The Truth About Princesses and Dukes (The Duke Hunters Club) Page 10

  “Thank you.” He stared up at the half-timbered building.

  The publican brought them their food outside, and Galileo happily rolled about in the grass while Lady Octavia inspected the area for bugs.

  They filled their stomachs with the heavy food. For a while, they could pretend they weren’t in danger.

  The princess tilted her head, and dark glossy strands fell in an appealing manner. “What do you do when you’re not fleeing from a murderous man?”

  He smiled.

  “Unless that’s a common occurrence,” she amended.

  “No,” Rupert admitted. “It’s not. Thankfully.” He tilted his head. “I like reading.”

  The princess’s eyes shimmered. “I adore reading.”

  Rupert grinned too. “Like was actually a weak word. My enjoyment of reading is very strong.”

  “As is mine,” the princess breathed.

  Lady Octavia jumped on the table, flourishing her tail.

  “I like you, too,” Rupert assured Lady Octavia.

  “How long have you had her?” the princess asked.

  Rupert sighed. “My mother died a few months ago. Lady Octavia was hers.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the princess said. “That’s horrible.”

  “It’s a tragedy that is too frequent,” Rupert said. “She was sick for years, but even with such warning, it was still a shock.”

  “I’m sorry,” the princess said. “My mother died suddenly. I used to wish we had known what would happen, but perhaps nothing could have prepared me.”

  “How old were you when she passed away?”

  “I was twelve.” She scrunched her lips together. “But Father was wonderful. Everyone was wonderful. I just—”

  “Miss her?” Rupert suggested.

  The princess nodded. “Precisely.”

  They were silent for a moment and continued to eat. The sun shone over them, spreading warm golden beams about. A floral scent wafted about Rupert, and bees buzzed and hummed, adding their sounds to that of the chirping birds and murmur of other guests.

  “We should keep on going,” Rupert said reluctantly, after they’d finished their meal and taken their last sips of their drinks.

  This time, the princess and he sat in the front, leaving Lady Octavia and Galileo in the carriage.

  Rupert took the reins. “Now, I do have an important question.”

  “Oh?” A worried look flickered over the princess’s face, and he hated that this incident had made her in any manner uncertain.

  “Well. I think it’s important,” he amended. “What do you like to read?”

  “Oh!” The princess straightened, then she glanced at him. “You would like recommendations?”

  “Precisely,” Rupert said.

  “No one’s asked me for recommendations before.”

  “Someone who does not ask a devout reader for recommendations is losing a valuable opportunity,” Rupert said.

  The princess giggled, and the conversation switched to books rather than on the potential locations of murderous dukes.

  Finally, after much time had passed, and the sky had turned pink, then orange, then dark, they stopped at a public house.

  “Will this do?” Rupert asked.

  The princess nodded, and Rupert turned the carriage into the carriage park. They covered the carriage with branches, and the groom took the horses to the stable. Rupert and the princess entered the building.

  Laughter filled the room, and someone was playing the piano.

  Rupert approached an auburn-haired barmaid with a wide smile. “We would like two rooms.”

  “Mrs. Gussie Colthorpe can assist you with that.” The barmaid waved over a plump woman with a stern expression on her face. “These guests would like two rooms, Mrs. Colthorpe.”

  Mrs. Colthorpe rolled her eyes over them and frowned. “I have one for you.”

  “I am a married woman,” Princess Aria said. Her voice was regal, and he almost swore that she gained another inch.

  He smiled.

  Certainly, the publican seemed rather less certain than she had been before. The publican glanced at the floor, as if she had a sudden urge to bend her knees down into a curtsy.

  Mrs. Colthorpe steeled herself and smoothed her cap, as if it were a crown she was wary of losing. “You said separate rooms.”

  “Married couples always sleep in separate rooms,” Princess Aria said airily. “If you had more couples with sufficient income, you would know that.”

