Princess Charming Read online

  Maura sighed. “Not always. I did not sleep well last night.”

  “That is understandable. Let me guess. You spent much of the night fretting and plotting a new course of action to save your stallion.”

  She had plotted, yes, although she had not come up with any concrete ideas to rescue Emperor from the viscount’s clutches.

  “Fortunately, I am here to discuss a plan,” Beaufort announced amiably.

  “You needn’t go to such trouble.”

  “I expected that exact response from you. According to Kate, you are too proud to ask for help.”

  Maura shot him an exasperated look. “And here I thought she was supposed to be my friend.”

  “Oh, she is. She is merely concerned for you, and rightly so.”

  “Perhaps, but you have no reason to concern yourself with me.”

  He gave her a long, considering look. “Why are you so resistant to my involvement? Other than your pride, that is.”

  Maura managed a shrug. “It is embarrassing, having a man who is practically a stranger privy to my private affairs.”

  “Why, because you care for my good opinion?”

  His unexpected query surprised a fleeting smile from her. “Surely you can understand why last night was mortifying for me.”

  “Because you don’t like being in a position of weakness.”

  “Well, yes. I imagine you would not either.”

  “True. If Deering had propositioned me as he did you, we would be meeting over pistols at dawn.”

  Maura could well believe it. Even though dueling was illegal, the Wildes were known to use pistols to settle their controversies, which had resulted in more than one blood feud to enliven their family history.

  “I don’t intend to shoot him,” she muttered, “much as I would like to.”

  “Yet you are obviously not thinking clearly, Miss Collyer,” Beaufort pressed. “If you allow me to join forces with you, it will strengthen your position. Deering will think twice if he knows he has to deal with me.”

  Her gaze fixed intently on him. “Will your involvement make him return my horse to me?”

  “Not alone, no. But I can help you develop a strategy to fight him, one that is not so haphazard as the vague plan you are pursuing to buy back your stallion.”

  When Maura remained mute, Beaufort prodded her further. “I gather you mean to approach Deering this morning.”

  “If I can find him.”

  “Is that wise so soon after the contretemps last night?”

  “Perhaps not,” she conceded.

  “Have you arranged to meet him?”

  “No.”

  “So you intend to attempt an ambush. You aren’t worried he will repeat his offer to make you his mistress?”

  “Hyde Park is a public enough place. I doubt he would proposition me again in front of witnesses. And I won’t allow myself to be caught alone with him again.”

  “But what do you hope to accomplish?”

  Realizing Beaufort would not give up his questioning until his curiosity was satisfied, Maura gave in. “As galling as it would be, I may have to apologize for unmanning him last night.”

  She saw Beaufort’s lips twitch. “I didn’t think you fancied eating crow for breakfast.”

  Her own lips twisted in an unwilling smile. “I don’t, but I am willing to swallow my pride for the sake of my horse. I mean to try one more time to persuade Deering to sell Emperor. Barring that, I will ask him to return Emperor to my farm, or at least to one of his own estates in the country. It is a reasonable request. Emperor is highly nervous in London traffic, and Deering is known as a ham-handed rider. He is treating a champion racehorse like a common hack, riding him in a busy park. Any idiot would know better.”

  “True, but you underestimate Deering if you think him a complete idiot. He is merely excessively vain. No doubt he hopes to increase his prestige by showing off his new prize possession before the ton.”

  Maura found herself grinding her teeth again, and her voice dropped to a low growl. “I suspect he also wants to broadcast his victory over me. He enjoys rubbing salt in my wounds,” she added with a touch of bitterness.

  Beaufort thought about that for a moment before asking another question. “Just how do you know what Deering’s riding customs are?”

  “I told you, my steward Gandy has connections.”

  “Ah, you have a spy in his stables.”

