Page 67 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

What did she dare? Some might say it was an issue of being a princess to a man without a home, or to be a duchess to a man who had everything. Dove knew it was far more than that. This was a decision about whether to marry with her heart or to marry with her head.

Maybe this was why daughters ought to be guided by their parents, people who were older, wiser and removed from the immediate emotion of the situation. There was no wrong decision. Maybe that was why it was so difficult to choose. There were only two right decisions. But she’d made a fatal flaw in her reasoning.

She’d assumed she had the power to make any decision at all. ‘Miss, I’m sorry to intrude.’ One of the maids from the house poked her head into the stable. ‘Your father needs to see you.’ There was a certain excited agitation to the maid’s announcement the girl was trying desperately to hide, as if she knew something, a secret.

‘What is it?’ Dove gathered up her drawing supplies. It sounded ominous. A cold fist gripped her stomach. Had Percivale’s uncle passed? Had the hour glass dropped its final grain of sand?

‘I couldn’t say, miss.’ But the maid knew. Dove could see it in her eyes. This was not a time she appreciated discretion in servants.

* * *

Both of her parents waited for her in her father’s office. The door shut behind her. ‘What has happened? Nothing bad, I hope?’ Dove asked.

‘No, darling,’ Her mother moved forward to take her hand, a soft shining smile on her face.

Her father picked up the conversation. ‘Percivale was here. He has most prudently acquired a special licence. He would like your decision tonight.’ Her father’s eyes rested on her and Dove froze. ‘He needs your answer, Dove. Now. I do not know why you delay.’

Dove drew a breath. The choice she had not quite made in the mews needed to be made now. Perhaps this was her chance. This was not only about standing up for Illarion, but standing up for herself. If she could not do this now, she never would. ‘I am honoured by his attentions,’ she began, rapidly assessing the best way to approach the subject. ‘However, I have been honoured by other attentions as well. Prince Kutejnikov has proposed and I feel his offer is worth consideration.’

Her father’s dark brow went up. ‘Prince Kutejnikov has proposed? To you? Directly?’

‘Yes, Father.’ Dove stepped back, trying to assume a demure posture, hoping to avoid argument but she was not misled by the mild enquiry of his tone. Her father was angry.

‘He has not spoken to me, Dove.’ Her father began to pace. ‘He has dishonoured you with such behaviour and he shows me disrespect by not consulting me.’ He stopped and studied her. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘That I needed time, that I was surprised by the offer.’ Dove hated her words, true as they might be. They sounded weak, as if she were trying to blame Illarion for his proposal. She needed to be braver. Under other circumstances, the proposal would have thrilled her.

‘A girl should never be surprised by an offer of marriage. That’s why her father is consulted, so the offer might be laid out to her in a timely fashion,’ her father growled. ‘I knew he was trouble the first day he stepped in here.’

‘He is a prince, you needn’t sneer at his offer,’ Dove argued, coming to Illarion’s defence.

Her father’s face darkened with protective anger. ‘He is not worthy of you. There are rumours, Dove, about the legitimacy of his title, about why he left Kuban. People are saying it wasn’t by choice, that he was expelled and can never return. He is a man without a country.’

‘Rumours spread by Heatherly and Percivale,’ she replied. ‘They have the most to gain in dishonouring him.’ It didn’t matter how true the rumours were or not. She could be angry, too. She would not stand there and allow Illarion to be maligned.

‘You would choose such a man?’ Her father’s voice was hard steel. ‘You may not think you care about such consequences, but there will be a time when you will, miss, when society cuts you and your children, when you are not accepted anywhere because your husband is a fraud. We have not devoted our lives to your success only to see you throw yourself away on a Russian upstart with no kingdom!’ Her father was terse, holding himself on a tight rein.

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