Chapter Thirteen
A procession of carriages and coaches drew into the Calydons’ driveway. Cossack outriders flanked the procession, two to the front and two to the rear.
What is happening?
Payton closed the volume of the Grimm’s Fairy Tale, the story of the Elves and the Shoemaker she had been reading, and strolled to the windows. She frowned as one of the most richly dressed women she had ever seen was helped down from a large and elegantly designed carriage pulled by Arabian horses. She was slender and graceful with her golden hair piled high in a riot of fashionable curls. Oh, she is a beauty.
Payton frowned as Vladimir appeared and bowed deeply over the woman’s hand.
It was then she noted the duchess waiting at the doorstep, a frown on her lovely face. The procession moved toward the duchess, and Payton wished she were able to hear the conversation. The women greeted each other with curtsies, and the frown melted from Lady Calydon’s face as she laughed at something the ravishing woman said.
Payton shifted her gaze to the entourage following the woman and the very handsome blond man at her side. With an inward shrug she dismissed their presence and settled in a chair by the fire and opened the book. She’d come to a point in the story she was crafting for the children where she was frustratingly unsure of how to proceed. Should she allow the princess to choose the royal guard or the prince himself? Both had journeyed together over marshlands and battled dragons and trolls to save the maiden only to find she’d already outwitted the gargoyles holding her captive.
The door to the smaller parlor was flung open, and Aunt Florence rushed in, distracting Payton from the unknown guest and her readings. Anxiety sliced through her, and she stood. She dropped the book on the chair, folded her arms, bracing for the fight. “I will not walk with Lord Jensen,” she snapped. The persistent man had already demanded her company twice since morning, and she had refused. Of course he would now try to secure her family’s support.
Her father had returned and was in the smaller library with her mother. They were probably discussing how to badger her into marrying Lord Jensen. She was also sure her mother was informing Father of her scandalous behavior in dancing with the “horse breeder” at last night’s ball. She’d anticipated her father’s roar of anger, so the silence was maddening.
Aunt Florence clasped her hands in front of her. “Your father has asked Lord Jensen to depart Sherring Cross and to no longer approach him for your hand.”
Confusion and joy rushed through Payton in equal measure. “Oh, thank heavens.” She made to rush past her aunt, but she halted Payton.
Her aunt beamed. “Give your father some time. Your mother is insisting on speaking with Pr—Mr. Konstantinovich, and your father has requested an audience to soothe her.”
Payton frowned. “What?”
“It seems Mr. Konstantinovich saw your father in London and asked permission to court you. Approval was given.”
She remembered Mikhail’s confidence last night. Why had he not mentioned he’d seen her father? Was that what he wanted to speak with her about at the cottage today? But what was most amazing was her father’s capitulation. He even sent away Lord Jensen. Sudden trepidation sliced through Payton, and dreadful knowledge hovered. “Father and Mother have no objections to Mr. Konstantinovich courting me?”
Aunt Florence hesitated. “Your father will speak with you, my dear.”
Before she could demand more clarification, the door was flung open, and the beautiful woman from outside swept in, the unknown man and Vladimir at her side.
“Is that her?” the woman demanded scathingly with a pointed glare aimed at Payton.
“Princess Tatiana,” Vladimir started soothingly. “It is best we wait until the prince is available. He will not take kindly to you upsetting the girl, and it was not my intention for you to force a confrontation.”
What prince? And why were they speaking of her as if she were not present? Payton dismissed them and moved to walk out of the parlor. She would head to the cottage and wait for Mikhail. Why had he not informed her of his visit to her father?
“I have not finished speaking with you,” the woman snapped, stepping rudely into Payton’s path, looking down her thin but elegant nose with disdain.
Payton stiffened. “I beg your pardon. I was not aware you’d addressed me.”
The princess’s lips parted in a contemptuous sneer. “She is an American.” She shot an accusing stare at Vladimir. “You had me worried for naught. He would not dare to think to align himself with someone so unworthy of his family’s name. I am sure you misunderstood what Prince Alexander told you.”