  Maura blushed to have her underhanded methods exposed, but she’d deemed it necessary to fight fire with fire. “Something like that. Emperor is stabled in the mews behind Deering’s home, and some of the grooms there are former colleagues of Gandy’s, and so are willing to keep him informed.”

  “I am surprised Gandy is not here to help you deal with the problem.”

  “He originally came with me to London, but he couldn’t remain long because it is prime foaling season.”

  “Then you have all the more reason to welcome my support.”

  Maura bit back a sigh. Beaufort’s forceful personality was much like his sister’s; opposing him would be like trying to resist a powerful storm.

  Her conclusion was proved right with his next words.

  “Regardless of your stubborn pride, Miss Collyer, I intend to offer my unwanted advice. You are letting anger and grief cloud your judgment. You need someone with a cooler head to help you formulate a new plan.”

  He sounded eminently logical and rational, drat him.

  “If you have half the intelligence I credit you with,” he added for good measure, “you will allow me to help.”

  Maura fell silent, acknowledging the truth of his observation. She would be foolish not to at least consider his offer.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked cautiously.

  “Your best course is to gain some leverage over Deering, something that will force him to sell.”

  She didn’t reply, and Beaufort said nothing more, doubtless deciding to let her think about his advice. They reached the entrance to Hyde Park a short while later. Maura kept her eyes peeled for Deering, but there was no sign of him.

  She and Beaufort cantered their horses along Rotten Row, the wide thoroughfare beside the Serpentine Lake, which was flanked by trees that had leafed the lovely green of spring. After a time, though, Maura began to fret with impatience and frustration. Where was Deering? Would he even come? And would he be riding Emperor?

  She had just dropped back into a walk when she drew a sudden breath, having spied her beloved horse in the distance.

  She would recognize that powerfully muscled form anywhere, but Emperor was unique in other ways: the elegant head, the kind eye, the sleek black coat that held no trace of white except for a small star on his forehead, and most of all the lively, mischievous temperament. Her horse had a vivid personality all his own.

  His rider was indeed Lord Deering, Maura saw as she moved closer. She quickened her pace, even though realizing the viscount had paused beside a landau to speak to the occupant. Her heart sank when she spied the long whip Deering carried and the sharp spurs he wore.

  The stallion obviously recognized Maura in return, for he abruptly lifted his head and let out a piercing whinny before breaking into a trot and heading in her direction. In response, Deering hauled on the reins, sawing the bit against Emperor’s tender mouth and digging those wicked spurs into his flanks. Not surprisingly, the horse laid back his ears, resenting the savage treatment.

  Then the nobleman raised the whip. Maura went cold, watching helplessly as the leather weapon came down hard on the stallion’s rump again and again. Giving a small cry, she spurred her own mount forward, but after two more blows, Emperor began combating the beating, rounding his back and giving a violent buck that sent the viscount flying.

  Free of his tormentor, the stallion raced toward Maura, seeking her protection. When she pulled up, breathing erratically, he came to a skidding halt before her and stood trembling.

  Clamping down on her fury in
order to croon soft words to him, she reached down and caught the reins, then stroked the stallion’s sleek neck, trying to calm him with her touch and her voice.

  By now Deering had picked himself up off the ground and was stalking toward them. His hat was missing, but he still held the whip and his face was livid. He was clearly enraged that the stallion had made him look foolish and inept in front of his riding colleagues and the Marquis of Beaufort, who had ridden up beside Maura.

  When Deering reached them, he raised the whip again, brandishing it at the stallion, who shied in fear.

  Appalled, Maura sputtered a fierce command to stop. “Don’t you dare hit him again!”

  Deering turned his rage on her. “I have every right to punish my own horse!”

  Holding the whip high, he moved in for another assault, but Maura intervened, desperately stretching down and snatching the whip from his gloved hands.

  Deering was not deterred, however, but drew back his fist, aiming for the stallion’s defenseless face.

  With another cry, Maura brought the whip down across the nobleman’s shoulders, making him flinch in startled pain.

