Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

Leah sat frozen, not knowing what to do. Neither Lord Purley nor Richard was here. Vicky’s maid wasn’t here. She was alone—no, she was being absurd. This was Vicky, a bit on the odd side, but surely that had nothing to do with anything.

It stopped raining. A sliver of sun burst through the window into the bedchamber.

“Vicky, have you been to London? Did you have a Season?”

Vicky was humming again. She grew still, then said, “No, I have never been there. Lily teased Father, begged him to let her have a Season, and finally he agreed. She went to London to stay in a fine house my father rented for three months. He even brought our aunt Elaine down from Gatenby to be her chaperone.

“What happened is strange indeed. She hadn’t seen the prince in a very long time, since he was always out of the country, in Italy, I believe, working on building up his shipping empire. A prince should have an empire, don’t you think? When she went to her first ball, he was there. When they saw each other, Aunt Elaine told my father, they both began to laugh. To meet after so long, and in London, of all places. It was fate, they both believed.

“Two months later, she married the prince, and Lily moved in to Ravenscar. Her grace, if I recall aright, was

always very kind to Lily, just as I’m certain she’s also kind to you. Do you know what I mean?”

“No. What do you mean?”

“I know for a fact her grace didn’t want the prince to marry Lily. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps she’d heard something about her. I understand she really quite detests you.”

“Why would you say such a thing to me?”

“Oh, it is something I fancy I must have heard. I don’t remember. Am I wrong? Well, no matter. What I say doesn’t count for anything, now, does it?”

Leah heard herself say, “Surely Lily called him Julian, not the prince.”

“No, she always called him prince, all her life, like everyone else—my prince. I know he didn’t used to like being called prince, but he certainly liked the way Lily said it. I heard him tell Lily he loved to hear her whisper prince to him once, and then he was kissing her, pressing her up against the wall.

“Three years ago, I turned eighteen and I asked my father if I could go to London for a Season. Maybe, I told him, I could find a prince as well.

“But you see, Lily had died two months before the Season began, and Richard said we all had to mourn her for a year. I thought that rather foolish, since wearing black had nothing at all to do with the grief we all felt, but I was told there was no choice and I had to wear black gowns. I have always hated black; it makes me look rather sallow.”

“So did you go to London for your Season when you were nineteen?”

She saw Vicky was plaiting her hair. Leah had never worn braids, even as a little girl; she’d always loved to wear her beautiful hair loose and flying about her head when she ran. She started to say something when Vicky said, “No, I decided I wished to stay here in Cornwall. This is my home. I decided I didn’t want a prince any longer.”

Vicky kept plaiting. Leah stared at her in the mirror. “But why?”

Vicky shrugged. “Richard and Father believe the prince murdered Lily. I don’t know what happened, no one does, even though Richard swears the prince is guilty. When I found her, I remember I kissed her and she felt so very cold. It was quite horrible. Her eyes were staring up at me, but she wasn’t there any longer. I remember I rubbed and rubbed my mouth to wipe the cold away. It took a very long time.

“No, if I went to London, I might find a prince, too, and he might kill me, and I’d be dead just like Lily.”

“You do not believe she killed herself, or perhaps she had a lover?”

“Oh, no, she had no lover. Well, not exactly what you would call a lover.”

Leah said, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I have no need of London, seeing everyone trying to be something they’re not, or trying to make everyone believe they’re better than everyone else. It must be fatiguing. I am happy right here at Hardcross Manor. I do miss Lily, though. But soon I will have you. Look at yourself, Leah. Don’t you look grand?”

Leah stared at herself in the mirror, then looked down at the small miniature of Lily that lay on the dressing table. Vicky had fashioned her hair in exactly the same style—hair pulled away from her face and braided high on her head, no loose dangling curls. A severe look, too severe, and identical to Lily’s. But on Lily, it didn’t look at all severe, it made her look somehow regal. Like a princess.

Leah again looked at Vicky in the mirror, smiling like a proud mother, patting her hair here and there. “Here,” she said, and handed Leah a pair of small pearl earrings. “Lily always wore these earrings with this gown.”

Without saying a word, Leah fastened the delicate pearl earrings onto her ears.

She looked once again down at the portrait of the long-dead Lily. Despite her blond hair and her light eyes, she still looked too much like the dead woman, and for the first time, she felt alarm.

She turned slowly on the dressing stool. “What happened to Aunt Elaine? Did she return to live here at Hardcross Manor?”

“Yes, she did. Her son no longer wanted her about in his house, you see. I rather liked her.”