Vladimir grimaced. “I implore discretion, Princess.”
Payton pushed aside the anger rising inside and moved for the entrance.
Sharp nails sank into her arm as the princess gripped her.
“You have not been excused,” she snapped with imperious command.
Payton stared at the woman in disbelief. “You will release my arm at once.”
The princess’s cheeks were flushed with obvious anger. “Do you know who I am?”
“I have little interest to know. Good day,” she said with a nod, yanking her arm away, uncaring that the princess’s claws had drawn blood. She had to get away. A sickening sensation had been rioting inside her, and her heart slammed so painfully she felt on the verge of fainting.
“I am Princess Tatiana, Prince Alexander Konstantinovich Dashkova’s fiancée.”
Payton stumbled, and her stomach hollowed, and unfortunately she did not contain the cry of denial that slipped from her lips.
A light shifted in the depth of the woman’s eyes, and if Payton was not mistaken it looked like pity.
She looked away, and her gaze collided with her aunt’s.
“It is true; he is a Russian prince, Payton.” Her aunt’s eyes glowed and she vibrated with excitement. “Better, your stable master is the heir to the Dukedom of Avondale.”
Her aunt turned to Princess Tatiana. “It is my pleasure to inform you, Prince Mikhail has asked to court my niece, Miss Peppiwell. He would not conduct himself with such dishonor knowing he was committed to another.”
While Payton’s heart shared such sentiments, it stunned her to witness her aunt’s defense of Mikhail.
“Do not be foolish! Prince Alexander would never pursue this unrefined commoner.”
The distressing name and title resounded in her head once again. Prince Alexander. Mikhail is a prince…and a duke? And he was to marry…a princess? It was as if a claw attached itself to her throat and ripped down with brutal precision to her chest. Payton’s stomach constricted.
“Excuse me,” she said, pushing past the princess, hating the tears gathering behind her eyes.
Outrage twisted in Payton when the princess grabbed her arm again.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she snapped low in her throat. “You have been inexcusably rude, and I will not suffer the presence anymore of someone with the manners of a pig. If you thought to confront me because you believe I have some claim on your prince, disabuse yourself of the notion. He is a lying cur like most lords I have been unfortunate to know, and I gladly relinquish him to your venomous embrace.”
Liar, her heart screamed, but Payton could not deal with her mind’s instinctual rejection of Mikhail being with another woman.
“Impertinent miss!”
Payton inhaled deeply. “Forgive me, that was uncalled for. I had no cause to insult pigs.”
Her cheek exploded in fiery pain as the princess slapped her.
The door was flung open, and the duchess entered. “Princess Tatiana,” she clipped. “I would invite you to join me in the Rose Room until Prince…” Her voice trailed away when she spied Payton, then regret and apology flashed in Jocelyn’s gray eyes. “Payton, I am so sorry,” she said softly. “Please do not leave; let me summon Prince Alexander.”
Payton flinched. Of course the duchess would have known. She felt like a naive trusting fool. What cause would Mikhail—Alexander—have to deceive her so? Tears tightened her throat, but she would be damned if she allowed any to spill. Last night she’d suspected he belonged to the haute monde. But she’d thought a baron, or maybe a viscount. But a prince? Oh God.
At a loss for what to say, she looked to her aunt and blanched. Aunt Florence’s eyes gleamed with avaricious cunning. Mikhail was no longer unworthy. Payton wanted to scream at her aunt’s fickleness and her lack of caring for the hurt pummeling Payton. He’d deceived her, misrepresented himself, and they did not care because he was a Russian prince and a duke.
“Please do not, Your Grace,” she said formally, and Jocelyn winced. “I am leaving Sherring Cross.”
The princess shifted even closer, and Payton wanted to smack the sneer from her face, but suppressed the desire with a will she’d not thought herself capable.
