The Prince's Bride Read Free Page B

and consider and dissect. It would be the talk of London. And why not? It would be the match of the season. Maybe of any season.
    In something less than an hour, all her dreams would come true.
    Jocelyn pushed open the door. “Your Highness?”
    Jocelyn thought it was a very good sign that it had been remarkably easy to slip away from the reception and find the music room. But the chamber was empty.
    She couldn’t possibly be early. If anything she was a bit tardy. Perhaps he had already come and been too impatient to wait for her, though more likely, he was making her wait for him. She wouldn’t, of course. Not for longer than a minute or two at any rate.
    She glanced around and stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind her. It was impressively large, a space eminently suited for the musicales the ton was so fond of publicly but privately and individually abhorred. There were sofas scattered here and there. A large shape, probably a pianoforte, stood near the far wall, which she assumed, from the glittering reflections, was lined with windows or possibly French doors. She was quite good at interpreting her surroundings, but then she’d had her entire life to practice.
    She heaved a resigned sigh. Maybe she should give serious consideration to her sister’s continuing suggestion that she at least try donning spectacles. It did get wearing to live one’s life within a small circle of clarity bounded by a large fuzzy, indistinct world. Jocelyn freely admitted that nothing more than vanity kept her vision impaired, and acknowledged it might not make one whit of difference. After all, Marianne wore glasses and she was about to marry the son of a duke. Jocelyn could surely do as well with spectacles.
    But Jocelyn was to marry a prince. A smug sense of victory washed through her. She stepped away from the door. She had no doubt what he wanted to discuss. No doubt why he wished to see her in private. He would declare his intentions to her before formally asking for her hand. It would be the height of romance. The thrill of a lifetime. The ultimate social triumph. And what she had always wanted.
    Still, he should be here by now. Absently she wondered if life with Alexei would be a series of little games like this with each of them striving to get the upper hand. She had to acknowledge that he was a prince and would no doubt win the majority of the time. And she could accept that. Well, she would have to work on accepting that. It would be well worth it. She would be a princess and live in a castle with servants to attend to her every whim. Her life would be a series of royal balls and state events, and people would seek to curry her favor. And if she never had what her sister and Thomas shared, well, that was the price one paid for achieving one’s dreams. Besides, there was no reason why love couldn’t follow marriage. She did like the man after all.
    Her toe caught the edge of the carpet and she stumbled, dropping her fan, which skittered across the floor to disappear beneath a sofa. Annoyed, she bent to retrieve it and dimly heard a door open on the far side of the room. Damnation. She certainly didn’t want the prince to find her crouching on the floor. It was not at all the way a future princess would behave.
    “Is it wise to meet like this?” a male voice asked.
    Another man chuckled. “There is no better place to be alone than in a crowd.”
    Relief coursed through her. It obviously wasn’t Alexei. Simply two guests seeking a place for a private conversation.
    “Do you think he suspects?” the first man said.
    “Not at all. As long as we are discreet, neither he nor anyone else can put the two of us together. At the moment, nothing connects us. We simply have to make certain nothing ever does.”
    Private but definitely unusual. Not that it was any of her business. Her fingers closed around the fan and she started to rise.
    “He has far more interesting things on his mind this evening.”
    The men