Page 48 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

Dove answered as best she could. ‘I assure you, my family’s affections hold you in the highest regard as always.’

‘And yours, Lady Dove?’ he pressed, not swayed by the pretty words. He’d seen the poem, then. Worse, he’d understood it. Perhaps the poem, more than his ailing uncle, had prompted the visit and his need for haste.

‘My affection for you has never wavered in its intensity.’ It was true, in so far as it went. The intensity of her affection towards him had never amounted to much previously and it amounted to just as little now. Her smiling reassurance mollified him.

‘I am honoured and relieved to hear it. I confess I had fears that a man of unseemly character had turned your head. I would not want to see you at the mercy of a fortune hunter.’

The words made her bristle. Did he think she was so helpless? And yet, she felt guilty for such uncharitable thoughts. He was trying to be nice. ‘I assure you nothing of the sort has taken place. Even if it had, I am more than capable of taking care of myself.’

‘But you shouldn’t have to, Lady Dove. That is what a husband is for. What, if I may be so bold, I am for.’ He bent over her hand. ‘I shall await your word, Lady Dove. Until then, I am always your champion.’ His eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary. She did not think Percivale had chosen those words by accident.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

How did she get out of this? It was the one question that went around in Dove’s head as her maid, Mary, dressed her for the evening. How did she refuse Percivale and still remain loyal to herself and her family? His proposal this afternoon had moved that dilemma from hypothetical consideration to reality. ‘You’re quiet tonight, miss,’ her maid commented, finishing with her hair. ‘Thinking about your new dress?’ Mary smiled. ‘Or maybe you’re thinking about the handsome gentlemen you’ll dance with tonight?’

‘Perhaps.’ Dove tried for a smile in the mirror, enough to convince Mary she was right. ‘Shall we try that gown now?’ Dove rose, eager to distract Mary. She stepped into her gown, letting Mary lace it up. This gown had a white-organza overskirt that floated over a silk underskirt, the collection of skirts slightly fuller than current fashion and tied with a wide bright blue sash at the waist, making it look impossibly tiny. Mary settled the usual pearls at her throat and turned her towards the mirror. ‘You look like a fairy-tale princess, miss.’

A single thought came to Dove as she surveyed the reflection. She did look like an innocent princess straight from a fairy tale. But she didn’t feel like one. London had indeed stripped the scales from her eyes. Illarion’s bold remark about being deflowered by the city seemed years ago instead of days. The girl who had chided him for such audacity didn’t exist any more. Beneath the white gown lay a less innocent woman who understood the machinations of the Season, who understood she was a commodity to be bought and sold. To remain silent meant to be complicit in that game.

The door opened, startling Dove out of her thoughts. Her mother entered, dressed for the evening and all smiles, a small blue-velvet box in her hand. ‘Darling, you look lovely!’ she exclaimed, taking in the effect of the new gown. ‘The fuller skirts are breathtaking and these will be perfect.’ Her mother opened the lid to reveal two perfect pearl earrings dangling from dainty diamonds.

‘Grandmother’s earrings,’ Dove said wistfully. How long had she yearned for this moment? Growing up, she’d coveted her grandmother’s earrings, hardly able to wait for the day she’d make her debut and be able to wear them.

Her mother’s face glowed with pride. ‘I remember when you were little. You used to sit on my bed when I dressed for an evening and play in my jewel case.’

Dove smiled at the memory. It was one of her favourites from childhood. The box had smelled like cedar and lavender when she lifted the lid. It had held a thousand treasures to a little girl’s eye. How many nights had she sat on her mother’s bed going through her jewel case, dreaming of the day when it would be her turn to dress in fine gowns and put on the earrings? Now that the moment had come, it was too late. That dream was dead. It would be easier if it wasn’t, easier if she could just accept what would happen.

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