“I believe that is the smart decision, darling. Prince Alexander and I have known each other for years.” The princess then rested her hands against her stomach and rubbed in a gentle motion. “There are very compelling reasons he will not be able to marry anyone but me.”
Her aunt gasped, and a smug smile appeared on the princess’s lips.
“It is very fortunate Vladimir wrote and informed me of Mikhail’s fascination with you,” Princess Tatiana spat, contempt twisting her features. “Please inform her of what you told me, Vladimir.”
He stepped forward, a distinct look of discomfort creasing his handsome face. “Prince Mikhail loves Princess Tatiana, and…and he was merely seeking a distraction with you.”
Payton flinched, and the duchess gasped.
Princess Tatiana gave her another sneering smile. “Did you even believe for a second he truly wanted you, a common peasant?”
The room exploded into conversation with the duchess ordering them to be polite or leave her home, her aunt insisting Mikhail would wed her, and the princess hurling insults at Payton.
Payton walked away. Within a few seconds she was outside. She curled her hands into tight fists, desperate to stop their shaking.
Why had he lied? She remembered his words from the picnic: And what would be your opinion of me, if I confessed to possessing several titles and I am far wealthier than most lords you know?
She closed her eyes against the memory and the tense way he’d waited for her reply. She had bared her emotions and hurt to him, and he’d still not trusted her. He’d even chosen to inform her father first, no doubt hoping for them to pressure her. The frigid air slapped at her skin, but she was numb to it. Cold rage blossomed in her heart. Once again she had been duped. But this time…this time she had believed. Every uttered lie and sweet false promise of passion and happiness she had welcomed.
How utterly foolish of her.
Mikhail’s heart jerked from his chest and lodged in his throat at the tense scene that greeted him in the parlor. He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face, but Princess Tatiana and her brother were still there when he opened his lids.
He’d strolled from the west wing and made his way to the stables with the intention of riding to the cottage to meet Payton. He’d met her father in London, and Mr. Peppiwell had been very eager to accept Mikhail’s proposition to court Payton incognito. Of course the man had only relented after they had drawn up an agreement. Not that Mikhail minded. He was determined to wed Payton. He’d not lingered in London, eager to start his conquest. He’d not been at the ball for long before the vile whispers had started about them. The blast of rage that had filled him had almost made him roar. He’d sought her out and, seeing the torment in her eyes at society’s veiled whispers, he’d decided he could not hide his identity and woo her, not when she would suffer until he revealed himself.
The sight of the Arabian horses and Prince Krill’s valet in the stables had made Mikhail falter, and the careful speech he had planned explaining his stupidity vanished. He rushed inside to the parlor and shook his head in disbelief when his eyes landed on the immaculately put-together Princess Tatiana Ivanovna.
He allowed his gaze to sweep the room, assessing the rage on the duchess’s face, the petulant frown on Princess Tatiana, Vladimir’s guilt, and Prince Krill’s anger. Yet the only thing that mattered was that Payton was not there when she must have been earlier.
“Where is Payton?” He kept his voice low and calm, lest he betrayed the anger slowly twisting in his gut.
From the tenseness seething in the room, he could imagine what had taken place.
“She fled in tears,” Jocelyn said tersely.
Regret sat like a stone in his stomach.
“Why are you here?” he asked, shifting his attention to the princess.
She sent a swift glance toward the duchess.
“Did you offer Payton the courtesy of speaking with her in private…when you flayed her with your words? Why should you be given such favor, when you denied it to her?”
Princess Tatiana turned softened eyes to him. “You judge me without hearing what I have to say?”
“Your satisfied sneer speaks for itself.”
She strolled over to him and lifted a hand to touch his face. Revulsion tore through Mikhail, and he jerked from her caress. Impatience bit at him. “Speak as to why you are here.”
“Alexander…I love you. I left my pride in Russia and I followed you to England because I need you,” she said pleadingly.
