Читать книгу Royal Seduction - Donna Clayton - Страница 11

“I ’m not marrying that man!” If Princess Catherine von Husden were still a child, she’d have stomped her foot and jutted her chin toward her father. But now that she was twenty-six, such antics were no longer an option. Her only recourse was to fix her eyes on him and refuse to back down.

“Oh, Daddy,” her sister droned with irritating complaint, “can’t you do something about her?” Yvonne leveled a glare in Catherine’s direction. “Cat, you’re the oldest. Protocol calls for you to marry first. You know Hampstead and I have been waiting for nearly a year! Just marry Étienne and get it over with.”

Catherine calmly remarked, “You shouldn’t have waited. And you shouldn’t wait any longer. Haven’t I always said etiquette be damned?”

Yvonne gasped. Their father’s jaw tensed.

Catherine narrowed her eyes on her father. “Besides, the only reason you want a wedding is to try to show up Max. But that’s not going to happen. No matter how hard we try, Lextanyans cannot outshine a wedding and a coronation.”

Catherine was so happy for her cousin Max. Last year he’d married the love of his life and then had been crowned king of Lantanya. The wedding, attended by the entire von Husden family, had been a glorious affair. And as custom dictated, the coronation had been elaborate in the extreme.

“I wish you’d give up this silly competition.” Catherine lifted one hand, palm up. “Uncle Maxwell, may he rest in peace, isn’t even around any longer to compete with you.” Although Maxwell the Fourth, the former king of neighboring Lantanya, wasn’t her father’s brother, the two men had been close enough that the man had always been affectionately referred to as “uncle” by Catherine and her sister. Everyone knew about the silly game of one-upmanship that her father and Uncle Maxwell had spent years playing. “And Max doesn’t care to compete with you—”

“Catherine, this has nothing to do with me and my cousin, and it certainly has nothing to do with Max,” her father said. “This only has to do with you and Étienne. He is an exceptional young man. He’s industrious, and he has an excellent background as well as a flawless reputation.”

This had her brows arching. “So you haven’t heard the stories that he’s a skirt-chasing misogynist? Is that what you want me dealing with for the rest of my days?”

Her sister clicked her tongue in dismay. “Cat, that’s your future husband you’re talking about.”

“Oh, no.” Despite her intention to remain unruffled, determination—along with an unexpected stirring of alarm—had her pulling her arms tight across her chest. “The man may be handsome as the devil himself, and he may be highly educated. He may even have a noble or two climbing around in his family tree.” Cat halted abruptly, gasping with a sudden revelation. “He’s offering you the Caslow Diamond, isn’t he?” The diamond was huge, and world-renowned. One look at her father’s face was proof enough. She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m being traded for a glittery rock.” Her spine stiffened with renewed resolve. “I don’t care what he’s offering. I will not spend my time keeping tabs on a hound dog of a husband who’s sniffing around other women at every opportunity. That’s not what marriage is supposed to be about.”

“You know nothing about marriage.” Her father’s tone went taut. “Étienne’s actions before he became interested in a union with you will not be held against him. The man had to live, didn’t he?”

Catherine held her ground. However she got the impression that her ground was becoming a tad shaky. Usually, her father’s staunch decision would begin to soften under her unfaltering protests. Usually.

But today Prince Wilhelm Adolf was proving why he’d remained regent of Lextanya for so long as his shoulders squared with a frightening fortitude.

“You also know nothing about family loyalty,” he continued. “If you did, you wouldn’t continue to embarrass the von Husden name by refusing to do as you’re told.”

His blue eyes were as cold as ice chips, and they sent a chill through Catherine.

“No matter what fantasy has enraptured you this week, Catherine, it’s time you wake up. We are of the regal lineage of Lantanya. And we rule Lextanya. The von Husdens are one of the last remaining truly royal houses in the world. We are renowned and respected. And I won’t allow you to threaten our reputation ever again, Catherine.”

Oh, Lord, would he never allow her to live down that one small slipup? It had been ages ago. She’d been sixteen when it happened, and she hadn’t caused him a moment of trouble since. Well, no real trouble, anyway.

“Unlike some nobles,” her father added, “our side of the von Husden family has never been tainted with nasty misdeeds.”

Certainly he wasn’t comparing her childhood prank to Uncle Maxwell’s stepbrother’s villainous crime against the entire nation of Lantanya? Max’s first act as ruler had been to send his step-uncle to prison for high treason.

“People are beginning to talk,” her father continued. “About you. Rumor and innuendo can be just as fatal to our royal name as scandalous criminal offenses. Besides, it’s completely natural that Lextanyans are beginning to wonder about you, Catherine. You’re not getting any younger.”

She couldn’t believe he was tossing her into the same rotten barrel with a true criminal. And all because she didn’t want to marry Étienne. Then again, she guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. Her father had always had a poor opinion of her.

“But I don’t need a man to make me happy,” Catherine said. “I don’t need to marry. Go ahead and announce Yvonne’s engagement.”

Prince Wilhelm ignored her. “We live and die by tradition. The day we release hold on custom is the day our house will fall.”

Catherine plopped her fist on her hip. “What a load of imperialistic bunk!”

Yvonne’s sob made Catherine spin on her heel.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” She went to her sister’s side. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to Father. Or to our family.”