  Mrs. Colthorpe’s face reddened. “Don’t insult my guests.”

  “I’m just saying they’re not rich,” the princess said archly.

  Rupert shifted his legs over the wooden floor. Awkwardness suddenly moved through him.

  “Besides,” the princess said, evidently not needing much inspiration to pummel the publican, “I have spent all day riding in a very small coach.”

  The publican shot a skeptical gaze outside. “I don’t see an elaborate coach.”

  “But it is small,” Rupert said hastily, “which was my wife’s point.”

  The princess regained her confident air. “So you must see that it is very important that my husband and I have separate rooms. We do require our space.”

  Mrs. Colthorpe shrugged her shoulders. “Personally, I think an unpleasant carriage ride means you require a night with a great deal of amusement.”

  “And you think we could do that more effectively in a small room?” the princess asked.

  Mrs. Colthorpe’s eyebrows darted up, and she snickered. “Oh, my.”

  “Let’s not be vulgar,” Rupert said.

  The princess glanced at him with a bemused expression on her face. The publican stared at her and continued to chortle.

  “Two rooms,” Rupert said.

  Mrs. Colthorpe nodded, handed him two keys, and pointed to a staircase. Rupert murmured icy thanks, then led the princess upstairs. The sooner they were in their rooms, the sooner he could come down and get the dog and cat. He wasn’t certain of the publican’s acceptance of pets, and he would rather not ask and be disappointed, at least where there were no other options. Besides, the duke’s men knew he was traveling with pets—he would prefer it if they were not easily identified.

  Rupert led the princess upstairs. “Shall we inspect the rooms?”

  She nodded, silent now and eager to sleep. He installed her in the best room, a fact ascertained by the view, since the quality did not otherwise differ.

  “I’ll go down and sneak Lady Octavia and Galileo inside,” Rupert said.

  “Do you think it will work?” she asked.

  “I won’t have to speak with the publican. Besides, I think the music there might drown the sound of even Galileo’s most vigorous efforts.”

  The princess giggled, and when Rupert left the room, his heart was light.

  ARIA STOOD STIFFLY in the room. The bed lacked four posters, and nothing in the room seemed to be made of silk or velvet. The room was imperfectly cleaned, as if it had been hastily prepared after another guest, and loud male chuckles from the public house portion of this building drifted upward. She wondered whether fewer aristocrats laughed or if they were simply self-conscious in her presence. Perhaps one didn’t relax when meeting a princess, especially when the princess in question was often accompanied by a burly bodyguard who had a tendency to glower and scowl.

  Still, this was better than what she’d experienced last night, and there was no one who desired to murder her in sight. Certainly, that was an improvement.

  She settled onto the bed tentatively.

  A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped up and padded toward it.

  “Who is it?” she whispered.

  “Just me.”

  Relief moved through her, and she opened the door. Rupert stepped into the room and handed Galileo toward her.

  “Here he is,” Rupert said. “I put Lady Octavia in my room already.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. Come inside.”

&nb
sp; He nodded, and she was suddenly aware of the utter inappropriateness of what they were doing. She wasn’t supposed to be in the room with a man, even if she was married.

  She stared at him. His shoulders weren’t particularly broad, but they were hardly narrow. In fact, they were just right. He didn’t tower over her like Demon did. When she had a suggestion, he listened. And he was clever; he’d camouflaged their carriage.

  Galileo squirmed, and she realized she’d been gazing at Rupert for too long.

  She placed Galileo on the floor, and he spun around, his tail wagging, apparent approval for not being in a tiny space moving at a fast pace over unseen potholes.

  “Was there anything else?” Mr. Andrews asked.

  “No,” she said. “I mean—” She hesitated. She’d insisted on two rooms, but now she hardly wanted him to leave.

  Mr. Andrews seemed to understand, and he pulled her toward him.

  “You’re safe.” He held her closer to him. “You’re safe.”