They had been friends once, but nothing more. Despite his father’s wishes, Mikhail never once gave indication he would welcome something deeper between them. It was laughable she was now speaking words of affection to him. She had always been so sweet, but the lie that she carried his child and insisting they wed was despicable. There had been nothing beneath her sweet softness but emptiness, and greed. After refusing to fall prey to her schemes he’d simply removed her from his thoughts. But to now follow him to England? “How did you know where I was?”
She stepped even closer. “Alexander—”
“How?” His voice snaked through the room like a whip, and she visibly jerked.
Prince Krill shifted, pushing from the wall where he’d been leaning. “Be very careful how you speak to my sister, Alexander,” he said, his eyes growing cold in anger.
The duchess glanced to Mikhail and, with a stiff nod to the room in general, she exited.
“After I saw the interest you showed in the American girl, I wrote Princess Tatiana in London, informing her of your whereabouts,” Vladimir said stiffly.
Mikhail looked at the man who’d been at his side since his kidnapping and rescue from Madam Anya ten years past. Vladimir had been hired by Mikhail’s father, but he thought they’d forged a friendship over the years and that he had the man’s loyalty.
“I entrusted you with my confidence, and your response was to betray me to the princess?”
Vladimir paled. “I did not betray—”
The need to end this unwanted confrontation and be with Payton roiled through him.
“Sherring Cross is not the place for us to have this conversation, Princess. I apologize for leaving home without granting you the audience you sought. If I had acted with courtesy you would not have wasted your time to travel to England. I will be in Wiltshire at my main estate; call on me within the week.”
He nodded to Prince Krill and Vladimir. Mikhail moved with purpose, thinking about where Payton would have fled.
“Are you chasing her?” Incredulity rang in the princess’s voice.
Mikhail kept walking.
“You will not walk away from me, Alexander, to go to that tramp; I have traveled a long journey to speak with you!”
She rushed to stand in front of the door, her eyes snapping with fear and desperation. “I love you, Alexander. I know I have never told you before, but I have the utmost love and respect for you.” She glanced at her brother before lowering her voice. “We can benefit each other. I need a husband, and you do not need a clingy wife who will ask questions. Does your American know of your experience with Madam Anya and the scars with which it left you? Would she be as caring for you if she knew the tales that are alive even today at our court?”
He noted the veiled threat in her tone. “If you approach Payton again I will break you,” he said flatly. “And I will show no mercy despite your connection to my family.”
Shock flared in her eyes, then doubt. A flicker of calculation entered her gaze before she lowered her lashes.
“Your Payton believes we are engaged and that I am carrying your child. That you were only pursuing her for bed sport. You have your trusted man Vladimir to thank for imparting that wonderful tidbit.”
Mikhail stepped close to her, lifting the mask of politeness, and apprehension widened her gaze.
“If you have brought harm to Payton with your thoughtless words I will never forgive you.”
Princess Tatiana paled. “I am already not in your good graces, so what is one more? And it is you who needs to make amends. I did not lie to her,” Princess Tatiana said with a smug smile. “Though I will admit a certain pleasure in shattering whatever naive beliefs she had in relation to you.”
With ruthless control, he placed his hands on her hips and lifted her from blocking the door. She squeaked and gripped his arms, her touch knifing him with dread like a poison-tipped dagger. But he did not draw from her, burying all traces of weakness.
“I saw you wrapped in the arms of Prince Dmitri, naked, discussing how to make use of my fortune and the possibility of you passing his child off as mine.”
All the blood leached from her face, and she stumbled from Mikhail, gasping. Her brother’s face slackened with shock, and he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.
Mikhail did not care. He wrenched open the door.
“Prince Alexander, I—” Vladimir shook his head, dazed, awareness dawning in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he ended stiffly.
Mikhail did not respond, gently closing the door on the silence. He strode down the foyer with quick steps, finally allowing the fear that he’d lost Payton to rear its head.
It was brutal and gripping.
He had no idea what he’d say when he found her. Mikhail only knew he could not let her walk away from the passion and laughter simmering between them because of his blasted stupidity and her misplaced prejudices.