  She might have continued, but suddenly felt herself being lifted completely out of her sidesaddle. Beaufort had hauled her off her horse and set her before him on his own mount, to prevent her from attacking the viscount further.

  Breathing heavily, she sat glaring at Deering, who had spun to face her and was glaring back.

  “You bloody she-devil,” he gritted out. “How dare you strike me!”

  “I was only giving you a taste of your own medicine!” she retorted. “How do you like being beaten and abused, your lordship?”

  When he took a threatening step toward her, Beaufort’s sharp command rang out. “That is quite enough, Deering.”

  Heeding the warning in the marquis’s tone, the viscount stopped. Then he looked around him, realizing they had a shocked audience. Activity in the entire park had come to a halt, with all the nearby occupants avidly watching the spectacle.

  Just then the viscount’s acquaintance in the landau drove up to join them. Taking stock, the distinguished elderly gentleman voiced disapproval. “I say, Deering, there was no call to hit the horse so savagely. Especially such a magnificent animal.”

  At the rebuke, the viscount’s face turned a different shade of red, this one resembling embarrassment rather than rage.

  Maura agreed wholeheartedly with the reprimand. She wanted to dismount and comfort her still-frightened horse, but Beaufort’s arm was wrapped firmly around her, pinning her against him.

  He evidently knew the elderly gentleman, for he spoke with familiarity. “Lord Pelham, perhaps you can help relieve this awkward situation by letting us borrow your tiger for a short while.”

  Maura turned her head to eye the lad perched at the rear of the landau, noting his ornate livery.

  When Pelham raised quizzical eyebrows, Beaufort explained his suggestion. “If you are amenable, your lad can lead the stallion back to his stables while you take Deering up in your carriage.”

  “Yes, of course,” Pelham agreed. “An excellent notion.”

  When Maura would have protested this Solomon-like judgment, Beaufort’s arm tightened about her, keeping her still as he addressed the viscount. “As soon as I return home, I will send one of my grooms to check on the stallion, to be certain he has suffered no ill effects.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Deering said tightly.

  “Even so, I should like to relieve Miss Collyer’s mind, and my own as well.”

  The hard warning note in Beaufort’s voice was back, and Deering must have heard it, for he nodded once, resentfully signaling his acquiescence.

  In short order, the plan was put into effect. To Maura’s relief, Lord Pelham’s tiger approached the stallion quietly and calmed him with a gentle touch before drawing the reins over his head to lead him toward the park entrance.

  Neither of the main combatants was satisfied, however. Deering, Maura knew, had again been humiliated before witnesses in a brawl with her, while she was forced to watch impotently as her precious horse was taken away.

  With one final glare at her, Deering climbed into Pelham’s landau and drove off. The spectators eventually disbanded, but Maura sat with her fists clenched as despair and guilt welled up to join her fury. She was at fault for this latest explosion with Deering. She had wanted to save her horse, not expose him to more suffering. Innocent animal that he was, Emperor had only been trying to greet her and had received a vicious beating for his pains.

  Remembering the blows he had endured, Maura felt the burn of tears sting her eyes.

  Beaufort evidently sensed her distress, for he reached up to touch her chin and turn her face up to his. “Why are you crying?”

  “I am not crying!” she muttered.

  “I have a sister and a female cousin, remember? When a woman protests so vehemently, the opposite is usually true.”

  She dashed her tears away and swallowed hard. “You are insufferable, Lord Beaufort.”

  “So Katharine and Skye tell me. But that doesn’t explain your tears. I expected better of you.”

  His jibe made Maura’s spine stiffen. “I am upset because I meant to hold my temper and address Deering diplomatically when I encountered him.”

  “And instead you only made matters worse by striking him and berating him in front of his peers.”

  “Yes,” she mumbled, hanging her head. “I should have been able to protect Emperor.”