  Aria nodded and gave a tight smile.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised.

  She smiled. Even though she barely knew him, even though they’d hardly been even introduced, she still felt safe.

  She tilted her head up at him, gazing at his kind gray eyes. “I know.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The next day passed swiftly, undisturbed by the duke and his men. Rupert allowed himself to hope they’d evaded them. Perhaps taking smaller roads had been sufficient hindrance. Perhaps they were safe.

  This part of Staffordshire was less inhabited. There were fewer cottages and fewer public houses.

  The sky turned tangerine, then pink, then vanished entirely into darkness.

  “I hope we find something soon,” he said.

  “Yes,” Aria agreed.

  Thankfully, she didn’t list all the things that could go disastrously. There was no mention of potholes, no mention of unseen fallen branches, no mention of highwaymen.

  They hadn’t escaped the duke only to be murdered by someone else.

  Finally, lights appeared.

  “Look!” Aria pointed at a half-timbered building, illuminated by candlelight that danced in the windows. A happy melody drifted through the air. Carts and carriages were parked outside. A groom led horses to a stable, and a few people chatted outside, holding large tankards.

  “I think we’ll be able to sleep somewhere,” Rupert said.

  “Indeed.” Aria clapped her hands.

  Rupert smiled and pulled the carriage over. A groom came to unhook the horses and led them away.

  Rupert and Aria entered the tavern. Someone was playing the piano, and most of the public house had evidently volunteered to sing, practically shouting a bawdy song with glee.

  Rupert glanced at Aria carefully, but she only smiled.

  They approached a round-faced woman in a flowered dress who was pouring tankards of ale.

  “Are you the publican, by any chance?” Rupert asked.

  The woman set a frothy tankard aside and smiled. “Mrs. Honoria Butterby. My husband and I run this place.”

  “We would like two rooms for the night,” Rupert said.

  Mrs. Butterby sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, love.”

  Rupert’s heart sank. “Why not?”

  Mrs. Butterby gestured at the guests. “We’re full.”

  “So you have no space? Is there another public house?”

  “The closest public house is ten miles away,” the publican continued. “In Littlehampton.”

  “That’s where we came from,” Rupert said.

  “I’m sorry, love. Ever since they built the road to London here, there’s been more traffic than we can handle.”

  “I see.” Rupert nodded solemnly, remembering the princess’s displeasure yesterday.

  “But we do have one room,” the publican said brightly.

  “Oh?”

  Mrs. Butterby nodded happily. “It’s our finest room.” She cast a worried look. “And the most expensive.”

  She scrutinized Rupert and the princess, evidently flummoxed by the muddy state of their otherwise nice attire.

  “We’ll manage,” Rupert said.

  She sighed skeptically. “I don’t want you to spend all your money on it.”

  “We’re saving money by sharing,” the princess assured her.

  Rupert paid for the room. Even though his mother’s cottage was heavily mortgaged and he owed money to the duke for all the years in which he’d assisted, he wasn’t entirely destitute. After the publican had checked the coin with a detailed scrutiny Rupert suspected she did not use for every exchange of money, she pointed to the staircase.

  “The room is on the top floor,” Mrs. Butterby said.

  “Thank you.” Rupert scrunched his lip together. “Is it perhaps possible to get some extra bedding for the room?”

  The publican frowned. “There is sufficient bedding in each room.”

  “Of course,” Rupert said, “but—er—”

  “My husband suffers from extreme coldness,” the princess blurted.

  Mrs. Butterby eyed him. “Then perhaps he should start wearing coats.”

  “Right,” Rupert said, conscious he hadn’t grabbed a coat when he’d left his cottage hurriedly.

  “Coats are very useful,” the publican continued. “I’m always telling my children to wear them. I tell Billy, ‘wear a coat.’ Then I tell Rose, ‘wear a coat.’”

  “Very wise of you,” Rupert said quickly, lest the publican recite all the occasions she’d ever told people to wear coats.

