The Accidental Princess

With fear in her throat, she sought him out. The Lieutenant wasn’t among the ballroom guests, but instead stood alone on the edge of the terrace. Before him, the boxwood hedges rose tall, like silent sentries.

His arms were crossed in the ill-fitting formal wear, causing the seams of the coat to stretch against his shoulders.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she murmured, stepping towards him, ‘but may I speak with you a moment, Lieutenant?’

His gaze flicked across hers, but he shrugged. ‘Aren’t you afraid of your father? I believe it isn’t proper for a lady to be in the company of a soldier.’

She ignored his mocking tone. She knew well enough that what she was doing was highly improper. ‘I must ask you if you’ve seen my necklace. I’ve lost it, you see, and—’

‘You think I took it.’

His posture had changed, and she wished she hadn’t spoken. Just like her father, he was a man of pride. Soldiers valued their honour above all else, and she’d just insulted his.

Hannah chose her words carefully. ‘The clasp may have slipped when you—when you touched my neck. I thought it dropped where I was standing.’

That sounded reasonable enough, didn’t it? Surely he wouldn’t take offence—

‘I stole nothing from you.’ A hard edge accompanied his remark. ‘And there’s nothing of yours that I want.’

His harsh words stabbed her pride. He wasn’t merely speaking of the necklace any more. Hannah forced herself to nod, though her cheeks were burning. ‘I didn’t mean to imply anything.’

‘Yes, you did. I’m the only man here who would need diamonds. A man without a fortune.’

‘You aren’t the only one,’ she argued. ‘But that’s neither here nor there. You don’t have the necklace, and that’s that.’

She gathered her skirts and strode towards the rose garden without bidding him goodbye. Rude, yes, but she had no desire to speak to him any longer. It was possible that his wayward fingers had loosened the clasp, and the necklace had fallen on to the ground when she’d walked outside.

The idea of the Lieutenant being a thief didn’t sit well with her. He was her brother’s friend, and she wanted to believe that there was honour in him.

Her headache had intensified to an unbearable level, as though someone were bashing rocks against her temples. The sooner she found the necklace, the sooner she could rest.

Hurrying towards the rose canes, Hannah dashed back to where she’d spoken with her father last. She retraced her footsteps, searching everywhere. But there was nothing. She turned the corner, only to stumble into the Baron of Belgrave.

‘Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you here,’ she apologised. The moonlight spilled a faint light over his face, and his gloved fingers withdrew something glittering from his pocket.

‘Were you looking for these?’

Belgrave held out the diamonds in his palm, and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Yes, thank you.’

She reached for them, but he pulled his hand back. ‘I saw them lying on the ground after your father escorted you back to the house.’ He returned the necklace to his pocket and held out his arm for her to accompany him. ‘I thought you might come back for them.’

Hannah didn’t take his elbow, for she had no desire to walk alone with the baron. Her instincts prickled, for she had once again crossed the line of what was proper. If anyone saw them unchaperoned, the gossip tales would spread faster than a house fire.

But he had her necklace, and she needed it back. Reluctantly, she placed her hand upon his arm. Perhaps if she gave him a moment, he would return the jewels.

The baron led her away from the house, and with each step, her headache worsened. When they neared the stables, Hannah had endured enough. ‘Lord Belgrave, give me my diamond necklace, if you please.’

And go away. Where were her father and brothers when she needed them most?

Belgrave’s hawkish face appeared fierce in the moonlight. Diamonds or not, she’d made a terrible mistake in approaching him. She took a step backwards, wondering if she dared flee.

The baron retrieved the necklace from his pocket and held the diamonds in his hand, stroking the gems. ‘I overheard you speaking to your father about me.’

Hannah’s heartbeat quickened, and she cast a glance around the garden, searching for another escape. ‘Wh-what did you overhear?’

‘You lied to me.’ Cold anger edged his voice. ‘You led me to believe you wanted my courtship.’