  “You will.” Beaufort’s tone had become softer, genuinely reassuring, and so were his eyes, she discovered when she looked up again. For a moment she found herself caught in those emerald depths …

  Realizing suddenly that she was sitting on his lap with his arm locked around her, Maura shifted uneasily. “You can release me now, my lord.”

  “I intend to, once you are calmer.”

  “I am calm.”

  He looked dubious and hesitated to do as she asked.

  “Set me down, I say,” Maura said more sternly. “You are causing a spectacle.”

  Beaufort’s mouth curved. “You dare to accuse me of causing a spectacle after that little drama you just enacted? You could be an honorary Wilde.” When she failed to appreciate the compliment, his smile faded. “I am preventing you from doing something you will regret, my little hothead. You would do better to use your wits. You need to be cool and unemotional whenever you confront Deering.”

  “I cannot possibly be unemotional with him.”

  “My point exactly.”

  She didn’t want to hear Beaufort’s logical arguments, but she couldn’t ignore them either. “Will you truly send your groom to look after Emperor?”

  “I said so, did I not? I am a man of my word.”

  That was some consolation at least.

  Meeting his level gaze, Maura gave in with reluctance. Fighting the Marquis of Beaufort in public would only result in another scene that could be detrimental to her cause of rescuing her horse, and to her stepsisters as well. As it was, she would have a lot to make up for. Priscilla would be livid when she heard about this morning’s confrontation with Deering.

  When Maura nodded, Beaufort set her on her own horse, but appropriated her reins before she gathered her wits enough to realize what he was doing.

  “Where are you taking me?” she protested as he led her from the park.

  “Somewhere you can expend some of your anger.”

  “This is becoming a vexing habit of yours, Lord Beaufort.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Let me have my reins,” she insisted.

  “Not yet. I don’t trust you not to do something idiotic.”

  “What is this, an abduction?” Her voice turned exasperated as well as frustrated. “Do you mean to constrain me against my will?”

  “If I must.” When he glanced back at her, his green eyes held amusement. “I intend to save you from yourself, sweet vixen. Now hush and b
ehave long enough for us to leave the park.”

  He sounded every inch the imperious nobleman, expecting instant obedience; he was a marquis, after all. And he was clearly giving her no choice but to accompany him.

  His dispassionate behavior was one small consolation, Maura supposed. His sister might be trying to matchmake for him, but thankfully Beaufort did not seem interested in romance in the least.

  With a sigh of resignation scraping past her tight throat, she allowed herself to be led away while trying to ignore the interested stares of the nearby park-goers.

  Ash led a silent, brooding Miss Collyer out of the city, heading southwest toward Richmond. Once they reached the countryside, he returned her reins to her, since she seemed to have regained control of her militant emotions.

  Ash maintained a similar silence during the ride, contemplating the odd amalgam of his own emotions. Upon watching Maura come to her horse’s defense, he’d felt a fierce anger on her behalf, as well as an outsized protectiveness. And now that the physical threat was past, he could only shake his head in amusement and admiration.

  She was indeed one of a kind. He doubted even his feisty, headstrong sister would have assaulted a nobleman in a public park with his own riding whip, despite the sore provocation.

  If he hadn’t been eager to champion Maura’s cause before, her actions just now would have convinced him. She was fearless, a tenacious fighter, but she badly needed a pacifying influence to curb her reckless impulses before her fiery passions landed her in even deeper trouble.

  Ash’s mouth curved as he glanced at the beautiful hellion riding beside him. To think that he would be bent on keeping anyone out of trouble.

  His ironical smile faded just as suddenly when he recalled the Wilde family conference last night, when Katharine had claimed to have found his perfect match. It was a jolt for Ash to realize that she had a point: Maura Collyer could indeed prove a compatible mate for him.

  She was passionate, opinionated, tart-tongued, and prone to violence—just the sort of spirited female who most appealed to him. The kind who either fascinated or frightened men. And he was wholly fascinated.