The Royal Conquest(49)
She assessed the power rolling from him. Oh God, please do not be a lord. “The only whispers I can hear are the sighs of envy from all the young ladies. You are shockingly handsome,” she teased.
His lips twitched, then he sobered. “Payton, I—”
Her heart lurched. “Yes?”
“Meet me tomorrow in our cottage.”
“Yes.” Reckless. Bold. But she did not care.
“Promise to hear me out.”
Oh, are you a baron, a viscount? She wanted to ask the questions but held them in. They exchanged no words, and the intensity of his unwavering stare as he twirled with her was a comfort, a protective blanket from the malicious glares she could feel prickling along her skin. Questions hovered on her lips and in her heart, and she ruthlessly buried them and basked in the moment, for she could truly not tolerate the idea that the man she was falling hopelessly in love with may forever be taken from her grasp if he proved to be a lord.
No. She would enjoy this moment and then face her doubts in the light of day.
Chapter Thirteen
A procession of carriages and coaches drew into the Calydons’ driveway. Cossack outriders flanked the procession, two to the front and two to the rear.
What is happening?
Payton closed the volume of the Grimm’s Fairy Tale, the story of the Elves and the Shoemaker she had been reading, and strolled to the windows. She frowned as one of the most richly dressed women she had ever seen was helped down from a large and elegantly designed carriage pulled by Arabian horses. She was slender and graceful with her golden hair piled high in a riot of fashionable curls. Oh, she is a beauty.
Payton frowned as Vladimir appeared and bowed deeply over the woman’s hand.
It was then she noted the duchess waiting at the doorstep, a frown on her lovely face. The procession moved toward the duchess, and Payton wished she were able to hear the conversation. The women greeted each other with curtsies, and the frown melted from Lady Calydon’s face as she laughed at something the ravishing woman said.
Payton shifted her gaze to the entourage following the woman and the very handsome blond man at her side. With an inward shrug she dismissed their presence and settled in a chair by the fire and opened the book. She’d come to a point in the story she was crafting for the children where she was frustratingly unsure of how to proceed. Should she allow the princess to choose the royal guard or the prince himself? Both had journeyed together over marshlands and battled dragons and trolls to save the maiden only to find she’d already outwitted the gargoyles holding her captive.
The door to the smaller parlor was flung open, and Aunt Florence rushed in, distracting Payton from the unknown guest and her readings. Anxiety sliced through her, and she stood. She dropped the book on the chair, folded her arms, bracing for the fight. “I will not walk with Lord Jensen,” she snapped. The persistent man had already demanded her company twice since morning, and she had refused. Of course he would now try to secure her family’s support.
Her father had returned and was in the smaller library with her mother. They were probably discussing how to badger her into marrying Lord Jensen. She was also sure her mother was informing Father of her scandalous behavior in dancing with the “horse breeder” at last night’s ball. She’d anticipated her father’s roar of anger, so the silence was maddening.
Aunt Florence clasped her hands in front of her. “Your father has asked Lord Jensen to depart Sherring Cross and to no longer approach him for your hand.”
Confusion and joy rushed through Payton in equal measure. “Oh, thank heavens.” She made to rush past her aunt, but she halted Payton.
Her aunt beamed. “Give your father some time. Your mother is insisting on speaking with Pr—Mr. Konstantinovich, and your father has requested an audience to soothe her.”
Payton frowned. “What?”
“It seems Mr. Konstantinovich saw your father in London and asked permission to court you. Approval was given.”
She remembered Mikhail’s confidence last night. Why had he not mentioned he’d seen her father? Was that what he wanted to speak with her about at the cottage today? But what was most amazing was her father’s capitulation. He even sent away Lord Jensen. Sudden trepidation sliced through Payton, and dreadful knowledge hovered. “Father and Mother have no objections to Mr. Konstantinovich courting me?”
Aunt Florence hesitated. “Your father will speak with you, my dear.”
Before she could demand more clarification, the door was flung open, and the beautiful woman from outside swept in, the unknown man and Vladimir at her side.
“Is that her?” the woman demanded scathingly with a pointed glare aimed at Payton.