Catherine had been speaking plainly to her father for years; however, she never made a habit of doing so in front of Yvonne, or anyone else for that matter. No, the barbed relationship she and Wilhelm shared was kept private. Just between the two of them. But he was going too far in his attempts to marry her off.

Shrugging Catherine’s comforting arm from her shoulder, Yvonne cried, “You’re disrespectful of all of us, Cat. Why can’t you see that? And you’re keeping me from becoming Hampstead’s wife!”

“I’m supposed to marry a man I don’t love so you can do what you see as your royal duty?” Although Catherine worked hard to restrain the sharpness in her voice, she knew she’d failed.

Her sister clenched her hands into tight, white fists. “You are so selfish.” With tears streaming openly down her pale cheeks, Yvonne raced from the room.

Catherine watched her sister disappear through the doorway of her father’s office, her chest growing heavy with dread and guilt. The walls were covered, floor to ceiling, with oak panels that had darkened over time, and right now they seemed to close in on her as she turned to face her father.

“Your actions are affecting everyone around you, Catherine.” Anger emanated from him in simmering waves. “You are duty bound to do as I bid.”

Trepidation overrode all emotion in her. She’d never heard him speak like this before. He’d pleaded and cajoled and threatened, but there had always been something—some unspoken expression or tone—that had left her feeling there was a way out. But that unspoken something wasn’t present at the moment, and that scared her.

“Étienne is ready to arrive at any time. All I have to do is call him.”

“Father, no!”

“He is the one, Catherine,” he pressed. “There will be a wedding. A grand affair. It will be your day to shine.”

“This is the new millennium.” She threw her arms wide. “No one arranges marriages anymore. That idea went out with catapults and chastity belts.”

“I’ve spoken to Étienne on your behalf,” he continued smoothly. “When he arrives, he’ll expect to spend plenty of time with you during his visit. Your engagement will be announced soon after his visit.”

Panic flared inside her like white-hot flames. She wanted to rant and rave, but knew it would do no good, so she pressed her lips together to hold in the churning emotion. Her father’s mind was made up, that much was all too clear. He’d even gone behind her back and set his plan into motion. Her dismal future would begin with one phone call.

He went silent waiting for her to respond. She would not agree with his plan. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

“May I go now?” she asked.

He gave a single nod. “Just so long as we understand each other. Duty calls, Catherine. Duty calls. And you, my dear, shall answer.”

She wanted to leave. She wanted to run. But she couldn’t get her feet to move. The whole world felt as if it were collapsing in on her. What was wrong with her? Yvonne couldn’t wait to get married. Couldn’t wait to produce a gaggle of royal babies. She didn’t need love, it seemed. In fact, Yvonne had been quite happy with the man their father had chosen for her.

So why was she so resistant?

Catherine dashed away the hot tear of frustration. She didn’t know why she continued to be defiant. She just felt she had to. And no amount of kingly commands was going to change that.

What she’d like to do was just run away. Go somewhere fun and exciting. Crawl out from under the burdensome von Husden name and all the royal responsibilities that went along with it and enjoy a little purely naughty fun.

But that was impossible.

Duty calls, Catherine. Her father’s chilly reminder caused a shiver to course across every inch of her skin. And you, my dear, shall answer.

Her jaw firmed, and she wanted to mutter, “Duty be damned.” But she held her tongue.

“Is there anything else?” Her father asked, looking up from the paperwork he’d been reviewing.

“I need some time,” she blurted.

“I thought we had already concluded that your time had run out.”

“Please, Father.” She stopped. Swallowed. Took a deep breath. Allowing panic to overwhelm her would be a mistake. She had to make a rational argument. She tried again, “Father, I need some time to get used to the idea of…” She refused to voice the phrase marrying Étienne, so instead, she said, “the idea that my life will soon be changing. You’re asking a lot of me—”

“I’m asking no more of you than I am of your sister.”

“I need some time,” she repeated. Alarm began to erode her self-control. She had to say something that would make him agree to give her what she needed. “I’m not asking for the world here. Just two weeks.” Then an idea came to her out of the blue and she exclaimed, “To buy a trousseau!”

The straight line that had been his mouth softened.

“It wouldn’t look very good if I didn’t have all the things I needed to begin—”

“Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes,” she told him, relief flooding her.

Prince Wilhelm sighed. “You’ll take your sister along?”

Risking more disapproval, Cat shook her head slowly. “Yvonne is very upset with me. I doubt she’d be very much help.”

He glanced down at the papers on his desk. “Well, you can’t very well go alone.”

“I’m not a child. I want to go alone. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. I’ll go as Catherine Houston.”

When each of his children had turned twenty-one, Prince Wilhelm gifted them with a credit card and bank account under an assumed name. Traveling incognito was the perfect way to deflect the barrage of reporters whenever they took mini holidays or went shopping on Oxford Street in London. When your family owned the bank that backed the credit card—when your family owned the whole darned country—you could pretty much do whatever you wanted.

Her father sat down in his overstuffed leather chair. “Where will you go?”

Anxiety had her tossing up her hands. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

“But—”

“This will be the last trip I take as a single woman,” she said, a terrible sinking feeling twittering her stomach. “Would you please just give me a little space?”

For a long moment, he stared. And finally he murmured, “You may have two weeks. Two.”