Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(13)

Penelope was staring at Sasha, her look frozen, her thoughts obviously a little quicker than her mother’s.

Meagan’s expression had changed from excitement to confusion. “But, Lady Trask,” she asked in a small voice. “What about Papa?”

Tavistock remained behind Lady Trask, his face as rigid as Penelope’s.

Lady Trask’s smile dimmed. She looked at the rubies, she looked at the ring, and she looked at Damien.

Damien watched the thoughts behind her head, Lady Trask’s expressions too transparent. She briefly considered conceding to marry Damien then bringing her lover Michael along to Nvengaria, possibly as her “advisor” or some such thing.

Then the idea was dismissed, and Lady Trask let out a heartfelt sigh. “You are so very flattering, Your Highness,” she said, “but I am afraid I am already spoken for.”

She gave the rubies in the box a last wistful glance, then she lowered her gaze, took a step back, and held her hand out to Tavistock. Tavistock took it without a word.

Damien’s respect for Lady Trask rose. He’d quickly grasped that she was a spoiled, vain woman, whose head was easily turned by pretty jewelry. Most ladies of her ilk would have thrown over her plain gentleman to marry Damien in a heartbeat.

Lady Trask, however, had decided she wanted the man at her side more than she wanted to be a princess of a far-off kingdom, more than she wanted the rubies. Mr. Tavistock must be a remarkable gentleman, Damien reflected. He hoped that one day a lady would find him as remarkable.

Sasha looked crestfallen. “But she wears the ring. We cannot return to Nvengaria without it, without her …”

“Never mind, Sasha,” Damien said.

His gaze moved to where it had been drawn all the time. To Penelope with her hair the color of gold, her green eyes full of emotion.

Meagan clasped her hands. “Oh, of course. Penelope must be a princess of this line too. Prince Damien can marry her!”

Damien’s gaze locked with Penelope’s. Her hair was mussed from their ride and from his fingers when he’d stroked it, when he’d kissed her.

She’d wanted to resist his touch, he’d felt it in the stiffening of her body. But she’d moved to him as though she could not help herself, and her lips when he’d kissed them had held innocence.

Damien had felt something in his heart change, and he hadn’t understood it, but he understood now. Perhaps Nedrak wasn’t such a charlatan after all.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Penelope will do very well for me.”

Penelope’s green-gold eyes were wide, her face white with shock. “No,” she said. She shook her head until her hair danced. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no.”





Chapter 5





“I cannot possibly marry him,” Penelope said, her mouth going dry.

Not when Damien looked at her like that. Penelope saw danger, scented it. She wanted to scramble away, run until she was safe.

“Do not be hasty, Penny, dear,” Lady Trask said. “Those rubies are awfully big.”

“Mama,” Penelope began, her hands clenching.

“Of course you must marry him,” her mother said crisply, her practical nature taking over. “It is doubtful you will get any other proposals now, my lamb. You will not mind if I borrow the rubies from time to time, will you? And do say I can stay in your palace. Tuck me into a suite, nothing extravagant. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“Mama!”

Prince Damien said nothing. He simply watched Penelope, his gaze so intense it made her blood tingle.

Sasha, on the other hand, chewed his lower lip. “It is not that simple, Your Highness. She does not bear the ring.”

“Ah, that is easy.” Lady Trask tugged the silver ring from her finger and held it out to Penelope. “Here you are. I was leaving it to you in my will anyway. My mama told me to.”

Sasha cringed. “No, no, you mustn’t! It must be done with the proper ritual. If there is no ritual, the line is broken, and it means nothing.”

“What is the ritual then?” Lady Trask asked impatiently. “Let us get on with it. I want my daughter betrothed to a prince. Lady Matthews will be beside herself. Her daughters married earls, and she does lord that over me something terrible.”

“Oh, this is madness,” Penelope cried.

“No, it isn’t,” Meagan broke in. “It’s quite exciting. You’re a princess. When Papa marries your mama, I’ll be your stepsister, like in the tale about Cinderella, except I won’t be wicked or cut off bits of my feet.”

“Meagan, hush.” Michael’s deep voice cut through the shrill female chatter, and everything went silent.

Michael had dressed hastily and his coat was buttoned wrong, but his presence overpowered everyone else’s in the room. He reached over and deliberately closed the lid on the rubies, then eyed Damien, his expression severe.

“We have no idea who you are, sir,” Michael said. “You could be a mountebank, a charlatan. I no more like this marriage idea when you offer it to Penelope than when you offered it to her mother. Unless you can convince me that you are other than a trickster, I will ask you to leave the house.”

Damien inclined his head, acknowledging his suspicions, but Sasha’s eyes widened, as though he expected Michael to be struck by lightning. “How dare you speak so to his Imperial Highness?”