Page 36 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

‘That sounds dangerously close to a slur against my character and my wife’s. Would you care to make one or do you insist on hiding behind your insinuations?’ Nikolay snarled, still heated over the venomous gossip that surrounded his marriage to the Russian ambassador’s daughter, Klara Grigorieva. Illarion put a hand on Nikolay’s chest. If Heatherly wasn’t careful, there would be blood spilled and it would likely be his. He needed to separate Percivale from the group and take care of the real problem. He gestured towards a table by the window. ‘Percivale, a word?’

Percivale was not an unattractive man: tallish, a strong jaw, trademark guinea-gold hair and blue eyes, the kind of looks the English treasured. What went on behind those eyes was anyone’s guess. He was something of an emotional vacuum. ‘You’ve behaved inappropriately towards Lady Dove Sanford-Wallis,’ Percivale ground out in low tones, showing more feeling than Illarion had seen him display to date. Illarion understood the insults directed at Nikolay now. Percivale had not wanted to publicly implicate the lady in question. Far easier to cast aspersions with a net that caught them all instead of singling him out, so he’d had Heatherly do the dirty work. And why not? Illarion had seen Heatherly shoot at Manton’s. The man seldom missed. One would think twice about challenging Heatherly even against the most damning of slander.

Illarion crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Are you the lady’s champion? Has she come to you with a complaint?’

‘She is innocent. She does not understand what a man like you is capable of. I am here to see that she never does.’

‘A man like me?’ Illarion couldn’t resist goading Percivale a little further. ‘What sort of man might that be? A royal prince of the house of Kuban, a man with a title that outranks any you currently possess, although I did hear that your uncle had taken a turn for the worse. I am completely a gentleman in all ways according to English standards.’

‘A foreigner and a rake,’ Percivale snarled. ‘You are a prince with no kingdom. That makes you a fortune hunter in my book. You’re hardly a prince at all. A prince would never have done what you did. You were with her alone last night. I saw you dancing in the Hamptons’ garden. Dancing!’ He spat the word as if it were filth in his mouth.

Illarion assessed the situation. Percivale had seen them, likely not just the dancing from the vituperation with which he spoke the word. To his credit, the young man seemed genuinely horrified.

‘Apparently you stayed long enough to watch. Did you enjoy that? Some men do.’ He saw Percivale’s nostrils flare with the implication that coming upon them had been an act of voyeurism. It was a harsh goad, but if Percivale wanted to impugn his honour and sling slanderous barbs, he needed to be prepared for the same in return. Percivale was jealous and there was nothing the man could do without ruining his own chances at winning her. ‘You’re in quite the pickle. You can’t tell anyone what you saw for fear of losing her,’ Illarion reminded him.

‘I can tell you,’ Percivale retorted. ‘Consider yourself warned. I will see you dead before I allow her to fall into the hands of a scheming foreigner. Dove Sanford-Wallis is mine. I will not be so polite about it next time.’ He turned on his heel, collected Heatherly and strode towards the door.

‘Are we going to let him go?’ Nikolay materialised beside him. ‘A sabre slice has a way of changing one’s opinions.’

‘We will not be cutting anyone today.’ Illarion blew out an angry breath. Percivale was not to be underestimated. He commanded the ton; he dictated who they associated with, who was received and invited. His remarks could put the princes beyond the pale of society, as he’d demonstrated today. Through Heatherly, he’d dealt Nikolay’s fledgling riding school a dangerous blow by unearthing the unsavoury details of Amesbury’s death and Nikolay’s association with it.

Illarion had seen such games before in the Kubanian court. While he could understand it, he could not tolerate it. He needed to take Dove out of Percivale’s orbit. The best way to accomplish that was to keep her too busy to receive the man. But unmarried girls didn’t go about with eligible bachelors without a chaperon. He was going to need a lady’s help and there was only one that he trusted. ‘Nikolay, I need Klara to call on the Duchess of Redruth.’

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