Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(38)

“What are cousins for?”

With a decisive nod, Sev murmured, “I’d best locate the lady and begin to woo her properly.”

Ignoring the heaviness tightening his chest, he strolled out into the room, scanning for golden curls, even though he only saw rich auburn hair in his mind.

Grier knew Jack would reprimand her severely for taking her leave so early in the night, but she could not abide another moment in the same room as the confounding Prince Sevastian. What did he want from her? Did he think she would toss convention aside and embrace an illicit affair the duration of this house party?

She could tolerate no more of his teasing, no more of his gold-eyed stare, no more of his proximity. Not if she wished to keep her sanity. One look at his handsome visage and she was overwhelmed by the memory of his body pressed against hers those times she’d been so foolish to forget herself with him.

Her shadow stretched long before her as she walked briskly down the corridor—as if she could escape her vexing thoughts the faster she walked.

Her tread fell silent on the runner. She was close to her bedchamber now. The tension ebbed from her shoulders as she contemplated the warm bed waiting her.

A sound disrupted the tomblike hush. Soft as smoke curling on the air, hushed whispers reached her ears, penetrating the silence. She paused, listening. They were the type of whispers that actually succeeded in achieving the opposite of their intent, which was clearly discretion.

With a glance over her shoulder to make certain no one else lurked about, Grier moved to the door of the room where the voices originated. Pressing her ear close, she listened.

“Listen carefully to me, Hannah, you’ll delay as long as possible. Do you understand?”

“But Lady Libbie, your papa will beat me when he discovers I’ve been lying to him. Please take me with you.”

Lady Libbie? Where was the earl’s daughter going?

“I need you to stall anyone from finding out I’ve snuck away. Allow no one into my room. Tell them I’m exhausted.”

At this, someone started sobbing—Hannah presumably. Lady Libbie sounded resolute and calculating, quite above tears.

“Oh, come now, Hannah. Cease your weeping.”

“Oh, my lady, I’m sorry. I’m a selfish, wretched creature, I am! I should be thinking of you—so happy that you’ve found your prince at last! Ever since you were a girl you dreamed of this . . .” The rest of the maid’s words faded away.

Your prince. A prickly sensation washed over her skin. Lady Libbie and Sevastian . . .

Grier felt ill. She pressed a hand to her suddenly roiling stomach. She shook her head, told herself to walk away. Everyone knew he was here to court Lady Libbie. This shouldn’t come as a shock. It shouldn’t matter that he’d kissed her. It didn’t matter.

“Oh, very well.” A sigh of exasperation drifted through the door. “You may come with us. I suppose you might serve some use. Your presence may help to still the wagging tongues when they learn of the elopement. At least I can claim to have had you as a chaperone, although I must confess I was looking forward to being alone with my love on the journey. Now I must contend with you. I do hope you won’t complain the entire time.”

My love. Grier rolled her eyes. She hardly knew the prince. Did anyone truly know the man? He held himself as aloof as a Grecian statute.

Of course, Grier had thought she might have had a glimpse of him, of the real man beneath the fa?ade. Evidently she was just as foolish as Lady Libbie. The girl actually thought the presence of a maid would lessen the gossip surrounding an elopement? Fool girl. Did she think that would matter? One need only look at the virile prince to be assured that Lady Libbie did not reach the altar with her virtue intact.

As she stood there, with her ear pressed to the door and her palms flat against the polished wood, the utter awfulness of the moment sank deep. Lady Libbie was running away. To marry Prince Sevastian.

The man was a cad! Grier had begun to read something more into their exchanges. Something beyond a prince trifling with a woman of lower rank. She’d begun to think he felt something genuine for her. Clearly she’d been naught but a distraction until he and Lady Libbie made their escape.

She stepped back from the door, her hands knotting at her sides as cold fury swept over her. He was quite the seducer. When had he even wooed Lady Libbie? She scarcely saw them together. She hadn’t imagined he spoke to any female at the house party as much as he spoke to her.

She was filled with a sudden vision of him sneaking into the young lady’s bedchamber, kissing away her qualms and charming her from her night rail as he lowered her to the great bed.

Feeling like a total and utter dupe, she strode from the door as quickly as her feet would carry her. How dare he flirt with her—kiss her—while planning to elope with another woman?

Somehow this was different—worse—than knowing he was here to court Lady Libbie. She knew that he’d eventually wed the lovely girl or some other such acceptable female. He did not hide the fact that he was on the hunt for a bride. Just as she did not hide the fact that she was here to find a husband.

But learning that he was strategizing an elopement in the same hour that he flirted with her—it was abominable. Were all men so duplicitous? Were they all as wretched as Trevis?

It only made her feel all the smarter for choosing to wed for practicality. Security, respectability. She required nothing more than that.