Page 82 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

‘Love is not enough in today’s world,’ her father refuted. ‘Love does not get you invited into the right circles, or provide the opportunities your children will need. We raised Dove for more than a life built on the idea of love. What you think is love today will not last. I will not see my daughter left with nothing when that fades.’ Her father paused. ‘Love is for poets.’ He meant it derisively.

‘Love is for everyone who is brave enough to reach for it,’ Illarion countered, ignoring the slur. ‘It was once enough for you. Didn’t you once defy your wife’s father to marry your duchess?’

Dove started. She slid a glance towards her mother. She had not heard that story before. She’d always assumed their marriage was perfect, an arrangement of both affection and affiliation. It was true, though, she could see it in the stunned expression on her father’s face. ‘That was different,’ he protested. ‘I could provide for her. Olivia and I knew what we were doing.’

Illarion nodded. ‘We know what we are doing. I can provide for Dove.’ He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a stack of documents. He laid them one by one on the desk. ‘This is the deed to my town house on Portland Square. This is the deed to a small estate not far from here. This is a list of my investments. Finally, this is proof of my accounts at Coutts and a list of the assets I have housed in their vault, most of them in jewels. You will see that I can provide for your daughter in the ways that matter to the world and to you. I would not want less for her. I have no desire to see Dove live uncomfortably.’ He stepped back and took her hand again. ‘However, I would rather you reach back into your past and remember how much more important love is to a marriage. How it’s love, not houses or jewels, that helps a man and a woman weather the true difficulties of life. There are things money and titles cannot protect you from, but love can see you through.’

Dove saw her father’s eyes shift to her mother. They were thinking about the four little crosses in the family cemetery, the four little boys that had come before her. Being a duke had not saved them. Being a duke had not stopped the fever from coming the summer when she was five and her mother had nearly died. Dove remembered how her father had knelt at her mother’s bed. It was only time she recalled ever seeing him cry. Once upon a time, love had mattered. What had happened to it?

‘Olivia?’ Her father reached out his hand to her mother, his single word asking a thousand questions, not just about Illarion, but, Dove suspected, about them, about whatever had been lost in the intervening years, choked out by obligations and worries.

Her mother came forward, taking his hand. ‘I think the Prince is right, George.’ Right about love, Dove thought as she watched her parents. ‘We should let them marry, let them be happy. They will live close and we will see our grandchildren.’

‘Is this what you want, Dove?’ her father asked and the question nearly brought her to tears. How long had she waited to hear those words? The decision she fought so hard for was hers to make at last.

‘Yes, Daddy. This is what I want.’

He held his arms out to her. ‘Can you forgive me, Dove?’

She went to him, letting him fold her in his arms like he did when she was a child. ‘I love you, Dove. I only want what’s best for you.’

‘Illarion is best for me, Daddy.’ She glanced over at her mother. ‘You were right. The way I feel when I’m with him is just how you described it.’ She looked over at Illarion and smiled. ‘Invincible, like there’s nothing we can’t do when we’re together.’

Her father kissed the top of her head. ‘Then this calls for champagne. It’s not every day a man’s daughter is betrothed to a prince.’

‘You were right.’ Dove smiled softly at Illarion as champagne was poured and whispered, ‘You are pretty persuasive.’

Illarion bent to kiss her. ‘Not me, Snegurochka. I can’t take all the credit. Love is the greatest persuader of them all.’

EPILOGUE

Illarion Kutejnikov married his Princess in Cornwall on midsummer’s eve, the longest day of the year, the date selected quite on purpose. As he put it to his blushing bride, ‘I want the best day of my life to last as long as possible.’

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