  He led the princess up the stairs. “I’m sorry about the room situation.”

  “I think my reputation is already destroyed,” Aria said lightly.

  “I’m sorry,” Rupert said miserably.

  “It’s the duke’s fault,” Aria said, and her eyes glimmered.

  He smiled. It was just like her to see the best in everything.

  “I would much rather be alive,” she said.

  “I prefer you that way, too.” Rupert tried not to imagine her the other way.

  There was only one door on the top floor, and Rupert braced himself for a narrow room, perhaps recently converted from storage. He imagined a tiny window and a creaking, sloping floor that would remind the princess that she was not in anything resembling the palaces to which she was accustomed. He imagined peeling paint and a small narrow bed that would make them both uncomfortable.

  He opened the door. A large four-poster bed lay in the center of the room. Floral wallpaper was pasted on the walls, and the room contained more candelabras than could possibly be necessary.

  “I see why the room was expensive,” the princess said, eying the wax that had dripped from the candles onto the floor.

  “Er—yes.” He blinked, then turned to the princess. “It’s—er—”

  “Rather romantic,” the princess said, but then for some reason, her cheeks pinkened.

  He despised that any mention of romance in front of him made her uncomfortable. “I’ll order some dinner and fetch Lady Octavia and Galileo.”

  “Thank you,” the princess said with a strained smile. She settled awkwardly onto a velvet armchair.

  He left the room hurriedly. He refused to think about how the princess might look laying on the bed. He refrained from picturing her removing her dress, and he certainly refrained from imagining her in her shift, no longer constrained by her stays. He wasn’t going to imagine what her long, dark locks would look like when they were no longer in an updo.

  Rupert scampered down the steps, as if the speed of his legs could make him lose images of Aria from his mind. Naturally, the effort was in vain.

  ARIA PRETENDED IT WAS perfectly normal to be in a room alone with a man. It was easier to pretend when not looking at the bed, so she examined the room’s artwork. Various watercolors lined the walls, and she gazed at the images.

  A knock sounded on the door, then it opened.
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br />   Pitter-patters sounded on the floor, and she turned to find Galileo running toward her, evidently relieved to no longer be in a swaying carriage. Lady Octavia sauntered in with rather more elegance, managing to resist any temptation to stick her tongue out.

  Finally, Rupert entered, and her heart trembled. The man’s cheeks were flushed, perhaps from the brisk night air, and she had the odd sense it might be nice to run her fingers across them. His jaw was sturdy, dependable.

  She sighed and averted her eyes. If only the duke had been as kind as Rupert. The man was in danger of being murdered by the duke, but he was still assisting her. If only the man who’d written those letters had actually existed.

  “I want an annulment,” she said.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know the rules for that.”

  “Threatening to murder someone should count.” She raised her chin. “Besides, Henry VIII’s wife managed to get an annulment, and they had been married for twenty-four years. I wasn’t even married to the duke for twenty-four hours.”

  “That is certainly a good point,” Rupert said, spreading some food over the small table. The scent of meat wafted about her. He turned to her and smiled. “You know your history.”

  “English history was always the most interesting.”

  “I’m sorry you’ll have to leave England. I’m sorry about everything.”

  She turned to him. “It’s not your fault. I should have been more careful.”

  “We will make inquiries about an annulment in London.”

  She nodded and focused on her food. Finally, after Aria had eaten all the food, and Rupert had taken Galileo out for a small excursion while Aria quickly removed her dress and scrambled into bed, Rupert appeared.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said.

  “Very well,” she squeaked.

  Even the floor seemed too near him. She would be thinking of him, even if they were separated by more than two feet.

  “But it is important that you sleep well,” she said.

  He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Only that the bed is large enough for both of us. And I wouldn’t want you to be tired on our journey tomorrow.”

  “You needn’t worry,” he said staunchly. “Sleep is unnecessary.”