merry, as he stood behind everyone, tall and composed.

“And look at her,” Elisa said just as warmly. “I barely recognize the retiring little Princess that first landed in England.”

Rhys slid his arm around Anna’s waist and she smiled up at him. She remembered the woman who had hidden in a closet, with her knees to her chest, quivering in fear. Oh, how her life had changed! “If I am different—”

“Far, far different,” Natasha interposed.

“—then it is a good difference and it is all thanks to Rhys.”

He kissed her, right there in front of their friends. “I did nothing but fall in love with you,” he murmured against her cheek. “The real you.”

There were more guests arriving, their voices lifting in greeting as they saw the small group of friends gathered in the entrance to the grand drawing room. It was going to be a busy night, for every single one of the three hundred invitations Anna had sent out had been accepted, so Anna said quickly to Rhys, in a voice designed only for him to hear, “You set the real me free.”

His eyes were filled with the heated warmth she knew so well, that she knew would end with them in each other’s arms later that night, when they could both be themselves with no one watching.

But for now she held out her hand to their friends. “Come. Come inside with us. It is time to celebrate.”

And so they did.

More Historical Romance
by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Perilous Princess is the last book in the Scandalous Sirens series.

If you enjoy historical romance, you might like Heart of Vengeance.

A woman in search of revenge…. An honorable man with a dark past.

It is 1197, and King Richard, known as the “Lionhearted,” is fighting France while Prince John hatches his own plans back home.

To find her father’s killer, Helena of York must pose as a Norman in the great halls of Richard’s England. Her only desire is to kill the man who destroyed her father and her future. Should she be unmasked, her life will be forfeit.

Stephen, Count of Dinan, once Richard’s friend and trusted knight, is outcast for reasons shrouded in mystery. Known as the “Black Baron,” he is friendless in a glittering world he despises. His only goal is to restore his honor and once again serve his king.

Stephen’s suspicions draw him into Helena’s web of deceit, and the two outsiders find themselves tangled in a conspiracy that threatens the throne of England itself, while their embattled hearts grapple with a far greater challenge.

This book is part of the historical romance series, Jewels of Tomorrow.
Diana by the Moon
Heart of Vengeance
…and more to come!

Romantic Times Finalist, Best Medieval Historical Romance
CAPA Nomination for Best Historical Romance
Night Owl Reviews Reviewers’ Top Pick

Get your copy of Heart of Vengeance now, at your favourite bookseller

About the Author

Tracy Cooper-Posey is an Amazon #1 Best Selling Author. She writes romantic suspense, paranormal, urban fantasy, futuristic and science fiction romances. She has published over 55 novels since 1999, been nominated for five CAPAs including Favourite Author, and won the Emma Darcy Award.

She turned to indie publishing in 2011. Her indie titles have been nominated four times for Book Of The Year and Byzantine Heartbreak was a 2012 winner. She has been a national magazine editor and for a decade she taught romance writing at MacEwan University.

She is addicted to Irish Breakfast tea and chocolate, sometimes taken together. In her spare time she enjoys history, Sherlock Holmes, science fiction and ignoring her treadmill. An Australian, she lives in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, a former professional wrestler, where she moved in 1996 after meeting him on-line.

Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

* = Free!

Blood Knot Series (Urban Fantasy Paranormal Series)

Blood Knot*
Southampton Swindle
Broken Promise
Vale
Amor Meus
Blood Stone
Blood Unleashed
Blood Drive

Beloved Bloody Time Series (Paranormal Futuristic Time Travel)

Bannockburn Binding*
Wait
Byzantine Heartbreak
Viennese Agreement
Romani Armada
Spartan Resistance

Kiss Across Time Series (Paranormal Time Travel)

Kiss Across Time*
Kiss Across Swords
Time Kissed Moments I
Kiss Across Chains
Kiss Across Deserts

The Kine Prophecies (Epic Norse Fantasy Romance)

The Branded Rose Prophecy

The Stonebrood Saga(Gargoyle Paranormal Series)

Carson’s Night*
Beauty’s Beasts
Harvest of Holidays
Sabrina’s Clan

Destiny’s Trinities (Urban Fantasy Romance Series)

Beth’s Acceptance*
Mia’s Return
Sera’s Gift
The First Trinity
Cora’s Secret

Interspace Originas (Science Fiction Romance Series)

Faring Soul
Varkan Rise (Upcoming)
Cat and Company (Upcoming)

Short Paranormals

Solstice Surrender
Eva’s Last Dance

The Vistaria Affair (Romantic Suspense)

Red Leopard*
Black Heart
Blue Knight
White Dawn

Go-get-‘em Women (Short Romantic Suspense Series)

The Royal Talisman
Delly’s Last Night
Vivian’s Return
Ningaloo Nights

Jewells of Tomorrow (Historical Romantic Suspense)

Diana By The Moon
Heart of Vengeance

Scandalous Sirens (Historical Romance Series)

Forbidden*
Dangerous Beauty
Perilous Princess

Romantic Thrillers Series

Fatal Wild Child
Dead Again
Dead Double
Terror Stash
Thrilling Affair

Short Science Fiction Romane

5,001

Contemporary Romances

Lucifer’s Lover
An Inconvenient Lover

The Sherlock Holmes Series (Romantic Suspense/Mystery)

Chronicles of the Lost Years
The Case of the Reluctant Agent

For reviews, excerpts, and more about each title, visit Tracy’s site and click on each title in turn: http://tracycooperposey.com/books/tracys-trilogies-series/

Copyright Information

This is an original publication of Tracy Cooper-Posey

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2015 by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Text design by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Cover design by Dar Albert
http://WickedSmartDesigns.com

Edied by Helen Woodall
http://helenwoodallfreelanceediting.blogspot.com/

All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

FIRST EDITION: October 2015

Cooper-Posey, Tracy
Perilous Princess/Tracy Cooper-Posey—1st Ed.

Romance—Fiction
Historical – Fiction

Table of Contents

- About Perilous Princess
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- About the Author