Page 75 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

‘That was before we weren’t certain if you were breeding. You seem to have recovered from your ordeal.’ The last was said with the hint of a question as if he dared her to contradict him. Dove saw the trap. If she argued she was not ready to marry, she would return to invalid status, all the privileges she’d worked so hard to secure taken away. Her fate would be sealed. If she claimed full health and wanted them to revoke her status as a fragile female in a delicate condition, she had to marry. The game had not changed, only the suitors.

Her father cocked his head. ‘What do you imagine your fate is, Dove, if you don’t marry? What are you waiting for?’ He opened his desk drawer and pulled out several sheets of paper, throwing them on the desk. ‘I had Jeannie search your room for these.’ All drawings of Illarion. The ones she’d done in London as she’d contemplated her decision. She considered them her best work.

‘Those are private!’ she protested, not caring in the moment if she seemed overwrought. Illarion was naked in some of those. No wonder her father had been so bold in his conclusions.

‘It’s time to say goodbye, Dove.’ He took out a flint and struck a match, setting the flame to the edge of the papers.

‘No!’ Dove cried, watching the pages burn in horror. She couldn’t reach for them, couldn’t appear mad. Her father dropped them into a metal can.

‘This is for your own good. Your Prince won’t come for you, Dove. It’s been a month, you should stop holding on to the fantasy.’ He was so certain it made Dove wonder what he knew. Why didn’t Illarion come? What had happened on the duelling field?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Outskirts of London—dawn, one month earlier

Illarion stepped out of the carriage into the damp of the early morning. He breathed the cool air deeply. It would be hot later today, summer had come to London. Across from him, Percivale stepped down from his carriage as well. He had to give Percivale credit. He had shown up. Illarion had half-hoped he wouldn’t, but Percivale’s honour was on the line and that meant something to a man like him. Illarion knew, because honour meant something to him also. It was why he was here.

Illarion was ready for him. It had been his choice of weapon after someone had pulled Percivale off him in the Hathaways’ ballroom. He’d chosen pistols. He was taking no chances today. He wanted to control every aspect of this duel and pistols were his best shot.

Nikolay stepped out behind him, all business, in his cavalry uniform, denoting him as a member of the Royal Kubanian guard. Illarion’s case of duelling pistols was in his hand. ‘I’ll meet with his second and confirm the details.’

Illarion nodded. ‘Check the weapons again.’ They were in good order, he’d seen to them himself, but one did not treat duels in a cavalier manner. Life was on the line. Protocol must be followed. Accidents could be deadly.

Illarion flexed his hands. It might be his fifth duel, but the tremor of excitement and dread still filled him. One never felt closer to life than when the end was possible. Would Percivale shoot to kill? Would Percivale be in enough of his right mind to control his shot? Anything could happen, regardless of intentions. If this was end, was he ready? He’d spent the night making sure he could exit in an orderly fashion.

Stepan emerged from the carriage with Ruslan. They’d all come with him, despite Stepan’s lectures. Lectures were just Stepan’s way of saying, ‘I love you. You are a brother to me.’ Stepan’s hand was on his shoulder. ‘Nervous?’

‘Only a fool isn’t,’ Illarion admitted. His thoughts needed quieting. He needed to focus on the duel, on those twenty steps, on the quick pivot, the side angle of his body, presenting the slimmest target he could, the cocking of the gun, the aiming of the shot.

‘Will you delope?’ Stepan asked.

‘Yes, most certainly.’ Percivale had insulted him and he’d insulted a woman under his protection, perhaps goaded to such lengths by pressure from Heatherly and others who weren’t brave enough to confront him directly. In other circumstances, such action meant to court vengeance of the most violent nature. But Percivale had acted out of a misguided sense of honour and hurt.

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