Tempting the Prince(100)

“Are you all right?” Fancy asked, falling into step beside her. “You look pale and heartsick.”

Belle wanted—no, needed—to be alone to digest what Lavinia had thrown at her. Lies were mixed with the truth, she suspected. Which were lies? And which was the truth?

If she questioned him, Mikhail would tell her what he thought she wanted to hear. She needed the truth, regardless of the pain. Her father would know the truth. His willingness to share that knowledge was uncertain, though.

Finding her father, Belle gave him her sweetest smile. “May I have this dance, Papa?”

“I would love to dance with you.”

Father and daughter stepped onto the dance floor. They swirled around and around the glittering ballroom, fulfilling a girlhood dream.

“Tell me the reason Mikhail wanted to marry me,” Belle said.

The duke’s step faltered at the unexpected question. “Why, I—” She’d caught him by surprise. “The prince saw you sitting in the garden and asked for your hand in marriage.”

That much was true, then.

“Did my husband marry me because of my scar?” Belle asked. “Or did he want me in spite of it.”

“Mikhail did not share his motivation,” the duke answered her, “and I did not ask him.”

She knew he was lying. His evasion told her what she needed to know, and that made perfect sense. What father did not want to protect his child from pain?

Belle managed a smile for her father. “Then I will ask him for his motivation.”

When the waltz ended, Belle excused herself by needing to visit the withdrawing room. Instead, she headed for the foyer.

Her loved ones had betrayed her. Love at first sight was a lie as was her father’s lack of knowledge. She would gamble a fortune that everyone—except her—knew the truth. Her sisters, her father, her stepmother, her brothers-and sisters-in-law knew the reason her husband had married her. Even Lavinia Smythe had guessed the real reason.

Only she had been foolish enough to believe in love at first sight. Her husband had lied about his blindness and amnesia. He had lied by omission about the proxy marriage. He had lied about his reason for marrying her.

“Shall I send for your coach?” a footman asked her.

“No, thank you.” Belle managed a polite smile. “I’ll walk.”

The footman looked shocked.

“I live two blocks away,” Belle explained. “If Prince Mikhail asks for his wife, please tell him I’ve gone home. Only if he asks for me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The footman opened the door. “Enjoy your walk home, Your Highness.”

Leaving the Winchester mansion, Belle walked in the direction of Grosvenor Square. She passed Adam’s Row and Upper Grosvenor Street, and then another half block brought her into Grosvenor Square, arriving home ten minutes after leaving the ball.

Boomer opened the front door. “Welcome home, Your Highness.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank you, Boomer.”

“Where is His Highness?” The majordomo looked out the door, surprised by her solitary arrival. “Where is the coach?”

“I left both husband and coach at the ball.”

Belle climbed the stairs to her bedchamber and pondered her position. She needed a couple of days away to think about her marriage and sort out her feelings. Though she was reluctant to abandon the little girl, feigning normalcy around Bess would prove impossible and confuse her stepdaughter.

After removing her gown, Belle laid it neatly across the bench and dropped the butterfly necklace on top of it. She donned a morning gown and grabbed a cashmere shawl, and then placed a change of clothes and a few necessities into a tapestry bag.

Belle sat on the edge of the bed. Should she leave a note? She wasn’t running away, merely going home for a few days to nurse her emotional wounds.



Two blocks away at Winchester mansion, Mikhail tossed his losing hand of cards on the table and looked around the table at his brothers. “Dancing with my wife is free.”

He left the card room in search of his wife. They would take one last waltz around the dance floor and then leave, their obligation done.

Mikhail entered the ballroom and scanned the dancers. No wife there. Locating his in-laws, he circled the dance floor but did not see his wife.

“Do you know where Belle is?” he asked them.

The Duke of Inverary nodded. “She retired to the withdrawing room.”

Leaving the ballroom, Mikhail loitered in the corridor near the ladies’ withdrawing room. He waited ten minutes and then returned to the ballroom.

“Are you certain she said the withdrawing room?” Mikhail asked the duke.

“I’ll look for you,” Princess Samantha said.