Page 56 of Prince of Scandal

Georgiana stared at him, wide-eyed, for the longest moment, so long it felt like entire seasons were passing by outside. Then she blinked. “I like your red hair. It is a refreshing change for me, coming from a family of wall-to-wall blonds.”

Startled at her calm response, Ashton hesitated. “You heard the rest? That time when you called me a prince after I hauled you out of the river…you were actually correct.”

“Yes, you’re a prince from a long line of princes. Cousin to a king. Should Franz nick your chin, blueberry juice would trickle out rather than blood,” she finished, before rising to her feet, sinking into a deep, perfect curtsy that even his mother might grudgingly approve of, and poking out her tongue. “Good day, Your Highness.”

His shoulders relaxed at the pert display. “You reverting to full minx reassures me like nothing else could. But that is just the start of the story.”

Georgiana’s brow furrowed, and she sat back down on her chair. “Forgive me. Please continue.”

“We came to England in 1805 and I was quite the man about town. But soon my affections settled on the Duke of Lansbury’s daughter, Lady Virginia. We became betrothed and it was to be the society wedding of the year, with the blessing of both kings. I thought we were an excellent match. Compatible in many ways, something that might grow into real love. Virginia was bold, yet she was curious, too. Always asking questions, wanting to know more about this or that. To see and hear and taste and touch.”

“But?”

Ashton closed his eyes briefly as his heart started pounding. Christ, this was difficult. “When Virginia discovered I enjoyed administering sexual discipline, she wanted to try it. We arranged a carriage ride, and I agreed to five light spanks over my lap as a trial, although she initially wanted more. Virginia declared it a very nice sting, and that she’d like to do it again. However, the following morning, her butler kept saying she wasn’t at home…which was actually true. Because she’d returned to the arms of her former beau, and our betrothal was called off, amongst terrible accusations that I’d shackled her, was a spy, and plotting to poison all of England’s ale. You remember how I told you all Ruperts were cretins? The man she returned to was Major Lord Rupert Osbourne. And six months later, she was dead.”

* * *

This was all too much to consider while sitting down.

Georgiana leaped to her feet and paced the parlor as Ashton’s words spun around and around in her head.

No, not Ashton. His Highness, Prince Wilhelm Heinrich Ashton von Hagan of Prussia. A PRINCE.

She momentarily halted and stared at him. “How do you prefer I address you? Your Highness? Prince Wilhelm Heinrich Ashton? I know that is not anywhere near the most important thing you just said, but I am trying to ponder the points in order.”

“Ashton,” he said firmly. “I apologize for the word landslide. I think I needed to get them all out. That you haven’t swooned or run away is a miracle in itself.”

“I will shortly require cuddling on your lap,” Georgiana warned. “But first I must pace.”

Ashton smiled. “My lap is ready when you are, little one.”

And that there was the reason he remained her favorite person.

For the next quarter hour, Georgiana circled the small parlor several times, muttering to herself and gesturing wildly while he patiently waited in his seat. Then she returned and scrambled onto his lap, tucking her head against his neck and clinging tightly to his chest. Ashton’s arms closed around her and she sighed in relief at the soothing sense of safety and comfort. How she loved being hugged. “So, if I understand correctly: Virginia, your first love, the woman you were about to wed, left you after being spanked, fled to Rupert, then accused you of shackling her and being a spy. They were married, but she died within a year.”

“Precisely.”

Georgiana bit her lip. “Do you know how she died?”

“A stomach ailment. Allegedly.”

“What about his second and third wives? Do you know much about them?”

Ashton exhaled audibly. “Not a lot. His second wife was the Honorable Candace Hillton, daughter of Lord and Lady Hillton. She…fell down some steps and broke her neck. Allegedly. The third Lady Osbourne was Miss Dorothy Carr, daughter of the merchant Benjamin Carr. I understand he imports luxury fabric to a warehouse in Cheapside. Dorothy drowned. Allegedly. But all three died within a year of their wedding day.”

Cold tendrils slithered down Georgiana’s spine and she burrowed closer against Ashton’s chest. All that had happened long before she’d been out in society, but hearing their names and how they allegedly passed made it starkly, agonizingly real. During her liaison with Rupert, she’d been somewhat uncertain about becoming his fourth wife, but had pressed on as any prospect seemed so much better than remaining at Kingsford House until she reached her majority. Now it was nothing less than terrifying.

“I agree wholeheartedly that it is far, far too unlucky for three wives to perish outside of childbirth,” said Georgiana softly. “And so soon after marrying him. Knowing Rupert as I do, it is entirely plausible that the deaths were not accidents. But what I don’t understand is why.”

Ashton tensed. “Well…”

She leaned back and glared at him. “If you know something, you must tell me. I am neither delicate nor missish. Not to mention that I’m the woman he intends to make wife number four, so of all people, I should have all the information.”

One big hand began rubbing her back, a slow circle that seeped delicious warmth into her chilled bones. “My theory is money. You might not be aware of this, but the day you departed Brundall, I actually visited to warn you that Osbourne was on his way. Franz heard from a friend that the major was being escorted to Norfolk by a young viscount, after an incident with the viscount’s sister. I had an old copy of Debrett’s Peerage and discovered you were the sister. But when I arrived, the carriages were already there. Osbourne saw me lurking. At first, he thought I was a lazy footman.”

Georgiana snorted. “Did he bellow? Rupert is fond of that.”

“Yes. But when he got closer, he recognized me. We had…words.”