Chapter Two

WHY MUST HE MAKE so much noise? A few moments ago, Alexander barely heard the crunching of his boots as he rushed along the wooded trail. Now, it would seem that every step he took echoed across the whole land. Gingerly, he took another pace backward, the leaves and twigs snapping beneath his weight. He prayed the sound of water and the girl's own thoughts would distract her enough to allow him his escape.

Another couple of steps and he would be out of her eyesight, at least—though he would have to keep quiet a bit longer than that. Who knew how sharp her ears were.

Alexander could almost taste his freedom, but just then he startled a small rabbit from its hiding spot under the bush to his right. The animal scurried across the forest floor and headed straight for the girl.

She glanced up at the sudden movement and caught the prince as he, too, was ready to flee. Her eyes grew wide with shock and the inevitable anger transformed her beautiful looks into the scowling fortress before him.

He mumbled under his breath, not realizing until it was too late exactly who he had disrupted. Her face had been hidden just enough that he had not recognized her until now. It would have been his luck to stumble across the only female in the land who absolutely loathed him and had no problem telling him so whenever she had the opportunity. How did the fates find him this lucky? Really, what were the odds of such an occurrence?

"You!"

He was certain Miss Hammerstein-Smythe's outraged shriek could be heard for miles.

Already Alexander's hands were up in a defensive gesture. "Now, wait a moment. This is not what it looks like. I merely—"

"You have been following me! I knew it." She quickly scrambled to her feet and brushed her gown down over her bare legs. "How long have you been spying on me?"

"I was not. I was simply on my way to the brook, having no idea you would be here."

Cecelia placed her hands on her hips and faced him. "You expect me to believe that you, Prince Alexander, simply decided to wander all the way from your castle to my father's property, to my exact favorite spot along this whole streambed, when you could have stopped anywhere, at the exact same time I would be here, and that it was not because of me?"

"No. Yes! I do expect you to believe that because it is the truth."

"What do you want from me? Why must I find you every time I search for peace?"

"I am sure it is not every time." He watched her arch an eyebrow. "Look, nothing. I want nothing. I do not even want to talk to you."

She scrunched her nose slightly and tilted her head. "Why should I believe you?"

Alexander moved forward a step. "Because, as I said, it is the truth."

"I do not believe you." She took a step forward and then paused, glancing at her bare feet upon the forest floor, before bringing her gaze to him again. "You have never before told the truth—always bragging and lying about anything and everything. Why should I listen to what you say now?" She folded her arms and continued, "As far as I am concerned, you came here to torment me, so out with it." She defiantly lifted her chin in an obvious challenge. "Tell whatever lies and do whatever bullying you would like. We are on even ground now, you and I, with you on my father's property and so far away from your palace guards. Tell me."

The prince shook his head. "Miss Hammerstein-Smythe, I am not here to quarrel with you again. You can keep your solitude. Forgive me for the interruption—I wish you a good day." With that, he bowed at the waist and turned on his heel to make a hasty retreat. He did not care where he went, as long as it was as far away from the girl as he could get.

"Wait."

Alexander paused. "Yes?"

"I—you—what is wrong?"

He turned toward her. "Wrong?"

"There is something different about you. What is it?"

Alexander attempted a laugh. To his chagrin, it came out sounding more like the bleat of a nervous goat, which he quickly covered with a cough. "There is nothing wrong with me. Nothing different at all. What do you mean?"

She grinned. "Where are my insults? Have you nothing rude to say to me? You have never before stopped from saying exactly what was on your mind. Why is today an exception? Something has happened."

Could she tell? Was he really different? The prince half-heartedly replied, "I can have you hanged for treason if you keep this up."

Cecelia laughed right out loud. "That is the best you can do? Now I know something is wrong! What is it?"

There was nothing that annoyed him more than meddling, nosy females, and she was the absolute best at interfering—always poking and prying into everyone's business. He had seen her countless times discussing all sorts of things with anyone she was around—offering advice, counsel, and even ailment-curing to everyone from the maid to the people of the court. It was bad enough that she thought he was different—it was quite another to find oneself the object of her pitying and snooping. Before he knew it, she would be finding all sorts of things "wrong" with him and trying to poke and pry into his life like she did to everyone else.

"Excuse me, miss. I will leave you to your own imaginings about what you believe to be flawed within me." With that, he bowed again and left, not caring if he never saw Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe again.

***

CECELIA SOON FORGOT ABOUT the prince as she came back toward the house an hour or so later. She had thought about him enough as it was that afternoon, with his strange behavior and abrupt departure. But now was not the time to worry over him—now was the time to begin her preparations for the wonderful Lord Willington.

In no time at all, she had bathed, powdered, dressed, and primped until she was simply beautiful in emerald-green stripes. Her long curls were artfully arranged by her maid in a sumptuous cluster on top of her head designed to capture the hearts of all who looked upon her. Or more importantly, to secure the heart of one who was already hers.

She giggled as she turned from side to side in the looking glass at precisely a quarter past the hour and knew she had never seen herself look so happy or so fine. In just a few moments, everything would change in her life—simply everything—and she could not wait.

Cecelia made her way down the wide staircase, slowing her steps to appear much more refined than she felt at the moment. Appearing a few minutes late also had the same effect. One should never seem too eager or it gives the suitor an unfair advantage.

"Miss Hammerstein-Smythe, you look ravishing!"

Lord Willington bowed. His shiny blond locks bobbed a bit, causing her heart to flutter. Cecelia loved the way his curls broke free from their confining hair salve once his hat was off. She loved every aspect of him, but she did not let it show beyond a glimmer in her eyes as she curtsied. "Thank you. You look very fine as well."

She stepped into the pelisse the maid held out for her and allowed the young girl to button the pretty overcoat while she slipped her hands into her short, white gloves. A moment later, her matching bonnet was perched atop her head and she was ready to go. Cecelia turned toward Lord Willington's waiting arm, clutched it, and with a quick farewell to Sanford, they were walking out into the glorious sunshine. She was handed in the carriage by Lord Willington himself, causing the rapid beating of her heart to become so loud she wondered if he could hear it.

In a trice they were off, and the clop, clop, clop of the horses' hooves did much to increase her excitement. Many people came to their windows to watch them leave. The couple had quite become the talk of the village, and soon, very soon, everyone would be celebrating with her at the grand engagement ball her mother and brother had been spreading word about.

Yes, life was splendid.

After a few minutes at a very brisk trot winding through the village and countryside, Lord Willington pulled the carriage to a little alcove nearly completely hidden within a copse of trees and low-lying branches. It was there, with the reins in his hands, that he finally turned and looked fully at the handsome girl beside him.

Charles had never seen anyone more beautiful than Cecelia. He allowed his eyes to wander across her delicate features and pause to contemplate her most perfectly delectable rose-colored lips. Nothing had been more tempting to him than kissing her, but it would not do. Not today—not the day when he had purposely set out to tell her of his Kathryn, his Lady Dashenwold, his intended from Baythorpe Hall. No, he needed everything as perfect as possible to break the news gently to her, for there was no way he would ever be allowed to wed this beautiful creature next to him—not without the proper lineage. Not without the proper fortune to satisfy his father. Yes, she had a large home and her family had obviously been wealthy enough for the village, but not enough to please his father. He wanted his dear son to make an excellent match with excellent connections. No, indeed, Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe would never be the proper wife for Lord Willington, and Lord Willington hoped against hope she had already come to this exact same conclusion.