‘I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,’ she explained. His anger made her uncomfortable, and she was ready to get away from him. The necklace be hanged. Her safety was far more important than a strand of diamonds. With an apologetic look, she added, ‘I’ll send a servant to collect my necklace from you.’

‘What’s the matter? Are you afraid of me?’ he murmured.

Hannah ignored the question and picked up her skirts, striding towards the house. Before she could reach the terrace, a firm hand clamped over her upper arm.

‘I haven’t finished our conversation.’

‘We weren’t having one,’ she corrected. ‘And I’ll ask you to remove your hand from my arm.’

‘You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Because your father is a Marquess and I a mere baron.’ He bent closer, and her stomach wrenched, the pressure in her head rising higher.

Dear heaven, she felt like fainting. The headache was like a dagger grinding into her skull.

She opened her mouth to call for help, but Lord Belgrave cut off her scream. She struggled against his grip, but he pinched her nose. With the lack of air, the headache roared into a fury. Dizzy and sick, she stopped fighting, and he dragged her across the gravel. Nausea gripped her, and the agony in her head was so intense, it nearly brought her to her knees. It couldn’t have come at a worse time.

The baron lowered his voice. ‘You said that any woman would be fortunate to wed me.’ He drew so close, Hannah could see the vengeance in his eyes. ‘It looks like you’re about to become very fortunate indeed.’

Chapter Two

Michael returned to the ballroom, his posture stiff with anger. Lady Hannah had all but accused him of stealing her diamonds. He might be poor, but he wasn’t a thief. Yet she wouldn’t believe that, would she? Her blush had revealed how she viewed him: as a lowborn man, a soldier who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of a lady.

True, he had a weakness for beautiful women. But never if they were unwilling. And that was the curious part, wasn’t it? He’d dared to touch Lady Hannah…and she hadn’t protested. The aristocrat with impeccable manners hadn’t slapped him with her fan, nor called out for help. She’d leaned into his touch, as though she were thirsty for it.

God, she’d smelled good. Like seductive jasmine, haunting and sweet. He hadn’t been able to resist her. He’d wanted to run his mouth over her neck, sliding the ivory gown over those bare shoulders until he revealed more of her delicate skin, but then her brother would murder him where he stood.

Normally, Michael had no interest in husband-seeking innocents, but Lady Hannah captivated him. He didn’t for a moment believe she would cast him a second glance. Not only because of her suspicions about the necklace, but also because of his status. As a lieutenant, he wasn’t worthy of a woman like her.

He had no title, unlike the other officers who had bought their commissions. He’d been granted his own commission within the British Army as a gift from the Earl of Whitmore, after he’d saved the Earl’s life five years ago. And last October he’d learned what it meant to give a command, knowing that men would die because of it.

He’d tried to save whatever men he could, after his Captain had died at Balaclava. But he’d failed to protect the vast majority of his company. Of the six hundred, less than two hundred had returned. He’d been one of them.

Even now, he could still hear the bullets ripping through flesh, the moans that preceded death. He couldn’t erase the nightmares, no matter how hard he’d tried. A lump tightened in the back of his throat, and he went to get another drink. As he passed the entrance to the terrace, he wondered if he should check on Lady Hannah.

Though she wanted to find her diamonds, she was far too lovely to be venturing out alone. She needed someone to protect her from unsavoury men.

Before he could follow her, a gentleman stepped into his line of sight, clearing his throat. He was accompanied by Hannah’s brother Stephen Chesterfield, the Earl of Whitmore.

‘Forgive me, Thorpe, but there is someone whom I’d like you to meet.’

The older man wore a black cloth tailcoat, expertly tailored to his form. His salt-and-pepper beard and mustache were neatly groomed, while the rest of his head was bald. Gold glinted upon the handle of his cane, and every inch of the gentleman spoke of money. Idly, Michael wondered if the man wanted a personal guard.